BABE: We play the Palace in Los Angeles. That’s just a couple of hops from Hollywood, kid! Say, with your talent and brains—

MITCH: And her good looks!

BABE: Bergmann always said—

MITCH: She’ll wow them!

BABE: You bet she will. Good old Duchess. She always did. You should’ve seen Bergmann, honey, the night you pulled out of the show. There was tears in his eyes. Honest to God, tears in his eyes! Wasn’t there, Mitch?

MITCH: He was all broken up!

LINDA: Bergmann. . . . [Linda shivers and covers her face with her hands.]

BABE [harshly]: Lookit her hands, Mitch! She’s got dishwater hands!

MITCH: Imagine that! The Duchess with dishwater hands!

BABE [softening]: Never mind, honey, a little cold cream rubbed in every night. . . .

LINDA: Don’t!

MITCH [glancing at wristwatch]: Come on, Linda. Pack up. The train pulls out at seven. [Linda turns to window.]

BABE [nudging him]: Give her time, give her time! Let her think it all over. Maybe she’d rather have him throw it up to her some day how she spoiled all his chances!

LINDA [gasping]: Spoiled his chances! No, no, I’ll never do that! I’ll do anything but that!

BABE [again winking at Mitch]: Just give her time. She has to think things over. It’s the future she has to look out for, Mitch. Five or ten years from now. . . .

LINDA: Five or ten years! Oh. . . .

BABE: Yeah, if things keep on like they’re going now, you won’t be so young no more in five or ten years. He’ll get tired of you maybe. He’ll look at you while you’re bending over the washtub with your face all red and sweaty and your hair in your eyes and he’ll say to himself, “There she is! My ball and chain! If I wasn’t tied to her apron strings . . .”

LINDA [desperately]: Stop it! Stop it, Babe! I can’t stand any more!

MITCH: She’s right, Duchess, the Babe is absolutely right!

[There is a long silence. Linda slowly gets up from the couch. Mitch hands her his handkerchief.]

LINDA [brokenly]: Maybe she is—I don’t know.

MITCH [eagerly]: There now! That’s more like it.

BABE [throwing her arms around Linda]: See! I knew she would come to her senses! It’s just like Bergmann said, she’s too smart . . .

MITCH: Won’t old Bergmann throw a fit when he sees her down at the station? The old boy’ll break down and cry. . . .

LINDA [wringing the handkerchief]: Wait! Not all at once! I can’t decide right off like this!

BABE: You’ve got to, Honey! It’s the only way!

LINDA: What time is it, Mitch?

MITCH: A quarter to six.

LINDA: He ought to be back by now.

MITCH: Don’t wait for him. He’ll talk you out of it!

BABE: Just do what you know is best for him, Duchess.

LINDA: What’s best for him.

MITCH: Pack your things. Be ready in half an hour, Duchess.