Janet. And what was that?
Carve. Painting.
Janet. (Casually.) Oh! and couldn't he have had that without running about all over
[86]Europe? He might just as well have been a commercial traveller. Take my word for it, Mr. Shawn, there's nothing like a comfortable home and a quiet life—and the less you're in the newspapers the better.
Carve. (Thoughtfully.) Do you know—a good deal of what you say applies to me.
Janet. And you now! As we're on the subject—before we go any further—you're a bachelor of forty-five, same as him. What have you been doing with yourself lately?
Carve. Doing with myself?
Janet. Well, I think I ought to ask because when I was stealing (with a little nervous laugh) the money out of your pocket to pay that hotel bill, I came across a lady's photograph. I couldn't help coming across it. Seeing how things are, I think I ought to ask.
Carve. Oh, that! It must be a photograph of the lady he was engaged to. He broke it off, you know. That was why we came to London in such a hurry.
Janet. Then it is true—what the newspaper reporter said? (Carve nods.) One of the aristocracy—(Carve nods.) Who was she?