RICHARD [raising the window]: We need some air. [The glare of acetylene torches is seen through lace curtains.]

ANNABELLE: What makes that horrible blue light?

RICHARD: Acetylene torches. They’re repairing the tracks.

ANNABELLE: It’s hideous. It gets on my nerves. It reminds of the life that I’m leading. Loud, crazy, glaring, senseless, stupid! [She springs up and pulls down the shade.] Richard, the show leaves tomorrow. I can’t go on with the show. I’m sick of it. It’s like being tied to the tail of a run-away horse. One town and the next and the next. It’s been going on like that for nearly eight years, and oh, I’m so dreadfully tired of it. [Going to him suddenly.] Why don’t you cut me loose from it, Richard? Why don’t you catch me here in your arms and let me rest for a while?

RICHARD: Excuse me. [He moves away.]

ANNABELLE: What’s the matter? Have I bored you, Richard?

RICHARD: Not at all. You gave a very convincing performance. [Touches his forehead.] I have a headache.

ANNABELLE: Oh. Am I responsible for it?

RICHARD: Yes. Would you mind fixing me some cracked ice.

ANNABELLE: Not at all.

RICHARD: There’s cubes in the Frigidaire.

[She goes out slowly. He quickly seizes telephone and dials.]

RICHARD: Paul? This is Richard. Come downstairs right away. I’ve got a girl down here and she’s gone serious on me. [Hangs up and quickly opens magazine as the girl re-enters.]

RICHARD: They’ve got some damned nice photography in this thing.

ANNABELLE [coldly]: Here’s your ice.

RICHARD: Oh, thanks. Thanks, darling.

ANNABELLE: Not at all. Who were you talking to?

RICHARD: Talking to? Oh, a fellow upstairs just called. Paul Seabold. Works for the Morning Star. He’s going to drop down for a while.

ANNABELLE: I suppose that’s my cue for an exit.

RICHARD: Oh, no. No, stick around. I know you’d like Paul. He’s not like most reporters. He’s a very quiet, sincere sort of fellow.

ANNABELLE: Sincere? Well, that would be nice for a change. But you really don’t have to shove me off on anyone else to get rid of me, Richard.

RICHARD: Don’t be a damned fool.

ANNABELLE: The phone didn’t ring. You called him. I even heard what you said.

RICHARD [pause]: Sorry. Hope you aren’t offended.

ANNABELLE: I’m used to being disappointed in people.

RICHARD: I guess we all are. We should be.

[The doorbell rings.]

RICHARD [admitting Paul]: Hello. Annabelle, Paul.

PAUL: How do you do?

ANNABELLE [offering hand]: It was nice of you to come to Richard’s rescue so promptly.

PAUL [confused]: What?

RICHARD: She heard.

ANNABELLE: Yes, I’m an eavesdropper.

PAUL: Oh!

ANNABELLE: Don’t be so confused. It’s a pleasure to meet a man who’s still able to blush.

PAUL [feeling his face]: Am I blushing?

ANNABELLE: A little. I like you for it. I believe that Richard’s recommendation was true.

PAUL: What did he say about me?

ANNABELLE: He said that you were very quiet and sincere. But what he said about me wasn’t true. I wasn’t nearly as serious as Richard gave me credit for being. You see, I’m an actress.