"Sounds like an easy life," remarked Gertie.
"You forget the wear and tear of the brain," said Madame.
"But we get that in our business."
"Hush!" whispered the other. "He doesn't like hearing that referred to."
Conversation during the meal was restricted to the subject of the production of pictures and their subsequent disposal; Madame showed great deference to the arguments of her husband, occasionally interposing a mild suggestion which he had no difficulty in knocking down. At moments of excited contention Madame's husband became inarticulate, and had to fall back upon the gestures of the studio, that conveyed nothing to the visitor.
"How much do you make a year?" she asked, when an opportunity came. He paused in his task of opening another bottle of stout, and regarded her with something of surprise.
"My good girl," he replied, "I don't estimate my results by pounds, shillings, and pence."
"Do you earn a hundred in twelve months?"
"Wish I did," confessed Madame's husband. "In that case, I shouldn't have to be beholden to other people."
"How would you manage if you weren't married?"