"Why, Millie, you mustn't cry! I 'ain't seen you cry in years. Millie! my God! I can't get my thoughts together! Me to own a show after all these years; me to—"
"Don't you think it means something to me, too, Harry?"
"I can't lose, Millie. Even if this country gets drawn into the war, there's a mint of money in that show as I see it. It'll help the people. The people of this country need to have their patriotism tickled."
"All my life, Harry, I've wanted a gold-mesh bag with a row of sapphires and diamonds across the top—"
"I'm going to make it the kind of show that 'Dixie' was a song—"
"And a gold-colored bird-of-paradise for a black-velvet hat, all my life,
Harry—"
"With Alma Zitelle in the part—"
"Is it her picture I found in your drawer the other day, Harry, cut out from a Sunday newspaper?"
"One and the same. I been watching her. There's a world of money in that woman, whoever she is. She's eccentric and they make her play straight, but if I could get hold of her—My God! Millie, I—I can't believe things!"
She rose, coming round to lay her arms across his shoulders.