"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."

"Broadway? Think of a play of mine on Broadway! Think of the fat swine
who waddle into those theatres!"

"My dear, there are men of brains writing for the theatre to-day who do
not scorn those swine."