MISS CAREY: (Poking her night-capped head out of curtains.) Well, who are you?
VOICE: (Off stage.) You don't know me. But that's all right.
Please let me in—hurry! Hurry!
MISS CAREY: (Rising and getting into a kimono.) Well—whoever you are—what do you mean by waking me at two in the morning? I'll report this to the janitor. (She turns up light and opens door. ANGELA MAXWELL rushes in—in fluffy peignoir—her hair in pretty disorder—her hands full of wearing apparel, etc., as if she just snatched same up in haste. An opera coat, a pair of slippers, etc.)
ANGELA: (Rushing in—closing door after her and silencing MISS CAREY by the mysterious way she seizes her by the wrist.) Listen, you don't know me, but I've just left my husband.
MISS CAREY: (Sharply.) Well, that's no reason why I should leave my bed.
ANGELA: (Reassuringly.) You can go right back again, dear—in fact,
I'll go with you and we'll talk it over there.
MISS CAREY: I don't wish to talk it over anywhere, and—
ANGELA: Well, surely, you don't think it was wrong of me to leave
Harry—now do you?
MISS CAREY: I never blame any woman for leaving any man.
ANGELA: See, I knew it. After I fired the Wedgewood vase at him—and just for doing it he was brute enough to call me "Vixen,"— I snatched up as much as I could that was worth taking, and left him forever. (Suddenly, as she sees dress on model.) Oh, what a lovely little frock. (Back to other tone.) Yes, forever; and it was only when I stood out in the cold hall that I realized it would have been better to have left him forever when I was all dressed in the morning. (Beginning to shiver and weep.) Take my advice, dear, if you ever leave your husband, never do it on a cold night.