AMONG THE LIONS[D]
An elaborate drawing-room is disclosed, with bare high-paneled walls, relieved only by attractive candle-clusters and a stretch of tapestry. At back is an alcove effect in which a piano is seen, with the usual decorations of a music-room suggested beyond. There are two openings which lead to the hallways and street doors without. Opposite these is a stone-built fireplace with a smoldering log blaze and attractive “British Soldier” andirons. By this rests a deep chair which tones with the other furnishings. A tea-table, resplendent with silver, stands obliquely in the center, with lighted candles. Appropriate ferns and flowers rest in likely places.
GEORGE SILVERTON is playing a Chopin étude in the music-room; about the opening are grouped PATRICIA TENNER, MRS. FROWDE, THE BROWN ONE, THE GREEN ONE, THE BLUE ONE and others. They are listening, duly impressed by the touch of an expert.
MAVOSKY, the artist, is standing off alone by the tea-table complacently munching a macaroon and eyeing PATRICIA.
MAVOSKY is about forty, tall, with large eyes and a pointed beard. There is a slight Russian accent in his speech and his manners have the studied spontaneity of a professional foreigner exploiting a new field. As he continues to watch PATRICIA with a cynical smile, she leaves the group unobserved by the others and moves towards the low, deep chair near the fireplace.
PATRICIA has the large features of a stage-beauty, which enhance her appearance before the footlights. Her hair is parted and coiled low on her neck. She is elegantly gowned, and carries a long, elaborate scarf which is hung across her back and held by each arm. She uses this continually to increase her instinctive plasticity. As she turns there is a serious expression upon her face, as though, for once she had been her true self.
PATRICIA
(Almost inaudibly)
George Silverton. Poor George!
(She seems to feel MAVOSKY’S eyes; but again mistress of herself, turns, and smiles invitingly. Then she drapes herself artistically in the chair. MAVOSKY comes with the plate of macaroons, which she declines with a pretty gesture. He replaces them on the table, and, seeing no one is watching, returns to her, speaking softly as the music continues.)
MAVOSKY
Quel charme!
PATRICIA
The gown or the pose?
MAVOSKY
Mademoiselle Tenner, in your profession they are inseparable.
PATRICIA
We actresses belong only to each moment we act. It is your profession which fastens us as we should be in the memory of others.
MAVOSKY
Perhaps that is why my portraits please.
PATRICIA
(Bantering charmingly)
And you only take celebrities, Monsieur Mavosky.
MAVOSKY
I wish to go to posterity on the hem of their garments.
PATRICIA
(Smiling)
Some day I may wear a gown that pleases you, eh?
(He starts to answer, but the music stops and the others applaud in perfect taste. He offers his hand in parting, as she seems to invite it.)
MAVOSKY
Au revoir.
PATRICIA
(With a fascinating smile)
Déjà?
(He bows far over her hand and their eyes meet with interest. As he turns away, while the others come into the room, PATRICIA gives a secret smile of satisfaction, as though she had obtained her intention. Then she sighs wearily, bored, as she glances at the others.
MRS. FROWDE, the hostess is about fifty, looking forty; rather large and as self-contained as possible in her loose black tea-gown. She is a nervous woman with an apparent seriousness in her social undertakings. Her eyes are continually criticizing and her hands correcting. She has a gracious voice, and towards PATRICIA, at least, a possessive protectiveness.
THE BROWN ONE has a good profile from her chin up, but otherwise, in spite of lacing, is stout. Her tan gown makes up in elegance what it lacks in outline.
The clinging gown of THE BLUE ONE accentuates the languid manner she affects. There is a satisfied, set smile upon her aquiline face and her voice maintains a gentle, persistent tremolo.
THE GREEN ONE is younger than the others and in general indefiniteness of bearing and appearance merely suggests money. Her olive-trimmed gown is very simple, but is caught by a conspicuous jade belt.
These, with the other guests who gradually depart, suggest the atmosphere of a conventional tea.)
OMNES
(Enthusiastically to Silverton)
How delightful! How wonderful!
(GEORGE SILVERTON is medium-sized, in the late thirties, with a fine, sensitive face and short-cropped hair. He is retiring in manner and seems ill at ease in the present company. Towards PATRICIA, however, this disappears and it is evident he has known her well.)
