HARRY: Not without my wife.
ANGELA: Then you'll stay forever—'cause I'm not going with you.
(She sits right of little table.)
MISS CAREY: See here—you argue this out between you—but I'm going to bed—but don't you argue above a whisper or I'll ring for the police—the idea of you two galavanting about my apartments. (Going behind curtains.)
(A funny scene ensues between husband and wife—they start their argument in whispered pantomime—she shakes her finger at him—he shakes back at her—it finally grows slightly louder and louder until they are yelling at each other.)
ANGELA: (Screaming.) If you say the vase hit you—you're a wicked—
HARRY: I don't care anything about the vase—you're coming downstairs with me. (He pulls her off chair and swings her R.)
ANGELA: (Falling on couch.) I'm not.
HARRY: (Grabbing her again.) You are.
ANGELA: I'm not. (He tries to pull her to door—she bites his finger, and breaking away, runs up to curtains again.) Miss Carey, Miss Carey, wake up, he bit me. (MISS CAREY dashes out in fury, ANGELA hangs to her.) Oh, Miss Carey, you're the only one I have in all the world to keep me from this monster. Oh, Miss Carey, pity me, make believe you're my mother.
MISS CAREY: I told you I'm not married.