We aim to please

JACQUELINE STEWART

Two beautiful, isolated moments in the life of a debutante which serve as an index to all her days

DINNER DANCE: (Melanie is a debutante.

She has her picture in the papers and in the proper magazines. Walter Winchell writes about her in his Monday column, and Town Topics is sometimes kind to her. . . .

Melanie is dressing for a dinner dance, to which she was invited for eight o'clock. It is now nine. She shuts one eye to examine the side of her nose. It seems to be all right. She pulls on her long black gloves and gathers up courage to face chicken, peas and college boys. Bed looks very inviting and comfortable compared to the doubtful pleasure of unknown dinner partners. But bed is a forbidden delight to the debutante. With a regretful sigh the sweet young thing sallies forth. . . .

Dinner is held in the Pompeian Room at Pierre's. There are many too many people. Melanie droops her eyes and shoulders and slinks across the room to her table. The seductive blond gentleman on her left gazes intently at the gloves. She suppresses a desire to stick her tongue out at him. Apparently he is English.)

SEDUCTIVE BLOND: YOU would look marvelous in my apartment. (He turns away to attack the chicken, but gives it up.) I like your black gloves.

MELANIE (TO her peas): I'm flattered.

HE: YOU are a very unusual type. You are not American?

MELANIE: I've lived most of my life in Paris. (They dance. A red-haired boy cuts in.)

MELANIE: Hello, Bud!

RED-HAIRED BOY: Hello, babe, how have you been? You look the nuts tonight. (A tall young man with teeth stops them.)

TALL YOUNG MAN (Tenderly): Hello, darling. How are you?

MELANIE: Fine—and you?

TALL YOUNG MAN: Oh, I feel wonderful now! Gosh, you're a marvelous dancer.

MELANIE: I'm following you. (The young man screams and squeezes her. Just then Melanie's dinner-partner appears with a small, dark man.)

DINNER-PARTNER: Let me introduce Mr. Bull. Bill, this is the best dancer on the floor.

MELANIE (Politely): How do you do? (Mr. Bull snorts.)

MR. BULL: My name is Bull, B-U-L-L, and don't you forget it.

MELANIE: I'll try not to.

MR. BULL: Want to sit down?

MELANIE: Not particularly, but if you want to, I don't mind. (They walk to a gilt couch and Melanie curls up on the stiff seat.)

MR. BULL: You look more intelligent than the rest of these debutantes. What do you know?

MELANIE: Practically nothing, thank God!

MR. BULL: I'm a lawyer. I work in Wall Street. I am over twenty-five and I know a lot about literature. Now tell me about yourself. (He is being conversational.)

MELANIE: There is nothing to tell.

MR. BULL: Tell me what you have read.

MELANIE: Stendhal, Proust, Gide, Cocteau.

MR. BULL: That's French. I mean English. Have you ever read Shakespeare?

MELANIE: Yes, all Shakespeare. What about it?

MR. BULL: DO you like it?

MELANIE: Certainly.

MR. BULL: Would you like me to recite some to you?'

MELANIE: No—no, please! I think we should go back to our tables. The music has stopped. (He escorts her back and a sigh of relief escapes Melanie as he disappears in the crowd. She turns to Mr. Converse, her English friend.)

CONVERSE: HOW do you like that boy?

MELANIE: I think he is lousy. (They stand up to drink a toast to the "charming hostess." Converse drinks with his eyes on Melanie.)

CONVERSE: YOU are very dangerous.

MELANIE: Probably.

CONVERSE: Why?

MELANIE: Because.

CONVERSE: Because what?

MELANIE: The great "because" of women.

CONVERSE (Pleadingly): Will you come and see my apartment? I'm a very -safe little boy, and I know you would look so well in it.

MELANIE: Some day, maybe.

CONVERSE: Will you let me take you on to the dance?

MELANIE: Yes. (They leave without saying good-bye to their hostess. They sit very silent in the taxi. Suddenly a thought strikes Converse, and he turns to Melanie.)

CONVERSE: Won't you come and have a drink before the dance? I want to see how those black gloves look; but perhaps it isn't proper for a debutante to go to a man's apartment?

MELANIE: Proper or not, let's go anyway. I think it's a very good idea. (They arrive at one of those rare houses in New York which are small and possess stairs. Melanie trips on her dress at each step, but finally overcomes the first flight. They reach their destination.

The much-talked-of flat is a sort of Empire Period modernized. It is pleasing and restful after the usual Park Avenue taste. And it has the distinct advantage of having been decorated for about seven dollars and fifty cents. Converse appears with whiskey.)

CONVERSE: YOU look wonderful. (He sighs as he pours out the drinks, then comes and sits beside Melanie on the couch.) You are very attractive.

