house, and when you feel a fit coming on you can go up there. I’ll slip you food through a wire door so you can’t bite me, and I’ll exhibit you for a fee as the wildest genius in captivity.”
“Bambi, be serious. This is no joke. This is awful!”
“You consider it awful to be married to me?”
“I am not thinking of myself. I am thinking of you. You have got yourself into a pretty mess, and I’ve got to get you out of it.”
“How?”
“I’ll divorce you.”
“You’ve got no grounds. I’ve been a kind, dutiful wife to you. I haven’t been near you since I married you, except to give you food.”
“How do you expect we are to live? Nobody wants my plays.”
“How do you know? You never try to sell them. You told me so yourself. You feel so superior to managers and audiences that you never offer them.”
“I know. I occasionally go to the theatre, by mistake, and I see what they want.”
“That’s no criterion. We won’t condemn even a Broadway manager until he proves himself such a dummy as not to want your plays.”
