Jennie tiptoes to one side, and,
tossing a kiss at Yardsley, retires.
Barlow. Now for it. I shall leave this house to-day the happiest or
the most miserable man in creation, and I rather think the odds are
in my favor. Why shouldn't they be? Egad! I can very well
understand how a woman could admire me. I admire myself, rather. I
confess candidly that I do not consider myself half bad, and Dorothy
has always seemed to feel that way herself. In fact, the other night
in the Perkinses conservatory she seemed to be quite ready for a
proposal. I'd have done it then and there if it hadn't been for that
confounded Bob Yardsley--
Yardsley (turning sharply about). Eh? Somebody spoke my name. A
man, too. Great heavens! I hope Jennie's friend Hicks isn't here.
I don't want to have a scene with Hicks. (Discovering Barlow.) Oh--
ah--why--hullo, Barlow! You here?
Barlow (impatiently, aside). Hang it! Yardsley's here too! The
man's always turning up when he's not wanted. (Aloud.) Ah! why,
Bob, how are you? What're you doing here?
Yardsley. What do you suppose--tuning the piano? I'm here because I
want to be.
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