Granillo. Writing anything lately?
Rupert (reflectively). Yes. . . . A little thing about Doves . . . and a little thing about Rain. . . . Both good. Very good, in fact. . . . And then, of course, I’m getting ahead with the big work. . . .
Granillo. That going well?
Rupert. Yes. Very. Indeed, it promises to be not only the best thing I have ever written, but the best thing I have ever read. (Nodding his head to gramophone.) This is rather nice, isn’t it? . . .
[Granillo suddenly yawns, sticking out his chest and lifting his hands. He is above Rupert, who is leaning against mantelpiece. The blue Coliseum slip it prominent in his waistcoat. He resumes normal position, leaning against mantelpiece. Rupert now also leans against mantelpiece, close to him, and looking at him.
Rupert. So you and Brandon leave to-night for Oxford?
Granillo (looking into fire). That’s right.
Rupert. What time are you going?
Granillo. We’re aiming to start about 10.30.
Rupert. Arriving there about when?
Granillo, Oh. About three. Why?
Rupert. Peculiar form of enjoyment, Granno. But, then, that’s like you.
Granillo, Why? Lovely moonlight night.
Rupert. It’s not. It’s raining already.
Granillo. It’s not.
Rupert. Yes, it is. Listen.
[The rain can be heard pouring gently down. The gramophone has stopped in the next room, and there is a sudden great quiet over everything. Rupert has put up his hand when telling Granillo to listen. Granillo listens, first by putting his head slightly sideways, and then by suddenly turning his head to look at the window. In this instant, Rupert makes
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