Now I guess we
understand each other. If you've got anything to say, why, spill it.
WILL _rises, comes down toward_ JOHN, _showing anger in his tones_.
WILL. We are not talking business now, but women. How much money do
you earn?
[_Crosses to chair left of table; gets it_.
JOHN. Understand I don't think it is any of your damn business, but
I'm going through with you on this proposition, just to see how the
land lays. But take my tip, you be mighty careful how you speak about
the girl if you're not looking for trouble.
WILL. All right, but how much did you say you made?
[_Crosses over to centre of stage, carrying chair; sits_.
JOHN. Thirty dollars a week.
WILL. Do you know how much Laura could make if she just took a job on
her own merits?
JOHN. As I don't intend to share in her salary, I never took the
trouble to inquire.
WILL. She'd get about forty dollars.
JOHN. That laps me ten.
WILL. How are you going to support her? Her cabs cost more than your
salary, and she pays her week's salary for an every-day walking-hat.
She's always had a maid; her simplest gown flirts with a
hundred-dollar note; her manicurist and her hair-dresser will eat up
as much as you pay for your board. She never walks when it's stormy,
and every afternoon there's her ride in the park. She dines at the
best places in New York, and one meal costs her more than you make in
a day. Do you imagine for a moment that she's going to sacrifice these
luxuries for any great length of time?
JOHN.
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