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Five Little Plays by Alfred Sutro
page 27 of 122 (22%)

WALTER. [_Chuckling hugely._] He didn't give the lover much chance to
stand up to him, did he?

BETTY. And _wasn't_ he original! Dog, hound, villain, traitor!

WALTER. To say nothing of Jezebel! Though, between ourselves, I think he
meant Messalina!

BETTY. And I was to go into the street. But he did let me fill my bag!

WALTER. I think the playwrights come out on top, I do indeed. [_He goes
to_ HECTOR, _and stands to left of him._] Hector, old chap, here's the
letter!

BETTY. [_Going to the other side of_ HECTOR, _and dropping a low
curtsey._] And please, Mr. Husband, was it to be a big bag, or a small
bag, and might I have taken the silver teapot?

[HECTOR _has been standing there stupid, dazed, dumbfounded, too
bewildered for his mind to act or thoughts to come to him; he
suddenly bursts into a roar of Titanic, overwhelming laughter. He
laughs, and laughs, staggers to the sofa, falls on it, rocks and
roars till the tears roll down his cheeks. He sways from side to
side, unable to control himself--his laughter is so colossal that
the infection catches the others; theirs becomes genuine too._

BETTY. [_With difficulty, trying to control herself._] The letter! Old
Gillingham! "His name, scoundrel, his name!"

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