Margaret, good bye. (Turns once more) At parting won't you
it least give me your novel as I gave you mine?
MARGARET: It has'nt appeared yet; you won't be able to
btain it before next week.
GILBERT: What kind of a novel is it, if I may ask?
MARGARET: The story of my life; naturally so disguised
that I cannot be ;reoognized.
GILBERT: So? How did you do that?
MARGARET: very simple; the hereine is above all things,
not a writer, but a painter.
GILBERT: That's very sky -
MARGARET: Her first husband was not a cotten manufacturer
and she did'nt betray him for a tenor.
GILBERT: Ha, ha! So it was a tenor - I did'nt know that.
MARGARET: who said so?
GILBERT: You just gave me the information.
MARGARET: How? I said the hereine of my book deceives her
husband for a baritone.
GILBERT: Baset would be more imposing, mezzo soprane, more
piquant.
MARGARET: Then she does'nt go to Munich but to Dresden,
and there she has an affair with a sculpter.
OILBERT: That is I,oguised?
MARGARET: Greatly diguised. The soulpter is young,handsome
and a genus. After that she leaves him.