I
tell you it's a crime to spoil a thirst with this stuff. Well, here's
how.
WOMAN GUEST (_to neighbor_)--I never saw Mrs. Smythe looking quite so
hideous and atrociously vulgar before, did you?
NEIGHBOR--Never! Why did we come?
VOICE (_overheard_)--The one in the white-lace gown and all those
diamonds?
ANOTHER VOICE--Yes. Well, you know it was common talk that before he
married her--
HOSTESS--'Sh, 'sh, 'sh! Signor Padrella has offered to play some of his
own compositions, but I thought you would all rather hear something
familiar by one of the real composers--Rubens or Chopin--Chopinhauer, I
think--
(Pianist _plunges wildly into something._)
VOICE (_during a lull in the music_)--First, you brown an onion in the
pan, then you chop the cabbage--
GUEST (_in the dressing-room, just arriving, to another_)--Yes, we are
awfully late, too, but I always say you never can be too late at one of
the Smythes' horrors.
THIN YOUNG WOMAN (_in limp pink gown and string of huge pearls, who has
come to recite_)--I'm awfully nervous, and I do believe I'm getting
hoarse. Mama, you didn't forget the lemon juice and sugar? (_Drinks from
bottle.
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