NICHOLAS. You haven’t tumbled to it yet? LEONARD. Tumbled to what? NICHOLAS. The fact that a week ago there were reasons why it was necessary for _me_ to shave in the hall. LEONARD. You!... You don’t mean—— NICHOLAS. Yes, I do. LEONARD. You lost your luggage? NICHOLAS. Yes. LEONARD. You woke up with a cold? NICHOLAS. Yes.... Horrid, sneezing when you’re all covered with soap. LEONARD (_excitedly_). I say, that fellow—what’s ’is name—didn’t drop _your_ clothes in the bath? NICHOLAS. Oh, rather.... Damned smart chap, Latimer. LEONARD. Damned scoundrel. NICHOLAS. Oh no. He’s quite right. One learns a lot down here. LEONARD. I shall leave his house at once ... as soon as I have shaved. NICHOLAS. You still want to? (_LEONARD looks at him in surprise_) Oh, well, you’ve hardly been here long enough, I suppose. LEONARD. What do you mean? Don’t _you_ want to any more? NICHOLAS. Latimer’s quite right, you know. One learns a lot down here. LEONARD (_shaving_). What about the lady? NICHOLAS. That’s the devil of it. LEONARD. My dear fellow, as a man of honour, you’re bound to go on. NICHOLAS. As a man of honour, ought I ever to have started? LEONARD (_little knowing_). Naturally I can’t give an opinion on that. NICHOLAS. No.... You want to be careful with that glass. The light isn’t too good. I should go over it all again. LEONARD (_stiffly_). Thank you. I am accustomed to shaving myself. NICHOLAS. I was just offering a little expert advice. You needn’t take it. LEONARD (_surveying himself doubtfully_). H’m, perhaps you’re right. (_He lathers himself again. In the middle of it he stops and says_) Curious creatures, women. NICHOLAS. Amazing. LEONARD. It’s a life’s work in itself trying to understand ’em. And then you’re no further. NICHOLAS. A week told _me_ all I wanted to know. LEONARD. They’re so unexpected. NICHOLAS. So unreasonable. LEONARD. What was it the poet said about them? NICHOLAS. What didn’t he say? LEONARD. No, _you_ know the one I mean. How does it begin?... “O woman, in our hours of ease——” NICHOLAS. “Uncertain, coy and hard to please.” LEONARD. That’s it. Well, I grant you _that_—— NICHOLAS. Grant it me! I should think you do! They throw it at you with both hands. LEONARD. But in the next two lines he misses the point altogether. When—what is it?—“When pain and anguish wring the brow”—— NICHOLAS (_with feeling_). “A ministering angel thou.” LEONARD. Yes, and it’s a lie. It’s simply a lie. NICHOLAS. My dear fellow, it’s the truest thing anybody ever said. Only—only one gets too much of it. LEONARD. True? Nonsense! NICHOLAS. Evidently you don’t know anything about women. LEONARD (_indignantly_). _I!_ Not know anything about women! NICHOLAS. Well, you said yourself just now that you didn’t. LEONARD. I never said—— What I said—— NICHOLAS. If you did know anything about ’em, you’d know that there’s nothing they like more than doing the ministering angel business. LEONARD. Ministering angel!