SCENE 2

Time.—­Before daylight on a morning in February.  Fire burning in grate.  Also a speck of gas.  Otherwise it is dark.

     Carve is discovered reposing-in an easy-chair.  Enter Janet with
     a candle.

Janet. (Stiffly.) So you’ve not been to sleep either?

Carve. (Stiffly.) Oh yes; had an excellent night in this chair.

Janet. (Going to fire.) Now, you’re only boasting.  If you’ve had such an excellent night (imitating him), who’s kept up such an excellent fire?

Carve. (Lamely.) Well, of course I looked after it now and then.  I didn’t want to perish in my solitude.

Janet.  Then why didn’t you come to bed, great baby?

Carve. (Sitting up with solemnity.) Janet, we are a pair of great babies to have quarrelled like that,—­especially at bedtime.

Janet. (Simply.) Quarrelled?

Carve.  Well, didn’t we?

Janet.  I didn’t.  I agreed with everything you said.

Carve.  What did you agree with?  I should like to know.

Janet.  You said I didn’t really believe after all that you are Ilam Carve, and I assured you in the most soothing manner that I did believe you are Ilam Carve!

Carve.  And do you call that agreeing with me?  I know perfectly well from your tone that in spite of all my explanations and reiterations during the last three months you don’t believe I’m Ilam Carve.  You only say you do in order to soothe me.  I hate being soothed.  You’re as convinced as ever that Ebag is a rascal, and that I’ve got a bee in my bonnet.

Janet.  But what does it matter?

Carve. (Cold and hard.) Well, I like that!

Janet. (Weeping.) It’s not my fault if I don’t believe you’re Ilam
Carve.  I would if I could, but I can’t!  You’re very cruel.

Carve. (Jumping up and embracing her.) Hush, hush!  There! 
(Cajolingly.) Who’s being an infant now?

Janet.  I don’t pretend to understand this art.

Carve.  I hope you never will.  One of the chief charms of existence in your wigwam, my child, is that I never hear any confounded chatter about art.  Now—­are we pals?

Janet. (Smiling reconciliation.) Darling, do turn the gas up.

Carve. (Obeying, struck by her attire.) Why—­what are you dressed like that for?

Janet.  I was thinking of going away.

     (Exit, L.)

     (She re-enters immediately with kettle and puts it on fire.)

Carve.  Going away?