A Woman's Vengeance Page #3

have talked things over a great deal.

She knows I'm a friend.

Shall I tell you something, Miss Spence.

You know that brooch of hers?

That diamond dragonfly?

Yes, I know the one you mean.

She's going to leave

that to me in her will.

Not that I'm expecting her to die.

Though of course it might easily happen.

With her heart in that condition.

Hello, Henry.

Well, what news?

Peace or war?

- Peace.

Oh thank goodness. Even

if it is only an armistice.

Come with me. I want

to show you something.

Oh.

A Modigliani.

You haven't bought it, have you?

Couldn't afford it but

couldn't resist it.

What an astonishing piece of work.

Yes and to think this idiot

went and died at 37.

When he might have gone

on painting this sort of thing.

I've no patience with

people who die young.

Make a note of it, Janet.

You are invited to lunch

on my 80th birthday.

Are you sure you won't be

bored with me by then?

No.

I will still be wondering what goes on

behind that mysterious smile of yours.

What is going on, by the way?

You won't answer.

Where is that .. sixpence?

Now you have to tell.

My dear, I wouldn't eat those

redcurrants if I were you.

Why shouldn't I?

- Remember what Libbard said.

Nothing with skins and pips.

But I'm so fond of currants.

That is no reason for

making yourself ill.

Don't be a tyrant.

Of course I believe in letting

her have what she fancies.

It does her more good than fussing

about with diets and things.

That is what I always tell Dr Libbard.

Alright. Have it your own way.

Shouldn't you be going, nurse?

You will miss your bus.

I just want to give

Mrs Maurier her medicine.

No, don't bother. I will deal with

the medicine. You run along.

That's very kind of you I'm sure.

I probably shan't see you

until morning, Mrs Maurier.

I hope you have a nice party.

- Thank you.

Goodbye, Miss Spence.

- Goodbye.

Thank goodness.

Now don't blame me if

those things upset you.

Do I ever blame you?

You never have anything to blame me for.

I am the idea husband.

That isn't even funny.

It is nice to feel the

sun on one's skin.

Clara, my medicine. Run

and fetch it for me, will you.

The bottle on the sideboard.

- Don't bother, Clara.

I've got to go and get my cigars.

- Thank you, sir.

Shall I pour the coffee for you?

- Please dear.

You take sugar don't you?

- Rather a lot, please.

Libbard always gives me the

most evil tasting concoctions.

Three lumps. That ought

to take the taste away.

And get one in the saucer.

Coffee for you, Henry?

- And no sugar. Thanks.

Here you are my dear.

- Thank you.

Oh, too revolting. Quick, my coffee.

Thank you, Janet.

You know. I used to get punished

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