exhibit you for a fee as the
wildest genius in captivity."

"Bambi, be serious. This is no joke. This is awful!"

"You consider it awful to be married to me?"

"I am not thinking of myself. I am thinking of you. You have got
yourself into a pretty mess, and I've got to get you out of it."

"How?"

"I'll divorce you."

"You've got no grounds. I've been a kind, dutiful wife to you. I haven't
been near you since I married you, except to give you food."

"How do you expect we are to live? Nobody wants my plays."

"How do you know? You never try to sell them. You told me so yourself.
You feel so superior to managers and audiences that you never
offer them."

"I know. I occasionally go to the theatre, by mistake, and I see what
they want."

"That's no criterion. We won't condemn even a Broadway manager until he
proves himself such a dummy as not to want your plays."

"Broadway? Think of a play of mine on Broadway! Think of the fat swine
who waddle into those theatres!"

"My dear, there are men of brains writing for the theatre to-day who do
not scorn those swine."

"Men of brains? Who, who, I ask you?"

"Bernard Shaw."

"Showman, trickster."

"Barrie."

"Well, maybe."

"Pinero?"

"Pinero knows his trade," he admitted.

"Galsworthy, Brieux."

"Galsworthy is a pamphleteer. Brieux is no artist. He is a surgeon. They
have nothing to say to Broadway. Broadway swallows the pills they offer
because of their names, but they might just as well give them the sugar
drip they want, for all the good it does."

"Well, they get heard, anyhow. What's the use of writing a play if it
isn't acted? Of course we'll sell your plays."

"But if we don't, where will you be?"

"Oh, I'll be all right. I mean to support myself, anyhow, and you, too,
if the plays don't go."

He laughed.

"You are an amusing mite. Queer I never noticed you before."

"You'll like me, if you continue to be aware of me. I'm nice," she
laughed up at him, and he smiled back.

"How do you intend to make this fortune, may I ask?"

"I haven't decided yet. Of course I can dance. If worst came to worst, I
can make a big salary dancing."

"Dancing?" he exploded.

"Yes, didn't you ever hear of it? With the feet, you know, and the body,
and the eyes, and the arms. So!"

She twirled about him in a circle, like a gay little figurine. He
watched her, fascinated.

"You can dance, can't you?"

"I can. At times I am quite inspired. Now, if yo