“And for modesty?”
“Oh, modesty doesn’t depend on clothes, any more than purity did on fig leaves. Eve only began to sew when she had lost hers. Come and drink your coffee.”
She came, after some further observation, and sipped in silence from the cup he handed her. He had a dozen questions on his tongue, but could not or would not put them; the girl seemed too independent. He mentioned finally the current report that they were to see her in the new piece at the Variety.
“Well, you’re not,” she said. “It’s a dancing part, and I’m going to act when I go back to the boards.”
“Why?”
“Because I can.”
“That would seem to be as good a reason the other way.”
“You know,” she scoffed.
“I do; I saw you three times.”
“Three!—some men saw me thirty.”