_Jack_ (absently). No, I suppose not, I suppose not. Of course, nobody
could.

(Silence. Both read.)

_Maude_ (intent on letter and all to herself). I wonder what she wore!
She is too old for white. (reads aloud). "You'll be surprised, my
dear." Yes, I confess I am. (gazing at coffee urn thoughtfully). Yes,
I am. (resumes reading). Where was I? "I want to tell you first,
dear." Here it is. So she did wear white--now, I am astonished. (reads
on). For pity sakes! Jack

_Jack_ (starts violently, crushing paper). A man might as well live on
Vesuvius.

_Maude_ (in great excitement). But, Jack, guess who married her.

_Jack_ (with calm certainty). The man in the Moon. He's too jolly to
mind squints.

_Maude_ Just guess. You never can.

_Jack_ (impatiently, much wrought upon.) Then tell me.

_Maude_ (in an explosive). Hal!

_Jack_ (inanely). Hal!

_Maude_ (calmly, the mine sprung). Hal Taylor.

_Jack_ Hal Taylor. Well, I am--bobbed!

_Maude_ I'm not surprised.

_Jack_ You said Hal didn't care for her.

_Maude_ (very slowly). He doesn't, Jack. Hal was--roped in.

_Jack_ (stares, then gives vent to a long whistle of astonishment).
Well, you women!

_Maude_ Don't talk to me. I am disgusted!

_Jack_ (ruefully). Well! (He stares, folds napkin, unfolds it and takes
up his newspaper.)

_Maude_ Don't sit there, just saying "Well" all the time!

_Jack_ (slowly). Say, what is it to you?

_Maude_ (sobs a little). She h-has deceived me--basely deceived me. But
I don't care. I shall send her a cut-glass berry dish,--maybe a
Tiffany c-c-cut! (dries her eyes resolutely). Coffee, dear?

_Jack_ (irritably; a trifle suspicious yet). Yes, don't I always take
coffee?

_Maude_ (plaintively). Don't scold me. I cannot endure much more. To
think Valeria--

_Jack_ (with decision, carving the steak). Don't think, then. Drop it.
What's your other letter?

_Maude_ (sadly). I don't care--I don't care for anything. (takes a
biscuit). The biscuits are burned.

_Jack_ No, they are not. Never mind--give the letter to me.

(Maude gazes pensively at nothing. Jack opens the letter with a fork,
and reads silently.)

_Jack_ (to himself, muttering). Of course, it's money,--always money.
Only a dollar and fifty cents apiece,--a man ought not growl. Umph!
"The happy old days." Yes, I remember.

_Maude_ (meekly). Remember what, Jack, dear? (He reads. Silence. She
folds and unfolds Valeria's letter.)

_Jack_ (suddenly). By Geor