Janet. Well—I don't know myself about that sort of thing.
Carve. What sort of thing?
Janet. Picture-painting, isn't it? I mean real pictures done by hand, coloured——
Carve. Ah—yes.
Janet. (After a slight pause.) It struck me all of a sudden, while I was waiting at the door, that it might have been left open on purpose.
Carve. The front door? On purpose? What for?
Janet. Oh—for some one particular to walk in without any fuss. So in I stepped.
Carve. You're the young lady that Mr. Shawn's expecting——(Going towards passage.)
Janet. (Stopping him.) It's shut now. You don't want everybody walking in, do you?
Carve. (Looking at Janet with pleasure.) So you're the young lady—Mrs.—Miss——