) 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.
JANET. I know.
CARVE. You told me Cyrus Carve had insisted on cremation.
JANET. (With vivacity.) And what did you expect me to tell you? I had
to soothe you somehow; you were just about delirious. I was afraid if I
told you the truth you'd be doing something silly--seeing the state you
were in.
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