I shall go
round to the Reindeer this morning and have a drink. If that picture
ever found its way to a Bond Street expert's, the consequences might be
awkward--devilish awkward. Because it's dated, you see.
JANET. No, I don't see. I shouldn't have said a word about it, only I
wanted to save you from being disappointed later on.
CARVE. (In a new casual tone.) Just get me my cash-box, will you?
(JANET at once produces the cash-box from a drawer.)
JANET. And what now? I'm not broke yet, you great silly. (Laughs, but
is rather intimidated by CARVE'S air.)
CARVE. (Having unlocked box and taken a bag from it.) You see that?
(He showers gold out of it.) Well, count it!
JANET. Gracious! Ten--fifteen--eighteen--twenty?--two--four--twenty-six
pounds. These your savings?
CARVE. That's what I've earned with painting, just at odd times.
JANET. Really? (CARVE nods.) You could knock me down with a feather!
CARVE. I'll tell you. You know the framemaker's next to Salmon and
Gluckstein's.
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