Alma. She’s seriously ill, and won’t be able to appear at all.
Dick. Not appear! not appear! This is your doing, to throw me over at the eleventh hour! Someone shall pay for this!
Alma. Yes; you shall pay for it yourself.
Dick. (desperate) Not appear! Who’s to play the part?
Alma. The woman it was written for! Who else?
Dick. You’ll play it after all? You’ll come back to me? You’re not half a bad sort, when all’s said and done!
Alma. Yes, I’ve decided to come back to you.
Dick. (overjoyed) At the old figure?
Alma. No—(Dick’s face falls)—at ten pounds a week advance.