(Looking vaguely at room.)
CARVE. All we famous folk?
JANET. Well--I don't know myself about that sort of thing.
CARVE. What sort of thing?
JANET. Picture-painting, isn't it? I mean real pictures done by hand,
coloured----CARVE. Ah--yes.
JANET. (After a slight pause.) It struck me all of a sudden, while I
was waiting at the door, that it might have been left open on purpose.
CARVE. The front door? On purpose? What for?
JANET. Oh--for some one particular to walk in without any fuss. So in I
stepped.
CARVE. You're the young lady that Mr. Shawn's expecting----(Going
towards passage.)
JANET. (Stopping him.) It's shut now. You don't want everybody
walking in, do you?
CARVE. (Looking at JANET with pleasure.) So you're the young
lady--Mrs.--Miss----
JANET. (Ignoring his question.) Was it a message you had for me?
CARVE. No, no. Not a message.... But--the fact is, we're rather upset
here for the moment.
JANET. Yes. Illness.
CARVE. Now, if it isn't an indiscreet question, how did you know that
there was illness?
JANET.
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