The Human Drift

MAUD. [Alarmed, in a weak voice.] Not – a – soul – in – the building?

FITZSIMMONS. Not a soul. Only you and I.

MAUD. [Starting hurriedly toward door.] Then I must go.

FITZSIMMONS. What’s your hurry? Sing.

MAUD. [Turning back with new resolve.] Let me see you punch the bag, – er – Bob.

FITZSIMMONS. You sing first.

MAUD. No; you punch first.

FITZSIMMONS. I don’t believe you are Harry —

MAUD. [Hastily.] All right, I’ll sing. You sit down over there and turn your back.

[FITZSIMMONS obeys.]

[MAUD walks over to the table toward right. She is about to sing, when she notices FITZSIMMONS’ cigarette case, picks it up, and in an aside reads his name on it and speaks.]

MAUD. “Robert Fitzsimmons.” That will prove to my brother that I have been here.

FITZSIMMONS. Hurry up.

[MAUD hastily puts cigarette case in her pocket and begins to sing.]

SONG

[During the song FITZSIMMONS turns his head slowly and looks at her with growing admiration.]

MAUD. How did you like it?

FITZSIMMONS. [Gruffly.] Rotten. Anybody could tell it was a boy’s voice —

MAUD. Oh!

FITZSIMMONS. It is rough and coarse and it cracked on every high note.

MAUD. Oh! Oh!

[Recollecting herself and shrugging her shoulders.] Oh, very well. Now let’s see if you can do any better with the bag.

[FITZSIMMONS takes off coat and gives exhibition.]

[MAUD looks on in an ecstasy of admiration.]

MAUD. [As he finishes.] Beautiful! Beautiful!

[FITZSIMMONS puts on coat and goes over and sits down near table.] Nothing like the bag to limber one up. I feel like a fighting cock. Harry, let’s go out on a toot, you and I.

MAUD. Wh-a-a-t?

FITZSIMMONS. A toot. You know – one of those rip-snorting nights you used to make.

MAUD. [Emphatically, as she picks up newspapers from leather chair, sits down, and places them on her lap.] I’ll do nothing of the sort. I’ve – I’ve reformed.

FITZSIMMONS. You used to joy-ride like the very devil.

MAUD. I know it.

FITZSIMMONS. And you always had a pretty girl or two along.

MAUD. [Boastfully, in mannish, fashion.] Oh, I still have my fling. Do you know any – well, – er, – nice girls?

FITZSIMMONS. Sure.

MAUD. Put me wise.

FITZSIMMONS. Sure. You know Jack Sylvester?

MAUD. [Forgetting herself.] He’s my brother —

FITZSIMMONS. [Exploding.] What!

MAUD. – In-law’s first cousin.

FITZSIMMONS. Oh!

MAUD. So you see I don’t know him very well. I only met him once – at the club. We had a drink together.

FITZSIMMONS. Then you don’t know his sister?

MAUD. [Starting.] His sister? I – I didn’t know he had a sister.

FITZSIMMONS. [Enthusiastically.] She’s a peach. A queen. A little bit of all right. A – a loo-loo.

MAUD. [Flattered.] She is, is she?

FITZSIMMONS. She’s a scream. You ought to get acquainted with her.

MAUD. [Slyly.] You know her, then?

FITZSIMMONS. You bet.

MAUD. [Aside.] Oh, ho! [To FITZSIMMONS.] Know her very well?

FITZSIMMONS. I’ve taken her out more times than I can remember. You’ll like her, I’m sure.