Page:Fashions for Men And The Swan Two Plays (NY 1922).pdf/196

 —Perhaps Alexandra is

—She is perfectly beautiful and clever and self-possessed her poor father described her perfectly when he called her his swan. "My proud, white swan!" And she is just like that,—majestic, silent, earnest holds her head high  conducts herself irreproachably. Yet Albert is utterly indifferent to her. It's disheartening!

—Beatrice, it is not like you to lose control of yourself like this.

—[Nervously.] I know, but I can't help it. This is my last great battle, not mine alone but our family's. Now or never. Well, I mean to win if I ruin myself in the attempt. [ speaks in the doorway.]

—He is sleeping peacefully.

—-Thank you, dear. [ vanishes.]

—You mustn't agitate yourself like this. What will be, will be. And if it isn't successful this time, it will be next time.

—When? Albert is thirty-five. And Alexandra isn't getting younger.

—How old is she?

— and twenty.

—What and twenty?

—Nothing. Just "and twenty."