LINDA: Good Heavens!

JIM [grandiloquently]: And I . . . I, Mr. Wescott, shall be your Virgin Islands!

LINDA: What on earth do you mean?

JIM: I’m going to see him at once!

LINDA: Going to see him—in all this rain—at the Waldorf—how do you know they’ll let you in, darling?

JIM: Let me in? I’ll break the door down! Where’s my hat! My cane?

LINDA: Here. [Linda hands him his wide-brimmed hat.]

JIM: Yes, and my cane! All artists have canes! I’ll break it over his head if he says he’s not in! Oh, he’ll see me! Won’t he, Linda?

LINDA: Of course he’ll see you, darling! [She hands him his cane.] But don’t get so excited over it. Act very nonchalant. As though you didn’t give a tinker’s damn! As though every art dealer in America were simply clamoring for your work! Hadn’t you better call him first?

JIM: Call him? Yes, of course! I’ll make an appointment. I’ll tell him I’m President of the National Academy. . . .

LINDA: Oh, no. Tell him you’re a millionaire. . . .

JIM: A multi-millionaire who wants an old master to match his new mistress! That’s it! That will make him foam at the mouth—at least till he sees me and the truth comes out! Say, have you got a nickel?

LINDA: Not a penny, darling.

JIM: Neither have I. How ghastly poor we are! It should be very easy for us to get into the Kingdom of Heaven!

LINDA: I think we’re already there.

JIM: We will be, Linda. If Wescott gives me a break we’ll be made! Never mind the appointment. I’ll take him by surprise!

LINDA: But what will you do for carfare?

JIM [ruefully]: Suppose I’ll have to walk.

LINDA: Through all this rain!

JIM: Would you rather I borrowed a dime from Mrs. O’Fallon? Maybe I’d better do that. I’ll call her Macushla. . . .

LINDA: Please don’t! Perhaps you’d better wait till tomorrow morning. He’ll still be in town.

JIM: No. Not on your life. Rain brimstone for all I care—I’m going right NOW—I’ll think of you all the way—Linda. . . . [Pulling up his collar and turning down his hat-brim.] That will keep me warm and dry!

LINDA: I’ll think of you, too.

LINDA: Aren’t you forgetting something?

JIM [turning back]: Oh, I haven’t kissed you!

LINDA [laughing]: I meant your pictures!

JIM [snapping fingers]: Of course. My pictures. [Dashes around room selecting canvases.] Which ones shall I take? I know! The ones of you! I’ll take them to bring me good luck!

LINDA: I’ve brought you nothing but bad luck, Jim.

JIM [gaily]: Don’t be silly. You’re my lucky star.

LINDA: Your evil star!

JIM [selecting pictures]: This one and this one . . . ah! This one of you in your dancing costume!

[Humming to herself, Linda goes to the portable. She puts a Strauss waltz on—“The Artist’s Life.”]

JIM: What are you doing, Linda? This is no time for music.