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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14519-0.txt b/14519-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a0cb4a --- /dev/null +++ b/14519-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3656 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14519 *** + +FIVE LITTLE PLAYS + + + + +FIVE LITTLE PLAYS + +BY ALFRED SUTRO + + +BRENTANO +NEW YORK 1922 + +_Printed in Great Britain +by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE MAN IN THE STALLS + +A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED.... + +THE MAN ON THE KERB + +THE OPEN DOOR + +THE BRACELET + + + + +THE MAN IN THE STALLS + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +HECTOR ALLEN +ELIZABETH ALLEN (BETTY) +WALTER COZENS + + +_This play was produced +at the Palace Theatre +on October 6, 1911_ + + + +THE MAN IN THE STALLS + + +_The sitting-room of a little flat in Shaftesbury Avenue. At back + is a door leading to the dining-room--it is open, and the + dinner-table is in full view of the audience. To the extreme + right is another door, leading to the hall._ + + _The place is pleasantly and prettily, though quite + inexpensively, furnished. To the left, at angles with the + distempered wall, is a baby-grand piano; the fireplace, in which + a fire is burning merrily, is on the same side, full centre. To + the right of the door leading to the dining-room is a small + side-table, on which there is a tray with decanter and glasses; + in front of this, a card-table, open, with two packs of cards on + it, and chairs on each side. Another table, a round one, is in + the centre of the room--to right and to left of it are + comfortable armchairs. Against the right wall is a long sofa; + above it hang a few good, water-colours and engravings; on the + piano and the table there are flowers. A general appearance of + refinement and comfort pervades the room; no luxury, but evidence + everywhere of good taste, and the countless feminine touches that + make a room homelike and pleasant._ + + _When the curtain rises,_ HECTOR ALLEN, _a youngish man of + forty, with an attractive intellectual face, is seen standing by + the dining-table in the inner room, draining his liqueur-glass, + with_ WALTER COZENS _to the right of him, lighting a cigarette._ + WALTER _is a few years younger than his friend, moderately + good-looking, with fine, curly brown hair and a splendid silky + moustache. His morning-clothes are conspicuously well-cut--he is + evidently something of a dandy;_ HECTOR _wears a rather shabby + dress-suit, his boots are awkward, and his tie ready-made._ + BETTY, _a handsome woman of thirty, wearing a very pretty + tea-gown, is talking to the maid at the back of the dining-room._ + + HECTOR _puts down his glass and comes into the sitting-room, + followed by_ WALTER. HECTOR _is puffing at a short, stumpy little + black cigar._ + +HECTOR [_Talking as he comes through, continuing the conversation--he +walks to the fireplace and stands with his back to it._] I tell you, if +I'd known what it meant, I'd never have taken the job! Sounded so fine, to +be reader of plays for the Duke's Theatre--adviser to the great Mr. +Honeyswill! And then--when the old man said I was to go to all the first +nights--why, I just chortled! "It's the first nights that show you the +grip of the thing--that teach you most"--he said. Teach you! As though +there were anything to learn! Oh my stars! I tell you, it's a dog's life! + +WALTER. [_Sitting to left of the round table._] I'd change places with +you, sonny. + +HECTOR. You would, eh? That's what they all say! Four new plays this week, +my lad--one yesterday, one to-day--another to-morrow, and the night after! +All day long I'm _reading_ plays--and I spend my nights seeing 'em! D'you +know I read about two thousand a year? Divide two thousand by three +hundred and sixty five. A dog's life--that's what it is! + +WALTER. Better than being a stockbroker's clerk--you believe _me!