The Big Drum

Oh, my dear Phil, I entreat you, feed the papers! It isn't as if you hadn't talent; you have. Advertising minus talent goes a long way; advertising plus talent is irresistible. Feed the papers. The more you do for them, the more they'll do for you. Quid pro quo. To the advertiser shall advertisement be given. Newspaper men are the nicest chaps in the world. Feed them gratis with bright and amusin' "copy," as you term it, and they'll love and protect you for ever.

PHILIP.

Not for ever, Robbie. Whom the press loves die young.

ROOPE.

It's fickle, you mean--some day it'll turn and rend you? Perhaps. Still, if you make hay while the sun shines----

PHILIP.

The sun! You don't call that the sun! [Disdainfully.] P'ssh!

ROOPE.

[Leaving him.] Oh, I've no patience with you! [Spluttering.] Upon my word, your hatred of publicity is--is--is--is morbid. It's worse than morbid--it's Victorian. [