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over the mantelpiece. A tag of her corsetlace hangs slightly
below her jacket. Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the
piano.)
KITTY: (Coughs behind her hand) She’s a bit imbecil-
lic. (She signs with a waggling forefinger) Blemblem. (Lynch
lifts up her skirt and white petticoat with his wand she set-
tles them down quickly.) Respect yourself. (She hiccups, then
bends quickly her sailor hat under which her hair glows, red
with henna) O, excuse!
ZOE: More limelight, Charley. (She goes to the chandelier
and turns the gas full cock)
KITTY: (Peers at the gasjet) What ails it tonight?
LYNCH: (Deeply) Enter a ghost and hobgoblins.
ZOE: Clap on the back for Zoe.
(The wand in Lynch’s hand flashes: a brass poker. Stephen
stands at the pianola on which sprawl his hat and ashplant.
With two fingers he repeats once more the series of empty
fifths. Florry Talbot, a blond feeble goosefat whore in a tat-
terdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, lolls spreadeagle
in the sofacorner, her limp forearm pendent over the bolster,
listening. A heavy stye droops over her sleepy eyelid.)
KITTY: (Hiccups again with a kick of her horsed foot) O,
excuse!
ZOE: (Promptly) Your boy’s thinking of you. Tie a knot
on your shift.
(Kitty Ricketts bends her head. Her boa uncoils, slides,
glides over her shoulder, back, arm, chair to the ground.
Lynch lifts the curled caterpillar on his wand. She snakes her
neck, nestling. Stephen glances behind at the squatted figure