[As he sits there pondering, his partner Tony
Forwood enters.]
Forwood: What are you doing?
Dirk: I���m just thinking.
Forwood: You are the only person in the world
I know who can imbue the word ���thinking��� with
chilling terror.
Dirk: Well, the chairs and settees. They are really tatty now. Shabby. Tired. And it will soon be
summer and the guests will be upon us.
Forwood: So?
Dirk: We ought to have everything recovered. In
white.
Forwood: White! With two dogs and wellingtons and mud everywhere! Where do you suppose the money is coming from? Six armchairs
and one, two, three sofas. Christ!
Dirk: Well, sell one of the pictures. We never see
them, sitting wrapped in the vaults at Lloyd���s
in Cannes. Too valuable to have on the walls.
They cost money to store, too.... Better to have
something to look at for the price I pay in storage.
Forwood: The pictures are supposed to be your
���insurance��� against disaster.
Dirk: Well, it IS sort of a disaster. Living in this
awful room.* Despite Forwood���s initial reluctance to have Dirk sell his artwork,
*Excerpt from A Short Walk from Harrod���s
HYLAND