THE BROWN ONE
(Shrugging her shoulders, and splashing each sentence with jerky gestures throughout.)
He has such a je-ne-sais-quoi. Don’t you think?
THE BLUE ONE
(In a shocked tone)
I’d hardly put it that way.
SILVERTON
(TO THE BROWN ONE)
You compliment me.
MRS. FROWDE
Didn’t Pachmann play that at the Philharmonic Friday?
THE GREEN ONE
How should I know?
MRS. FROWDE
I wish they’d announce what they play as an encore so I can recognize it.
THE BROWN ONE
We need a Chopin in this country. Do you compose, Mr. Silverton?
THE BLUE ONE
(Who has come down to PATRICIA)
It must be splendid to be a real artist, Miss Tenner, instead of just having money. We have to be so careful.
(PATRICIA smiles and nods understandingly throughout. SILVERTON, apparently ill at ease, comes beside PATRICIA as MAVOSKY is speaking to MRS. FROWDE and the others at the table.)
Oh, Mr. Silverton, your playing made me so—so—(at a loss for words) don’t you know?
SILVERTON
(Stiffly)
Music is the only mental adventure in good and evil which some of us ever have.
THE BLUE ONE
How clever of you! I wonder if that’s why I adore Tristan? You will come to my next Thursday and play for me? I need adventure. (She laughs, tremulously) I’ll have some people there if I may tell them you are coming.
SILVERTON
(Hiding his displeasure)
Charmed.
THE BLUE ONE
(TO PATRICIA)
You have a beastly rehearsal then, haven’t you? So sorry.
(PATRICIA smiles as though regretful, and the three continue talking.)
MRS. FROWDE
(By the table, shaking MAVOSKY’S hand)
Must you go?
MAVOSKY
Only till luncheon Tuesday.
MRS. FROWDE
(Aside to him)
It was good of you to meet her.
MAVOSKY
(Looking across to PATRICIA)
Miss Tenner is a poem in pose.
THE BROWN ONE
(Who has been manœuvering to be in his line of departure, as MRS. FROWDE turns to give THE GREEN ONE a cup of tea.)
M. Mavosky, I’ve heard if you wait at Port Said you’ll sooner or later meet everyone you know. Here, at Mrs. Frowde’s, one only meets those one wishes, n’est-ce pas?
MAVOSKY
(Gallantly)
You American women!
THE BROWN ONE
I’ll bring my husband to see your portraits. May I?
MAVOSKY
(Bowing)
You speak for his taste.
THE BROWN ONE
(Pleased)
He actually threatens to have one of me, and wishes the very best that can possibly be painted.
(They exchange pleasantries, and as MAVOSKY passes out he glances towards PATRICIA, who has been watching him, while SILVERTON has engaged THE BLUE ONE, who by now has joined THE GREEN ONE and THE BROWN ONE and MRS. FROWDE at the table. They laugh as SILVERTON and PATRICIA find a chance to snatch a few words unheard.)
SILVERTON
(Referring to THE BLUE ONE)
Who is she that I must pay for my tea by playing for her Thursday?
PATRICIA
(Flippantly)
Her name begins with T. Her husband owns The Star. It’s been good to me. I call her The Blue One; I no longer remember names. People are color to me. See the stout one—like an overfed question mark? She seems brown all through. Have you heard her talk? With her (imitating and shrugging shoulders) “je-ne-sais-quois”? No one who is fat should speak French. And The Green One—ugh!—with the jade life-belt!
SILVERTON
(Seriously)
Pat, why do you still come to these stupid affairs?
PATRICIA
There are still things I may want, too.
SILVERTON
Mavosky?
PATRICIA
A portrait by him in my new rôle. Yes. Mrs. Frowde knew him. Voilà.
SILVERTON
I see: that’s how you still get things.
PATRICIA
Mrs. Frowde is the greatest “lion-hunter” in captivity. She is happy to-day; she’s caught three of us: a star, a painter, and a promising musician. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? (He nods.) You’ve finally decided to follow the advice I gave you when we first came East——
SILVERTON
Yes: how different it was then——
PATRICIA
(Reminiscently)
Yes—how different!
MRS. FROWDE
(Gently restraining THE BROWN ONE, who has started towards PATRICIA and SILVERTON)
I’ve heard they had quite a romance once.
THE BROWN ONE
How romantic! I wish my husband played a piano. (They talk.)
