‘Another hand fashioned The Roaring Boy at first.’
‘You have made it your own,’ said Nicholas. ‘That other hand wrote another play. What you have done is to breathe fresh life into it. Take all the honour that is due, Edmund. No man here has deserved it more. Look how your fellows acclaim you.’ He took in the whole room with a sweep of his arm. ‘Besides, you did something on that stage this afternoon that no author could ever have done and Westfield’s Men are eternally in your debt.’
‘For what, Nick?’ said Hoode. ‘For what?’
‘Writing a play that cured us all of the toothache!’