_Peggy._ Well?

_Bill._ I won't. Good night.

_Peggy._ Good-night!

(She goes Left humming to herself; sits at table, and prepares to
work.)

_Will (Enters Left softly; a young poet, delicate and sensitive. He
watches_ PEGGY, _then closes door, tiptoes up and leans over her
shoulder)._ Well?

_Peggy (starts)._ Oh, Will, how you frightened me! Where in the
world have you been?

_Will._ Oh, it's a long tale.

_Peggy._ Have you had dinner?

_Will._ No, I don't want to eat.

_Peggy._ What's the matter? A new idea?

_Will._ I'll tell you, Peggy. Wait a bit.

_Peggy (as he takes mail from pocket)._ Some mail?

_Will._ Yes--all rejection slips. Nothing but rejection slips!
_(throws pile of returned manuscripts on the table)._ How I wish