ROLF. From the big point of view----

JILL. There isn't any. We're all out, for our own. And why not?

ROLF. By jove, you have got----

JILL. Cynical? Your father's motto--"Every man for himself."
That's the winner--hands down. Goodbye!

ROLF. Jill! Jill!

JILL. [Putting her hands behind her back, hums]--
"If auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne"----

ROLF. Don't!

[With a pained gesture he goes out towards Left, through the
French window.]

[JILL, who has broken off the song, stands with her hands
clenched and her lips quivering.]

[FELLOWS enters Left.]

FELLOWS. Mr. Dawker, Miss, and two gentlemen.

JILL. Let the three gentlemen in, and me out.

[She passes him and goes out Left. And immediately. DAWKER