JIMMY. What a queer dream! (He looks at his watch.) Twelve o'clock. The taxi ought to be here. (He takes two tickets from his pocket, looks at them, and puts them back. Then he commences to pace nervously up and down the room, muttering to himself)---Fool! Idiot! Imbecile! (He is not, so that you could notice it, any of these things. He is a very handsome man of forty. There is the blast of an auto-horn outside. He makes an angry gesture.) Too late! That's the taxi. (But he stands uncertainly in the middle of the floor. There is a loud pounding on the knocker.) Yes, yes!

He makes a movement toward the door, when it suddenly opens, and a lovely lady enters. He stares at her in surprise.

JIMMY. Annabelle!

Annabelle is little. Annabelle's petulant upturned lips are rosebud red. Annabelle's