[Harshly]. You’re kidding yourself. You really want to sing in a Synagogue tonight. You’re getting a kick out of feeling like a martyr. I’ve seen this sort of thing before. First-rate people don’t pull it. If you were made of the stuff that succeeds, you, with your brains and personality, could have talked your father and your mother out of it....
Jack
What’s the use of words, Mr. Lee? My father’s religion is a stone wall, and so is your business. [Rises.] I took my chance.... Good-bye, Mr. Lee—I have to run along.
Sara
[Enters from the kitchen]. Jakie, I got ready for you a cup of tea.
Jack
Not now, Mama.
[There is a pause as he and Sara regard each other.]
This is my mother, Mr. Lee. Mama, this is Mr. Lee, the producer of the show I was rehearsing with—my boss.