Will. Isn’t it what they all need?  Those wage-slaves up in the galleries——­

Peggy. I know, dear—­but they’ve no idea they are wage-slaves, and they won’t pay their money to hear you call them names.  And down in the three-dollar seats are people who’ve made their pile, and don’t want any questions asked about the way they made it.  Cut out the sociology, Will!

Will. But can’t one discuss modern problems in a modern play?

Peggy. Yes, dear, but you’ve got to go at it differently.  You’ve got to get what the crowd calls the punch. Look at their faces, Will—­see how tired they are!  You’ve got to find something that comes home to them!  Not arguments, not abstractions—­but a clash of human wills!  Something fundamental, that every man in the crowd can understand!  Your idea’s a good one, I think—­having a rich boy go out to try his luck in the under-world.  There’s a chance in it for adventure, for fun, for suspense.  You ought to know about that, since you did it yourself.  But you’ve got to start him off differently——­(The whistle blows.)

Will.  Oh, hell!

Peggy.  Wait, dear. (Exit Left, calls down shaft.) Lower, please.  No—­I said lower.  There—­not too low! (Enters with can.) All right!  Now, our troubles are over.  Listen, dear.  If you really want to write, you’ve got to think about your audience, and what they like.  Just see, to begin with, you’ve left out the most important thing in any play—­whether it’s a high-brow tragedy or Third Avenue melodrama.

Will.  What’s that?

Peggy.  The love interest.

Will.  That’s to come in the second act.

Peggy.  Why the second act?

Will.  That’s where Jack meets the heroine.  I can’t have two love-stories!

Peggy.  My dear boy, you can have a dozen, if you’ve wit enough to get them in.

Will.  With only one hero?

Peggy.  Good Lord, Will!  Didn’t you ever love any woman but me?

Will (disconcerted).  But, Peggy——­

Peggy.  Didn’t you?

Will.  Why—­you know——­

Peggy.  Of course I know!  You were engaged to an heiress when you ran away and married an actress.  Why don’t you put the heiress into this play?

Will.  Gladys?

Peggy.  Gladys was her name, I believe.  How did she act when you told her that you loved me best?  A cold, proud beauty, ready to die before she’d let you know she cared!  And isn’t that exactly what your audience is looking for?  Exactly their idea of a princess of plutocracy!  And still you waste your time with a sister!  Who the deuce cares anything about a sister?

Will.  Look here, Peggy.  You’d better write this play!