Janet.  I was standing looking at this house and wondering whether I shouldn’t do better to go right back home there and then.  But “No,” I said, “I’ve begun, and I’ll go through with it.”—­Well, I was standing there when what should I see but a parlour maid pop up from the area steps next door, and she says to me over the railings, “The doctor’s just been.”  Just like that, excited.  So I said, “Thank you, miss.”  I hope it’s nothing serious?

Carve.  Pneumonia.

Janet.  Pneumonia.  What a mercy!

Carve.  Mercy?

Janet.  If you look at it sensibly it’s about the best illness anybody could have in hot weather like this.  You’ve got to keep them warm.  The weather does it for you.  If it was typhoid now, and you’d got to keep them cool—­that would be awkward.  Not but it passes me how anybody can catch pneumonia in August.

Carve.  Coming over from the Continent.

Janet.  Oh! the Continent.  It’s not Mr. Shawn that’s ill?

Carve. (Hesitating.) Mr. Shawn?  Oh no, no!  It’s Ilam Carve.

Janet. (Half whispering.  Awed.) Oh, him!  Poor thing.  And nobody but men in the house.

Carve.  And who told you that?

Janet.  Well! (waves her hand to indicate the state of the room, smiling indulgently) I always feel sorry for gentlemen when they have to manage for themselves, even if they’re well and hearty.  But when it comes to illness—­I can’t bear to think about it.  Still, everybody has their own notions of comfort.  And I’ve no doubt he’ll very soon be better.

Carve.  You think he will?

Janet. (Blandly cheerful.) As a general rule, you may say that people do get better.  That’s my experience.  Of course sometimes they take a longish time.  And now and then one dies—­else what use would cemeteries be?  But as a general rule they’re soon over it.  Now am I going to see Mr. Shawn, or shall I——­

Carve.  Well, if you could call again——­

Janet.  You say you hadn’t a message?

Carve.  Not precisely a message.  But if you could call again——­

Janet.  When?

Carve. (Rather eagerly.) Any time.  Any time.  Soon.

Janet.  Night after to-morrow?

Carve.  Why not morning?

Janet.  Perhaps morning is safer.  Thank you.  Very well, then.  Day after to-morrow....  I suppose Mr. Shawn has a rare fine situation here?

Carve. (Shrugging his shoulders.) Nothing to complain of, if you ask me.

(Janet offers her hand quite simply.  The double doors open, carve looks alarmed.)

Janet.  Thank you very much.  I think I can open the front door myself.

Carve.  I say—­you won’t forget?

Janet.  Well, what do you think?