Peale. (Indifferently) Oh, she’s all right. (Takes pad and pencil from pocket and sits in arm-chair L.)
Rodney. All right!? Why, the girls you read about don’t mean anything compared to Mary. She’s got Juliet beat a mile. Every time I think of her I want to yell or do some darn fool thing, and every time I see her I just want to get down and kiss her shoes. I just want to walk around after her all the rest of my life and say “Are you comfortable, my love? Are you happy? If there is anything on the wide earth you want, let me get it for you, Mary.” What a wonderful name that is—just like her, simple and honest and beautiful! Mary!
Peale. (Reflectively) If we could only land one hard wallop on father after that Buffalo business!
Rodney. (Indignantly) Didn’t you hear what I said?
Peale. Not a word.
Rodney. I was talking about Mary.
Peale. I know you were. That’s why I didn’t listen.
(Mary enters from door upper R. with MSS. case. Hangs up hat, then goes to desk, sitting back of it C.)
Mary. Good-morning.
Rodney. (To Mary) Ah, you’re here—now everything’s all right, it’s a great world.