"No, I stop here—I think—until I sail for America."
"And that will be soon?"
"Perhaps not until July. I have no plans. I've finished a play a woman suggested to me some time ago. And I'm waiting."
A gleam of understanding came into her eyes. There was controlled interest in her voice as she inquired:
"When is it to be produced?"
"When the woman who suggested it is ready to act in it."
"Do I by any chance know her?"
"You used to know her. You will know her again."
She shook her head slowly, a pensive smile hovering about her eyes and lips. "No—not again. I have changed."
"We do not change," said he. "We move, but we do not change. You are the same character you were when you came into the world. And what you were then, that you will be when the curtain falls on the climax of your last act. Your circumstances will change—and your clothes—and your face, hair, figure—but not you."