BROXOPP (_staggered_). But your card—— MISS JOHNS. Oh, I am on the Press, and please, Mr. Broxopp, I shall certainly write an article—perhaps two articles—about what you’ve told me, and I do live in the house where you used to live, and I was so interested in you, but—— (_She hesitates._) BROXOPP (_mollified by the two articles_). Well? MISS JOHNS (_making another effort_). You see, I used to live with my brother in the country. And he has a small farm. And then I came to London. And he has invented a chicken food and it is so good, and I told him I’d ask you if—— You see, I felt that I knew you because of where I lived—I wondered—(_Taking the plunge_) Mr. Broxopp, did you ever think of doing anything besides Broxopp’s Beans? BROXOPP (_nodding to himself_). You wondered if I’d take up this food? Put it on the market? Boom it? MISS JOHNS. Oh yes! (_He thinks it over and then shakes his head slowly._) BROXOPP. You’re too late, Miss Johns. MISS JOHNS. Oh, has somebody else—— BROXOPP. Twenty-four years too late. Now, if you’d come to me twenty-four years ago—— MISS JOHNS. But I was only six then. (_Hastily_) I mean, about six. BROXOPP. Yes, if you’d come to me then—— (_Thoughtfully_) Broxopp’s Beans for Brahmas—Yes, I would have made that go. But not now. It wouldn’t be fair to the babies. I couldn’t do ’em both justice. (_More to himself than to her_) You see, Broxopp’s Beans for Babies—it isn’t just my living, it’s my whole life. MISS JOHNS (_getting up_). I’m afraid I oughtn’t to have mentioned it. BROXOPP. Oh, that’s all right. You’ll never get on if you don’t mention things. (_Shaking hands_) Well, good-bye. Mind, I shall expect to see that article—two, didn’t you say? And if there’s anything else you want to know—— (_He stops beneath the picture on his way with her to the door_) A pretty baby, wasn’t he? MISS JOHNS. Lovely! BROXOPP. Yes, my wife and I—— (_The door begins to open_) Ah, here she is. (_He keeps his attention on the picture_) Nancy, we were just looking—— Hullo, Jack! JACK (_coming in_). Sorry. Are you engaged? (_He sees them beneath that beastly picture, and a look of resigned despair comes into his face—he shrugs his shoulders._) BROXOPP (_to MISS JOHNS_). My boy Jack. Eton and Oxford. (_And he looks it, too—except perhaps for his hair, which is just a little more in keeping with his artistic future than his educational past._) MISS JOHNS (_now completely upset_). How do you do? It’s so nice to see the—I mean, we were just looking—but I mustn’t keep you, Mr. Broxopp—and thank you so much, and I’m so sorry that you—but of course I quite understand. Good-bye! Good-bye! (_And she hurries out._) JACK (_strolling towards the sofa_). Bit nervous, isn’t she? BROXOPP. You frightened her. JACK (_sitting down_). Fleet Street—and all that? BROXOPP. Yes. (_Looking round the room_) Where’s my hat? JACK. I say, you’re not going?