He looked so handsome as he said this, and so full of scorn for the people who were incapable of seeing merit when it stared them in the face, that I felt a wave of sympathy sweep over me.
"Not that it matters," he continued. "In this world nothing matters."
It seemed rather a sweeping assertion. But I understood the bitterness which called it forth. So, with one fleeting glance out of the corner of my eye to let him know that there was one who comprehended, I suffered him to go on. And he went on.
"However, where there's a will there's a way, and when a man's set on gaining his end it's hard to stop him--if he is a man! There's more roads lead to Rome than one. My play shall see the light in the same fashion that many a work of genius has done before. Who knows how and where Shakespeare's first play was produced? We'll act it at the 'Lion.'"
"How splendid!" I exclaimed.
"Mind you," he added with a modesty which did him credit, "I don't say that my play's a work of genius."
"But I'm sure it is."
He shook his head.
"Frankly, it's not. In fact, it's a musical comedy in one act."
"But a musical comedy may be a work of genius."