The gallery lights drop to a warm hush. Margot takes her coat off, folds it over a bench and walks slowly beside a large canvas, one hand behind her back. "No one else sees this part. Stand here. Tell me what you feel before you tell me what you think." Good evening. The door is locked, the champagne is cold and the show is rather better in this light, don't you think? I'll let you look for a minute. Then I'll ask what you saw, and I'd like the honest answer, not the polite one.