Vera—Or shall I show you the album that no one ever sees? [She laughs.] If we had any friends we would have to throw that book in the fire.
The Dove—And you would have to clear the entry——
Vera—True. It’s because of that picture of the Venetian courtesans that I send Amelia out for the butter, I don’t dare let the grocer call.
The Dove—You have cut yourselves off—just because you’re lonely.
Vera—Yes, just because we are lonely.
The Dove—It’s quite wonderful.
Vera—It’s a wonder the neighbours don’t complain of Amelia’s playing that way on the violin.
The Dove—I had not noticed.
Vera—No, I presume not, but everyone else in the house has. No nice woman slurs as many notes as Amelia does! [At this moment Amelia enters the outer room. She is wearing a cloak with three shoulder-capes, a large plumed hat, and skirt with many flounces.]
Amelia—[From the entry.] You should come and see Carpaccio’s Deux Courtisanes Vénitiennes now, the sun is shining right in on the head of the one in the foreground. [She begins to hum an Italian street song.] Well, I have brought a little something and a bottle of wine. The wine is for you, my Dove—and for you, Vera, I’ve a long green feather. [Pause in which The Dove continues to polish the blade of the sword. Vera has picked up her book.]