PATRICIA
(Quietly to SILVERTON)
Funny, George, while you were playing I was thinking of when I hadn’t a job and you were copying for a living. Your music actually made me want to throw off all my insincerities here just for once and see what would happen.
SILVERTON
They’d be shocked——
PATRICIA
And I’d be chilly.
SILVERTON
But I couldn’t be of any use to you—then.
PATRICIA
No; my “art” wasn’t big enough to succeed by itself alone. I had to play the game—get influence—(He protests.) Oh, I know myself, George; I was cruel to you and all the others. Some day, just to square myself in my own eyes, I’ll tell people like these here about my life and how I have always used them to get what I wanted.
SILVERTON
(Surprised)
What is the matter, Pat? You’re not yourself.
PATRICIA
(Smiling)
I’m having a rush of sincerity to my lips.
SILVERTON
(Looking over toward the others)
I wonder what they would say if it slipped out?
PATRICIA
Perhaps they’d say it was “temperament.” I’ve affected it so much I actually believe I’ve got it.
MRS. FROWDE
(Laughing with others)
Mavosky is so clever; he said in America passion was only sentiment waving a red flag!
THE GREEN ONE
He told me art had no morals and I understood him. He’s so subtle.
SILVERTON
(TO PATRICIA)
If I could but make phrases.
PATRICIA
(Rising, wearily)
I don’t have to; I smile them.
MRS. FROWDE
(Coming down anxiously)
Surely, you’re not going yet, Patricia?
THE GREEN ONE
(TO THE BROWN ONE)
She calls her Patricia!
MRS. FROWDE
(Offering PATRICIA a cup)
I’ve fixed it the way you like it—no lemon.
PATRICIA
(Declining)
You are so thoughtful, dear Emily.
THE GREEN ONE
(TO THE BROWN ONE)
Emily!
THE BLUE ONE
(Coming to PATRICIA)
I’m just dying to see your Rosalind.
PATRICIA
(Beautifully covering with an air of sincerity her mockery which SILVERTON alone detects)
You may before you do.
THE GREEN ONE
(In surprise)
But the papers say——
PATRICIA
You mustn’t believe all you see there. My press agent has imagination.
THE BLUE ONE
(Cozily to the others)
Isn’t it splendid to be taken into her confidence.
(PATRICIA darts a humorous glance at SILVERTON.)
THE BROWN ONE
I should think you’d be tired going out so much.
PATRICIA
Mrs. Frowde’s friends are always interesting and proper—a rare combination. (Smiling.) Her idea of a tragedy would be a social mishap—that way.
MRS. FROWDE
(Protectively)
I warn her against overtaxing herself—and with that trying part to play every night.
PATRICIA
Whenever it gets trying to me I think of the audience.
MRS. FROWDE
(As the others laugh)
I always said one must have a sense of humor off the stage to play the parts you do.
PATRICIA
I get my inspiration from my friends; a cup of tea, and brilliant conversation before the horrid time to go and “make up.”
THE GREEN ONE
Doesn’t all the make-up hurt the complexion?
PATRICIA
(Sweetly)
I always use cold cream first—don’t you?
(An abrupt halt in the laughter comes as MISS EVA STANNARD enters and pauses momentarily in the doorway.
MISS STANNARD is about twenty-nine, tall, vibrant and almost imperious in bearing. Her forehead is high, her eyes keen and her mouth thin and tense. She is gowned in gray.
PATRICIA is immediately interested in her and in the constrained attitude of the others.
MISS STANNARD slowly comes to MRS. FROWDE, bowing graciously, as she passes, to the others, who return it with sickly smiles, exchanging secret looks of surprise and indignation. MRS. FROWDE in her obvious embarrassment, instead of offering her hand, proffers the tea-cup, which MISS STANNARD smilingly declines. THE BLUE ONE, with rare presence of mind, coughs, and the others all laugh nervously, as though to cover the silence which has ensued.
PATRICIA slowly sits again, with SILVERTON standing by her chair, intensely interested and curious.)
MISS STANNARD
(Sweetly)
I had no idea, Mrs. Frowde, you were receiving formally to-day.
MRS. FROWDE
(Constrained throughout)
I only sent out a few special cards to meet Miss Tenner. But now that you’ve come, let me present you to her. Miss Stannard.
