Besides, I don't know him.
MRS HUSHABYE. Don't know him! What does that mean?
ELLIE. Well, of course I know him to speak to.
MRS HUSHABYE. But you want to know him ever so much more
intimately, eh?
ELLIE. No, no: I know him quite--almost intimately.
MRS HUSHABYE. You don't know him; and you know him almost
intimately. How lucid!
ELLIE. I mean that he does not call on us. I--I got into
conversation with him by chance at a concert.
MRS HUSHABYE. You seem to have rather a gay time at your
concerts, Ellie.
ELLIE. Not at all: we talk to everyone in the greenroom waiting
for our turns. I thought he was one of the artists: he looked so
splendid. But he was only one of the committee. I happened to
tell him that I was copying a picture at the National Gallery. I
make a little money that way. I can't paint much; but as it's
always the same picture I can do it pretty quickly and get two or
three pounds for it. It happened that he came to the National
Gallery one day.
MRS HUSHABYE. One students' day. Paid sixpence to stumble about
through a crowd of easels, when he might have come in next day
for nothing and found the floor clear! Quite by accident?
ELLIE [triumphantly]. No. On purpose. He liked talking to me. He
knows lots of the most splendid people.
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