_ + +HECTOR. Is it? I wish _you_ could have a turn at it, my bonny boy! _Your_ +hair'd go grey, like mine! And look here--what are the plays to-day? +They're either so chock-full of intellect that they send you to sleep--or +they reek of sentiment till you yearn for the smell of a cabbage! + +WALTER. Well, you've the change, at any rate. + +HECTOR. [_Snorting._] Change? By Jove, give me a Punch and Judy show on +the sands--or performing dogs! Plays--I'm sick of 'em! And look here--the +one I'm off to to-night. It's adapted from the French--well, we know what +_that_ means. Husband, wife and mistress. Or wife, husband, lover. That's +what a French play means. And you make it English, and pass the Censor, by +putting the lady in a mackintosh, and dumping in a curate! + +BETTY. [_Coming in, and closing the door leading to the dining-room._] You +ought to be going, Hector. + + [_She, stands listening for a moment, then goes through the other + door into the hall._ + +HECTOR. [_Disregarding her, too intent on his theme._] And I tell you, of +the two, I prefer the home-made stodge. I'm sick of the eternal triangle. +They always do the same thing. Husband strikes attitudes--sometimes he +strikes the lover. The lover never stands up to him--why shouldn't he? He +would--in real life. [BETTY _comes back, with his overcoat and +muffler--she proceeds affectionately to wrap this round his neck, and +helps him on with his coat, he talking all the time._] He'd say, look +here, you go to Hell. _That's_ what he'd say--well, there you'd have a +situation. But not one of the playwriting chaps dares do it. Why not, I +ask you? There you'd have truth, something big. But no--they're +afraid--think the public won't like it. The husband's got to down the +lover--like a big tom-cat with a mouse--or the author'd have to sell one +of his motor-cars! That's just the fact of it! + +BETTY. [_Looking at the clock on the mantelpiece._] Twenty-five past, +Hector. + +HECTOR. [_Cheerily._] All right, my lass, I'm off. By-bye, Walter--keep the +old woman company for a bit. Good-bye, sweetheart. [_He kisses her._] +Don't wait up. Now for the drama. Oh, the dog's life! + + [_He goes._ BETTY _waits till the hall door has banged, then she + sits on the elbow of_ WALTER'S _chair, and rests her head on his + shoulder._ + +BETTY. [_Softly._] Poor Hector! + +WALTER. [_Uncomfortably._] ... Yes ... + +BETTY. Doesn't it make you feel dreadful when he talks like that? [_She +kisses him; then puts her arms round his neck, draws his face to her, and +kisses him again, on the cheek._] Doesn't it? + + [_She nestles contentedly closer to him._ + +WALTER. [_Trying to edge away._] Well, it does. Yes. + +BETTY. [_Dreamily._] I--like it. + +WALTER. Betty! + +BETTY. Yes, I like it. I don't know why. I suppose I'm frightfully wicked. +Or the danger perhaps--I don't know. + +WALTER. [_Making a futile effort to get up._] Betty-- + +BETTY. [_Tightening her arms around him._] Stop there, and don't move. How +smooth your chin is--_his_ scrapes. Why don't husbands shave better? Or is +it that the forbidden chin is always smoother? Poor old Hector! If he +could see us! He hasn't a suspicion. I think it's lovely--really, I do. He +leaves us here together, night after night, and imagines you're teaching +me bridge. + +WALTER. [_Restlessly._] So I am. Where are the cards? + +BETTY. [_Caressing him._] Silly, have you forgotten that this is +Tuesday--Maggie's night out? She's gone--I told her she needn't wait to +clear away. We've arranged master's supper. Master! _You're_ my master, +aren't you? + +WALTER. ... I don't know what I am ... + +BETTY. Oh yes you do--you're my boy. Whom I love. There. [_She kisses him +again, full on the lips._] That was a nice one, wasn't it? Poor old +Hector, sitting in his stall--thinks he's so wonderful, knows such a lot! +Yes, Maggie's out--with _her_ young man, I suppose. The world's full of +women, with their young men--and husbands sitting in the stalls.... And I +suppose that's how it always has been, and always will be. + +WALTER. [_Shifting uneasily._] Don't, Betty--I don't like it. I mean, he +has such confidence in us. + +BETTY. Of course he has. And quite rightly. Aren't you his oldest friend? + +WALTER. [_With something of a groan._] I've known him since I was seven. + +BETTY. The first man he introduced me to--his best man at the wedding--do +you remember coming to see us during the honeymoon? I liked you _then._ + +WALTER. [_Really shocked._] Betty! + +BETTY. I did. You had a way of squeezing my hand.... And then when we came +back here. You know it didn't take me long to discover-- + +WALTER. [_Protesting._] I scarcely saw you the first two or three years! + +BETTY. No--you were afraid. Oh I