Good-bye!
Mrs. Tremaine.
(_as Denham arranges her skirt_) _A bientot!_
(_Exit Mrs. Denham. Denham begins to paint._)
Denham.
Well, you mysterious creature, I think you have chosen your
profession well. Your voice is lovely, and your style--well, not bad
in these days of execrable singing.
Mrs. Tremaine.
Do you know, it was your praise that made me think seriously of
this?
Denham.
(_absorbed in painting_) Really? But why would you never sing to me
since that evening?
Mrs. Tremaine.
I have been working so hard; I wanted to surprise you.
Denham.
And now you will?
Mrs. Tremaine.
Perhaps--some time. (_A pause, Denham painting in silence._)
Denham.
Come down and look at this thing now. I can do no more to it.
Mrs. Tremaine.
(_comes over to the easel, Denham puts down brush and palette_) But
this is splendid!
Denham.
(_taking pipe_) Better, isn't it? (_Crosses L, to table,
and strikes a match._)
Mrs. Tremaine.
Oh _yes_! But how you _have_ flattered me! I shall be reduced to a
proper humility when I look in the glass. (_Turns and glances at
mirror, then again at picture.
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