"No, but you're trying to make me so. The more competitors there are for the glory of bringing her out the better for her."
"Mr. Dashwood wants to take a theatre," said Mrs. Rooth.
"Then perhaps he's our man."
"Oh if you'd help him!" she richly cried.
"Help him?"
"Help him to help us."
"We'll all work together; it will be very jolly," said Sherringham gaily. "It's a sacred cause, the love of art, and we shall be a happy band. Dashwood's his name?" he added in a moment. "Mrs. Lovick wasn't a Dashwood."
"It's his nom de théâtre—Basil Dashwood. Do you like it?" Mrs. Rooth wonderfully inquired.
"You say that as Miriam might. Her talent's catching!"
"She's always practising—always saying things over and over to seize the tone. I've her voice in my ears. He wants her not to have any."