Stuart. Well, how does she treat you compared with the other men?
Fred. At first she was very nice and friendly, but latterly she’ll have nothing to do with me.
Stuart. A girl of taste!
Fred. I’m in the mood to enjoy such friendly jokes.
Stuart. It was meant kindly, Fred, as you will see in a moment. Now, my boy, I’m going to give you a talking to, and if you resent it, it will only be further confirmation of another little theory of mine, that a man’s an ass who concerns himself in other people’s affairs.
Fred. Go ahead. I’m blue enough to like anything sour or disagreeable.
[Sits, desk chair, and leans on desk.
Stuart. Now, there at once you give me the text to preach from. (Walks behind chair l. and leans on back, speaking over it down r.) About a year ago a certain gentleman named Fred meets a certain lady named Agnes. We’ll say he met her at a dance—
Fred. No, it was yachting.
Stuart. Ah!—excuse my lack of historical accuracy. Well, on a yacht—he met her; then at a ball—he met her; then at a cotillion—he met her; then at a dinner—he met her. In short, he met her, and met her, and met her.