Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. Speedily recovering himself, however, he rejoined, with forced calmness, "You are mistaken, Sir. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. ’ ‘Yes, but if it is only we that know, it is of no use at all to me. "Good-bye, young man; and good luck.
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