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(There is a shocked pause.) 

SUSAN: But–heavens to Betsy, who told you? 

JEREMY: I can’t tell you, tulip. Swore on a stack of Bibles. 

(Susan gazes at the rug, mentally summing up the people who know what happened last night. Suddenly:) 

SUSAN: Her.

(Jeremy adjusts his shirt cuffs.)

SUSAN: That pernicious stalactite.

JEREMY: Stalagmite.

SUSAN: Whatever. 

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