you mean? Oh, he's all right. (_Heavily_.) A bit slow on the
uptake, of course. I wish he'd occasionally take that fag-end out of
his mouth.

OLIVIA: He does. For _her_.

HUBERT: That's true. That's why he's made such a hit with her. Funny I
haven't been able to manage it. In two weeks, too ... it's uncanny.

OLIVIA: Uncanny?... I think it's clever.

HUBERT: You don't think he's a wrong 'un, do you?

OLIVIA: What do we know about him?

HUBERT: Why ... his Christian name?

OLIVIA: And that's all.

HUBERT: He looks pretty honest.

OLIVIA: Looks? (_After a pause_.) It's rather frightening to think
what a face can hide.... I sometimes catch sight of one looking at me.
Careful lips, and blank eyes.... And then I find I'm staring at myself
in the glass ... and I realise how successfully I'm hiding the thoughts
I know so well ... and then I know we're all ... strangers. Windows,
with blinds, and behind them ... secrets. What's behind _his_
eyes? (_After a pause, with a smile_) You're quite right, it
_is_ morbid.