Mr. Plimmer laughed solemnly.
“Not exactly. But, by Jove! that child would be quite capable of discussing it. She’d talk a great deal more sense about it than most of these confounded dramatic critics. Don’t speak to me about dramatic critics, Miss O’Finn. They disgust me. I can’t bring myself to speak about them. I regard dramatic critics and wife-beaters as the most contemptible beings on earth. By what right does a man who knows no more about acting than a graven image set himself up to criticise people who do? There he sits in the front row of the stalls with last night’s shirt and a perpetual sneer—but don’t ask me to go on talking about such rascals. My gorge rises against them. I despise them. I regard them with contempt and aversion. I wish you hadn’t brought up this topic, Miss O’Finn. I can’t even enjoy Gaston’s excellent lunch when I think about dramatic critics. It’s their ignorance that is so appalling, their ignorance, their lack of taste, their dishonesty, their ... but, no, I cannot speak about them! Do let me pour you out another glass of wine.”
“You were telling me about your play, Mr. Plimmer.”
The actor-author mopped his brow, and after reviving himself with a few mouthfuls of food was able to continue.
“This play of mine, Miss O’Finn, might seem to bear a superficial resemblance in the main theme to East Lynne. But it is only very superficial. Until the excellent Mrs. Pottage to whom I read it said that the great scene in the third act reminded her of a similar scene in the dear old-fashioned drama at which we have all wept in our day, I confess that even this superficial likeness had not struck me. However, Mrs. Pottage was right. There undoubtedly is a faint resemblance. But what of that? Did not somebody or other, some great writer whose name escapes me for the moment, say that there were only six original plots in the world? After all, it’s the treatment that counts. But let us be practical. I did not invite you out to lunch to hear me discuss abstract theories of art. At the end of this month The Custody of the Child will be presented for the first time on any stage at the Prince of Wales’ Theatre, Leeds. Will you and your daughter accept what I am tempted to call the two leading parts? I have engaged an excellent young actor for the husband—Clarence Bullingdon. Do you know him? No? He’s very sound. My own part is a comparatively small one. Well, I didn’t want to give the critics a chance of saying that I had written a play to show off my own acting.”
“But would I suit the part?” Nancy asked.
“Exactly what I require. You might have served as the model for my inspiration.”
Nancy wavered. The last thing she had intended was to allow Letizia to act. Yet, would it hurt her so much to be acting with her mother?
“What salary are you suggesting, Mr. Plimmer?”
“I had allotted five pounds a week to your part, Miss O’Finn, but if your little girl will appear with you, I am prepared to double that.”