Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays
Chapter 238 : FENTON. You made that? Gee! that's great. [_Examines statuette._] Just like them

FENTON. You made that? Gee! that's great. [_Examines statuette._] Just like them statues at the Metropolitan.

MARGARET. That figure is Apollo, Mr. Fenton.

FENTON. Oh, Apollo.

MARGARET. I was to engage a professional model for it, but I could never hope to get a professional as fine a type as you. Will you pose for it?

FENTON [_aghast_]. Me? That feller there without any clothes.

[_Dubiously._] Well, I don't know. It's kind of chilly here.

MARGARET. If I draped you, it would spoil some of your lines. [_Seeing his hesitation._] But I will if you like.

FENTON [_relieved_]. Ah, now you're talking.

MARGARET. So, you'll really come?

FENTON. How about this evening?

MARGARET. Splendid! Sit down. [_Fenton does so._] Mr. Fenton, you've quite aroused my curiosity. I know so few business men. Is your work interesting?

FENTON. Well, I can't say it was, until I started selling around this neighborhood.

MARGARET. Is it difficult?

FENTON. Not if you've got personality, Miss. That's the thing, personality. If a feller hasn't got personality, he can't sell goods, that's sure.

MARGARET. What do you mean by personality, Mr. Fenton.

FENTON. Well, it's what sells the goods. I don't know how else to explain it exactly. I'll look it up in the dictionary. [_Takes dictionary and turns pages._] Here it is, ma'am. Per--per--why, it isn't in here. I guess they don't put in words that everybody knows. We all know what personality means. It's what sells the goods.

MARGARET. I adore a strong, virile, masculine personality.

FENTON. I don't quite get you, madam.

MARGARET. The men I know have so much of the feminine in them.

FENTON. Oh, "Cissies"!

MARGARET [_flirtingly_]. They lack the magnetic forcefulness which I like so much in you.

FENTON. I believe you are kidding me. Does that mean you like me?

MARGARET. That's rather an embarra.s.sing question.

FENTON. You must or you wouldn't let me speak to you this way.

MARGARET [_archly_]. Never mind whether I like you. Tell me whether you like me?

FENTON [_feeling more at home_]. Gee! I didn't get on to you at first.

Sure I like you.

MARGARET. Then we're going to be good friends.

FENTON. You just bet we are. Say, got a date for to-morrow evening?

MARGARET. No.

FENTON. How about the movies? There's a fine feature film at the Strand.

Theda Bara in "The Lonesome Vampire," five reels. They say it's got "Gloria's Romance" beat a mile.

MARGARET. I don't know that I'd care to go there.

FENTON. How about a run down to Coney?

MARGARET. Coney! I've always wanted to do wild Pagan things.

FENTON. Say, you'll tell me your name, won't you?

MARGARET. Margaret Marshall.

FENTON. Do you mind if I call you Margie?

MARGARET. If you do, I must call you--

FENTON. Charley. Gee, I like the name of Margie. Some cla.s.s to that.

MARGARET. I'm glad you like it.

FENTON [_moving nearer_]. And some cla.s.s to you!

MARGARET [_coyly_]. So you really like me?

FENTON. You bet. Say, before I go, you've got to give me a kiss, Margie.

MARGARET. Well, I don't know. Aren't you rather "rus.h.i.+ng" me?

FENTON. Say, you are a kidder.

[_He draws her up from her chair, and kisses her warmly on the lips._]

MARGARET [_ecstatically_]. You have the true Greek spirit! [_They kiss again._] If only Pommy would kiss me that way!

FENTON. Pommy? Who's Pommy?

MARGARET. Pommy is the man I live with.

FENTON. Your husband!

MARGARET. No, we just live together. You see, we don't believe in marriage.