“Eigh?” he said, at the top of his voice, as though he thought I had gone, and was startled at my remark.
“Do you want me to criticise these plays?”
“Do something with ’em.... Did you think it was a treat?”
“But I can’t.”
“Did you call me a fool?”
“Well, I’ve never been to a theatre in my life.”
“Virgin soil.”
“But I don’t know anything about it, you know.”
“That’s just it. New view. No habits. No clichés in stock. Ours is a live paper, not a bag of tricks. None of your clockwork professional journalism in this office. And I can rely on your integrity”—
“But I’ve conscientious scruples”—