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The Débutante
Youdon’tsmoke?Whatapity!Thekingdoesn’tallowit,Isuppose.Yes,I’lldance.
(Soshedancesaroundtheroomtoatunefromdown-stairs,herarmsoutstretchedtoanimaginarypartner,thecigarettewavinginherhand.)
SEVERALHOURSLATER
Thecornerofadendown-stairs,filledbyaverycomfortableleatherlounge.Asmalllightisoneachsideabove,andinthemiddle,overthecouchhangsapaintingofaveryold,verydignifiedgentleman,period1860.Outsidethemusicisheardinafox-trot.
ROSALINDisseatedontheloungeandonherleftisHOWARDGILLESPIE,avapidyouthofabouttwenty-four.Heisobviouslyveryunhappy,andsheisquitebored.
GILLESPIE:(Feebly)WhatdoyoumeanI’vechanged.Ifeelthesametowardyou.
ROSALIND:Butyoudon’tlookthesametome.
GILLESPIE:ThreeweeksagoyouusedtosaythatyoulikedmebecauseIwassoblasé,soindifferent—Istillam.
ROSALIND:Butnotaboutme.Iusedtolikeyoubecauseyouhadbrowneyesandthinlegs.
GILLESPIE:(Helplessly)They’restillthinandbrown.You’reavampire,that’sall.
ROSALIND:TheonlythingIknowaboutvampingiswhat’sonthepianoscore.WhatconfusesmenisthatI’mperfectlynatural.Iusedtothinkyouwereneverjealous.NowyoufollowmewithyoureyeswhereverIgo.
GILLESPIE:Iloveyou.
ROSALIND:(Coldly)Iknowit.
GILLESPIE:Andyouhaven’tkissedmefortwoweeks.Ihadanideathatafteragirlwaskissedshewas—was—won.
ROSALIND:Thosedaysareover.Ihavetobewonalloveragaineverytimeyouseeme.