Now go and make yourself beautiful.
WANDA. [Seizing him in her arms] Oh, Larry!
LARRY. [Touching her face and hair] Hanged by the neck until he's dead—for what I did.
[WANDA takes a long look at his face, slips her arms from him,
and goes out through the curtains below the fireplace.]
[LARRY feels in his pocket, brings out the little box, opens it,
fingers the white tabloids.]
LARRY. Two each—after food. [He laughs and puts back the box] Oh! my girl!
[The sound of a piano playing a faint festive tune is heard afar
off. He mutters, staring at the fire.]
[Flames-flame, and flicker-ashes.]
"No more, no more, the moon is dead, And all the people in it."
[He sits on the couch with a piece of paper on his knees, adding
a few words with a stylo pen to what is already written.]