usly and advances to table. She is timorous and excited,
elated and at the same time frightened. Her eyes are dancing with
excitement.]

MAUD. [Pausing by table.] Not a soul saw me. I wonder where everybody
is. And that big brother of mine said I could not get in. [She reads
back of card.] "Here is my card, Maudie. If you can use it, go ahead.
But you will never get inside the door. I consider my bet as good as
won." [Looking up, triumphantly.] You do, do you? Oh, if you could see
your little sister now. Here she is, inside. [Pauses, and looks about.]
So this is the West Bay Athletic Club. No women allowed. Well, here I
am, if I don't look like one. [Stretches out one leg and then the other,
and looks at them. Leaving card and parcel on table, she struts around
like a man, looks at pictures of pugilists on walls, reading aloud their
names and making appropriate remarks. But she stops before the portrait
of Fitzsimmons and reads aloud.] "Robert Fitzsimmons, the greatest
warrior of them all." [Clasps hands, and looking up at portrait
murmurs.] Oh, you dear!

[Continues strutting around, imitating what she considers are a man's
stride and swagger, returns to table and proceeds to unwrap parcel.]
Well, I'll go out like a girl, if I did come in like a man. [Drops
wrapping paper on table and holds up a woman's long automobile cloak and
a motor bonnet. Is suddenly startled by sound of approaching footsteps
and glances in a frightened way toward door.] Mercy! Here comes
somebody now! [Glances about her in alarm, drops cloak and bonnet on
floor close to table, seizes a handful of newspapers, and runs to large
leather chair to right of table, where she seats herself hurriedly. One
paper she holds up before her, hiding her face as she pretends to read.
Unfortunately the paper is upside down. The other papers lie on her
lap.]

[Enter ROBERT FITZSIMMONS.]

[He looks about, advances to table, takes out cigarette case and is about
to select one, when he notices motor cloak and bonnet on floor. He lays
cigarette case on table and picks them up. They strike him as profoundly
curious things to be in a club room. He looks at MAUD, then sees card on
table. He picks it up and reach it to himself, then looks at her with
comprehension. Hidden by her newspaper, she sees nothing. He looks at
card again and reads and speaks in an aside.]

FITZSIMMONS. "Maudie. John H. Sylvester." That must be Jack
Syl