black borders and a heading across two columns!
"Death of England's greatest painter," "Irreparable loss to the world's
art," "Our readers will be shocked----" Are they all like that? (More
and more astonished; takes another paper.) "Sad death of a great
genius."

JANET. (Handing him still another paper.) And this.

CARVE. "London's grief." "The news will come as a personal blow to every
lover of great painting." But--but--I'd no notion of this. (Half to
himself.) It's terrible.

JANET. Well, perhaps always living with him you wouldn't realize how
important he was, would you? (Distant music begins again, a waltz
tune.)

CARVE. (Reading.) "Although possibly something of a poseur in his
choice of subjects...." The fellow's a fool. Poseur indeed!

JANET. Look at this. "Europe in mourning."

CARVE. Well--well.

JANET. What is that music?

CARVE. London's grief. It's the luncheon orchestra downstairs.

(Telephone bell rings.)

CARVE. Never mind it. Let 'em ring. I understand now why journalists and
so on have been trying all day to see me. Honestly I'm--I'm staggered.

(Telephone bell continues to ring.)

JANET. It's a funny notion of comfort having a telephone in every room.
How long will it keep on like that?

CARVE. I'll stop it. (Rising.)

JANET. No, no. (Going to telephone and taking receiver.) Yes? What's
the matter? (Listens. To CARVE.) Oh, what do you think? Father Looe
and his sister, Miss Honoria Looe, want to see you.

CARVE. Father Looe? Never heard of him.

JANET. Oh, but you must have heard of him. He's the celebrated Roman
Catholic preacher. He's a beautiful man. I heard him preach once on the
Sins of Society.

CARVE. Would you mind saying I'm not at home?

JANET. (Obviously disappointed.) Then won't you see him?

CARVE. Did you want to see him?

JANET. I should like just to have had a look at him close to, as it
were.

CARVE. (Gallantly.) Then you shall. Tell them to send him up, will
you?

JANET. And am I to stay here?

CARVE. Of course.

JANET. Well, if anybody had told me this time last week----(Into
telephone.) Please ask them to come up.

CARVE. Perhaps with your being here I shan't be quite so shy.

JANET. Shy! Are you shy? It said in the Telegraph that Mr. Carve was
painfully shy.

CARVE. (Protesting.) Painfully! Who told them that, I should like to
know?

JANET. Now shyness is a thing I simply can't understand. I'm never shy.
And you don't strike me a