Mrs. Dot: A Farce

by W. Somerset Maugham

My dear Gerald, you were cured of your passion for Nellie in a month. I have no doubt that a week in Paris will make your heart whole once more.

Gerald.

[Calmly.] Are you packing me off by any chance?

Mrs. Dot.

Marked—damaged.

Gerald.

[With his tongue in his cheek.] Then Good-bye!

Mrs. Dot.

Bon voyage.

[He turns to go and walks slowly to the door. She seizes a cushion and throws it at him, then turns her back on him. He stops, picks up the cushion and gravely brings it to her.