“Yes, I have!” retorted Baggot angrily. He wouldn’t endure Baron’s bad manners, no matter how he might receive the bad manners of Baron’s mother. “You’re going to say so, too. I’ve got the first act finished. I’ve only got to fill in the scenario of the other acts, and I’ve got the greatest play that ever came out of America.”
Baron smiled wearily. “And I’m to listen while you read the first act of the greatest play, etc.?”
“Yes—and you’re to agree with me, too. I don’t see anything great in your sneering at me all the time!” He pulled up a chair and sat down so that his knees almost touched Baron’s.
Obviously, they were a pair of young men on very intimate terms.
Bonnie May slipped into a remote corner of the room and climbed into a big chair. Her hand supported her chin; her eyes were luminous. She did not mean to miss a word.
And Baggot began to read. His face was almost tortured with nervous energy. He handled the pages as if they were in hopeless confusion, yet he brought order out of them swiftly.
The reading proceeded ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour. Baggot read with profound confidence and belief. His staccato tones fairly hurled the words of the play at his auditors. Baron had put away his cynic attitude. He had become deeply impressed. He had even forgotten that it was his favorite pose not to seem deeply impressed by anything.
Bonnie May was like one in a beautiful dream. She was not only listening to the play; she was living it.
And then her dream was broken in a manner which filled her mind with almost blank astonishment.
Mrs. Baron appeared in the doorway.