"I think it's just splendid!" said she with enthusiasm.
"And will it be any worse a play because you act a small part in it?"
"No," she said shortly.
"I expect you think it's a play that people ought to go and see, don't you?"
"I do, Mr. Socrates," she admitted.
He wondered what she could mean, but continued:
"What does it matter what it is that brings the audience into the theatre, so long as they get there and have to listen?"
She sighed.
"It's no use discussing with you," she murmured. "You're too simple for this world. I daresay you're honest enough—in fact, I think you are—but there are so many things that you don't understand. You're evidently incapable of understanding them."
"Thanks!" he replied, and paused to recover his self-possession. "But let's get right down to business now. If you'll appear in this play I'll not merely give you two hundred pounds a week, but I'll explain to you how to get arrested and still arrive in triumph in London before midnight on Sunday."