The passionate woman is always ugly. The passionate woman has
character, and character is always ugly.
Denham.
Yes, I know what you mean. But I thought--no, the thing's a failure.
Don't bother about it, but come and sit down. Have a cigarette?
(_Gives him a cigarette._)
Fitzgerald.
Thanks.
(_They sit down, Fitzgerald lights cigarette, and puffs solemnly
before he speaks again._)
Mrs. Smith (_puff_), you didn't know her well? Did you, Mrs. Denham?
(_Puff._)
Mrs. Denham.
No--not well.
Fitzgerald.
You know I painted her portrait (_looks at lighted end of
cigarette_), portrait (_leans back in his chair, replaces cigarette
in his mouth, and puffs again. Then putting his hands behind his
head, he stretches out his legs, and looks at the ceiling_), so I
knew her like my own sister. (_Puff._) She was a pretty little devil
(_puff_), awfully aristocratic, mind you, vulgar, of course,
an'--an' poor refined little Smith just _didn't_ drop his H's.
(_Puffs, chuckles to himself._) Yes, she was a born jade. (_Puff._)
I--I liked her awfully. (_Puff._)
Mrs. Denham.
You seem to like every one awfully.
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