and you wound up by assaulting a cabman. And let
me tell you I saved you from a good licking right there, and squared it
with the police. Don't you remember?

MAUD. [Nodding hesitatingly.] Yes, it is beginning to come back to me.
I was a bit tight that night.

FITZSIMMONS. [Exultantly.] A bit tight! Why, before I could get you to
bed you insisted on telling me the story of your life.

MAUD. Did I? I don't remember that.

FITZSIMMONS. I should say not. You were past remembering anything by
that time. You had your arms around my neck--

MAUD. [Interrupting.] Oh!

FITZSIMMONS. And you kept repeating over and over, "Bob, dear Bob."

MAUD. [Springing to her feet.] Oh! I never did! [Recollecting
herself.] Perhaps I must have. I was a trifle wild in those days, I
admit. But I'm wise now. I've sowed my wild oats and steadied down.

FITZSIMMONS. I'm glad to hear that, Harry. You were tearing off a
pretty fast pace in those days. [Pause, in which MAUD nods.] Still
punch the bag?

MAUD. [In quick alarm, glancing at punching bag.] No, I've got out of
the hang of it.

FITZSIMMONS. [Reproachfully.] You haven't forgotten that
right-and-left, arm, elbow and shoulder movement I taught you?

MAUD. [With hesitation.] N-o-o.

FITZSIMMONS. [Moving toward bag to left.] Then, come on.

MAUD. [Rising reluctantly and following.] I'd rather see you punch the
bag. I'd just love to.

FITZSIMMONS. I will, afterward. You go to it first.

MAUD. [Eyeing the bag in alarm.] No; you. I'm out of practice.

FITZSIMMONS. [Looking at her sharply.] How many drinks have you had to-
night?

MAUD. Not a one. I don't drink--that is--er--only occasionally.

FITZSIMMONS. [Indicating bag.] Then go to it.

MAUD. No; I tell you I am out of practice. I've forgotten it all. You
see, I made a discovery.

[Pauses.]

FITZSIMMONS. Yes?

MAUD. I--I--you remember what a light voice I always had--almost
soprano?

[FITZSIMMONS nods.]

MAUD. Well, I discovered it was a perfect falsetto.

[FITZSIMMONS nods.]

MAUD. I've been practising it ever since. Experts, in another room,
would swear it was a woman's voice. So would you, if you turned your
back and I sang.

FITZSIMMONS. [Who has been laughing incredulously, now becomes
suspicious.] Look here, kid, I think you are an impostor. You are not
Harry Jones at all.

MAUD. I am, too.

FITZSIMMONS. I don't believe it. He was heavier