“How do you mean?” asked the other.
“Why, it’s a new kind of love,” he stammered—“a different kind.”
“But, people don’t understand that kind of love.”
“But, Miss Lewis, that’s why I wrote my play! I want to make them understand.”
“But you can’t do anything like that on the stage,” said Miss Lewis. “The public won’t come to see your play.” And then she went on to explain to him the conditions of success in the business of the theatre.
Thyrsis listened, with a clutch as of ice about his heart. “I am very sorry, Miss Lewis,” he said, at last—“but I couldn’t possibly do what you ask.”
“Couldn’t do it!” cried the other, amazed.
“It would not fit into my idea at all.”
“But, don’t you want to get your play produced?”
“That’s just it, I want to get my play produced. If I did what you want me to, it wouldn’t be my play. It would be somebody else’s play.”