Mrs. Pampinelli. Yes, do, dear. [Mrs. Ritter goes out at the left, and Mrs. Pampinelli turns, touching her hair, and starts back towards the right. Something falls beyond the flats. She stops dead, and listens. Mrs. Fell turns quickly and peeks through the right door. Twiller comes forward at the right and looks inquiringly.]
Florence. [Just audible beyond the flats] Then, you’ve allowed him to think so.
Mrs. Pampinelli. What’s that?
Florence. [Beyond the flats] Perhaps it is.
Mrs. Fell. [Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli, and quite casually] He knocked the ash-tray over. [Mrs. Pampinelli relaxes, and proceeds to arrange the beaded ornaments on her dress, while Mrs. Fell moves a bit farther over to the right and stands listening, manuscript and lorgnon in hand. Twiller crosses to the left, below Mrs. Fell, and gathers up his gloves and cane.]
Hossefrosse. [Beyond the flats] You are deliberately misinterpreting this situation! Yes you are! It’s perfectly ridiculous that a physician cannot take a woman patient without being subjected to the whisperings of a lot of vulgar scandal-mongers.
Florence. This is not a romantic age, Clyde.
Twiller. [Coming to Mrs. Pampinelli’s right] Was that inflection of mine any better tonight on that line, “I’m puzzled.”?
Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, very much better, I was listening for it.
Twiller. [Thoughtfully] I never seemed to get the sense of that line until tonight. It just seemed to—come to me, out there on the stage.