HUBERT (_outside_): Good afternoon, Mrs. Terence.

MRS. TERENCE: Oh ... come in, sir. (_Coming back into the room_) It's a civilian for a change.

_She is followed by_ HUBERT.

HUBERT (_to_ OLIVIA): I say, this is all getting pretty terrible, isn't it?

OLIVIA: Yes, terrible.

MRS. TERENCE: Oh, terrible, terrible. There's one word for it; it's terrible. Forty-eight hours since they found 'er. They'll never get 'im now.

HUBERT: Terrible....

MRS. TERENCE: There was another charabanc load just after two o'clock.

All standin' round the rubbish-'cap eatin' sandwiches. Sensation, that's what it is.

OLIVIA: Would you like some food, Hubert?

HUBERT: Well, I--

MRS. TERENCE: They're still looking for the 'ead.

HUBERT (_to_ OLIVIA, _with a slight grimace_): No, thanks. I had lunch.

MRS. TERENCE: Mangled, she was, mangled.... Did you see your name in the _Express_, sir?

HUBERT: I--er--did catch a glimpse of it, yes.

MRS. TERENCE: Little did you think, sir, when you was digging that pit for my rubbish, eh? 'E may 'ave been _watchin'_ you digging it ...

ooh! I have to sit in my kitchen and think about it.

HUBERT: Then why don't you leave?

MRS. TERENCE (_indignantly_): How can I leave, with the whole village waitin' on me to tell 'em the latest? (_Going towards the kitchen_) I 'eard 'er 'ead must have been off at one stroke. One stroke....

HUBERT: Really.

MRS. TERENCE (_turning at the door_): She wasn't interfered with, though.

_She goes into the kitchen._

HUBERT: How they all love it.... How's the old lady bearing up in the old invalid chair, eh?

OLIVIA: She's bursting out of it with health. And loving it more than anybody. This is my latest job--a press-cutting book. There was a picture of her in the _Chronicle_ yesterday; she bought twenty-six copies.

HUBERT (_taking his pipe out_): She'll get to believe she did it herself in the end.... Is she in?

OLIVIA: She's gone over to Breakerly to interview a local paper.

HUBERT: The lad pushing the go-cart?... He's the devoted son all right, isn't he?

OLIVIA (_after a pause_): I don't talk to him much.

HUBERT: Nice fellow. 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: d.a.m.n 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. I can talk.

OLIVIA: Yes, you can.

HUBERT: An all-round chap, really--that's me.

OLIVIA: Yes.

HUBERT: Well?

OLIVIA: I'm sorry, Hubert, but I can't.

HUBERT: You can't? But you told me that day we might make a go of it, or words to that effect----

OLIVIA: I've thought it over since then, and I'm afraid I can't.

_A pause._

HUBERT: What's changed you?

OLIVIA: Nothing's changed me, Hubert. I've just thought the matter over, that's all.