I've thought a lot about that prying into his
things--pretty bad show, really, you know. (_Going to the left
window_) I wonder if they'll ever nab him?
OLIVIA (_with a start_): What do you mean?
HUBERT: The fellow who did it.... Wonder what he's doing now.
OLIVIA: I wonder.
HUBERT: Damn clever job, you know, quietly.... That was a rum touch,
finding that broken lipstick in the rubbish-heap.... You know, the fact
they still have no idea where this woman's head is----
OLIVIA (_convulsively_): Don't....
HUBERT: Sorry.
OLIVIA (_after a pause_): It's a bit of a strain.
HUBERT (_earnestly_): Then why don't you leave?
OLIVIA: I--I couldn't afford it.
HUBERT: But you _could_, if you married me! Now, look here----
(_Going to her_) You said you'd tell me to-day. So here I am--er--
popping the question again. There's nothing much to add, except to go
over the old ground again, and say that I'm not what you'd call a
terribly brainy chap, but I am straight.
OLIVIA: Yes, I know.
HUBERT: Though, again, I'm not the sort that gets into corners with a
pipe and never opens his mouth from one blessed year's end to the
other.
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