THE YOUNG MAN: (_Sentimentally_) It’s so nice talking to you like this--when you’re merely a voice. I’m rather glad I can’t see you. JULIE; (_Gratefully_) So am I. THE YOUNG MAN: What color are you wearing? JULIE: (_After a critical survey of her shoulders_) Why, I guess it’s a sort of pinkish white. THE YOUNG MAN: Is it becoming to you? JULIE: Very. It’s--it’s old. I’ve had it for a long while. THE YOUNG MAN: I thought you hated old clothes. JULIE: I do but this was a birthday present and I sort of have to wear it. THE YOUNG MAN: Pinkish-white. Well I’ll bet it’s divine. Is it in style? JULIE: Quite. It’s very simple, standard model. THE YOUNG MAN: What a voice you have! How it echoes! Sometimes I shut my eyes and seem to see you in a far desert island calling for me. And I plunge toward you through the surf, hearing you call as you stand there, water stretching on both sides of you-- (_The soap slips from the side of the tub and splashes in. The young man blinks_) YOUNG MAN: What was that? Did I dream it? JULIE: Yes. You’re--you’re very poetic, aren’t you? THE YOUNG MAN: (_Dreamily_) No. I do prose. I do verse only when I am stirred. JULIE: (_Murmuring_) Stirred by a spoon-- THE YOUNG MAN: I have always loved poetry. I can remember to this day the first poem I ever learned by heart. It was “Evangeline.” JULIE: That’s a fib. THE YOUNG MAN: Did I say “Evangeline”? I meant “The Skeleton in Armor.” JULIE: I’m a low-brow. But I can remember my first poem. It had one verse: Parker and Davis Sittin’ on a fence Tryne to make a dollar Outa fif-teen cents. THE YOUNG MAN: (_Eagerly_) Are you growing fond of literature? JULIE: If it’s not too ancient or complicated or depressing. Same way with people. I usually like ’em not too ancient or complicated or depressing. THE YOUNG MAN: Of course I’ve read enormously. You told me last night that you were very fond of Walter Scott. JULIE: (_Considering_) Scott? Let’s see. Yes, I’ve read “Ivanhoe” and “The Last of the Mohicans.” THE YOUNG MAN: That’s by Cooper. JULIE: (_Angrily_) “Ivanhoe” is? You’re crazy! I guess I know. I read it. THE YOUNG MAN: “The Last of the Mohicans” is by Cooper. JULIE: What do I care! I like O. Henry. I don’t see how he ever wrote those stories. Most of them he wrote in prison. “The Ballad of Reading Gaol” he made up in prison. THE YOUNG MAN: (_Biting his lip_) Literature--literature! How much it has meant to me! JULIE: Well, as Gaby Deslys said to Mr. Bergson, with my looks and your brains there’s nothing we couldn’t do. THE YOUNG MAN: (_Laughing_) You certainly are hard to keep up with. One day you’re awfully pleasant and the next you’re in a mood. If I didn’t understand your temperament so well-- JULIE: (_Impatiently_) Oh, you’re one of these amateur character-readers, are you? Size people up in five minutes and then look wise whenever they’re mentioned. I hate that sort of thing.