HOST:

May I present one of the season's toasts along the Great White Way? The bright star of "Personal Appearance," which, if you'll pardon the pun, has turned out to be a personal long-term triumph and appearance for our lovely guest of the evening, Miss Gladys George.

MUSIC:

INTRODUCTION ... VINCENT YOUMANS AND IRVING CAESAR'S 1924 SONG "TEA FOR TWO" ... THEN BEHIND HOST--

HOST:

Believing with us that light entertainment is the best warm-weather fare, Miss George has selected as her dramatic vehicle for tonight an amusing little comedy entitled "The Third Angle" by Florence Ryerson. With her in the cast are Mr. Otto Hewlett and Miss Florence Robinson. Miss George plays the part of Anne Paige, the wife of Jerry Paige, a young portrait painter who seems unusually popular with his sitters -- especially the feminine ones. As our scene opens we find Anne busily engaged arranging flowers in their living room as Jerry enters from his adjoining studio.

SOUND:

DOOR OPENS

JERRY:

What are you doing that for?

ANNE:

(LIGHTLY) Well, I thought the place needed some flowers. (MORE SERIOUS) Jerry? There was a pink envelope in your morning's mail. You know, darling, we hadn't been married a year before I learned that a pink envelope at breakfast meant a lady to tea.

JERRY:

(ABSENTLY) Well, you're wrong this time. No one's coming.

ANNE:

You're sure?

JERRY:

(A BORED YES) Mm.

ANNE:

Well, in that case, I'll just call the bishop.

JERRY:

Here -- hold on. What bishop?

ANNE:

Bishop Wilson, dear. You know, the nice, fat, pink one. He wants to talk about a portrait.

JERRY:

(ANNOYED) Hang it all, Anne, I don't want to paint him.

ANNE:

But, dear, you paint such nice bishops.

JERRY:

I don't care! I've done four this year and I'm sick of bishops.

ANNE:

Yes, dear. I know you are. You're getting on nicely with this picture, though, aren't you? And you started only last week. When does she sit again?

JERRY:

Tomorrow.

ANNE:

I suppose you'll finish by next week -- and that means you can start the bishop on Friday.

JERRY:

I told you I wouldn't paint the bishop!

ANNE:

Oh, yes, you will, Jerry. We need the money. Now, this business of only painting pretty women is all right, but I've found out it isn't the women who pay and pay. It's bishops.

JERRY:

(GROANS) Oh!

ANNE:

And then bishops are so restful! No husbands to worry over, no love letters to get back. Jerry, I don't remember your ever writing a love letter to a bishop. While the women you paint--

JERRY:

(INTERRUPTS, UPSET) Hang it! You don't have to keep reminding me! I'm through with them all!

ANNE:

Yes, dear. I know you are. I've the canceled checks to prove it.

JERRY:

Oh! How do you expect me to paint when you keep on nagging like that? Nagging about checks and women and letters! It makes me nervous! It upsets me.

ANNE:

(GENTLY) Jerry, you've been writing letters again.

JERRY:

I haven't. At least, only one. Anyway, it's none of your business.

ANNE:

(IN SORROW, NOT ANGER) Oh, if you'd just forget how to write, dear. If you'd just develop writer's cramp -- or housemaid's knee or something. (BEAT) Is it Clarabelle Brent?

JERRY:

(STARTLED) How'd you know?

ANNE:

Well, you painted her last, didn't you? (THOUGHTFUL) Let me see, I suppose you're at the South Seas stage.

JERRY:

What do you mean "South Seas stage"?

ANNE:

(GRANDLY) You're such a comfort, Jerry. You know, you've got your system so perfected that I can always tell just where you are in your love making. You see, when you're sketching her in, you discover she's different from any woman you ever knew. And when you start on the background you discover that I've never really understood you. And by the time you've finished the picture, you've reached the South Seas stage, with the "faint, elusive fragrance of jasmine in the moonlight."

JERRY:

And, er, then what do I do?

ANNE:

(SIMPLY) You start another picture.

JERRY:

(GRUMBLES)

ANNE:

Did you ask Clarabelle to elope with you? To "walk out hand in hand to some magical isle in the tropical seas"? And is she going?

JERRY:

No.

ANNE:

(SOLICITOUS) Jerry, she didn't turn you down?

JERRY:

She didn't answer my letter -- and I wrote it last week.

ANNE:

Oh, the nasty little cat. I don't blame you for being nervous.

