Joe No trouble at all. (Pause.) You have children?

Mary Yes. Two. A son and a daughter.

Joe (delighted) How swell. Do they look like you?

Mary Yes.

Joe Then why are you sad?

Mary I was always sad. It’s just that after I was married I was allowed to drink.

Joe (eagerly) Who are you waiting for?

Mary No one.

Joe (smiling) I’m not waiting for anybody, either.

Mary My husband, of course.

Joe Oh, sure.

Mary He’s a lawyer.

Joe (standing, leaning on the table) He’s a great guy. I like him. I’m very fond of him.

Mary (listening) You have responsibilities?

Joe (loudly) One, and thousands. As a matter of fact, I feel responsible to everybody. At least to everybody I meet. I’ve been trying for three years to find out if it’s possible to live what I think is a civilised life. I mean a life that can’t hurt any other life.

Mary You’re famous?

Joe Very. Utterly unknown, but very famous. Would you like to dance?

Mary All right.

Joe (loudly) I’m sorry. I don’t dance. I didn’t think you’d like to.

Mary To tell you the truth, I don’t like to dance at all.

Joe (proudly; commentator) I can hardly walk.

Mary You mean you’re tight?

Joe (smiling) No. I mean all the time.

Mary (looking at him closely) Were you ever in Paris?

Joe In 1929, and again in 1934.

Mary What month of 1934?

Joe Most of April, all of May, and a little of June.

Mary I was there in November and December that year.

Joe We were there almost at the same time. You were married?

Mary Engaged.

They are silent a moment, looking at one another.

(Quietly and with great charm.) Are you really in love with me?

Joe Yes.

Mary Is it the champagne?

Joe Yes. Partly, at least. (He sits down.)

Mary If you don’t see me again, will you be very unhappy?

Joe Very.

Mary (getting up) I’m so pleased.

Joe is deeply grieved that she is going. In fact, he is almost panic-stricken about it, getting up in a way that is full of furious sorrow and regret.

Mary I must go now. Please don’t get up.

Joe is up, staring at her with amazement.

Mary Goodbye.

Joe (simply) Goodbye.

The woman stands looking at him a moment, then turns and goes. Joe stands staring after her for a long time. Just as he is slowly sitting down again, the Newsboy enters, and goes to Joe’s table.

Newsboy Paper, Mister?

Joe How many you got this time?

Newsboy Eleven.

Joe buys them all, looks at the lousy headlines, throws them away. The Newsboy looks at Joe, amazed. He walks over to Nick at the bar.

Newsboy (troubled) Hey, Mister, do you own this place?

Nick (casually but emphatically) I own this place.

Newsboy Can you use a great lyric tenor?

Nick (almost to himself) Great lyric tenor? (Loudly.) Who?

Newsboy (loud and the least bit angry) Me. I’m getting too big to sell papers. I don’t want to holler headlines all the time. I want to sing. You can use a great lyric tenor, can’t you?