thought you so silly! [_He suddenly +contrives to release himself--gets up, and moves to the card-table._] Why, +what's the matter? + +WALTER. [_At the table, with his back to her._] I hate hearing you talk +like this. + +BETTY. Silly boy! [_She rises, and goes to him; he has taken a cigarette +out of the box on the table, and stands there, with his head bent, tapping +the cigarette against his hand._] Women only talk "like this," as you call +it, to their lovers. They talk "like that" to their husbands--and that's +why the husbands never know. That's why the husbands are always sitting in +the stalls, looking on. [_She puts her arms round him again._] Looking and +not seeing. + + [_She approaches her lips to his--he almost fretfully unclasps + her arms._ + +WALTER. Betty--I want to say a--serious word ... + +BETTY. [_Looking fondly at him._] Well, isn't what _I'm_ saying serious? + +WALTER. I'm thirty-eight. + +BETTY. Yes. I'm only thirty. But I'm not complaining. + +WALTER. Has it ever occurred to you-- + + [_He stops._ + +BETTY. What? + + [WALTER _looks at her--tries to speak, but cannot--then he breaks + away, goes across the room to the fireplace and stands for a + moment looking into the fire. She has remained where she was, her + eyes following him wonderingly. Suddenly he stamps his foot + violently._ + +WALTER. Damn it! DAMN it! + +BETTY. [_Moving towards him in alarm._] What's the matter? + +WALTER. [_With a swift turn towards her._] I'm going to get married. + +BETTY. [_Stonily, stopping by the round table._] You ... + +WALTER. [_Savagely._] Going to get married, yes. Married, married! + + [_She stands there and doesn't stir--doesn't speak or try to + speak; merely stands there, and looks at him, giving no sign. Her + silence irritates him; he becomes more and more violent, as + though to give himself courage._ + +WALTER. You're wonderful, you women--you really are. Always contrive to +make us seem brutes, or cowards! I've wanted to tell you this a dozen +times--I've not had the pluck. Well, to-day I must. Must, do you hear +that?... Oh, for Heaven's sake, say something. + +BETTY. [_Still staring helplessly at him._] You ... + +WALTER. [_Feverishly._] Yes, I, I! Now it's out, at least--it's spoken! I +mean to get married, like other men--fooled, too, I dare say, like the +others--at least I deserve it! But I'm tired, I tell you--tired-- + +BETTY. Of me? + +WALTER. Tired of the life I lead--the beastly, empty rooms--the meals at +the Club. And I'm thirty-eight--it's now or never. + +BETTY. [_Slowly._] And how about--me? + +WALTER. You? + +BETTY. [_Passionately._] Yes. Me. Me! + +WALTER. You didn't think this would last for ever? + +BETTY. [_Nodding her head._] I did--yes--I did. Why shouldn't it? + +WALTER. [_Working himself into a fury again._] Why? You ask that? Why? Oh +yes, it's all right for _you_--you've your home and your husband--I'm +there as an--annexe. To be telephoned to, when I'm wanted, at your beck +and call, throw over everything, come when you whistle. And it's not only +that--I tell you it makes me feel--horrid. After all, he's my--friend. + +BETTY. He has been that always. You didn't feel--horrid--before.... Who is +she? + +WALTER. [_Shortly, as he turns back to the fire._] That doesn't matter. + +BETTY. Yes, it does. Who? + +WALTER. [_Fretfully._] Oh, why should we-- + +BETTY. I want to know--I'm _entitled_ to know. + +WALTER. [_Still with his back to her._] Mary Gillingham. + +BETTY. Mary Gillingham! + +WALTER. [_Firmly, swinging round to her._] Yes. + +BETTY. That child, that chit of a girl! + +WALTER. She's twenty-three. + +BETTY. Whom I introduced you to--my own friend? + +WALTER. [_Grumbling._] What _has_ that to do with it? And besides ... +[_He suddenly changes his tone, noticing how calm she has become--he takes +a step towards her, and stands by her side, at the back of the table, his +voice becomes gentle and affectionate._] But I say, really, you're taking +it awfully well--pluckily. I knew you would--I knew I was an ass to be +so--afraid.... And look here, we'll always be pals--the very best of pals. +I'll ... never forget--never. You may be quite sure ... of that. I want to +get married--I do--have a home of my own, and so forth--but you'll still +be--just the one woman I really have loved--the one woman in my life--to +whom I owe--everything. + +BETTY. [_With a mirthless