PATRICIA
(More cordial than ever)
Miss Eva Stannard? (Miss Stannard nods.) Oh; I’m indeed glad to meet you.
MISS STANNARD
(Formally and a bit puzzled)
Thanks.
MRS. FROWDE
You know the others?
MISS STANNARD
(Cordially)
Oh, yes——
(The others laugh a little nervously, nod mechanically, with ill-concealed rudeness.)
MRS. FROWDE
(Nervously)
Do have another cup of tea. (Pause.) What lovely weather we are having! (They all agree.) I almost hate to go to Florida this winter; but it saves fuel.
(MISS STANNARD declines again and SILVERTON takes the cup from MRS. FROWDE to the table, returning to PATRICIA. There is another embarrassing silence in which they all look at one another. Finally THE BROWN ONE comes to say good-bye to MRS. FROWDE, whose discomfort increases throughout.)
Must you really go so soon?
THE BROWN ONE
(Pointedly)
Yes; I—I had expected to stay longer, but I’ve just remembered a most important engagement.
THE BLUE ONE
Can’t I drop you on the way? My car’s waiting.
MRS. FROWDE
(Distressed)
Must you, too? But Mr. Silverton has promised to play again.
SILVERTON
(Significantly)
An improvisation—prompted by the occasion.
THE BLUE ONE
I’m to hear it Thursday—remember.
(As THE BLUE ONE and THE BROWN ONE say good-bye to MISS STANNARD, THE GREEN ONE goes to MRS. FROWDE. MISS STANNARD being left alone, shows her struggle at self-control and sits in a chair unasked. THE BROWN ONE and THE BLUE ONE with heads together go out the upper opening.)
THE GREEN ONE
It’s getting late. I’ve had such a pleasant afternoon. You won’t forget bridge next Monday?
(MRS. FROWDE responds limply and as THE GREEN ONE turns, MISS STANNARD rises and halts her with a look.)
MISS STANNARD
Good afternoon.
MRS. FROWDE
Must you?
THE GREEN ONE
Yes, I’m going to Cartier’s for the prizes. (To PATRICIA) Good afternoon. (After a moment’s hesitation.) Good afternoon, Miss Stannard.
(THE GREEN ONE GOES OUT AS MISS STANNARD EYES MRS. FROWDE IN SILENCE WHILE PATRICIA AND SILVERTON SPEAK UNHEARD.)
PATRICIA
Leave me here alone, George: this is real. I’ve heard about her.
SILVERTON
What are you going to do?
PATRICIA
The cats! There’s something inside me wants to speak. Run along. I’m feeling that rush of sincerity I spoke of.
SILVERTON
Mrs. Frowde, I leave only because—(as MISS STANNARD catches his eye) Miss Stannard, I’m sorry they did not wait for that improvisation. But I’m afraid they wouldn’t have understood the motif.
(SILVERTON goes out. PATRICIA leans forward watching the two, as MRS. FROWDE faces MISS STANNARD. There is an embarrassing pause.)
MRS. FROWDE
Really, I don’t know what to say. I hardly thought you would come—under the circumstances.
MISS STANNARD
(Fencing carefully throughout)
I’m dreadfully sorry. I did not know it was a select affair. I thought you were always at home to your friends.
MRS. FROWDE
(Pointedly)
Friends—yes.
MISS STANNARD
(Sweetly)
Then I’m forgiven?
MRS. FROWDE
I think you must have seen my friends did not remain after you arrived.
MISS STANNARD
I’m very sorry; but it is they you should criticize for being so frightfully inconsiderate of you. (With a sudden firmness) And now Mrs. Frowde, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?
MRS. FROWDE
(Controlling herself with difficulty)
I feel a strong desire to give it, only I hardly think you would like me to speak before——
MISS STANNARD
(Sarcastically)
Strangers? The resentment was shown before Miss Tenner, why not the explanation?
PATRICIA
(Appealing with the usual success to their intimacy.)
Emily, dear, you forget you have already spoken to me of Miss Stannard. (MISS STANNARD stiffens.)
MRS. FROWDE
Wouldn’t it be better if I simply asked you not to call again?
MISS STANNARD
(With a note of challenge)
I must insist that you tell me frankly the reason.
MRS. FROWDE
You insist?
MISS STANNARD
Yes.
