Mrs. Fell. [Coming into view, with considerable flourish] Kind! My dear, I haven’t heard anything like it since I was twenty! [She gives a little wave of her gorgeous, single white ostrich-plume fan at Mrs. Pampinelli.] Hello, Betty! [Then to Mrs. Ritter] How are you, darling?
Mrs. Ritter. Hello, Nelly. [Nelly kisses her.]
Mrs. Pampinelli. [Enthroning herself in the arm-chair at the right] Is it really possible!
Mrs. Fell. [Turning from Mrs. Ritter and hurrying through the center-door] You’re a sweet child! [Extending the fan towards Mrs. Pampinelli, and coming quickly forward to the table at the right below the piano] Yes, and I should have been here every night at this hour if it weren’t for that dreadful officer up at the parkway! [She sets her fan and black-velvet bag on the table. Spindler comes in from the right hallway and engages in conversation with Mrs. Ritter in the centre-door.] He seems to take a fiendish delight in selecting my car, of all the millions that pass there at this hour, to do this! [She extends her right arm and hand, after the fashion of traffic-officers.] So I told him yesterday afternoon, I said, “Look here, young man!” [She points her forefinger as though reproving the officer.] “You needn’t expect any Christmas-present from me next Christmas, for you just—won’t—get it. Not till you change your tactics.” So he says, after this, he’s just going to let me go ahead and run into a trolley-car;—see how I like that. [Mrs. Pampinelli, making marginal notes in the manuscript, laughs faintly.] “Well,” I said, “it’d be a change, anyway,—from being stopped all the time.” [She abstractedly picks up her fan again.] I don’t think he likes my chauffeur. And I don’t blame him; I don’t like him myself. He drives too slow—[She starts for the center-door.] He’s like an old woman. [She sees Ritter, peering at her, and starts abruptly.] Well, for Mercy’s sake, Frederick Ritter, you don’t mean to tell me that’s you!
Ritter. I was here a minute ago.
Mrs. Fell. [Laughing flightily] Well, I declare! I don’t know what’s happening to my eyes! [Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli] I saw him standing there, [Turning back again and starting towards Ritter, with her hand extended] but I thought it was one of the other gentlemen! How are you, dear boy? [He takes her hand and stoops over as though to kiss her. She turns her head away quickly.] Stop it! Frederick Ritter! [Mrs. Pampinelli glances over, then resumes her notes. Mrs. Fell half-turns to Mrs. Ritter, who is still talking to Mr. Spindler up at the center-door.] Paula!—do you see what this bad boy of yours is doing? [Paula just looks and laughs meaninglessly, and resumes her conversation with Spindler.] What brought you back so soon?
Ritter. [Assuming the attitude and tone of a lover] I got thinking of you.
Mrs. Fell. [Touching her hair] I thought you were out in Seattle or South Carolina or one of those funny places.
Ritter. [Leaning a bit closer and speaking more softly] I couldn’t keep away from you any longer. [Nelly darts a swift glance at him.]
Mrs. Fell. [Starting towards the right] Don’t play with fire, Frederick—[He laughs hard. She pauses in the middle of the room and turns and looks at him.] You know what they say about widows, and I’ve been all kinds. [She continues over towards Mrs. Pampinelli.] Oh, Professor Pampinelli! [Turning and addressing Ritter directly] I call her Professor, she knows so much. [Turning back to Mrs. Pampinelli] Mrs. P.