Bland.
A blank one.
Lily.
In a whisper. Don’t fill it in for more than you can help. I’m not over flush.
He deliberately tears the cheque into four pieces and, looking at her steadily, puts them into his waistcoat-pocket.
Bland.
As he does so. I’ll keep those, Lil, for as long as I keep anything.
Lily.
Hotly. You fool, Vincent!
Bland.