Diana. Do you know what brought me here to-day? It was to ask you to accompany us on our tour through the north next week. (Sits on arm of Alice's chair) There's a dear. Say you will come. Why, you cannot imagine how disappointed Jack and I will be, not mentioning all our other guests, if you refuse.
Alice. Really, Diana, I am very sorry to have to refuse. But I simply cannot go. Why, look at all this correspondence and no one but myself to answer it.
Diana. Why don't you get a stenographer? Why not advertise?
Alice. Oh, I've done that—I advertised for a stenographer, and, would you believe it, when I came down this morning there were at least twenty-five applicants outside my door clamoring to get in.
Diana. And how did you get rid of them?
Alice. I interviewed each one separately, but found not one qualified to do my work. I verily believe if I encounter another applicant like any of my last ones I shall close up shop and bury myself in the woods. (Woe-begone look)
Diana (fingering cards and papers on desk). Alice Marie Jenkins Berning, what does this mean? Why there isn't anything on these so-called letters but meaningless words. Since when did Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Courld, Mr. Montemout and all these other society favorites become your clients? Ah-ah—the plot thickens—so Dick has been consulting you, too? I suppose he wishes to sue for a separation or something like that. (Cries wildly) Oh dear, oh dear!
Alice. Diana, if you do not stop that nonsense you will spoil my practice. What will my clients think if they should come in and see you carrying on so?
Diana (sobs). Oh, but my husband; to think he has deceived me so. Oh dear, oh dear!
Alice. For goodness sake, stop! And how unlucky you should find out the real state of affairs.