DAS (Panicking slightly) My question was only about your poem!

FLORA At least you knew it was personal.

DAS I will not ask it now, of course.

FLORA On that understanding I will answer it. My poem is about heat.

DAS Oh. Thank you.

FLORA I resume my pose. Pen to paper. Legs uncrossed. You know, you are the first man to paint my toe-nails.

DAS Actually, I am occupied in the folds of your skirt.

FLORA Ah. In that you are not the first.

DAS You have been painted before?—but of course you have! Many times, I expect!

FLORA You know, Mr Das, your nature is much kinder than mine.

Flora resumes. Das resumes.

ANISH DAS comes into the Shepperton garden. He has a soft briefcase; he sits in one of the garden chairs.

Mr Das, I have been considering whether to ask you a delicate question, as between friends and artists.

DAS Oh, Miss Crewe, I am transported beyond my most fantastical hopes of our fellowship! This is a red-letter day without dispute!

FLORA If you are going to be so Indian I shan’t ask it.

DAS But I cannot be less Indian than I am.

FLORA You could if you tried. I’m not sure I’m going to ask you now.

DAS Then you need not, dear Miss Crewe! You considered. The unasked, the almost asked question, united us for a moment in its intimacy, we came together in your mind like a spark in a vacuum glass, and the redness of the day’s letter will not be denied.

FLORA You are still doing it, Mr Das.

DAS You wish me to be less Indian?

FLORA I did say that but I think what I meant was for you to be more Indian, or at any rate Indian, not Englished-up and all over me like a labrador and knocking things off tables with your tail—so waggish of you, Mr Das, to compare my mind to a vacuum. You only do it with us, I don’t believe that left to yourself you can’t have an ordinary conversation without jumping backwards through hoops of delight, with whoops of delight, I think I mean; actually, I do know what I mean, I want you to be with me as you would be if I were Indian.

DAS An Indian Miss Crewe! Oh dear, that is a mental construction which has no counterpart in the material world.

FLORA So is a unicorn, but you can imagine it.

DAS You can imagine it but you cannot mount it.

FLORA Imagining it was all I was asking in my case.

DAS (Terribly discomfited) Oh! Oh, my gracious!—I had no intention—I assure you—

FLORA (Amused) No, no, you cannot unwag your very best wag. You cleared the table, the bric-a-brac is on the Wilton—the specimen vase, the snuff box, the souvenir of Broadstairs—(But she has misjudged.)

DAS (Anguished) You are cruel to me, Miss Crewe!

FLORA (Instantly repentant) Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to be. It’s my nature. Please come out from behind your easel—look at me.