Charles. Bravo, Thea! I always knew you were a sensible girl!
Curph. (utterly bewildered). Then you weren't—you don't——? I wonder if I can be awake!
Mrs. Toov. Althea, if you had the remotest conception of what a music-hall singer is, you would never——
Alth. I know what Mr. Curphew is, Mamma. He is a great artist, a genius; he can hold a mixed crowd of careless people spell-bound while he sings, make them laugh, cry, shudder, just as he chooses, and whatever he does is all so natural and human and real, and—oh, I can't put it into proper words, but one goes away thinking better of the whole world after it—and to hear him treated as if he were some outcast—oh, I can't bear it!
[She breaks down.
Curph. (to himself). I don't care what happens now. They can't take this away!
Mrs. Toov. Upon my word! And pray where did you learn all this about Mr. Wildfire's performances?
Alth. (boldly). Where, Mamma? Why, at the Eldorado, last Saturday evening.
[Sudden collapse of Mrs. Toovey.
Mr. Toov. (electrified). A daughter of mine at the Eldorado! Thea, my child, you can't know what you are talking about; look at the effect on your poor mother!