FRED: Oh, you'll go back to your home to-morrow.
ANGELA: No—I'll never enter it again—never again—except for lunch.
FRED: Then you're planning a divorce?
ANGELA: (As it dawns on her—with a smile.) I suppose it would be well to get something like that.
FRED: Is he in love with another woman?
ANGELA: (Indignantly.) My Harry—I guess not. (His hand is stretched toward her—in anger she slaps it.)
FRED: Then you'll never get it (Making love to her.) unless you fall in love with another man and let your husband get the divorce.
ANGELA: (Innocently.) I think I'd like that better—I'll tell Miss Carey (She approaches curtain—a snore makes her change her mind.)—I'll tell her later.
FRED: I'm awfully glad I'm a fellow boarder here. (He advances to her—as he is about to put his arm about her—suddenly a pounding on door and a gruff voice without:) Open—open!
ANGELA: (In terror.) Oh, it's my husband—it's Harry.