29/59 If Mr.Jones of 1919 brags the same every one knows it's because he can't kiss her any more. Given a decent start any girl can beat a man nowadays. There is a moment--Oh, just before the first kiss, a whispered word--something that makes it worth while. Pretty soon he thinks of nothing but being alone with you--he sulks, he won't fight, he doesn't want to play--Victory! (Enter DAWSON RYDER, twenty-six, handsome, wealthy, faithful to his own, a bore perhaps, but steady and sure of success.) RYDER: I believe this is my dance, Rosalind. Now I know I haven't got too much paint on. |