Jane Raleigh came over to see me the day after I came home, and I read
her some of the Love seens. She posatively wept with excitement.

"Bab," she said, "if any man, no matter who, ever said those things to
me, I'd go straight into his arms. I couldn't help it. Whose going to
act in it?"

"I think I'll have Robert Edeson, or Richard Mansfield."

"Mansfield's dead," said Jane.

"Honestly?"

"Honest he is. Why don't you get some of these moveing picture actors?
They never have a chance in the Movies, only acting and not talking."

Well, that sounded logicle. And then I read her the place where the
cruel first husband comes back and finds her married again and happy,
and takes the Children out to drown them, only he can't because they can
swim, and they pull him in instead. The curtain goes down on nothing but
a few bubbles rising to mark his watery Grave.

Jane was crying.

"It is too touching for words, Bab!" she said. "It has broken my heart.
I can just close my eyes and see the Theater dark, and the stage almost
dark, and just those bubbles coming up and breaking. Would you have to
have a tank?"

"I darsay," I replied dreamily. "Let the other people worry about that.