In conversation, I admit, he strikes one as being--ah--
somewhat lacking in humour.
COMTESSE [pouncing]. You are wondering who supplies his speeches with
the humour.
MAGGIE. Supplies John?
VENABLES. Now that you mention it, some of his Shandisms do have a
curiously feminine quality.
COMTESSE. You have thought it might be a woman.
VENABLES. Really, Comtesse--
COMTESSE. I see it all. Charles, you thought it might be the wife!
VENABLES [flinging up his hands]. I own up.
MAGGIE [bewildered]. Me?
VENABLES. Forgive me, I see I was wrong.
MAGGIE [alarmed]. Have I been doing John any harm?
VENABLES. On the contrary, I am relieved to know that there are no
hairpins in his speeches. If he is at home, Mrs. Shand, may I see
him? I am going to be rather charming to him.
MAGGIE [drawn in two directions]. Yes, he is--oh yes--but--
VENABLES. That is to say, Comtesse, if he proves himself the man I
believe him to be.
[This arrests MAGGIE almost as she has reached the dining-room door.]
MAGGIE [hesitating]. He is very busy just now.
VENABLES [smiling]. I think he will see me.
MAGGIE. Is it something about his speech?
VENABLES [the smile hardening]. Well, yes, it is.
MAGGIE. Then I dare say I could tell you what you want to know
without troubling him, as I've been typing it.
VENABLES [with a sigh]. I don't acquire information in that way.
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