_Will._ Why do authors have to have stomachs? They're never of any
use.

_Peggy._ Listen, Will. You can't do good work when you're so tired.

_Will._ I can do good work! You'll see it's good. I've nearly
finished the fourth act now. Come, read it--and forget about my
stomach. _(She moves over to him. The Play-play begins to appear.)_
The scene is Dad's drawing-room again. Jessie is there; she's
worrying about Jack, and Bob is trying to comfort her. _(Full light
on Play-play.)_

_Bob._ He's all right, Jessie. Anybody'd think he'd gone to war!

_Jessie._ He was never away for so long before.

_Bob._ Don't I seem a fairly healthy specimen, Jessie?

_Jessie._ I suppose so, Bob.

_Bob._ Well, I've done what he's doing. I've done it for a year. And
I survived.

_Jessie._ But you knew how, Bob.

_Bob._ I didn't when I started.

_Jessie._ It snowed last night; I lay awake till daybreak worrying
about him.