Scorn of Women: A Play In Three Acts

by Jack London

MRS. EPPINGWELL

I'd rather you didn't go—Floyd. The next dance

(Looking at his card.) is ours. It will begin in a minute.

(Vanderlip does not know what to say. Freda urges him to continue toward door by tugging privily on his arm. Also she glances apprehensively at Mrs. McFee, who, with a set expression on face, has drawn nearer.)