HECTOR [_Talking as he comes through, continuing the conversation--he walks to the fireplace and stands with his back to it._] I tell you, if I'd known what it meant, I'd never have taken the job! Sounded so fine, to be reader of plays for the Duke's Theatre--adviser to the great Mr. Honeyswill! And then--when the old man said I was to go to all the first nights--why, I just chortled! "It's the first nights that show you the grip of the thing--that teach you most"--he said. Teach you! As though there were anything to learn! Oh my stars! I tell you, it's a dog's life! WALTER. [_Sitting to left of the round table._] I'd change places with you, sonny. HECTOR. You would, eh? That's what they all say! Four new plays this week, my lad--one yesterday, one to-day--another to-morrow, and the night after! All day long I'm _reading_ plays--and I spend my nights seeing 'em! D'you know I read about two thousand a year? Divide two thousand by three hundred and sixty five. A dog's life--that's what it is! WALTER. Better than being a stockbroker's clerk--you believe _me!_ HECTOR. Is it? I wish _you_ could have a turn at it, my bonny boy! _Your_ hair'd go grey, like mine! And look here--what are the plays to-day? They're either so chock-full of intellect that they send you to sleep--or they reek of sentiment till you yearn for the smell of a cabbage! WALTER. Well, you've the change, at any rate. HECTOR. [_Snorting._] Change? By Jove, give me a Punch and Judy show on the sands--or performing dogs! Plays--I'm sick of 'em! And look here--the one I'm off to to-night. It's adapted from the French--well, we know what _that_ means. Husband, wife and mistress. Or wife, husband, lover. That's what a French play means. And you make it English, and pass the Censor, by putting the lady in a mackintosh, and dumping in a curate! BETTY. [_Coming in, and closing the door leading to the dining-room._] You ought to be going, Hector. [_She, stands listening for a moment, then goes through the other door into the hall._ HECTOR. [_Disregarding her, too intent on his theme._] And I tell you, of the two, I prefer the home-made stodge. I'm sick of the eternal triangle. They always do the same thing. Husband strikes attitudes--sometimes he strikes the lover. The lover never stands up to him--why shouldn't he? He would--in real life. [BETTY _comes back, with his overcoat and muffler--she proceeds affectionately to wrap this round his neck, and helps him on with his coat, he talking all the time._] He'd say, look here, you go to Hell. _That's_ what he'd say--well, there you'd have a situation. But not one of the playwriting chaps dares do it. Why not, I ask you? There you'd have truth, something big. But no--they're afraid--think the public won't like it. The husband's got to down the lover--like a big tom-cat with a mouse--or the author'd have to sell one of his motor-cars! That's just the fact of it!