Part 7 (2/2)

_Man_: Why?

_Woman_: So that I can go to the inquest or the police court or whatever it is. That's why I always keep friendly with magistrates. It's so frightfully thrilling, sitting on the bench with them.

_Man_: There won't be any inquest. But there's something queer in it.

You see, Priam Farll was never in England. Always abroad; at those foreign hotels, wandering up and down.

_Woman (after a pause)_: I know.

_Man_: What do you know?

_Woman_: Will you promise not to chatter?

_Man_: Yes.

_Woman_: I met him once at an hotel at Ostend. He--well, he wanted most tremendously to paint my portrait. But I wouldn't let him.

_Man_: Why not?

_Woman_: If you knew what sort of man he was you wouldn't ask.

_Man_: Oh! But look here, I say! You must let me use that in my story.

Tell me all about it.

_Woman_: Not for worlds.

_Man_: He--he made up to you?

_Woman_: Rather!

_Priam Farll (to himself)_: What a barefaced lie! Never was at Ostend in my life.

_Man_: Can't I use it if I don't print your name--just say a distinguished actress.

_Woman_: Oh yes, you can do _that_. You might say, of the musical comedy stage.

_Man_: I will. I'll run something together. Trust me. Thanks awfully.

At this point a young and emaciated priest pa.s.sed up the room.

_Woman_: Oh! Father Luke, is that you? Do come and sit here and be nice.

This is Father Luke Widgery--Mr. Docksey, of the _Record_.

_Man_: Delighted.

_Priest_: Delighted.

_Woman_: Now, Father Luke, I've just _got_ to come to your sermon to-morrow. What's it about?

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