AUSTIN. Good luck, dear.
JINNY. [_Brightening._] What time is it?
AUSTIN. [_Looking at his watch._] Nearly nine.
JINNY. I suppose it is too late for me to dress and for us to go to the
theatre?
AUSTIN. Oh, yes,--and I'm too tired.
JINNY. [_Triumphantly._] Well, then, you shall have your theatre at
home! If Mahomet won't go to the mountain, the mountain must go to your
lordship!
AUSTIN. I don't understand!
JINNY. Well, just wait-- [_She blows her nose._] --till I bathe my face
and eyes a little; I feel rather bleary! [_Starting to go, she stops and
turns._] Good-by?
[_Questioningly._
AUSTIN. [_Quietly._] Good-by.
JINNY. [_Who wanted him to call her to him and kiss her._] Oh, very
well! but I'll _make_ you smile yet and _kiss_ me of your own accord
to-night--you'll see!
[_She goes out Left._
[_She is heard singing in her room. AUSTIN goes to the desk and after a
long sigh he begins to write._]
AUSTIN. [_Writing._] Dear Ruth. The satisfaction of the visit to
Brooklyn prevents me from being disappointed at having missed your
telegram till too late to go to your house to-night.
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