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Cecelia: Glad you’re coming out?

Rosalind: Yes; aren’t you?

Cecelia: (Cynically) You’re glad so you can get married and live on Long Island with the fast younger married set. You want life to be a chain of flirtation with a man for every link.

Rosalind: Want it to be one! You mean I’ve found it one.

Cecelia: Ha!

Rosalind: Cecelia, darling, you don’t know what a trial it is to be—like me. I’ve got to keep my face like steel in the street to keep men from winking at me. If I laugh hard from a front row in the theatre, the comedian plays to me for the rest of the evening. If I drop my voice, my eyes, my handkerchief at a dance, my partner calls me up on the ’phone every day for a week.

Cecelia: It must be an awful strain.

Rosalind: The unfortunate part is that the only men who interest me at all are the totally ineligible ones. Now—if I were poor I’d go on the stage.

Cecelia: Yes, you might as well get paid for the amount of acting you do.

Rosalind: Sometimes when I’ve felt particularly radiant I’ve thought, why should this be wasted on one man?