Julie: You're a historian. Tell me if there are any bath-tubs
in history. I think they've been frightfully neglected.
The Young Man: Bath-tubs! Let's see. Well, Agamemnon
was stabbed in his bath-tub. And Charlotte Corday stabbed
Marat in his bath-tub.
Julie: (Sighing) Way back there! Nothing new besides the
sun, is there? Why only yesterday I picked up a musical-
com- edy score that must have been at least twenty
years old; and there on the cover it said "The Shimmies of
Normandy," but shimmie was spelt the old way, with a "C."
The Young Man: I loathe these modern dances. Oh, Lois, I
wish I could see you. Come to the window.
(There is a loud bang in the water-pipe and suddenly the
flow starts from the open taps. Julie turns them off quickly)
The Young Man: (Puzzled) What on earth was that?
Julie: (Ingeniously) I heard something, too.
The Young Man: Sounded like running water.
Julie: Didn't it? Strange like it. As a matter of fact I was
filling the gold-fish bowl.
The Young Man: (Still puzzled) What was that banging
noise?
Julie: One of the fish snapping his golden jaws.
The Young Man: (With sudden resolution) Lois, I love
you. I am not a mundane man but I am a forger——
HYLAND
