_She_ 'asn't brought it up again, either.
OLIVIA: Does he talk to you at all?
DORA (_perplexed_): Oh ... only how-do-you-do and beg-your-pardon.
I've never really spent any time in 'is company, you see. Except, o'
course--
HUBERT: Quite. What's your idea of him?
DORA: Oh.... (_Moving to the centre of the room_) 'E's all right.
Takes 'is fun where 'e finds it. And leaves it.... Cracks 'imself up,
you know. Pretends 'e doesn't care a twopenny, but always got 'is eye
on what you're thinking of 'im ... if you know what I mean.
OLIVIA: Yes, I do. That incredible vanity ... they always have it.
Always.
HUBERT: Who?
_A pause._
OLIVIA: Murderers.
_A pause. They stare at her._
HUBERT: Good God!...
MRS. TERENCE: D'you mean ... this woman they're looking for?
OLIVIA: I'm sure of it.
MRS. TERENCE: But 'es's such a--such a ordinary boy--
OLIVIA: That's just it--and then he's suddenly so ... extraordinary.
I've felt it ever since I heard him sing that song--I told you--
HUBERT: That "mighty-lak-a-rose" thing, you mean? Oh, but it's a pretty
well-known one--
OLIVIA: It's more than that.
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