(Handing card.)
CARVE. (Taking card perfunctorily.) Very well. Then you're going?
PASCOE. Yes. (Moves away and then suddenly puts out his hand, which
CARVE takes.) Want a word of advice?
CARVE. I--I ought----
PASCOE. If I were you I should try to get something better than
valeting. It's not your line. You may have suited Ilam Carve, but you'd
never suit an ordinary employer. You aren't a fool--not by any means.
(CARVE shrugs his shoulders.)
(Exit PASCOE, L. Door shuts off.)
(Re-enter CYRUS immediately after the door shuts.)
CARVE. (To himself.) Now for it! (To CYRUS). Well?
CYRUS. Well what?
CARVE. Recognize your cousin?
CYRUS. Of course a man of forty-five isn't like a boy of twelve, but I
think I may say I should have recognized him anywhere.
CARVE. (Taken aback.) Should you indeed. (A pause.) And so you're
Cyrus, the little boy that kicked and tried to bite in that historic
affray of thirty years ago.
CYRUS. Look here, I fancy you and I had better come to an understanding
at once.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40