ANGELA: (A la Ibsen.) I shall never return to Harry again—
I've left him for life.
MISS CAREY: You'll not stay here all that time.
ANGELA: (As she comes down, dreamily.) No, I intend to marry another—and oh, Miss Carey, his hair is so spick—his shoulders so broad—his teeth are so white.
MISS CAREY: Good Lord, woman, now you're commencing with another.
Who is it?
ANGELA: Surely you must have foreseen my danger—I'm in love with your boarder.
MISS CAREY: Why, you must be crazy—girl—I won't let you enter into such a madness.
ANGELA: (In horror.) Oh Miss Carey, don't tell me you're in love with him yourself. (MISS CAREY sinks in chair.) But you'll not get him.
MISS CAREY: Why, my dear, I wouldn't have him for a birth-day present and neither will you. (After an ad lib. argument.) We'll see. (She calls off in next room.) Fire! Fire!! Fire!!!
(ANGELA gets scared and starts to run one way as FRED runs in—in canton flannels without toupee, etc., etc. ANGELA flops. After audience has seen FRED'S condition, he realizes presence of ladies and rushes back to door—sticking his head out.)
FRED: Where? Where's the fire?