LAURA. I will. [She sits for a moment in deep thought, picks up the letter received, as if to read it, and then throws it down in anger. She buries her head in hands.] I can't stand it—I just simply can't stand it.
MRS. FARLEY'S VOICE. [Off stage.] Miss Murdock—Miss Murdock.
LAURA. [Brushing away tears, rises, goes to door, and opens it.]
What is it?
SAME VOICE. There's a lady down here to see you.
ELFIE'S VOICE. [Off stage.] Hello, dearie, can I come up?
LAURA. Is that you, Elfie?
ELFIE. Yes; shall I come up?
LAURA. Why, certainly.
She waits at the door for a moment, and ELFIE ST. CLAIR appears. She is gorgeously gowned in the rather extreme style affected by the usual New York woman who is cared for by a gentleman of wealth and who has not gone through the formality of matrimonial alliance. Her conduct is always exaggerated and her attitude vigorous. Her gown is of the latest design, and in every detail of dress she shows evidence of most extravagant expenditure. She carries a hand-bag of gold, upon which are attached such trifles as a gold cigarette-case, a gold powder-box, pencils, and the like. ELFIE throws her arms around LAURA, and both exchange kisses.
ELFIE. Laura, you old dear [Crossing to table.], I've just found out where you've been hiding, and came around to see you.