Building. It's a cinch. You don't
even have to stop the car. You just push buttons.

TIPPY. Automatic. All but the phonograph. And you're it.

TED. In uniform!

KATE. [_Impatiently._] Well, what of it?

TED. And push buttons.... Floor, please. Two please. Five please.
Right please. [_Laughs harshly._]

KATE. Oh, so it isn't good enough for you!

TED. Fifteen please. Twenty-six please.

KATE. Well, what do you want? Vice-president in a bank? Wake up!
This isn't 1929. This is 1935. You take what you get and are
grateful.

TED. Like a bellboy!--

KATE. It's a job. You said you wanted a job.

TED. Oh God, Kate ...

KATE. It pays more than I got for years. And I supported myself on
it and you, too.

TED. Listen, Kate ... [_Has some difficulty going on._] If it were
an old freight elevator in a warehouse, and I could wear overalls,
and pull on a rope that blistered my hands ...

KATE. It's the uniform that stalls you, is it?--Now I see why they
make soldiers wear them.

TIPPY. [_Wishing to save the situation._] The British started that
with their Red Coats, to make them better targets so we could win
the Revolutionary War.--I learned that in school.

KATE. [_Bitter._] You got it wrong, brother. It's to take the
conceit out of a coward by making him realize he's no better than
anybody else. That's what it's for!

TED. Kate ...

KATE. You said you wanted a job. I believed you. I asked for a job;
any kind of a job that a man who had never worked could do. And I
got one. [_To_ TIPPY.] But he doesn't want it. It's not because of
the uniform. It's because it's _a job!_ [_She has turned her back
on_ TED. _He quietly takes his new hat and coat and sneaks out. She
turns as she hears the door._] He's gone. [_Pause._] I never talked
like that to him before. [_With sudden fright._] Where's he
going?--Ted! Ted! [_She runs out after him._]

[TIPPY _follows to the door which she leaves open. An elderly,
richly-dressed spinster, whom_ KATE _has nearly knocked down as she
fled, stalks into the room. She glowers at_ TIPPY.]

MISS DONOVAN. So that's the kind of a place this is! [_She stalks
about and glares at everything._]

TIPPY. [_Closing door._] Good evening, Miss Donovan.

MISS DONOVAN. Irresponsible people! Wild and irresponsible people!
To think that I trusted Itzy to wild, irresponsible people.

TIPPY. My dear Miss Donovan, the distresses of my personal guests
have nothing to do with my professional work.