laugh._] Do you tell all that--to Mary +Gillingham? + +WALTER. [_Pettishly, as he moves away._] Do I--don't be so absurd. + +BETTY. You tell _her_ she is the only _girl_ you have loved. + +WALTER. [_Moving back to the fire, with his back to her._] I tell her--I +tell her--what does it matter what I tell her? And one girl or +another--she or someone else-- + +BETTY. But you haven't answered my question--what's to become of me? + +WALTER. [_Angrily, facing her._] Become of you! Don't talk such nonsense. +Because it is--really it is. You'll be as you were. And Hector's a +splendid chap--and after all we've been frightfully wrong--treating him +infernally badly--despicably. Oh yes, we have--and you know it. Lord, +there've been nights when I have--but never mind that--that's all over! In +future we can look him in the face without feeling guilty--we can-- + +BETTY. [_Quietly._] _You_ can. + +WALTER. What do you mean? + +BETTY. _You_ can, because of this girl. Oh, I know, of course! You'll come +here three or four times--then you'll drop off--you'll feel I'm not quite +the woman you want your wife to know. + +WALTER. [_With genuine feeling, as he impulsively steps towards her._] +Betty, Betty, what sort of cad do you take me for? What sort of cad, or +bounder? Haven't I told you I'd never forget--never? And you think you'll +pass out of my life--that I _want_ you to? Why, good Heaven, I'll be your +best friend as long as I live. Friend--yes--what I always should have +been--meant to be! And Hector. Why, Betty, I tell you, merely talking +to-night, as I've done, has made me feel--different--sort of--lifted--a +load. Because I've always had it--somewhere deep down in me--when I've +thought of--him. + +BETTY. [_Calmly._] Liar. + +WALTER. [_Falling back._] Betty! + +BETTY. Liar--yes. Why these stupid, silly lies? "Always, deep down in me!" +Where was it, this beautiful feeling, when you got me to go to your rooms? + +WALTER. [_Harshly._] We needn't-- + +BETTY. I liked you--I've said that--I liked you from the first. But I was +straight enough. Liked you, of course--but I had no idea, not the +slightest.... Thought it fun to play the fool, flirt just a bit. But it +was you, you, _you_ who-- + +WALTER. [_Breaking in sulkily and stamping his foot._] Never mind about +who it was. + +BETTY. [_Passionately._] Never mind! You dare! + +WALTER. [_Doggedly._] Yes--I dare. And look here--since you force me to +it--that's all rot--yes, it is--just rot. Just as you like it now, hearing +Hector ask me to stop with you, and kissing me the moment his back is +turned--so you met me halfway, and more than halfway. + +BETTY. You cur! + +WALTER. That's what a woman always says, when a man speaks the truth. +Because it _is_ the truth--and you know it. "The way I squeezed your +hand!" D'you think I _meant_ to squeeze it--in a way! Why, as there's a +Heaven above me, you were as sacred to me--as my own sister! + +BETTY. [_Quietly, as she sits, to right of the table._] What I'm +wondering is--you see, you're the only lover I've had--what I wonder is, +when a man breaks off, tells a woman he's tired of her, wants to get +married--does he _always_ abuse the woman-- + +WALTER. [_Sulkily._] I haven't-- + +BETTY. Degrade, and throw mud on, the love she has had for him? + +WALTER. [_With a bitter shrug._] Love-- + +BETTY. [_Passionately, as she springs to her feet._] Love, love, yes, +you--cruel man! Love, what else? I adore you, don't you know that? Live +for you! would give up everything in the world--everything, everything! +And Walter, Walter! If it's only _that_--that you want a home--well, let's +go off together. He'll divorce us--we can get married. Don't go away, and +leave me here, alone with him! I couldn't stand it--Walter, I couldn't, I +couldn't! + + [_She goes eagerly to him, flings her arms round his neck, and a + dry sob bursts from her._ + +WALTER. [_Very gently._] Betty, Betty, you've been so brave ... Betty, +dear, the horrid things I've said were only to make you angry, to make you +feel what a brute I was, how well you're rid of me. Oh, I'm not proud of +myself! But look here, we must be sensible--we must, really.... You know, +if you were divorced--if I were the co-respondent in a divorce case--I'd +lose my berth, get the sack-- + +BETTY. [_Clinging to him._] We could go to Australia--anywhere-- + +WALTER. I've no money. + +BETTY. [_With