HUGH. [_Stalking to the window and back again._] Yes, I do see, and what I see is that you have no imagination. You had better go home to your mother. We are not mates. Good-bye. [_He goes out fiercely._] [_ANNABELLE opens her mouth as the curtain falls._] SCENE II: _(A year later.) A studio apartment in Greenwich Village in New York. It has attractive things in it, screens, embroideries, couch, but is most woefully untidy._ _Before, and as the curtain rises, HUGH is playing the piano furiously. Arpeggios and runs dash from base to treble and back again. Chords crash like thunder. Triplets and ringlets and streamlets tinkle about on top, then rush downwards to embrace the chords—a very tempestuoso glorioso of sound. He stops once or twice to jot down a note on a score. He gets up, rubs his stomach, and goes to some unwashed dishes on a table, the remains of afternoon tea, pokes among them unsuccessfully and then returns dolefully to the piano, first lighting a cigarette. GLADYS appears suddenly through the curtained doorway, back, and poses against the portières. She is tall and dark and angular and sinister, with a certain BEAUTÉ DE DIABLE. She is very smart and very decolleté, and she smokes a long, thin Italian cigar. HUGH looks up and sees her, and weaves into his theme passionate welcome. She smiles crookedly at him._ HUGH. My Beloved! [_He reaches out one hand, which she takes, leaning towards him._] GLADYS. You call that—music? HUGH. Yes, I call that music. Don’t you? GLADYS. Would you mind telling me how much longer you expect to keep it up? HUGH. Until I get this idea down on paper. Sorry you don’t like it. It’s my piano! [_Bangs louder, then catches sight of her cigar._] Throw that disgusting thing away! GLADYS. All right. [_She does so, then takes his cigarette from his mouth and puts it in her own._] Ow wow! What a noise! [_Prinks before glass._] My ears! HUGH. [_Playing softly and beguilingly, and half chanting the question._] When do I get something to eat? GLADYS. [_Strolling around and stretching, dropping wrap on the floor._] I dunno. I’ve had my supper. [_Fearful discords on piano._] HUGH. [_To the accompaniment of chords of jealous gloom._] You have? With whom? GLADYS. Jim took me to the Ritz after the show. What did you wait for? Guess you can scare up something somewhere if you try. Isn’t there some chocolate-cake over there? [_She points to the tea-tray. HUGH goes on playing—motif—temper and hunger._] HUGH. Chocolate-cake! Ye gods! [_Jealous-temper motif. GLADYS unwinds herself luxuriously onto the couch._] GLADYS. Say, Hughie! HUGH. Yes? [_Basso profundo._] GLADYS. Did Old Grump take the Sonata? HUGH. No. [_Anger motif._] GLADYS. Thought not. It’s rot that sonata! Little Hughie’ll have to try again.