Michael and His Lost Angel: A Play in Five Acts

by Henry Arthur Jones

(Sits himself resolutely at table, reads. A little tap at the door, he shows surprise; the tap is repeated, he rises, goes to door, opens it. At that moment AUDRIE’S face appears at the right-hand window for a moment. He looks out, stays there a moment or two, closes door, seats himself again at table, reads. The tap is repeated; he rises, AUDRIE appears at door, he shows a moment of intense delight which he quickly subdues.)

AUDR. May I come in? (Pause.) You are busy—I’ll go—

MICH. No—(She stops on threshold.) Come in.

She enters. He stands motionless at table. Sunset without. It gradually grows darker.

MICH. What brings you here?

AUDR. You did not expect me. You aren’t accustomed to entertain angels unawares—even bad ones.

MICH. (his voice thick and a little hoarse). Your boat, your companions?

AUDR. I have no boat, and no companions.

MICH. (horrified, delighted). You’re alone?