HE. Too late now. I don't understand you--I won't--and I can't trust
myself to talk this evening. May I call tomorrow?
SHE. Yes. No! Oh, give me time! The day after. I get into my 'rickshaw
here and meet Him at Peliti's. You ride.
HE. I'll go on to Peliti's too. I think I want a drink. My world's
knocked about my ears and the stars are falling.
Who are those brutes
howling in the Old
Library?
SHE. They're rehearsing the singing-quadrilles for the Fancy Ball. Can't
you hear Mrs. Buzgago's voice? She has a solo. It's quite a new idea.
Listen.
MRS. BUZGAGO (in the Old Library, con. molt. exp.).
See-saw! Margery Daw! Sold her bed to lie upon straw.