MRS. FROWDE
(Bluntly)
There has been too much talk about you. Surely you must have realized your name is on every tongue. You know the world: women can’t do what you have done. You must have been mad—and with a married man at that!
(PATRICIA eyes her keenly. MISS STANNARD tosses her head defiantly; but as MRS. FROWDE eyes her piercingly she seems to lose all her control, begins to tremble, totters, clutching the back of a chair and finally sinks with an hysterical sob upon the sofa, burying her face in her hands. Her vanity-case rattles to the floor. PATRICIA rises instinctively to go to her but sits again as MRS. FROWDE motions her back and approaches MISS STANNARD less harshly.)
I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you like this. Only one must protect one’s self—one’s friends. I couldn’t have you come here. (Slowly) Oh, well, I’m sure you will see one must draw the line somewhere.
PATRICIA
(Impressively)
Yes, Emily, one must draw the line somewhere. Why didn’t you begin with me?
(MRS. FROWDE sits in astonishment as PATRICIA leans forward. There is a long pause till MISS STANNARD looks up slowly in wonder and curiosity.)
I really don’t see why you discriminate.
MRS. FROWDE
But——
PATRICIA
If you and your friends are so shocked by Miss Stannard’s presence, why should you tolerate me? No one gives us stage people the right to privacy. Everybody makes it their business to retail our lives. We’re public property; so surely you and your friends have heard my story, too. Now, really, haven’t you?
MRS. FROWDE
(Confused)
Yes, but—my dear....
PATRICIA
And what have you heard about me? Let’s see if it is correct. My name? It isn’t my own. My real one wouldn’t look well on the advertising. Besides, my father hadn’t given me any reason to be proud of it. My mother may have been a good soul if I had ever really known her. I’ve always thought I was an unwanted child: I hate children so myself. But mother couldn’t have been the sort who’d drink with ease out of your frail tea-cups, and I’ll warrant no amount of coaching would have kept the veneer from peeling when she spoke. I grew up somehow among “beer and skittles,” as Trilby would say; didn’t know what pictures and teas and things were till I came East. And do you know how I came? He seemed so handsome, too, in those days.
MRS. FROWDE
(Moving uneasily as she sees a grim smile come to MISS STANNARD)
But, dear, you were young and——
PATRICIA
Oh, I knew better; but I was bored—bored out there and I wanted a chance to live. We didn’t get along very well—he and I; partly my fault. He couldn’t be happy with a woman who also had a spark of creation tucked away in her soul. Then, besides, I had made up my mind I’d do something because I had to keep alive. I turned to the stage—most of us poor fools do. But I happened to have a way with me and a pair of shoulders that were proud of my face. (Sarcastically.) The critics called it personality. (Quickly) I wonder if you also know I lived in a five-dollar-a-week boarding-house with circus acrobats on the floor above, a sad soprano in a closet next to mine and a smell of cooking all over so I wouldn’t be lonely? (Almost unconsciously her voice at times betrays an unexpected commonness.) How I hated it! How I wanted these feathers and gilt! And every time I made up my face in that two-by-four part I had, I determined to succeed somehow—anyhow. I deserve every bit of success I’ve got, for I worked hard getting the burrs out of my speech and some grammar into it. (MRS. FROWDE moves uncomfortably again.) That’s the truth. People suspected I had a brain and I had; but I wasn’t wasting it on books—I was studying the hearts and souls of the sort of people I needed to get along. (With increasing relish at the effect of her revelations.) And I saw to succeed in my life I had to grow hard inside and soft out. So I affected my husky voice and my sad smile; sadness gave me a touch of mystery and encouraged curiosity. I knew I’d have to keep my face smooth, too; so I stopped feeling for others and thought only of myself. Suffering isn’t good for the complexion. But I helped everybody in convenient ways, because I knew I could make them help me in greater. And as I began to get along I went out more to teas and the like so I could meet the people I could use.
MRS. FROWDE
But, my dear....
PATRICIA
Oh, I’m not ungrateful for their kindness, but I owe them nothing, for I repaid them, by letting them do things for me. Yes, it flattered them to have me about and to say they knew me “intimately.” I was a good asset to their affairs because I was a success. Then I picked up a lot of cant phrases about art and the like, so I could prattle; and I even signed articles which somebody else wrote lamenting the decline of the stage, when I knew in my heart I was glad things were as they were because I could make more money with a dramatized novel or a tailor-made part than in my much advertised and never intended appearance in Shakespeare. (Acting as with apparent conviction.) And back of this, life was calling me. So I did other things to get along. My eyes were open and so it seems were those of the world. It envied me my freedom because I was a success. All of us don’t do it, but I did and it wasn’t always for love. (MISS STANNARD’S quick breath halts her for a moment; then she adds dramatically) Yes, Mrs. Frowde, if you’re going to draw the line somewhere at your teas, why don’t you begin with me?
