From her reticule Mrs. Sixsmith took a small note-book and made an entry therein.
“... The divine Shakespeare!” she sighed.
“I mean to make a hit with him.”
“Listen to me.”
“Well?”
“My advice to you is, hire a playhouse—the Cobbler’s End, for example—for three round months at a reasonable rent, with a right, should you wish, to sub-let.”
“It’s so far off.”
“Define ‘far off.’”
“Blackfriars Bridge.”
“I’ve no doubt by paying a fortune you could find a more central position if you care to wait. The Bolivar Theatre, possibly——; or the Cone.... At the Cone, there’s a joy-plank from the auditorium to the stage, so that, should you want to ever, you can come right out into the stalls.”