Just a trial? I've got to go
to town Wednesday, _any_how."
"But it's so silly! You don't want to go into the movies--moon around a
studio all day with a lot of cheap chorus people."
"Lot of mooning around Mary Pickford does!"
"Everybody isn't a Mary Pickford."
"Well, I can't see how you'd object to my _try_ing."
"I do, though. I hate actors."
"Oh, you make me tired. Do you imagine I have a very thrilling time
dozing on this damn porch?"
"You wouldn't mind if you loved me."
"Of course I love you," she said impatiently, making out a quick case
for herself. "It's just because I do that I hate to see you go to pieces
by just lying around and saying you ought to work. Perhaps if I _did_ go
into this for a while it'd stir you up so you'd do something."
"It's just your craving for excitement, that's all it is."
"Maybe it is! It's a perfectly natural craving, isn't it?"
"Well, I'll tell you one thing. If you go to the movies I'm going to
Europe."
"Well, go on then! _I'm_ not stopping you!"
To show she was not stopping him she melted into melancholy tears.
Together they marshalled the armies of sentiment--words, kisses,
endearments, self-reproaches.
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