vester's sister Maud. [FITZSIMMONS shows by his expression that he is
going to play a joke. Tossing cloak and bonnet under the table he places
card in his vest pocket, selects a chair, sits down, and looks at MAUD.
He notes paper is upside down, is hugely tickled, and laughs silently.]
Hello! [Newspaper is agitated by slight tremor. He speaks more loudly.]
Hello! [Newspaper shakes badly. He speaks very loudly.] Hello!

MAUD. [Peeping at him over top of paper and speaking hesitatingly.] H-h-
hello!

FITZSIMMONS. [Gruffly.] You are a queer one, reading a paper upside
down.

MAUD. [Lowering newspaper and trying to appear at ease.] It's quite a
trick, isn't it? I often practise it. I'm real clever at it, you know.

FITZSIMMONS. [Grunts, then adds.] Seems to me I have seen you before.

MAUD. [Glancing quickly from his face to portrait and back again.] Yes,
and I know you--You are Robert Fitzsimmons.

FITZSIMMONS. I thought I knew you.

MAUD. Yes, it was out in San Francisco. My people still live there. I'm
just--ahem--doing New York.

FITZSIMMONS. But I don't quite remember the name.

MAUD. Jones--Harry Jones.

FITZSIMMONS. [Hugely delighted, leaping from chair and striding over to
her.] Sure. [Slaps her resoundingly on shoulder.]

[She is nearly crushed by the weight of the blow, and at the same time
shocked. She scrambles to her feet.]

FITZSIMMONS. Glad to see you, Harry. [He wrings her hand, so that it
hurts.] Glad to see you again, Harry. [He continues wringing her hand
and pumping her arm.]

MAUD. [Struggling to withdraw her hand and finally succeeding. Her
voice is rather faint.] Ye-es, er . . . Bob . . . er . . . glad to see
you again. [She looks ruefully at her bruised fingers and sinks into
chair. Then, recollecting her part, she crosses her legs in a mannish
way.]

FITZSIMMONS. [Crossing to desk at right, against which he leans, facing
her.] You were a wild young rascal in those San Francisco days.
[Chuckling.] Lord, Lord, how it all comes back to me.

MAUD. [Boastfully.] I was wild--some.

FITZSIMMONS. [Grinning.] I should say! Remember that night I put you
to bed?

MAUD. [Forgetting herself, indignantly.] Sir!

FITZSIMMONS. You were . . . er . . . drunk.

MAUD. I never was!

FITZSIMMONS. Surely you haven't forgotten that night! You began with
dropping champagne bottles out of the club windows on the heads of the
people on the sidewalk,