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Page 3
YOUNG LADY.
Not too red--nicely flushed.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.
[_Examining his nails critically as he rises._] I say though, that's a
vast improvement!
MISS CLARIDGE.
Getting more shapely, aren't they?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Thanks awfully.
[_He pays_ MISS LIMBIRD, _stands talking to her for a while, and
ultimately strolls away through the opening in the partition. After
putting her table in order_, MISS CLARIDGE _goes out the same way,
carrying her bowl of water and towel._
MISS MOON.
[_To the young lady._] Have you had your hand read yet, madam, by any of
these palmists?
YOUNG LADY.
Heavens, yes! I've been twice to that woman Bernstein, and I don't know
how often to Chiron.
MISS MOON.
Ah, you ought to try Valma.
YOUNG LADY.
Valma?
MISS MOON.
He's the latest. Ladies are flocking to him.
YOUNG LADY.
Really?
MISS MOON.
Yes. Such taking manners.
YOUNG LADY.
Where does he--?
MISS MOON.
186--next door. [_Indicating the window on the left._] You can see his
waiting-room from that window.
YOUNG LADY.
Is he a guinea or half a guinea?
MISS MOON.
Oh, he's a guinea.
YOUNG LADY.
That's a bore.
MISS MOON.
Ah, but consider, madam--his rooms are draped from ceiling to floor in
blue velvet. Blue velvet! fancy! Not that I've had the privilege of
viewing them myself; Miss F. is our authority.
YOUNG LADY.
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