LAURA. Jim!
JIM. Yes, I do—you bet.
LAURA. That wouldn't pay, would it?
JIM. No, they're not worth the job of sitting on that throne in Sing Sing, and I'm too poor to go to Matteawan. But all them fellows under nineteen and over fifty-nine ain't much use to themselves or anyone else.
LAURA. [Rather meditatively.] Perhaps all of them are not so bad.
JIM. [Sits on bed.] Yes, they are,—angels and all. Last season I had one of them shows where a rich fellow backed it on account of a girl. We lost money and he lost his girl; then we got stuck in Texas. I telegraphed: "Must have a thousand, or can't move." He just answered: "Don't move." We didn't.
LAURA. But that was business.
JIM. Bad business. It took a year for some of them folks to get back to Broadway. Some of the girls never did, and I guess never will.
LAURA. Maybe they're better off, Jim. [Sits right of table.
JIM. Couldn't be worse. They're still in Texas. [To himself.] Wish I knew how to do something else, being a plumber or a walking delegate; they always have jobs.