MAUD. [Interrupting.] Oh!
FITZSIMMONS. And you kept repeating over and over, “Bob, dear Bob.”
MAUD. [Springing to her feet.] Oh! I never did! [Recollecting herself.] Perhaps I must have. I was a trifle wild in those days, I admit. But I’m wise now. I’ve sowed my wild oats and steadied down.
FITZSIMMONS. I’m glad to hear that, Harry. You were tearing off a pretty fast pace in those days. [Pause, in which MAUD nods.] Still punch the bag?
MAUD. [In quick alarm, glancing at punching bag.] No, I’ve got out of the hang of it.
FITZSIMMONS. [Reproachfully.] You haven’t forgotten that right-and-left, arm, elbow and shoulder movement I taught you?
MAUD. [With hesitation.] N-o-o.
FITZSIMMONS. [Moving toward bag to left.] Then, come on.
MAUD. [Rising reluctantly and following.] I’d rather see you punch the bag. I’d just love to.
FITZSIMMONS. I will, afterward. You go to it first.