Evangeline (rather crossly, rising). Of course I quite see that until my room's done, I shall never be able to do any work at all. (Puts cover on typewriter, then pushes table up to back L.)
Mrs. Dermott. Don't be cross, darling. You know how worried I am over everything this morning. It's one long rush.
Evangeline (kissing her). Sorry dear. I quite understand, only I must have this story sent to the Clarion by Tuesday. If not, it won't be out until the August number.
Mrs. Dermott. You're a dear darling, and you work terribly hard. I only hope you won't overdo it.
Evangeline. Oh no, these stories are only pot boilers. They just fill in the time until my next novel is ready.
Bobbie (suddenly.). Listen, don't you think this is a ripping change? (He plays a few chords. He then sits back complacently.)
Mrs. Dermott. Perfectly lovely, darling.
Evangeline. It sounds very much like everything else to me.
Bobbie. Only because you haven't got any ear. As a matter of fact they're quite good chords. I shall put them into the new tomb-stone cycle.
Evangeline. Don't alter many of my words, will you?