It isn't the poetry that scares her--or me either. We both want
to do all we can to help along the poetic drama--we believe the
public's ready for it, and we're willing to take a big financial
risk in order to be the first to give them what they want. BUT
WE DON'T BELIEVE THEY COULD BE MADE TO WANT THIS. The fact is,
there isn't enough drama in your play to the allowance of poetry--
the thing drags all through. You've got a big idea, but it's
not out of swaddling clothes.

"If this was your first play I'd say: TRY AGAIN. But it has been
just the same with all the others you've shown me. And you
remember the result of 'The Lee Shore,' where you carried all the
expenses of production yourself, and we couldn't fill the theatre
for a week. Yet 'The Lee Shore' was a modern problem play--much
easier to swing than blank verse. It isn't as if you hadn't
tried all kinds--"

Granice folded the letter and put it carefully back into the
envelope. Why on earth was he re-reading it, when he knew every
phrase in it by heart, when for a month past he had seen it,
night after night, stand out in letters of flame against the
darkness of his sleepless lids?

"IT HAS BEEN JUST THE SAME WITH ALL THE OTHERS YOU'VE SHOWN ME."

That was the way they dismissed ten years of passionate
unremitting work!

"YOU REMEMBER THE RESULT OF 'THE LEE SHORE.'"