Scene 2
(Carve is attempting to re-tie his necktie. Lord Leonard Alcar is coming away from door back. Janet enters from door, L.)
Janet. (Under emotion, to Carve.) Then you’ve done it! (Carve ignores her.)
Alcar. Yes, and I feel like a dentist.
Janet. You’ve sent them all away.
Alcar. I thought you’d like me to. Mr. Ebag took charge of Mr. Texel. Your cousin Cyrus was extremely upset.
Janet. What did she say?
Alcar. Who say?
Janet. Lady Alice Rowfant, of course. Oh! You needn’t pretend! As soon as Mr. Ebag asked me to go out I knew he’d got her up his sleeve. (Weeps slightly.)
Alcar. (Very sympathetically.) My dear young lady, what is the matter?
Janet. (Her utterance disturbed by sobs—indicating Carve.) He’d do it for her, but he wouldn’t do it for me!
Alcar. I assure you, Lady Alice Rowfant has not been here.
Janet. Honest?
Alcar. No. The mere mention of her name was sufficient.
Janet. That’s even worse! (Rushing across to Carve and pettishly seizing his necktie. Carve submits.) Here! Let me do it—for goodness sake! Great clumsy! (Still tearful—to Lord Leonard Alcar as she ties the necktie.) Somehow I don’t mind crying in front of you, because you’re so nice and fatherly.
Alcar. Well, if I’m so fatherly, may I venture on a little advice to you two? (To Carve.) You said you didn’t want to be Ilam Carve. Don’t be Ilam Carve. Let Ilam Carve continue his theoretical repose in the Abbey and you continue to be somebody else. It will save a vast amount of trouble, and nobody will be a penny the worse. Leave England—unobtrusively. If you feel homesick, arrange to come back during a general election, and you will be absolutely unnoticed. You have money. If you need more, I can dispose of as many new pictures as you like to send.
Janet. I don’t want him to paint any more pictures.
Alcar. But he will.
Janet. I suppose he will. Why is it? As if we hadn’t had enough bother already through this art business!
Alcar. Yes. But artists are like that, you know.
Janet. (Affectionately reproachful to Carve.) Child! Look how nicely I’ve tied it for you. (Shakes him.) Whatever are you dreaming about?
Carve. (After glancing in mirror reflectively.) There’s only one question. Last time they buried me in the Abbey,—what will they do with me next time?
CURTAIN.