FITZSIMMONS. [Gruffly.] Rotten. Anybody could tell it was a boy's voice-- MAUD. Oh! FITZSIMMONS. It is rough and coarse and it cracked on every high note. MAUD. Oh! Oh! [Recollecting herself and shrugging her shoulders.] Oh, very well. Now let's see if you can do any better with the bag. [FITZSIMMONS takes off coat and gives exhibition.] [MAUD looks on in an ecstasy of admiration.] MAUD. [As he finishes.] Beautiful! Beautiful! [FITZSIMMONS puts on coat and goes over and sits down near table.] Nothing like the bag to limber one up. I feel like a fighting cock. Harry, let's go out on a toot, you and I. MAUD. Wh-a-a-t? FITZSIMMONS. A toot. You know--one of those rip-snorting nights you used to make. MAUD. [Emphatically, as she picks up newspapers from leather chair, sits down, and places them on her lap.] I'll do nothing of the sort. I've--I've reformed. FITZSIMMONS. You used to joy-ride like the very devil. MAUD. I know it. FITZSIMMONS. And you always had a pretty girl or two along. MAUD. [Boastfully, in mannish, fashion.] Oh, I still have my fling. Do you know any--well,--er,--nice girls? FITZSIMMONS. Sure. MAUD. Put me wise. FITZSIMMONS. Sure. You know Jack Sylvester? MAUD. [Forgetting herself.] He's my brother-- FITZSIMMONS. [Exploding.] What! MAUD.--In-law's first cousin. FITZSIMMONS. Oh! MAUD. So you see I don't know him very well. I only met him once--at the club. We had a drink together. FITZSIMMONS. Then you don't know his sister? MAUD. [Starting.] His sister? I--I didn't know he had a sister. FITZSIMMONS. [Enthusiastically.] She's a peach. A queen. A little bit of all right. A--a loo-loo. MAUD. [Flattered.] She is, is she? FITZSIMMONS. She's a scream. You ought to get acquainted with her. MAUD. [Slyly.] You know her, then? FITZSIMMONS. You bet. MAUD. [Aside.] Oh, ho! [To FITZSIMMONS.] Know her very well? FITZSIMMONS. I've taken her out more times than I can remember. You'll like her, I'm sure. MAUD. Thanks. Tell me some more about her. FITZSIMMONS. She dresses a bit loud. But you won't mind that. And whatever you do, don't take her to eat. MAUD. [Hiding her chagrin.] Why not? FITZSIMMONS. I never saw such an appetite-- MAUD. Oh! FITZSIMMONS. It's fair sickening. She must have a tapeworm. And she thinks she can sing. MAUD. Yes? FITZSIMMONS. Rotten. You can do better yourself, and that's not saying much. She's a nice girl, really she is, but she is the black sheep of the family. Funny, isn't it? MAUD. [Weak voice.] Yes, funny. FITZSIMMONS. Her brother Jack is all right. But he can't do anything with her. She's a--a-- MAUD. [Grimly.] Yes. Go on. FITZSIMMONS. A holy terror. She ought to be in a reform school. MAUD. [Springing to her feet and slamming newspapers in his face.] Oh! Oh! Oh! You liar! She isn't anything of the sort!