Miss Macfarlane.
Ay, you're right there. But until _we_ hold the purse strings, it's
hard to keep them to the strict rules o' the game.
Mrs. Denham.
That is a vile injustice! I may not be able to fight on equal terms,
but I will never submit. If he does not go, I will. (_Crosses_
R.)
Miss Macfarlane.
Don't wreck your lives for a man's passing fancy. If that's your new
morality, I prefer the old. Don't turn this comedy into a tragedy.
That's all very well on the stage, but we're not acting an Ibsen
play; it doesn't pay in real life.
Mrs. Denham.
A good tragedy is better than a bad comedy.
Miss Macfarlane.
Come to your room, my dear. Have your cry out, sponge your eyes, and
we'll have a quiet talk.
Mrs. Denham.
Oh, this sense of failure! It will drive me mad!
ACT DROP.
Act III.
_Scene: The Studio. Mrs. Denham lying on sofa_ R C, _a
shawl over her feet, her face buried in her hands, moaning
inarticulately. Table as in_ ACT II.
(_Enter Denham excitedly._)
Denham.
Constance!
Mrs. Denham.
(_moving and raising her head_) Well?
Denham.
Where is Undine?
Mrs.
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