“I don’t know that I have a line.”
Mr. Copas rubbed his chin.
“Of course. You look like a comic, but we’ll see, we’ll see. You couldn’t write plays, I suppose? Not that there’s much writing to be done when you give three plays a night, and a different program every night. Just the plot’s all we want. Are you good at plots?”
“I’ve read a good deal.”
“Ah! I was never a reader myself. . . . Of course, I can’t pay you anything until I know whether you’re useful or not.”
“I’ve plenty of money, thanks.”
Mr. Copas eyed his guest shrewdly.
“Of course,” he said, “of course, if you were really keen I could take you in as a sort of partner.”
“I don’t know that I——”
“Ten pounds would do it.”