BARONESS. That may be even more dangerous.

PENDLETON. I'm fond of that kind of danger.

BARONESS. Take care! I'm very fragile.

PENDLETON. Isn't heliotrope in rhythm with the faint reflection of pa.s.sion?

BARONESS. How brutal of you to have said it.

PENDLETON [_coming closer to her_]. I, too, am in rhythm with heliotrope.

BARONESS [_with joy_]. How glad I am. Thank G.o.d you've no desire to kiss my lips.

PENDLETON. Only your finger-tips.

[_They exchange kisses on finger-tips._]

PENDLETON. Your fingers are like soft, pale, waxen tapers!

BARONESS. Your kisses are the breathings that light them into quivering flame!

PENDLETON. Exquisite--exquisite!

BARONESS [_withdrawing her hands_]. That was a moment!

PENDLETON. We must have many such.

BARONESS. Many? That's too near too much.

PENDLETON [_feverishly_]. We shall, dear lady.

BARONESS. How I adore your writings! They have made me realize the beauty of an ideal union, the love of one man for one woman at a time.

Let us have such a union, you and me.

PENDLETON [_taken back_]. But I live in such a union already.

BARONESS [_rising in amazement_]. And only a moment ago you kissed me!

PENDLETON. Well--what of it?

BARONESS. Don't you see what we've done? You are living in one of those wonderful unions you describe in your books--and I've let you kiss me.

I've committed a sacrilege.

PENDLETON. You're mistaken. It isn't a sacrilege. It's an opportunity.

BARONESS [_dramatically_]. How can you say that--you whose words have inspired my deepest intimacies. No, I must go. [_Makes for the door._]

I--must--go.

PENDLETON. You don't understand. I exaggerated everything so in my confounded books.

BARONESS. Please ask her to forgive me. Please tell her I thought you were married, otherwise, never, never, would I have permitted you to kiss me.

PENDLETON. What made you think I was married?

BARONESS. One often believes what one hopes.

PENDLETON. You take it too seriously. Let me explain.

BARONESS. What is there to explain? Our experience has been complete.

Why spoil it by anti-climax?

PENDLETON. Am I never to see you again?

BARONESS. Who knows? If your present union should end, and some day your soul needs--some one?

[_Exit door center, her manner full of promise._]

PENDLETON [_with feeling_]. Good-by--long, pale fingers.

[_Enter Margaret, door right._]

MARGARET. Did you get a good start with the scandal?

PENDLETON. Not exactly. I may as well admit it was a failure through no fault of mine, of course. And now, I simply must finish that last chapter.

[_He exits. Margaret rings. Mrs. Abby enters._]

MARGARET. You may clear, Mrs. Abbey.

MRS. ABBEY. Very well, ma'am.

[_She attends to clearing the table._]

MARGARET. Mrs. Abbey, have you worked for many people living together, like Mr. Pendleton and myself?

MRS. ABBEY. Lor', Ma'am, yes. I've worked in nearly every house on the south side of Washington Square.

MARGARET. Mr. Pendleton says I'm as domestic as any wife could be. Were the others like me?

MRS. ABBEY. Most of them, ma'am, but some was regular hussies; not only a-livin' with their fellers--but havin' a good time, too. That's what I call real immoral.

[_Bell rings. Mrs. Abbey opens door center and pa.s.ses out.

Conversation with Fenton without is heard. Mrs. Abbey comes back._]

MRS. ABBEY. A young man wants to see you, ma'am.

MARGARET. That's the new model. I'll get my working ap.r.o.n.