"What did you go for if you didn't want to?"
"You wanted me to."
"I don't quite get you," he said impatiently.
"Well, it's just this, Will—you have all my time when I'm not in the theatre, and you can do with it just what you please. You pay for it. I'm working for you."
He looked up at her quickly. Something in the tone of her voice warned him that there was a scene coming, and he hated scenes. But he could not resist inquiring sarcastically:
"Is that all I've got—just your time?"
"That and—the rest," she replied bitterly.
Looking at her curiously, he said:
"Down in the mouth, eh? I'm sorry."
"No," she retorted, her mouth quivering at the corners; "only, if you want me to be frank, I'm a little tired. You may not believe it, but I work awfully hard over at the theatre. Burgess will tell you that. I know I'm not so very good as an actress, but I try to be. I'd like to succeed myself. They're very patient with me. Of course, they've got to be—that's another thing you're paying for; but I don't seem to get along except this way."