Paula—You . . . you would despise me, Mr. Juhasz, wouldn't you?
Juhasz—How can you suppose such a thing?
Paula—You see how . . .
Juhasz—I see how clever you are. And how happy you will be.
Paula—[Sharply.] I'll send it off . . . this afternoon.
Juhasz—Then the Count ought to receive it to-night.
Paula—Yes.
Juhasz—I can imagine . . . how happy he will be.
Paula—Yes. He loves me . . . very much.
Juhasz—I know. [There is a pause. The Patient Lady enters.]
Patient Lady—Good morning.
Philip—Good morning, madame. I'll be with you in a moment.
Paula—[Sulkily.] I don't want to detain you. Good-bye, Mr. Juhasz. [She extends her hand. He takes it.]
Juhasz—Good-bye. [Oscar enters through the archway. The Patient Lady goes to him.]
Paula—There is something I forgot.
Juhasz—Yes?
Paula—You used to have a certain French perfume.
