On the stage! Ho, ho! Oh, you-- but I mustn't call you silly boy again, must I! And what do you know _of_ me, apart from the glimpse you've had of me off the stage, and my being a shining light at the Pandora? What do you know of my-- what's the word?-- origin-- where and what I've sprung from; how I was reared; how much education I've received; how much I've contrived to pick up of the way to behave in _per_lite society? You can judge from poor mother, if from nothing else, that I come from humble beginnings. Yes, but _how_ humble you couldn't _dream_, [_making a grimace_] not after a supper of raw carrots! FARNCOMBE. Do you think I _care_ how humble your beginnings were! What I do know-- what I _am_ sure about-- is that you're good-- and beautiful-- and-- and-- and gifted-- and-- and-- [_leaning his head on his hands_] oh, I can't describe you; you're-- you're-- to me, you're _perfect_. LILY. [_After a pause, looking at him with blinking eyelids._] You-- you _dear_! [_He raises his head. She changes her tone instantly._] _Merci_; yes, perfect, _pour le moment_. Hear my French! [_Taking the box of cigarettes from the table._] Have a cigarette? Don't get up. [_She tosses him a cigarette and he catches it._] My name's printed on them-- "Lily." [_Lighting a cigarette._] Isn't it _chic_! FARNCOMBE. [_Producing his cigarette case and exchanging her cigarette for one of his own._] I'll never smoke _that_. LILY. [_Pushing the match-stand towards him._] _Stoo_pid! Now, attend to me. What do you say to a tiny provision shop in Kennington, over the water? FARNCOMBE. Was that----? LILY. [_Nodding._] H'm; that was my start in the world. Father kept a small shop in Kennington-- Gladwin Street, near the Oval. We sold groceries, and butter and eggs and cheese, and pickled-pork and paraffin. I was born there-- on the second floor; and in Gladwin Street I lived till I was fourteen. Then father smashed, through the Stores cutting into our little trade. Well, hardly smashed; that's too imposing. The business just faded, and one morning we didn't bother to take the shutters down. Then, after a while, father got a starvation berth-- eighteen shillings a week!-- at a wholesale bacon warehouse-- Price and Moseley's-- still over the water; and I earned an extra five at a place in the Westminster Bridge Road, for pasting the gilt edges on to passe-partouts from nine a.m. till six in the evening. FARNCOMBE. [_His head bowed again._] Great heavens! LILY. Not a syllable against the passe-partouts! They were the making of me. It was the passe-partouts that brought me and Tedder together. FARNCOMBE. Who? LILY. Tedder. In the house where I worked, a man of the name of Tedder-- Ambrose Tedder-- taught dancing-- stage dancing-- "Tedder's Academy of Saltatory Art"-- and every time I passed Tedder's door, and heard his violin or piano, and the sound of the pupils' feet, I--! [_Breaking off and throwing herself back._] Oh, lor', if once I----! FARNCOMBE.