MRS. SCHUYLER: Niagara Falls? I must have been on one of my honeymoons—oh, yes—of course—Mr. Morgan. (They shake hands.) You see, I've met so many mushy men. (He sighs.) What makes you look so unhappy?
PAUL: I'm in love with a girl.
MRS. SCHUYLER: Only one? Why so economical?
PAUL: Ah—I'm afraid you don't know what real love is.
MRS. SCHUYLER: Oh, yes I do! Real love is the kind that lasts after you've heard a man sleeping right out loud. Who's the girl?
PAUL: Miss Madison.
MRS. SCHUYLER: (Surprised.) Our Rose? Not on your life. To-morrow, before we return to America, she's to marry the Abu Mirzah, and nothing can prevent it.
PAUL: (In horror.) She's being sacrificed to that old mummy—I'll kill him.
MRS. SCHUYLER: The doctors say he is so strong, nothing can kill him, except his fondness for Persian plums, and there is a mandate out inflicting death upon any man who sends him any. (ROSE enters.)
PAUL: (Crossing to her.) Oh, Miss Madison, I've just heard—