What _did_ she do? JANET She didn’t do anything. She was too depressed. She used to sit in the back room where the hats were trimmed and weep over the materials, regardless of expense. Finally things came to a crisis. The landlord threatened to distrain for his rent. But just as it looked as if it was all over with Claude et Cie a capitalist came to the rescue. _I_ was the capitalist. MONTY You? JANET Yes. I’d an old Aunt once who was fond of me and left me a legacy when I was seventeen. Four hundred pounds. MONTY That wouldn’t go very far. JANET Four hundred pounds goes a longish way towards setting up a shop. Besides, it was nearly five hundred by that time. My shares had gone up. Well, I and my five hundred pounds came to the rescue. I paid the rent and the most clamorous of the creditors, and Miss Hicks and I became partners. MONTY But what was the good of that if the business was worth nothing? JANET It was worth several hundred pounds to any one, who had the pluck to sue half the British aristocracy. I sued them. It was tremendous fun. They were simply furious. They talked as if they’d never been sued before! As for Miss Hicks she wept more than ever and said I’d ruined the business. MONTY Hadn’t you? JANET That business. Yes. But with the £1,200--or as much of it as we could recover--we started a new one. A cheap hat-shop. Relatively cheap that is-for Hanover Street. We charged two guineas a hat instead of seven, 100 per cent, profit instead of... You can work it out for yourself. But then our terms were strictly cash, so we made no bad debts. That was my idea. MONTY But you said nobody ever paid for their hats. JANET Not in the highest social circles. But we drew our customers from the middle classes who live in South Kensington and Bayswater, and are not too haughty to pay for a hat if they see a cheap one. MONTY But wasn’t it a frightful risk? JANET _(cheerfully)_ It was a risk, of course. But everything in life is a risk, isn’t it? And it succeeded, as I felt sure it would. We’re quite a prosperous concern nowadays, and I go over to Paris four times a year to see the latest fashions. That, my dear Monty, is the history of Claude et Cie. [_Pause._ MONTY And you’ve never married, Janet? JANET No. MONTY {hesitates) Is it because...? JANET Because? MONTY Because you still care for me? JANET Monty, don’t be vain. MONTY _(repelled)_ I didn’t mean it like that. Janet, don’t laugh. Of course, I’m glad if you don’t care any more. At least, I suppose I ought to be glad. It would have been dreadful if you had gone on caring all these years and I not known. But did you? JANET No, Monty, I didn’t. You may set your mind at rest. MONTY You’re sure? JANET Quite. I had too many other things to think of. MONTY Do you mean that beastly shop? JANET _(quietly)_ I meant my baby. MONTY _Our_ baby. Is it alive? JANET