Madame Nérisse. No; you will be obliged to work at night.
Thérèse. At night?
Madame Nérisse. Yes.
Thérèse. But then I shall be free all day.
Madame Nérisse. No, you won't. In the daytime you will have to take charge of the business part of the paper, and in the evening too your work will not be purely literary, but more of an administrative character.
Thérèse. It appears to me that I'm asked to accept a smaller salary and to do double work for it.
Madame Nérisse. I am conveying to you the offers of the new Directors; if they don't suit you, you have only to refuse them.
Thérèse. Of course I refuse them, and you may say to the people who have made them that they must be shameful sweaters to dare to offer women salaries that leave them no choice between starvation and degradation.
Madame Nérisse. Those are strong words, my dear, and you seem to forget very quickly—
Thérèse [softening] Yes. Oh, I beg your pardon. But think for a minute, Madame, and you'll forgive me for being angry. I hardly know what I'm saying. [Madame Nérisse half turns away] Listen, oh listen! Forget what I said just now; I'll explain to you. I accept the reduction of salary. I'll manage. I'll get my expenses down. Only I can't consent to give up all my time. You know I have some work in hand; you know I have a big undertaking to which I've given all my life. I've told you about it, you know about that. You know I can only stand my loneliness and everything because of the hope I have about this. If people take all my time, it's the same as if they killed me. I beg you, I implore you, get them to leave me my evenings free.