Part 3 (2/2)
”Oh yes, I know that--”
”And it would be very effective to leave the impression of their happiness with the audience, so that they might have strength to get on their rubbers and wraps after the tremendous ordeal of your Haxard death-scene.”
”G.o.dolphin wouldn't stand that. He wants the gloom of Haxard's death to remain in unrelieved inkiness at the end. He wants the people to go away thinking of G.o.dolphin, and how well he did the last gasp. He wouldn't stand any love business there. He would rather not have any in the play.”
”Very well, if you're going to be a slave to G.o.dolphin--”
”I'm not going to be a slave to G.o.dolphin, and if I can see my way to make the right use of such a pa.s.sage at the close I'll do it even if it kills the play or G.o.dolphin.”
”Now you're shouting,” said Louise. She liked to use a bit of slang when it was perfectly safe--as in very good company, or among those she loved; at other times she scrupulously shunned it.
”But I can do it somehow,” Maxwell mused aloud. ”Now I have the right idea, I can make it take any shape or color I want. It's magnificent!”
”And who thought of it?” she demanded.
”Who? Why, _I_ thought of it myself.”
”Oh, you little wretch!” she cried, in utter fondness, and she ran at him and drove him into a corner. ”Now, say that again and I'll tickle you.”
”No, no, no!” he laughed, and he fought away the pokes and thrusts she was aiming at him. ”We both thought of it together. It was mind transference!”
She dropped her hands with an instant interest in the psychological phenomena. ”Wasn't it strange? Or, no, it wasn't, either! If our lives are so united in everything, the wonder is that we don't think more things and say more things together. But now I want you to own, Brice, that I was the first to speak about your using our situation!”
”Yes, you were, and I was the first to think of it. But that's perfectly natural. You always speak of things before you think, and I always think of things before I speak.”
”Well, I don't care,” said Louise, by no means displeased with the formulation. ”I shall always say it was perfectly miraculous. And I want you to give me credit for letting you have the idea after you had thought of it.”
”Yes, there's nothing mean about you, Louise, as Pinney would say. By Jove, I'll bring Pinney in! I'll have Pinney interview Haxard concerning Greenshaw's disappearance.”
”Very well, then, if you bring Pinney in, you will leave me out,” said Louise. ”I won't be in the same play with Pinney.”
”Well, I won't bring Pinney in, then,” said Maxwell. ”I prefer you to Pinney--in a play. But I have got to have in an interviewer. It will be splendid on the stage, and I'll be the first to have him.” He went and sat down at his table.
”You're not going to work any more to-night!” his wife protested.
”No, just jot down a note or two, to clinch that idea of ours in the right shape.” He dashed off a few lines with pencil in his play at several points, and then he said: ”There! I guess I shall get some bones into those two flabby idiots to-morrow. I see just how I can do it.” He looked up and met his wife's adoring eyes.
”You're wonderful, Brice!” she said.
”Well, don't tell me so,” he returned, ”or it might spoil me. Now I wouldn't tell you how good you were, on any account.”
”Oh yes, do, dearest!” she entreated, and a mist came into her eyes. ”I don't think you praise me enough.”
”How much ought I to praise you?”
”You ought to say that you think I'll never be a hinderance to you.”
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