MELANIE (Not to be outdone) : So are you. (They look at each other.)

CONVERSE (Catching hold of her chin): I want to kiss you.

MELANIE: Please, this is so sudden.

CONVERSE: What a cute little mouth you have!

MELANIE: It's big.

CONVERSE: YOU must taste very good. (Melanie stops listening and examines Converse carefully. He is sentimental and rather amusing, though she suspects he does not know it.)

CONVERSE: YOU are very attractive. I think I could fall in love with you. (Melanie rises and stands by the mantelpiece.) You fit perfectly.

MELANIE: Don't fall for me. You won't get anywhere.

CONVERSE : I don't want to. I know I haven't a chance.

MELANIE: Don't be so bitter. You haven't fallen yet.

CONVERSE: I don't know; but I had better see you only once every two weeks. What are you doing tomorrow night?

MELANIE: Supper dance, and I'm being taken by a gent. I must go away now.

CONVERSE (Rushing to her side, and taking her hands): Please stay.

MELANIE: NO, I want to go. I'm afraid you are not as safe as you think you are.

CONVERSE: All right. Only let me kiss you once.

MELANIE: NO. (Converse seizes her suddenly, but she slips out of his hold with an ease that denotes long practice.)

CONVERSE (Complainingly): You see how dangerous you are. You make me act like a fool. I never kiss anybody.

MELANIE: YOU ought to try it some day, just for the sake of education.

CONVERSE (Opening the door regretfully): You are too frivolous for me.

SUPPER DANCE: (The Ritz has been disguised as a French garden. There are leaves everywhere, not an inch having been left uncovered. The bushes and trees are decorated with lights, and the stairs, on which thrones have been placed for Miss Cutting's secretaries, are covered with a thick carpet of false grass. The debutante hostess, wearing a "bouffant dress", is receiving her guests in a bower of roses . . . and spotlights. At each end of the ballroom, hidden behind shrubbery, are two orchestras, playing different tunes simultaneously. The floor is a solid mass of stags, who look very much like beetles moving slowly in different directions.

Melanie has lost Converse in the crowd or behind a tree, and she is now dancing with a red-faced boy, who apparently knows her very well. At least, he is calling her by her first name. They appear to be almost suffocated, and have evidently decided to come up for air, for they edge their way toward a balcony, with the intention of sitting out a dance. With great difficulty they rescue two chairs from under a couple of sleepy stags, and sit down.)

YOUNG MAN: Want a drink?

MELANIE (Firmly, as she tries frantically to remember his name) : No.

(Continued on page 94)

(Continued from page 51)

YOUNG MAN: (He apparently reads her thoughts.) I'll bet you don't remember my name.

MELANIE: NO. (He and Melanie sit in silence jor a time.)

YOUNG MAN: YOU are very silent.

MELANIE: What would you like me to say?

YOUNG MAN: Tell me about yourself.

MELANIE: There isn't anything to tell.

YOUNG MAN: Well, then tell me what you are most interested in.

MELANIE: People.

YOUNG MAN: Well, what people then? (Melanie doesn't bother to answer this.)

YOUNG MAN (Suddenly inspired) : Would you like a drink?

MELANIE: I don't like drink; but why don't you have one?

YOUNG MAN: You don't like drinking? What do you like?

MELANIE: I don't know.

YOUNG MAN: YOU don't know what you like!

MELANIE (Quietly) : No. Do you?

YOUNG MAN (Defensively) : Well, I like drink.

MELANIE: Why don't you have one?

YOUNG MAN: I don't like drinking alone. Why don't you like to drink?

MELANIE: Because the liquor's usually bad, and I object to feeling ill.

YOUNG MAN (Thoughtfully): You know, you are different.

MELANIE: That has been the curse of my life.

YOUNG MAN: Will you go to Italy with me this summer?

MELANIE: Sorry, but I have another date.

YOUNG MAN: Will you marry me?

MELANIE: NO, I will not. (Melanie suddenly feels tired, and, turning to her companion, communicates her state of mind to him. Melanie and the young man successfully reach the street. In the taxi he edges closer to Melanie.)

YOUNG MAN (Masterfully, as he leans toward Melanie): Kiss me!

MELANIE: NO.

YOUNG MAN (Taking her by the shoulders) : Kiss me!

MELANIE (Shaking her head and laughing at him) : I said no.

YOUNC MAN (Trying to put his arm around her): Why not?

MELANIE: I don't feel like it.

YOUNG MAN: It is the first time I have ever been told that.

MELANIE: It is not likely to be the last, though.

YOUNG MAN (Very thoughtfully, as the taxi draws up in front of Melanie's door) : You know, I rather like this for a change.

MELANIE (Smiling): We aim to please.