(Setting: in a dingy hospital room two days later. It is morning, and Blanche has come to visit Stella and the baby while Stanley is away
Blanche enters, looking ill and wan. For once, Blanche’s appearance and mood seem to match her New Orleans surroundings, while Stella’s new motherhood has given her an ethereal poise that is reminiscent of Blanche’s cultured aura earlier in the play.
Stella lies in the hospital bed, and Blanche stands in the doorway.)

Blanche: Well, I see you’ve survived it.

Stella: (Brightening as she she’s her sister.) Oh, Blanche, aren’t you a sweet thing to come and see me! I wasn’t sure if you’d come, or if you’d just wait until I brought the baby home with me.

Blanche: There’s not much to do ‘round there except for that man and I to sit and stare at one another. A couple of times I tried to turn on the radio, maybe brighten the place up with some music, but he’d just shout and scream until I couldn’t help but laugh at him. Even that got old. (She laughs softly.) He’s gone down to bowl with that sorry collection of men, so I thought I’d...drop by…

Stella: Oh, my dear. Are you very disappointed about Mitch? Oh, if I wasn’t lying here just now, I get you a nice icy Coke with a shot in it. That always makes you feel better... (Blanche gives Stella a strange look, and Stella trails off.) Anyway, you mustn't feel too bad about it. He’s a nice man, I like him a lot, but I don’t know that he’ll ever marry. He doesn’t seem the type to me.

(Blanches eyes are blank, and she seems listless and confused.)

Blanche: I find no man is the type to get married until some woman forces the issue with him.

Stella: Oh, I don’t know if that’s true. Why, when I met Stanley, it was as though he knew right then that he'd marry me. (She smiles in remembrance.) He knew right then what he’d do with me.

Blanche: ...turn you into a perfect little housewife who counts the minutes until her man comes home.

(Stella, cocking her head, seems to notice something about Blanche.)

Stella: Why, honey, look at you. You’re not a bit made up, and (she sniffs delicately) I don’t smell a drop of scent on you!

(Blanche comes closer to her sister, sitting at her bedside.)

Blanche: Listen to me, Stella, my beautiful Stella for Star. You didn’t really have to go through with this, did you?
Stella: What do you mean?

Blanche: I mean, the marriage was tolerable; you want to stay here with the filth and pretend its good and decent, then that’s your choice.

Stella: (sobering) Blanche…

(Blanche keeps going, not quite hearing Stella.)

Blanche: But this - this was avoidable, you could have stopped it. You didn’t have to bring his baby into the world, something that will be just as common and savage-

Stella: Blanche! (She puts her hands protectively over her stomach, then pulls them away, remembering that she has had the baby.)

Blanche: Raise him how you will, Stella, he’ll still grow up to be like Stanley Kowalski! He’ll grow up to be like a man who bruises the fair skin of a woman, not kissing it and cherishing it like its meant to be!

Stella: Oh, Blanche. I’ve told you, he’s only ever really angry when he drinks. And anyway, if there were really men out there who’d kiss and cherish women and nothing else, you wouldn’t be sitting here at all, would you?

(Blanche is quiet and tired again, and she smiles ruefully.)

Blanche: You are right, of course. The Shep Huntleighs marry young and then tell us regretfully they wished they hadn’t. And we, in our desperation, turn to the Harold Mitchells - praying to God they’ll offer some sort of adequate compromise, only to find they are made of the same stuff as the rapists and the pigs!

(Amidst her speech, Blanche has grown upset again and stood, pacing around the cramped room.)

Stella: Blanche, what can you mean?

Blanche: What, are you shocked? Are you horrified, Stella? Did you really think he could go one day without forcing the love out of some woman, even with you here giving birth in the very picture of domesticated submission!

Stella: Blanche, you must stop this-

Blanche: He’s done the same thing to you, you know, over and over, only you just sit there looking superior, acting like animal instinct is the same thing as love! But I am made of stronger stuff than you, and I won’t be beaten back by some cruel Polack!

(She goes again to Stella’s side, and clutches her hand. Stella sits in silence.)

Blanche: And now you know, you won’t abandon me, will you Stella? Not like you did all those years ago. You know, when you left me to Bella Reve, things were different. I could understand you needing to come and explore the wild. But now you must end this. Come and leave with me now, because we’re both a little worse for the wear, aren’t we?

Stella: (quietly) Don’t make me pity you, Blanche.

Blanche: Pity? Why, who ever asked for your pity?

Stella: I told you before I’d sort of gotten into the habit of letting you talk before me, but you must listen to me now. (Blanche shrinks back, and Stella sits up a little straighter.) You must have know before this - that you’ve always been a little… high-strung. Always a little overwrought, Blanche. And I let it be, because much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fragile soul, and I don’t think you’ve ever meant me any harm. But if you want sympathy so badly, you’d risk making me hate you for it, I must think you’ve  gotten unstable.
(She clings to her sister’s hands, and looks at her earnestly. She speaks slowly.)
Because he wouldn’t do this, Blanche. Oh, I know you’ve never liked him...never liked him nor any of my friends here. But you mustn’t lie about him taking advantage. He wouldn’t do that.

(Blanche begins spluttering incredulously , standing and looking round, not knowing what to do.)

Blanche: But- but, Stella!

Stella: I think you’d better go, Blanche. I’m still awfully tired, and I’m afraid you’re visit has worn me out.

Blanche: Stella!

(A nurse hears Blanche and comes in, looking reproachful.)

Nurse: Miss, you ought to let your sister rest awhile. She’s not fit for much else right now. You can come see her later.

Blanche: (panicking) Stella, please! (Stella is shaking her head, and lying back down to sleep. Blanche begins crying. Her shouts are soft, but still reminiscent of Stanley’s cries on the street.) Stella! Stella, please listen!
Nurse: Ma’am, please, let her rest.

Blanche: Stella!

Blackout.