[BROCKTON pours out one half glass of water from bottle.

LAURA.  I will get it for you.

Rather wearily she gets up and goes to the table, where there are other morning papers; she takes the “Sun,” hands it to him, goes back to her seat, re-opens the “Morning Telegraph.”  There is a pause. ANNIE enters from the sleeping-room.

ANNIE.  Do yuh want me, suh?

WILL.  Yes, I did want you, but don’t now.  When I’m at home I have a man to look after me, and I get what I want.

LAURA.  For heaven’s sake, Will, have a little patience.  If you like your man so well, you had better live at home, but don’t come around here with a grouch and bulldoze everybody.

WILL.  Don’t think for a moment that there’s much to come around here for.  Annie, this room’s stuffy.

ANNIE.  Yassuh.

WILL.  Draw those portieres.  Let those curtains up. [ANNIE lets up curtain.] Let’s have a little light.  Take away these clothes and hide them.  Don’t you know that a man doesn’t want to see the next morning anything to remind him of the night before.  Make the place look a little respectable.

In the meantime ANNIE scurries around, picking up the coat and vest, opera-cloak, &c., as rapidly as possible, and throwing them over her arm without any idea of order.  It is very apparent that she is rather fearful of the anger of WILL while he is in this mood.

WILL. [Looking at her.] Be careful.  You’re not taking the wash off the line.

ANNIE.  Yassuh. [Exit in confusion.

LAURA. [Laying down paper and looking at WILL.] Well, I must say you’re rather amiable this morning.

WILL.  I feel like hell.

LAURA.  Market unsatisfactory?

WILL.  No; head too big. [He lights a cigar; as he takes a puff he makes an awful face.] Tastes like punk. [Puts cigar into cup.

LAURA.  You drank a lot.

WILL.  We’ll have to cut out those parties.  I can’t do those things any more.  I’m not as young as I was, and in the morning it makes me sick.  How do you feel?

LAURA.  A little tired, that’s all. [Rises, and crosses to bureau.

WILL.  You didn’t touch anything?

LAURA.  No.

WILL.  I guess you’re on the safe side.  It was a great old party, though, wasn’t it?

LAURA.  Did you think so?

WILL.  Oh, for that sort of a blow-out.  Not too rough, but just a little easy.  I like them at night and I hate them in the morning. [He picks up the paper and commences to glance it over in a casual manner, not interrupting his conversation.] Were you bored?

LAURA.  Yes; always at things like that.

WILL.  Well, you don’t have to go.

LAURA.  You asked me.

WILL.  Still, you could say no. [LAURA picks up paper, puts it on table and crosses back to bureau.