Janet. Lady Alice Rowfant, of course. Oh! You needn't pretend! As soon as Mr. Ebag asked me to go out I knew he'd got her up his sleeve. (Weeps slightly.)
Alcar. (Very sympathetically.) My dear young lady, what is the matter?
Janet. (Her utterance disturbed by sobs—indicating Carve.) He'd do it for her, but he wouldn't do it for me!
Alcar. I assure you, Lady Alice Rowfant has not been here.
Janet. Honest?
Alcar. No. The mere mention of her name was sufficient.
Janet. That's even worse! (Rushing across to Carve and pettishly seizing his necktie. Carve submits.) Here! Let me do it—for goodness sake! Great clumsy! (Still tearful—to Lord Leonard Alcar as she ties the necktie.) Somehow I don't mind crying in front of you, because you're so nice and fatherly.
Alcar. Well, if I'm so fatherly, may I venture on a little advice to you two? (To Carve.) You said you didn't want to be Ilam Carve.
[152]Don't be Ilam Carve. Let Ilam Carve continue his theoretical repose in the Abbey and you continue to be somebody else. It will save a vast amount of trouble, and nobody will be a penny the worse. Leave England—unobtrusively. If you feel homesick, arrange to come back during a general election, and you will be absolutely unnoticed. You have money. If you need more, I can dispose of as many new pictures as you like to send.
Janet. I don't want him to paint any more pictures.