“Well, I didn’t come to argue about Jarvis’s ability or accomplishment, you know. Do you wish me to tell Frohman who you are, or will you come to town and see him yourself?”
“I’d love to go see him. Isn’t this exciting?” she cried, as the full force of what she was saying came to her. “Oh, it’s fun to do things, and be somebody, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I never tried it.”
“You! How absurd! Distinguished you, saying that to a nouveau like me, when there would have been no me except for you.”
“That’s complicated, but delightful of you, no matter how untrue it is.”
“It is true. If you hadn’t happened to like the first story I happened to write, we would never be here discussing my first play, which Mr. Frohman happens to want. It’s all you.”
Mr. Strong suddenly leaned over her, so that she felt his breath on her hair.
“Francesca, if it only were all me,” he said with unexpected passion. She looked up at him, frightened, amazed.
“Oh, you mustn’t do that!” she breathed. He straightened up at once.
