(Exit.)

     (Carve, after finishing milk, suddenly gets up and searches on
     writing table:  he then goes to the telephone.)

Carve. (Into telephone.) Please send me up a telegraph form.

Curtain.

ACT III

SCENE I

Parlour in Janet’s house in Putney.  A perfectly ordinary suburban interior of a small house; but comfortable.  Table in centre.  Door, R., up stage, leading to hall.  Door, L., down stage, hading to kitchen and back premises.

Time.—­Morning in early autumn.  Rather more than two years have elapsed.

     Discovered—­carve reading newspaper at breakfast-table.  Janet
     in an apron is hovering busily near him.

Janet. (Putting cigarettes and matches down beside carve.) Want anything else, dear? (No answer from carve.) Because I must set about my morning’s work. (Carve continues to read.) Albert, are you sure you don’t want anything else?

     (As he still gives her no sign of attention, she snatches the
     paper away from him, and throws it on the floor.)

Carve. (Not having moved his eyes.) The pattern of this jug is really not so bad....  Yes, my soul?

Janet.  I’ve asked you I don’t know how many times whether you want anything else, because I must set about my morning’s work.

Carve.  Is there any more coffee?

Janet.  Yes, plenty.

Carve.  Hot?

Janet.  Yes.

Carve.  Then I don’t want any.  Got any bacon?

Janet.  No, but I can cook a slice in a minute.

Carve. (With an affectation of martyrdom.) Doesn’t matter.

Janet.  Oh yes, I will. (Moving away.)

Carve. (Drawing her to him by her apron.) Can’t you see he’s teasing you?

Janet.  She’s got no time in the morning for being teased.

(She takes a cigarette, lights it and immediately puts it in his mouth.)

Carve.  And now you’re going to leave me?

Janet.  Sure you’re all right? (He nods.) Quite sure you’re happy?

Carve.  Jane—­

Janet.  I wish you wouldn’t call me Jane.

Carve.  But I will call you Jane.  Jane, why do you ask me if I’m sure I’m happy?  When a man has first-class food and first-class love, together with a genuine French bed, really waterproof boots, a constant supply of hot water in the bathroom, enough money to buy cigarettes and sixpenny editions, the freedom to do what he likes all day and every day—­and—­let me see, what else—­a complete absence of domestic servants—­then either that man is happy or he is a silly cuckoo!

Janet.  You aren’t getting tired—­

Carve.  My sweet child, what’s the matter with you?