NANCY. I’m sure Mr. Ronny Derwent couldn’t.
BROXOPP (casually). And you didn’t happen to look in at Broxopp’s at all?
NANCY. Oh no. I don’t suppose anybody would have known me.
BROXOPP (eagerly). Old Carter would—I suppose he’s still there. They wouldn’t get rid of Carter. He always used to remember how you came up the first day we opened the office, and I’d had lunch sent in—do you remember?—and a bottle of champagne. The first champagne you’d ever had—do you remember, Nancy?—and how frightened you were when the cork came out?
NANCY (gently). I remember, Jim.
BROXOPP. I thought perhaps you might just have passed by outside—on your way somewhere. (Wistfully) I suppose you still see the same—the same advertisements everywhere? Have we—have they got any new ones?
[61]NANCY. I didn’t notice any.
BROXOPP (nodding his head). They can’t do better than the old ones. (After a pause) Of course, there are new ideas—(he gets up and walks about)—there was one I was thinking of this morning when I was out—nothing to do with me now—I just happened to think of it. (He is carried away by it as he goes on) I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a man drawing on a film—you see a few lines first, which mean nothing, and then gradually it begins to take shape. Well, you’d have your posters like that—altering every week. A large poster with just a few meaningless lines on it. Everybody would wonder what it meant. They’d all talk about it. Next week a curve here and there, a bit of shading somewhere. People get more and more interested. What is coming? And so it goes on. And then, in the last week, the lines all join together, some of them become writing, you see “BROXOPP’S”—— (He breaks off, pulls himself together, and says casually) The idea just came to me this morning when I was out. Of course, it’s nothing to do with me now. (He gives a little laugh and sits down again.)
NANCY (who has been listening raptly). It’s a wonderful idea.
BROXOPP (pleased). Not bad, is it? (With an effort) However, that’s nothing to do with it, now.