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New York socialite Mrs. Pringle is hosting a dinner party, but her
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What a mess! I spent hours over that diagram! So much depends upon having guests seated harmoniously! There's the front door-bell, Dunham -- I told Annie to answer it for you -- but go, peek into the drawing-room and tell me who it is-- (The telephone rings. MRS. PRINGLE eyes it suspiciously) You murderous instrument! What have you to say? Now what? Hello! Who! Mr. Farnsworth! Mr. Oliver Farnsworth? No--you're his secretary? He's what? Instructed you to make his excuses! He had to leave for Boston at once on very important business -- Oh! [She hangs up the receiver without completing the conversation and hits the telephone in a temper, then rises and paces back and forth in a rage.] How dare he! How dare he! The last moment like this! No regard for a hostess's feelings! No regard for the efforts she goes to to provide an evening's enjoyment! And such a good dinner I planned -- and he promised he would come -- business! I don't believe it! He didn't want to exert himself -- was afraid of freezing in the blizzard -- as if he didn't have half a dozen limousines to carry him to the door -- selfishness -- downright rudeness -- and worth millions -- just a match for you, Elaine -- and I was bound you should meet him and sit next to him at the table, and now I don't know when I can give you a chance like that again! I'm perfectly furious -- I'll never speak to him again!
For full extended monologue, please refer to clips or the script edition cited here: Alice Gerstenberg, Fourteen, Public domain, 1919.
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