MAURY: (In a whisper, indicating the kitchen with his thumb) Tana! That's not his real name. I understand he constantly gets mail addressed to Lieutenant Emile Tannenbaum.
PARAMORE: (Laughing with hearty tolerance) You were kidding me.
MAURY: I may be accusing him falsely. But, you haven't told me what you've been doing.
PARAMORE: For one thing—writing.
MAURY: Fiction?
PARAMORE: No. Non-fiction.
MAURY: What's that? A sort of literature that's half fiction and half fact?
PARAMORE: Oh, I've confined myself to fact. I've been doing a good deal of social-service work.
MAURY: Oh!
(An immediate glow of suspicion leaps into his eyes. It is as though PARAMORE had announced himself as an amateur pickpocket.)