MRS. FROWDE
(Floundering)
But—but you forget, dear, you—you are a great creative artist.
PATRICIA
No, I don’t. Everybody’s tolerance of my whims, my moods, my morals would never let me forget it. But what has that to do with the right and wrong of it? That’s what you are wondering, Miss Stannard. (MISS STANNARD gazes at her.) I don’t ask any less charity for myself because my “temperament” has made me live my life my own way; though I don’t need charity now I’m on top. (Surging along effectively.) But why shouldn’t you and your friends extend that same charity to the rest of the sinners? (PATRICIA does not detect MISS STANNARD’S change of manner so intent is she in her own words.) You give it to me because I am a creative artist. Everybody has a bit of the artist in them. Some of us use it to make bread; others use it to make trouble. All the nice sinners of the world have the creative spirit, too. Sin is the creating of the actual out of the imagined. It’s falling over the fence in a desire to see what is on the other side. (Consciously shaping her words and manner to a climax.) But the more so are the sins one does for love. Love is the most creative of all impulses. If you forgive me because I’m an artist, as you say; if you can ask me to sit beside your lily-faced daughters and stubby-chinned sons; if you can kiss my lips—I, who have openly violated all your standards—why do you turn against this woman, who has done what she has for the noblest of motives—love—the love of a man?
MISS STANNARD
(She has risen tensely and speaks with a biting bitterness)
I suppose you meant very well, Miss Tenner; you said it just as though it were a scene in some play—with the proper emphasis and pause and nice phrases. But believe me, Mrs. Frowde is right: we can’t judge people by the same standards. (Contemptuously) There is a difference between you and me. I feel it myself. When I need forgiveness I shall only want it of my own class. (Scornfully) The tolerance of yours means nothing to me. (Very quietly) I am sorry, Mrs. Frowde. I’ll not call again till he and I are married. Then, of course, it will be all right. Good-bye.
(MISS STANNARD goes out quickly leaving PATRICIA dumb at her mis-reading of the situation.
MRS. FROWDE, who has been too confused throughout to speak, now vents her anger on MISS STANNARD.)
MRS. FROWDE
The brazen hussy! You see what she is—to insult you so after your splendid defense of her!
PATRICIA
(Slowly)
She was right.
MRS. FROWDE
Not at all. She doesn’t understand the difference with a lady of temperament.
PATRICIA
Temperament—oh, yes. (She smiles sarcastically and then looks surprised at MRS. FROWDE.) And you are not angry with me?
MRS. FROWDE
(Affectionately)
At you, my dear friend? Indeed not. I know you didn’t mean me. And besides I would have understood you if you had.
PATRICIA
(Eyeing her with undetected cynicism)
Yes, yes. You would have understood.
MRS. FROWDE
(Impulsively)
Won’t you stay and have a bite to eat with me—all alone? I can drive you to the theater.
PATRICIA
I have an interview.
MRS. FROWDE
(As they walk to the door)
Too bad they misquote so.
PATRICIA
Yes, isn’t it? I’ve had such a dear afternoon.
MRS. FROWDE
(Embracing her affectionately)
And you’ll come to lunch Tuesday?
PATRICIA
(As though wishing to escape)
No ... I....
MRS. FROWDE
(Solicitously)
But Mavosky will be here and he’s taken quite fancy to you. Thinks you’d make a splendid study.
PATRICIA
(Recalling)
Mavosky! Oh, yes. I thought you said Wednesday; that’s matinée day. Tuesday is all right.
MRS. FROWDE
Say at two?
PATRICIA
I may be a moment late.
MRS. FROWDE
We’ll wait for you. (As they are walking out) I hope you’ll forget what she said.
PATRICIA
Oh, Miss Stannard hasn’t any temperament. And it does make a difference, doesn’t it?
(They go out leaving the room empty, with the candles on the table winking in their sockets.)
[CURTAIN]