Ritter. I like her all right.
Mrs. R. No, you do not, now, Fred,—so don’t say you do.
Ritter. I think she’s marvelous.
Mrs. R. Well, she’s tremendously clever at this stage business, I don’t care what you say. You just ought to hear her talk about it sometime. Now, the last rehearsal we had,—over at her house,—she spoke on “Technique in Acting as Distinguished from Method;” and you’ve no idea how interesting it was. [Ritter glances over at her as he deposits some ashes from his cigar on the little table-tray.]
Ritter. You say you’ve given this show before?
Mrs. R. Oh yes! We gave it on the fourteenth at the Civic Club. And, my dear, that audience just loved it. And you’d be surprised too, for it’s a terrifically serious thing. In fact, in a way, it’s too serious—for the general public—that’s the reason several of the people who saw it suggested that, if we give it again, we should give a dance right after it. [She looks closely at her needle and Ritter looks discreetly at the end of his cigar.] But, as Mrs. Pampinelli says, it’s an absolute impossibility to give a dance at either the Civic Club or the Century Drawing Rooms, so that’s how we’re giving it this time down at Hutchy Kutchy. [Ritter looks over at her with a quizzical squint.]
Ritter. Where?
Mrs. R. [Looking over at him] Horticultural Hall—there at Broad and Spruce, you know.
Ritter. Yes, I know;—what did you call it?
Mrs. R. Hutchy Kutchy. [She laughs inanely.] Mrs. Pampinelli always calls it that,—I suppose I’ve gotten into the habit too, from hearing her. [She gives another little laugh, then finishes with an amused sigh.]