What kind of play? I asked at last and Xavier looked at me. His gaze was steady and clear, and for the first time I had a sense of the consistency of his ego, and I knew that he was someone who could make a piece of work, many of them perhaps. No, I had not understood him correctly at all. He replied, A monologue. And the next question rushed out of me before I could stop it. What kind of part? He nodded as if he had expected the question, and I knew he had heard the greed in my voice, just as I myself had heard it. A woman of your age and general disposition, he said. A woman who can no
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