Doris. I think it’s that he looks like some fella I was engaged to once.
Fish. He’s some mailman.
Doris. The nicest one I ever saw. Isn’t he for you?
Fish. By far. Say, Charlie Chaplin’s down at the Bijou.
Doris. I don’t like him. I think he’s vulgar. Let’s go and see if there’s anything artistic.
Fish makes an indistinguishable frightened noise.
Doris. What’s the matter?
Fish. I’ve swallowed my gum.
Doris. It ought to teach you a moral.
They go out. Charlotte comes in drearily. She glances first eagerly, then listlessly at the letters and throws them aside.