He: Good-by! You’ve broken my heart and mussed me all up.
(They kiss. He stumbles toward the exit—a broken man—then—throws back his head with that proud Princeton gesture—and goes out.)
She: Oh, God! I want to die!
(She looks about her—misty-eyed—with a deep aching sadness—that will pass—that will pass in time—say, three minutes.—She looks for her vanity-bag—powders her nose—renews the carmine on those tired lips——)
She: Well? Are they going to keep me waiting all night? Next boy, please!
More Gurgles
The last light fades and drifts across the land,
The low, long land, the land of towers and spires,
That wanders lonely lest the lurid lyres
Press thy pale petals with a passionate hand—