Man: There won't be any inquest. But there's something queer in it. You see, Priam Farll was never in England. Always abroad; at those foreign hotels, wandering up and down.
Woman (after a pause): I know.
Man: What do you know?
Woman: Will you promise not to chatter?
Man: Yes.
Woman: I met him once at an hotel at Ostend. He--well, he wanted most tremendously to paint my portrait. But I wouldn't let him.
Man: Why not?
Woman: If you knew what sort of man he was you wouldn't ask.
Man: Oh! But look here, I say! You must let me use that in my story. Tell me all about it.
Woman: Not for worlds.