The Verge

Excerpt from Act I: (The glass door swings violently in, snow blowing in, and also MR HARRY ARCHER, wrapped in a rug.) ANTHONY: Oh, please close the door, sir. HARRY: Do you think I'm not trying to? (he holds it open to say this) ANTHONY: But please do. This stormy air is not good for the plants. HARRY: I suppose it's just the thing for me! Now, what do you mean, Anthony, by not answering the phone when I buzz for you? ANTHONY: Miss Claire—Mrs Archer told me not to. HARRY: Told you not to answer me? ANTHONY: Not you especially—nobody but her. HARRY: Well, I like her nerve—and yours. ANTHONY: You see, she thought it took my mind from my work to be interrupted when I'm out here. And so it does. So she buzzes once long and—Well, she buzzes her way, and all other buzzing— HARRY: May buzz. ANTHONY: (nodding gravely) She thought it would be better for the flowers. HARRY: I am not a flower—true, but I too need a little attention—and a little heat. Will you please tell me why the house is frigid? ANTHONY: Miss Claire ordered all the heat turned out here, (patiently explaining it to MISS CLAIRE's speechless husband) You see the roses need a great deal of heat.