Mrs. Pampinelli. Take your arm down, Mr. Twiller! [Mrs. Ritter reaches up and quietly but firmly draws Twiller’s arm down. Mrs. Pampinelli turns away to the left, disgusted.] My God! I never gave any such direction as that!
Florence. Be at ease, Mr. Rush; if you were not mistaken I should have known it,—and so should you; I’m not a tragic woman. Did you want to leave any message for the Doctor, Mrs. Rush?
Mrs. Ritter. [At Twiller’s right] Yes,—[Twiller turns his head sharply and looks right into her eyes. She steps around back of him and speaks to Florence over his left shoulder.] I wish you’d say that my husband called—[Twiller turns and looks into her eyes again, and she steps around back of him again, to his right.] for my bill. [She reaches out and starts to draw the door to. Twiller, very ill at ease, and awkwardly looking from side to side, not knowing just how to get out gracefully, makes a full turn round to his right.]
Twiller. [Raising his hat to Florence] Good evening, Mrs. Arlington. [Mrs. Ritter closes the door, causing him to drop his cane; but he’s too excited to notice it.]
Hossefrosse. [Standing at the right door, extending his hand] Great, old man!
Twiller. [Dropping his gloves, as he shakes hands] Thanks. [He continues to the right.]
Mrs. Fell. [As he passes below her] Splendid, Ralph! What happened to your mustache? [She laughs.]
Twiller. Can you beat that, Nelly! I couldn’t coax that thing off before I went on!
Hossefrosse. [Holding the knob of the right door] Shush!
Mrs. Fell. I don’t think the audience noticed it.