“Your play?” she cried, eagerly. “What are you doing with a play? Perhaps—perhaps——”
She stopped speaking, seeming to make an effort to hold her eagerness in check.
“I am writing a play,” Frank explained. “That is, I am rewriting it now. I wrote it some time ago and put it on the road, but it was a failure. I am going out again soon with a new company.”
Her eagerness seemed to increase.
“Then you must know many actors,” she said. “Perhaps you know him?”
“Know whom?”
“Lawton—Lawton Kilgore.”
Frank shook his head.
“Never heard of him.”
She showed great disappointment.