"I've been trying to get you all day," Stuart said. "Have you decided, Arthur? Is that it?"
"I have decided."
"What have you decided?"
"I have decided to sell out," Arthur said.
"What do you mean?"
"Again," Arthur said.
"I still don't know what you mean."
"I have decided, Stuart, to sell out again, I have decided to sell out because I'm afraid."
"Arthur, that's no attitude to…"
"I'm afraid I'll lose the case, Stuart, and I'm afraid if I don't grab Hester then Osborne'll get her, and I'm afraid my sweet little play'll die, Stuart, it'll curl up and die stillborn, never see the light of day, never have a chance to breathe at all. So I'm selling out, I'll do whatever the pants pressers want me to do, make any revisions they want, change little Julie to a whore with a line of sailors waiting outside her bedroom…"
"Julie?"
"Carol, whatever the hell her name is, who cares?"
"Look, Arthur…"
"Tell Mitzi Starke she just bought herself a writer."
"Arthur…"
"Tell Hester I'll fit the part to her like a tailored suit from wherever it is fine actresses like Hester Miers buy their tailored suits, tell them they got themselves a tailor, and when I finish the garment they can press it. Tell them."
"Arthur?"
"What?"
"Arthur, are you crying?"
"No," he said.