MAUD. [Boastfully.] I was wild—some.
FITZSIMMONS. [Grinning.] I should say! Remember that night I put you to bed?
MAUD. [Forgetting herself, indignantly.] Sir!
FITZSIMMONS. You were . . . er . . . drunk.
MAUD. I never was!
FITZSIMMONS. Surely you haven’t forgotten that night! You began with dropping champagne bottles out of the club windows on the heads of the people on the sidewalk, and you wound up by assaulting a cabman. And let me tell you I saved you from a good licking right there, and squared it with the police. Don’t you remember?
MAUD. [Nodding hesitatingly.] Yes, it is beginning to come back to me. I was a bit tight that night.
FITZSIMMONS. [Exultantly.] A bit tight! Why, before I could get you to bed you insisted on telling me the story of your life.
MAUD. Did I? I don’t remember that.
FITZSIMMONS. I should say not. You were past remembering anything by that time. You had your arms around my neck—