JANET. (Puzzled.) I suppose it's because you're a private secretary.
CARVE. (Equally puzzled.) Private secretary! I--shall we just glance
through my reply? (Reads.) "My dear Mrs. Cannot, your letter inspires
me with more confidence than any of the dozens of others I have
received." (They look at each other, smiling.) "As regards myself, I
should state at once that I am and have been for many years private
secretary, indeed I may say almost companion, to the celebrated painter.
Mr. Ilam Carve, whose magnificent pictures you are doubtless familiar
with."
JANET. No, I'm not.
CARVE. Really. "We have been knocking about England together for longer
than I care to remember, and I personally am anxious for a change. Our
present existence is very expensive. I feel the need of a home and the
companionship of just such a woman as yourself. Although a bachelor, I
think I am not unfitted for the domestic hearth. My age is forty."
That's a mistake of the typewriter.
JANET. Oh!
CARVE. Forty-five it ought to be.
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