Carve. By chance I haven't!
Ebag. Nothing at all?
Carve. Not a square inch.
Ebag. (Catching sight of Janet's portrait.) Pardon me. May I look?
Janet. Oh, do!
Ebag. A brilliant likeness.
Janet. Who of?
Ebag. Why, madam—yourself? The attitude is extraordinarily expressive. And if I may say so (glancing at Carve) the placing of the high lights—those white sleevelets—what d'you call them?
Janet. Why! Those are my cooking-sleeves!
Ebag. (Quietly.) Yes—well—it's genius—mere genius.