Nick Joe. That girl, Kitty. What’s she mean, calling me a dentist? I wouldn’t hurt anybody, let alone a tooth.

Nick goes to Mary L’s table. Harry imitates the toy. Dances. The piano music comes up, the light dims slowly, while the piano solo continues.

Act Two

An hour later. All the people who were at Nick’s when the curtain came down are still there. Joe at his table, quietly shuffling and turning a pack of cards, and at the same tune watching the face of Mary L, and looking at the initials on her handbag, as though they were the symbols of the lost glory of the world. Mary L, in turn, very casually regards Joe occasionally. Or rather senses him; has sensed him in fact the whole hour. She is mildly tight on beer, and Joe himself is tight, but as always completely under control; simply sharper. The others are about, at tables, and so on.

Joe Is it Madge – Laubowitz?

Mary Is what what?

Joe Is the name Mabel Lepescu?

Mary What name?

Joe The name the initials M.L. stand for. The initials on your bag.

Mary No.

Joe (after a long pause, thinking deeply what the name might be, turning a card, looking into the beautiful face of the woman) Margie Longworthy?

Mary (all this is very natural and sincere, no comedy on the part of the people involved; they are both solemn, being drunk) No.

Joe (his voice higher pitched, as though he were growing a little alarmed) Midge Laurie?

Mary L shakes her head

Joe My initials are J.T.

Mary (pause) John?

Joe No. (Pause.) Martha Lancaster?

Mary No. (Slight pause.) Joseph?

Joe Well, not exactly. That’s my first name, but everybody calls me Joe. The last name is the tough one. I’ll help you a little. I’m Irish. (Pause.) Is it just plain Mary?

Mary Yes, it is. I’m Irish, too. At least on my father’s side. English on my mother’s side.

Joe I’m Irish on both sides. Mary’s one of my favourite names. I guess that’s why I didn’t think of it. I met a girl in Mexico City named Mary once. She was an American from Philadelphia. She got married there. In Mexico City, I mean. While I was there. We were in love, too. At least I was. You never know about anyone else. They were engaged, you see, and her mother was with her, so they went through with it. Must have been six or seven years ago. She’s probably got three or four children by this time.

Mary Are you still in love with her?

Joe Well – no. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I guess I am. I didn’t even know she was engaged until a couple of days before they got married. I thought I was going to marry her. I kept thinking all the time about the kind of kids we would be likely to have. My favourite was the third one. The first two were fine. Handsome and fine and intelligent, but that third one was different. Dumb and goofy-looking. I liked him a lot. When she told me she was going to be married, I didn’t feel so bad about the first two, it was that dumb one.