"And you, my dear, are to play Polly."
"So Mr. Gay says, but I don't know for certain."
"Have you read the play?"
"No, I've only learned my songs."
"And the duet with me?"—"I'm bubbled."
"No. I know nothing about that."
"It's terribly hard, but there's plenty of time to get it by heart. I'm dreadfully nervous though. We have to sing it without any instruments, not even a harpsichord. All the songs are to be like that."
"Oh.... Won't it all sound very poor?"
"Of course it will. You see that mean hunks Rich won't go to the expense of a band. He doesn't know how the opera will take the people. It may be hissed off the stage the first night. I don't trouble my head about politics—I can't say I know what the rubbish means—but I'm told there's a good deal in the opera that's likely to give offence."
"I can't think Mr. Gay would write anything likely to offend anybody."