JERRY:

Oh, for heaven's sake! Keep still! I don't want to talk about her.

ANNE:

But, Jerry, if Clarabelle--

JERRY:

(INTERRUPTS, UPSET) Clarabelle! Clarabelle! I tell you, I'm through with Clarabelle!

SOUND:

PHONE RINGS ... RECEIVER UP

JERRY:

(INTO PHONE) Hello? Hello? -- (DEFLATED) Oh, Clarabelle. Er--

ANNE:

(CHUCKLES)

JERRY:

(INTO PHONE) No, no. -- I said no. No, you mustn't. Not now. -- I said, not now. -- But, Clara--! Hello, hello? Central?

SOUND:

RATTLE OF PHONE CRADLE ... THEN RECEIVER DOWN

JERRY:

(TO ANNE) She rang off.

ANNE:

I don't blame her, the way you talked.

JERRY:

But, hang it all, she's just around the corner! She's coming here!

ANNE:

Well, why shouldn't she? If you're going to elope, you've got to start from somewhere.

JERRY:

But I don't want to elope! I don't like her type! She's got black hair. I'm sick of black hair! She's intense. I detest intense women! She's misunderstood by her husband. I loathe wives that are misunderstood by their husbands.

SOUND:

DOORBELL RINGS

JERRY:

(SHUDDERS) Oh, there she is. There she is. Now, look here. Look here, you've got to stay and meet her. Don't you dare leave me alone!

ANNE:

Wait a minute, Jerry. Are you going to paint the bishop?

JERRY:

No! I'm not going to paint the bishop!

SOUND:

DOORBELL RINGS

ANNE:

(FIRMLY) Jerry, listen to me. I'm tired of straightening things out for you. I'm tired of being the third angle in your triangle. I'm through, do you understand? I'm through!

JERRY:

Anne, please-- Just this once-- I can't be left alone.

ANNE:

(DISMISSIVE, MOVING OFF) I'm going into this room. You can fight this thing out for yourself. But! If you change your mind about the bishop --- ring the bell.

JERRY:

(SIGHS)

SOUND:

DOOR OPENS AS CLARA ENTERS

CLARA:

Jerrold! I've been ringing and ringing!

JERRY:

Oh, have you? I - I didn't hear.

CLARA:

Oh, what does it matter? At last I'm here with you! When I got your letter, I tried to write, but I tore it up. I wrote five, ten answers; but, Jerrold, every one of them was "No."

JERRY:

(RELIEVED) Ohhhh! Then it's all right.

CLARA:

Yes, dear. I've changed my mind.

JERRY:

(ALARMED) What?!

CLARA:

(PASSIONATE) Jerrold, I've left Augustus forever! I'm yours.

JERRY:

(FEIGNS NOBILITY) Clarabelle, when I wrote that letter, I - I didn't realize what I was asking. I can't let you sacrifice yourself like this. I can't. Clarabelle! I give you up!

CLARA:

(IMPRESSED) Jerrold! I knew you were fine, but I never dreamed you could be as fine as this! But you shan't. I'm willing to give up everything--

JERRY:

No! No!

CLARA:

My husband -- my friends--

JERRY:

No, no. It's asking too much!

CLARA:

I'm glad to go!

JERRY:

I can't let you do it!

CLARA:

I insist!

JERRY:

And I refuse.

CLARA:

Jerrold! I won't go back--

SOUND:

INTERCOM BUZZES

CLARA:

What are you doing?

JERRY:

(FLUSTERED) I'm - I'm ringing for the bishop.

CLARA:

Bishop? What bishop?

JERRY:

I mean my wife! You must meet her.

CLARA:

Oh, I see. You're going to tell her now!

JERRY:

You mean about--? About our--?

CLARA:

Had you rather I did it?

JERRY:

No, no, don't do that! Oh, good lord, here she comes.

ANNE:

(APPROACHES, SWEETLY) Did you call me, Jerry? Oh, don't you look nice and cozy with a fire and everything? I do love an open fire. And this, I suppose, is Miss Williams?

CLARA:

Williams? My name isn't Williams.

ANNE:

Oh, isn't it? Now, wait. Now, don't tell me. Let me guess! Black hair and blue eyes! I know! It's Genevieve Barlow, of course.

JERRY:

Anne! Are you crazy? This is Mrs. Brent!

ANNE:

Brent? Brent? Oh, yes! Didn't Jerry paint you once?

CLARA:

Of course!

