"Men of brains? Who, who, I ask you?"

"Bernard Shaw."

"Showman, trickster."

"Barrie."

"Well, maybe."

"Pinero?"

"Pinero knows his trade," he admitted.

"Galsworthy, Brieux."

"Galsworthy is a pamphleteer. Brieux is no artist. He is a surgeon. They
have nothing to say to Broadway. Broadway swallows the pills they offer
because of their names, but they might just as well give them the sugar
drip they want, for all the good it does."

"Well, they get heard, anyhow. What's the use of writing a play if it
isn't acted? Of course we'll sell your plays."

"But if we don't, where will you be?"

"Oh, I'll be all right. I mean to support myself, anyhow, and you, too,
if the plays don't go."

He laughed.