Kitty:  (Coughs behind her hand) She’s a bit imbecillic. (She signs with A
waggling forefinger) Blemblem. (Lynch lifts up her skirt and white
petticoat with his wand she Settles them down quickly.) Respect yourself. 
(She hiccups, then bends quickly her sailor hat under which her hair
glows, red with henna) O, excuse!

Zoe:  More limelight, Charley. (She goes to the chandelier and turns the
gas full cock)

Kitty:  (Peers at the GASJET) What ails it tonight?

Lynch:  (Deeply) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.

Zoe:  Clap on the back for Zoe.

(The wand in Lynch’s hand flashes:  A brass poker.  Stephen stands at the
pianola on which sprawl his hat and ashplant.  With two fingers he repeats
once more the series of empty fifths.  Florry Talbot, A blond feeble
GOOSEFAT whore in A tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, LOLLS
SPREADEAGLE in the SOFACORNER, her limp forearm pendent over the bolster,
listening.  A heavy stye droops over her sleepy eyelid.)

Kitty:  (Hiccups again with A kick of her HORSED foot) O, excuse!

Zoe:  (Promptly) Your boy’s thinking of you.  Tie a knot on your shift.

(Kitty Ricketts bends her head.  Her boa UNCOILS, slides, glides over her
shoulder, back, arm, chair to the ground.  Lynch lifts the curled
caterpillar on his wand.  She snakes her neck, nestling.  Stephen glances
behind at the squatted figure with its cap back to the front.)