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Oh, she’s getting married, too.
Who to?
That fellow, what’s his name, that’s got the garage over on Seventh Avenue.
Snider! So he’s the one! Well! And I suppose she’ll be all over town in a new car.
Sure. Saw him to-day. A big yellow one. I always told you she was out for money. And you thought she was in love with Jackson!
Hypocrite! She was. Or she told me so. Cried all over me. Have you seen Jackson?
Yes. He’s as blue as your old kimono. He said—
Look here, Marian! I’m not going to wait all night for my dinner!
Order your old dinner! What did Jackson say, George?
The front porch of a small farmhouse in New England. Stone flags lead to the road; the yard is a careless, comfortable lawn with two or three old maples. It is autumn.
A boy of sixteen or so, carrying a paper parcel, stops hesitatingly, looks in a moment and then walks to the porch. As he stands there a man comes out of the house. The man is in his early forties, he stoops a little, but not from weakness; his expression is one of deep calm.
I wonder if you have seen my dog? I was going for a walk, but Rex seems to have grown tired of waiting.
Your dog? No, sir, I haven’t seen him. Shall I go look?
No, never mind. He’ll come back. Rex and I understand each other. He has his little moods, like me.
If you were going for a walk—?
It doesn’t matter at all. I can go any time. You don’t live in this country?
No, sir. I live in New York. I wish I did. It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?
It’s very beautiful to me. I love it. You may have come a long road this morning, let’s sit down.
Thank you. I’m not interfering with anything?
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