“I have no idea.”
“Have you any money at all?”
“Certainly not. I’d have given it to her if I had, so she wouldn’t interrupt me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I can’t think about it now. I am full of this big idea. It’s a dramatization of the Brotherhood of Man, of a sublime, socialistic world—”
“Has it occurred to you, ever, Jarvis, that the world isn’t ready for the Brotherhood of Man yet? It’s just out of the tent stage, where War is the whole duty of Man.”
“But it must be ready,” he urged, seriously, “for I am here with my message.”
She smiled at him as one would at a conceited child.
“Poor old Jarvis, strayed out of Elysian fields! Were you thinking of sleeping in the summer-house permanently?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter; only the play matters. Give me some paper, Bambi, and let me get to work.”
She rose and went to stand before him.
“Would you mind looking at me?”
He turned his eyes on her.