ANNE:

Oh, I'm so sorry. You see, I'm fearfully stupid about names. Er, won't you sit down?

CLARA:

Mrs. Paige, I want to explain--

ANNE:

(INTERRUPTS) Oh, no. No explanation is necessary. But while we talk I think I'll just mend one of those cushions. Jerry, next time you sit on the floor with Miss Barton you must pay some attention -- you scorched the whole corner off.

CLARA:

Barton? What Miss Barton?

ANNE:

Oh, just one of Jerry's little friends. (GENTLY INSINUATING) Jerry's studio cushions always get worn out so quickly.

JERRY:

Now, Anne-- Anne, I simply won't have this!

ANNE:

Yes, dear, I know, but you might get a hassock for Mrs. Trent.

CLARA:

Brent, Mrs. Paige! B-R-E-N-T!

ANNE:

Oh, how stupid. Mrs. Trent was a blonde, of course.

CLARA:

Mrs. Paige, there's something you must know--

JERRY:

(INTERRUPTS) No, not now!

ANNE:

(GENTLY) Jerry, you mustn't interrupt like that. Really you mustn't.

CLARA:

We feel the time has come for telling you--

ANNE:

(INTERRUPTS, WISELY) Are you sure it has come? Sometimes if you wait, there's nothing to tell. Now, if you take my advice, Mrs. Barlow--

CLARA:

(INTERRUPTS) My name is not Barlow!

ANNE:

Oh, how absurd! You see, the one before the last was named Barlow.

CLARA:

The one before the last what?

ANNE:

The next to the last lady that Jerry wanted to elope with. He wanted to go to China with her. Now it's the South Seas. He simply aches to go down there and shoot batiks. [bah-TEEKS]

JERRY:

(GROANS) Ohhhh--

ANNE:

Jerry, where are you going?

JERRY:

(ABSENTLY) Out for a minute. I forgot something.

ANNE:

Jerry, you come back here and sit down. (TO CLARA) You know, really, I can't think what's gotten into Jerry today, he seems so nervous. Now, with the Fontenelle woman he was really enthusiastic.

CLARA:

Font--? Not the dancer?

ANNE:

Didn't he ever tell you about her? Oh, she was a lovely little thing. So sympathetic. With a husband, of course, who "didn't understand her nature."

JERRY:

(GROANS) Ohhhh--

ANNE:

Jerry, do show Mrs. Brent those love letters you wrote to Mrs. Fontenelle -- especially the one about "the faint, elusive fragrance of jasmine in the moonlight."

JERRY:

(ANNOYED) I'll be darned if I do!

CLARA:

(DEFIANT, TO ANNE) Stop! I won't have you trampling on our sacred feelings! I can see what you're trying to do. You're trying to frighten me, but you can't! I understand Jerry as you never have. You're simply crushing his soul! He told me so!

ANNE:

Jerry, did you tell Mrs. Brent I was crushing your soul?

JERRY:

Well, er, not exactly.

ANNE:

That settles it.

JERRY:

What do you mean?

ANNE:

(EXTRAVAGANTLY NOBLE) I mean that I'm through being the third angle, my dear! I'm going to give you up!

CLARA:

(PLEASED) Oh, that's fine. That's noble!

JERRY:

But I won't be given up!

ANNE:

Hush, Jerry! This is my great hour -- and I won't have you spoiling it. I'll step out of your life now -- this moment.

JERRY:

Here, here -- wait a minute, wait a minute!

CLARA:

Where are you going?

ANNE:

(QUIETLY PITEOUS) Now that I know, I - I can't bear to stand between you another minute. You, uh-- You'll find Jerry's shirts in the sewing-table, Clarabelle. There are buttons off all of them.

CLARA:

(ABRUPTLY DISMAYED) Mrs. Paige, I - I didn't mean you to do anything like this -- so - so suddenly--!

ANNE:

It's the only way. The sooner the break, the better. Oh, yes, I forgot. Jerry's winter flannels are in the highboy. See that he puts them on in November, dear, or he gets all sniffly, and colds make him cross.

JERRY:

Now, look here! Are you gonna stop this drivel?!

ANNE:

Please, Jerry! Don't spoil the beauty of this moment. I want to remember it -- always. Oh, I almost forgot.

CLARA:

What?

ANNE:

Jerry's checkbook! And he's overdrawn again. You'll have to go down and fix it, dear. He's added, you see, instead of subtracted -- seventy-five dollars.

