LAURA. [Who is much brightened by ELFIE'S appearance.] Elfie, you're looking bully. How are you, dear?
ELFIE. Fine.
LAURA. Come in and sit down. I haven't much to offer, but—
ELFIE. Oh, never mind. It's such a grand day outside, and I've come around in my car to take you out. [Sits right of table.] You know I've got a new one, and it can go some.
LAURA. [Sits on arm of chair.] I am sorry, but I can't go out this afternoon, Elfie.
ELFIE. What's the matter?
LAURA. You see I'm staying home a good deal nowadays. I haven't been feeling very well and I don't go out much.
ELFIE. I should think not. I haven't seen you in Rector's or Martin's since you come back from Denver. Got a glimpse of you one day trailing up Broadway, but couldn't get to you—you dived into some office or other. [For the first time she surveys the room, rises, looks around critically, crossing to mantel.] Gee! Whatever made you come into a dump like this? It's the limit.
LAURA. [Crossing and standing back of the table.] Oh, I know it isn't pleasant, but it's my home, and after all—a home's a home.
ELFIE. Looks more like a prison. [Takes candy from mantel; spits it out on floor.] Makes me think of the old days of Child's sinkers and a hall bedroom.