Janet.  Nothing, nothing.  Only to-day’s the second anniversary of our wedding—­and you’ve—­you’ve said nothing about it.

Carve. (After a shocked paused.) And I forgot it last year, didn’t I? 
I shall be forgetting my dinner next.

Janet.  Oh no, you won’t!

Carve.  And yet all last week I was thinking about this most important day, and telling myself I must remember it.

Janet.  Very easy to say that.  But how can you prove it?

Carve.  Well, it does just happen that the proof is behind the sideboard.

Janet.  A present?

Carve.  A present.  It was all ready and waiting five days ago.

Janet. (Drawing a framed picture from behind the sideboard, and trying to hide her disappointment, but not quite succeeding.) Oh!  A picture!  Who is it? (Examines it with her nose close to it.)

Carve.  No, no.  You can’t take a picture like snuff!  Get away from it.  (He jumps up, snatches the picture from her, and exposes it on a chair at the other side of the room.) Now! (He sits down again.)

Janet.  Yes, it doesn’t look quite so queer like that.  Those are my cooking sleeves, and that seems a bit like my kitchen—­that’s my best copper pan!  Is the young woman meant to be me?

Carve.  Well, not to beat about the bush, yes.

Janet.  I don’t consider it very flattering.

Carve.  How many times have you told me you hate flattery?

Janet. (Running to him.) Now he’s hurt.  Oh, he’s hurt. (Kissing him.) It’s a beautiful picture, and the frame’s lovely!  And she’s so glad he didn’t forget.

Carve.  It is pretty good.  In fact it’s devilish good.  It’s one of the best things I ever did in my life.  Old Carve would have got eight hundred for that like a shot.

Janet. (Sceptically.) Would he?  It’s wonderful how wonderful people are when they’re dead.

Carve.  And now will she let him finish reading his paper?

Janet. (Handing him the paper, then putting her head close to his and looking at the paper.) What was it he was reading that made him so deaf he couldn’t hear his wife when she spoke to him?

Carve.  This.

Janet. (Reading.) “Ilam Carve’s princely bequest.  The International Gallery of Art.  Foundation stone laying.  Eloquent speech by Lord Rosebery.”  Oh!  So they’ve begun it at last?

Carve.  Yes, they’ve begun it at last.

Janet.  Well, if you ask me, I should have thought he could have found something better to do with his money.

Carve.  As for example?

Janet.  Well, I should have thought there were more than enough picture galleries as it is.  Who wants ’em?  Even when they’re free, people won’t go into them unless it’s a wet day.  I’ve never been in a free picture gallery yet that wasn’t as empty as a church.  Stands to reason!  It isn’t even a cinematograph.  When I see rows of people in Trafalgar Square waiting to get into the National Gallery, then I shall begin to think it’s about time we had some more galleries.  If I’d been Ilam Carve——­