CLARA:

(HAS CHICKENED OUT) Wait! You can't go! Don't you see? I don't want be left here alone with Jerrold!

ANNE:

But that's what you wanted. "Hand in hand to the South Seas," and all that sort of thing?

JERRY:

But, hang it all, I don't want to go the South Seas!

ANNE:

Oh, wait a minute, here's a paper. Now, I'll look up the ships. (STUDIES PAPER INTENSELY) Let's see. Oh, there's one going tonight. Let's see. "Empress of China."

JERRY:

I won't, d'you hear, Clarabelle? I won't! You can't make me!

CLARA:

(SUDDENLY FEIGNS DISGUST) You brute! Do you think I'd go with you now? With your Bartons and Trents and Fontenelles? Not if you were the last man on earth!

ANNE:

(STILL PREOCCUPIED WITH PAPER) And the Manchu-- Well now, let's see. Yes, er, the Canton. That's it. It's sailing, sailing-- (SNAPS HER FINGERS, UP BIG) This is splendid! It's sailing tonight! Now, you've just time to make it comfortably if you hurry!

CLARA:

(WILDLY APPREHENSIVE) Wait!

ANNE:

But you'll miss the boat!

CLARA:

I want to miss it! Don't you see, there's my husband. I haven't really thought about him. He loves me -- and his heart is weak. Who would break it to Augustus?

ANNE:

(SIMPLY) What's his number? I'll call him.

CLARA:

No! No!

ANNE:

Well, perhaps he won't care.

CLARA:

Won't care! Oh, how can you?! Of course, he'll care! He'll - he'll come right over and shoot Jerrold.

ANNE:

Why should he? I'm not shooting you.

CLARA:

(ALMOST IN TEARS) No, you're not. I don't know. I don't like the way you're acting! I don't like it at all.

ANNE:

Do you want me to shoot you?

CLARA:

No!

ANNE:

Then what's your husband's number?

CLARA:

I won't tell you!

ANNE:

All right.

SOUND:

PHONE RECEIVER UP

ANNE:

(INTO PHONE) Information, please. -- Information? What's the number of Mr. August Brent; the office number?

CLARA:

(TO JERRY) Stop her! Oh, if, you were a man, you'd stop her!

JERRY:

I can't stop her. Once she begins nobody can stop her!

ANNE:

(INTO PHONE) Plaza 3-8742? Thank you.

SOUND:

RATTLE OF PHONE CRADLE

ANNE:

(INTO PHONE) Hello? Plaza 3-8742, please.

CLARA:

(FRANTIC) No - no - don't you dare - don't you dare call him!

ANNE:

Hello, Plaza 3-8742? -- Hello. Is Mr. Brent there? -- Thank you.

JERRY:

Now, this has got to stop. I say, this has got to stop!

CLARA:

(EXPLODES, RAPIDLY) I don't want to go! I don t - I don't! I hate your husband! Hate him!

ANNE:

(SWEETLY, INTO PHONE) Hello, Mr. Brent? This is Mrs. Paige speaking. Mrs. Jerrold Paige.

CLARA:

No, don't! Please, don't! Give me that phone! Gus?! (INTO PHONE, SAD AND MEEK) Gus? Is that you? -- I, er-- I want to meet you for dinner. -- I'll come down and we'll go somewhere. -- Yes, dear. Just you and I. -- Yes. Goodbye.

SOUND:

RECEIVER DOWN

CLARA:

(DEFIANT, TO ANNE) There! I'm going and I never want to see you or your precious husband again! Never! Never!

ANNE:

(SWEETLY) Now, wait just a moment, Clarabelle. You have a letter from Jerrold about jasmine and the moonlight. I'd like it for our collection.

CLARA:

(THROWS THE LETTER) There! Take it! Goodbye!

SOUND:

DOOR SLAMS AS CLARA EXITS

ANNE:

Goodbye.

JERRY:

(BIG SIGH OF RELIEF) Whew!

SOUND:

RECEIVER UP

ANNE:

(INTO PHONE) Hello? -- Hello, Operator? Give me Plaza 3-6432.

JERRY:

(STUNNED) Good lord! You're not calling her husband again?!

ANNE:

(INTO PHONE) Plaza 3-6432? (TO JERRY) Her husband? No, dear. (INTO PHONE, POLITE) May I speak to Bishop Wilson? -- Thank you. (BEAT, TO JERRY, CASUAL) Darling, mix a drink.

JERRY:

Huh?

SOUND:

APPLAUSE ...