“Not in this piece. I only—walk on, don’t you know. But in the spring Lauria and I are going to give a series of recitations.”
He rose to his feet, and standing in front of the fireplace, stretched out one dramatic hand.
“‘To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?’”
He bellowed the words at the top of his voice, uttering each syllable with profound and dramatic emphasis.
“By Jove!” he said, “what a part! They don’t write parts like that now. An actor has no chance in a modern play, where there’s not a speech more than two lines long.”
Miss Ley looked at him with astonishment, for it had never occurred to her that such a development could possibly be his; then, glancing quickly at Lauria, she fancied that a slight ironical smile trembled on her lips.
“I tell you,” said Reggie, beating his chest, “I feel that I shall be a great actor. If I can only get my chance, I shall just stagger creation. I must go and see Basil Kent, and ask him to write a play for us, Lauria.”
“And are you going to stagger creation too?” asked Miss Ley, blandly turning to Mrs. Reggie.
The young woman restrained her merriment no longer, but burst into such a hearty peal of laughter that Miss Ley began to like her.
“Will you stay to tea, Miss Ley?”