Juhasz—Your mother?
Paula—No. Mother is in Vienna, but from there she is going on to Wiesbaden to wait for us. We will pick her up on our way home.
Juhasz—[Earnestly, aroused.] Is there anything the matter with your mother?
Paula—Her health, you mean? No. She's only going to Wiesbaden to play cards. [There is a pause. She reads from her list.] Could you have a footman's cap made up for me quickly?
Juhasz—Footman?
Paula—I've been so annoyed about his cap. The one he brought with him was all covered with gold braid. He looked just like a hotel doorman. What I wish you'd get for me is something discreet and in good taste, something suitable for a private dwelling.
Juhasz—A private dwelling. . . .
Paula—Yes. For a lady living alone.
Juhasz—[Tremblingly writes.] Footman . . . cap . . . private dwelling. . . . I'll look around at the cap-maker's.
Paula—I shall be awfully obliged. [She rises. There is a pause.]
Juhasz—[Rises.] Not at all. It's I who am obliged.
Paula—[Meets his eyes steadily.] Why do you look at me so strangely?
