"You see, Mac," Mr. Cream explained, "Dolly is a very intense actress ... I think she's the most intense actress on the stage ... and she gets very worked up in emotional pieces. Don't you, Dolly?"
Dolly nodded her head, and then, as if the effort of doing so had been too great an exertion for her, she lay back on the sofa and closed her eyes.
"Perhaps I'd better go!..." John suggested.
"Oh, no, no! She's always like that. All right in the afternoon. Won't you, Dolly?"
Dolly waved her hand feebly.
"Her acting takes a lot out of her," Mr. Cream said. "Very exhausting all that emotional work. Bound to be ... bound to be! Now, comic work's different. I can be as comic as you like, and all that happens is I'm nicely tired about bedtime, and I sleep like a top. In fact, I might say I sleep like two tops, for the wife's so unnerved, as you might say, by her own acting that it takes her half the night to settle down. Nerves, my boy. That's what it is! Nerves! I tell you, Mac, old chap, if you want to have a good night's rest, go in for comic work, but if you want to lie awake and think, tragedy's your trade. Nerves all on edge. Overwrought. Terrible thing, tragedy! Isn't it, Dolly?"
Mrs. Cream moaned slightly and twisted about on the sofa. "Too much talk!" she murmured.
"All right, my dear, all right. Suppose we just go up to your room again, Mac, and talk until she's quieted down? Eh?"
"Very well," said John who was feeling exceedingly uncomfortable.
They left the room together, John walking on tiptoe, for he felt that the situation made such a solemnity necessary.