n't.
But it was the best I could do in this barracks, with the kitchen a mile
and a half off, and a pack of men that can't understand English gaping
at you all day in evening-dress. I dare say this is a very good hotel
for reading newspapers in. But if you want anything that isn't on the
menu, it's as bad as drawing money out of the post office savings bank.
You should see me nurse in my own house.

CARVE. I should like to. Even in this barracks (imitating her.) you've
quite altered my views of life.

JANET. Yes, and they wanted altering. When I think of you and that other
poor fellow wandering about all alone on that Continent--without the
slightest notion of what comfort is.... Well, I'll say this--it's a
pleasure to nurse you. Now, will you go back to bed?

CARVE. I suppose coffee's on the menu?

JANET. Coffee?

CARVE. I think I should like some cafe au lait, and a roll.

JANET. (Rising.) You can have hot milk if you like.

CARVE. All right. And then when I've had it I'll go to bed.

JANET. (At telephone.) Are you there?

CARVE. (Picking up a sheet of paper from table.) Hello! What's this?
Hotel bill-receipted?

JANET. I should think so indeed! They sent it up the second day. (Into
telephone.) Hot milk, please, and let it be hot! (Hanging up
telephone. To CARVE.) I expect they were afraid for their money.

CARVE. And you paid it?

JANET. I took the money out of your pockets and I just paid it. I never
said a word. But if you hadn't been ill I should have said something. Of
all the swindles, of all the barefaced swindles!... Do you see what it's
costing you to live here--a day?

CARVE. Oh, not much above four pounds, I hope.

JANET. (Speechless at first.) Any woman that knew her business could
keep you for a month--a month--for less than you spend here in a
day--and better. And better! Look here: "Biscuits, 1s. 6d.!"

CARVE. Well?

JANET. Well (confidentially earnest.), will you believe me when I tell
you there wasn't a pennyworth of biscuits on that plate? Do you think I
don't know what biscuits are a pound?

CARVE. Really!

JANET. (Ironically.) "Cheapest in the end"--but I should say the end's
a long way off.

CARVE. (Who has picked up another paper, on mantelpiece.) What? "Admit
Mr. Albert Shawn to Westminster Abbey, cloisters entrance....
Funeral.... Tuesday."... That's to-day, isn't it?

JANET. Yes.

CARVE. (Moved.) But you told me he wasn't going to be buried in
Westminster Abbey.