Alma. Not I! (crosses to sofa) But that’s the only way to deal with Dick. I ought to have had a letter by this time giving me my terms.
Susan. Perhaps Mr. Dick ’ll call.
Alma. Perhaps. I don’t care. (drops on sofa) Oh, dear! (leans her head on her hands; slight pause; Susan arranges the bouquet) How did I look last night?
Susan. (coming down to back of table) Your very best.
Alma. How did I play?
Susan. Better than ever, I think. (goes up and arranges bouquet; another pause)
Alma. Susan, have you ever been in love?
Susan. La, miss, a dozen times! Haven’t you?
Alma. Only once.
Susan. Well, I am surprised.