"The effectiveness of the scene depends altogether upon its--well, its
savagery. It must sweep the audience off its feet in order that the
climax shall appear logical."

"Nonsense again! I'm not an old-school actor, and I can't chew
scenery. I've gained my reputation by repressive acting, by
intensity."

"This is not acting; this is real life."

Francis's voice rose a tone in pitch, and his eyes flashed at this
stubborn resistance to his own set ideas.

"Great heavens, Phillips! Don't try to tell me my own business.
People don't behave that way in real life; they don't explode under
passion--not even jealousy or revenge; they are reserved. Reserve!
That's the real thing; the other is all make-believe."

Seeing that it was useless to argue with the man, Phillips said
nothing more, so Francis and his wife assumed their positions and
began their lines.

It was a long scene and one demanding great force to sustain. It was
this, in fact, which had led to the choice of Irving Francis for the
principal rôle, for he was a man of tremendous physical power. He had
great ability, moreover, and yet never, even at rehearsals, had he
been able to invest this particular scene with conviction. Phillips
had rehearsed him in it time and again, but he seemed strangely
incapable of rising to the necessary heights. He was hollow,
artificial; his tricks and mannerisms showed through like familiar