...
CARVE. (Sinking into chair.) I suppose this is the very newest
journalism. Would you mind me asking a question?
JAMES. What is it?
(JANET makes the tea.)
CARVE. Why did you wait till the door was opened? Seems a pity to stand
on ceremony. Why not have broken a window or so and climbed right in?
JAMES. John, is mother there?
JOHN. (At door, R.) Mother, how often shall I have to ask you to keep
close to me?
(Enter MRS. SHAWN, R.)
MRS. S. I'm all of a tremble.
JOHN. (Firmly.) Come now, you mustn't give way. This is he (pointing
to CARVE). Do you recognise him as our father? (JANET, who is cutting
a slice of bread, stops and looks from one to the other.)
MRS. S. (To CARVE.) Albert, don't you know me? To think that next
Tuesday it'll be six and twenty years since you walked out o' the house
casual like and--and--(Stops from emotion.)
CARVE. Go on. Go on.... To think that I was once shy!
JANET. (To MRS. SHAWN.) Here, you'd better come and sit a bit nearer
the fire.
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