a sudden movement, raising her head and leaving him._] And +Mary Gillingham has lots? + +WALTER. It's not for her money that I-- + +BETTY. [_With a start._] You love her? + +WALTER. [_Dropping his head, and speaking under his breath._] Yes. + +BETTY. [_Wringing her hands._] You do, you do? + +WALTER. Yes, that's the truth--I do. Oh, Betty I'm so frightfully +sorry-- + +BETTY. [_With a groan._] Then you don't love me any more ... + +WALTER. It's not that. But you see-- + +BETTY. [_Moaning._] You don't, you don't! + + [_She stands there, crushed, overwhelmed, dry-eyed, broken moans + escaping from her; suddenly she hears a key turning in the lock + of the hall-door outside, and rushes to the card-table._ + +BETTY. Hector! Quick, quick--the cards! + + [WALTER _flies to the table, and sits by her side. He seizes one + pack and proceeds to shuffle it, she is dealing with the other. + All this takes only a second._ HECTOR _comes in--they both spring + up._ + +BETTY. Hector! You're not ill? + +HECTOR. [_Kissing her._] Play postponed, my child--bit of luck! When I got +to the theatre I found that the actor-manager's car had collided with a +cab outside the stage-door--he was thrown through the window--there's a +magnificent exit for you! and has been cut about a bit. Nothing serious. +But the play's postponed for a week. Bit of luck! + +WALTER. [_Sitting._] Not for him. + +HECTOR. Oh _he_ has had luck enough--tons of it! I'll get into a +jacket--then we'll have some bridge. See what progress you've made, Betty! + + [_He hurries out, and closes the door._ + +BETTY. [_Producing a little mirror from her bag, looking into it, +touching her hair._] We were only just in time. + +WALTER. [_Eagerly, as he bends across the table._] You're splendid--you +are--splendid! + +BETTY. Yes. All very nice and comfortable for you--isn't it? [_She puts +the mirror back into the bag._] + +WALTER. [_Coaxingly._] Betty. + +BETTY. To-morrow you'll go to her--or to-night perhaps-- + +WALTER. To-night--ridiculous! At this hour! + +BETTY. She's a deceitful little cat. I saw her last week--she never told +me-- + +WALTER. I don't think she knew. I only proposed to-day. + +BETTY. [_Flinging herself back in her chair, and opening wide eyes._] +You--proposed--to-day! + +WALTER. [_Very embarrassed._] Yes--I mean-- + +BETTY. You--proposed--to-day! And waited till she had accepted you--to +tell _me_-- + +WALTER. [_Eagerly._] Don't be so silly--come, come, he'll be back in a +minute.... And, believe me, I'm not worth making a fuss about! + +BETTY. [_Looking contemptuously at him._] That's true. + +WALTER. Yes, it is, worse luck! I deserve all you've said to me. And +you'll be ... much better ... without me. + +BETTY. Better? + +WALTER. Yes, better, better--any way you choose to put it! I'm a--but +never mind that!--Look here--you'd like me to stop? + +BETTY. He wants to play bridge. + +WALTER. Don't you think that I-- + +BETTY.[_Hearing_ HECTOR _coming._] Sh. + + [HECTOR _comes in--she is idly tossing the cards about._ HECTOR + _has put on a smoking-jacket--he comes in, very jolly, fussing + around, rubbing his hands, so glad to be home. He sits, to the + right of_ BETTY. + +HECTOR. Now for a game! + + [_He seizes a pack, and spreads out the cards._ + +BETTY. [_Leaning back._] Not sure that I want to play. + +HECTOR. Don't be disagreeable, Betty! Why? + +BETTY. [_Listlessly, as she rises and moves across the room._] No fun, +being three. + +HECTOR. Good practice for you. Come on. + +BETTY. [_Leaning against the other table, and turning and facing them._] +Besides, _he_ has something to tell you. + +HECTOR. Walter? + +BETTY. Yes. + +HECTOR. [_Looking inquiringly at_ WALTER.] To tell _me?_ What is it? + +BETTY. That he's engaged. + +HECTOR. [_Shouting, as he leans across the table._] Never! Walter! +Engaged? You? + +WALTER. [_Nervously._] Yes. + +HECTOR. [_Noisily and affectionately._] You old scoundrel! You rascal and +villain! Engaged--and you don't come and tell _me_ first! Well +I--am--damned! + +WALTER. [_Trying to take it gaily._] I knew you'd chaff me about it. + +HECTOR. Chaff you! Silly old coon! why I'm glad! Of course we shall miss +you--but marriage--it's the only thing, my boy--the only thing! Who is +she? Do I know her? + +WALTER. [_Mumbling, as he fingers the cards._] A friend of Betty's--I +fancy you've met her-- + +HECTOR. Who? + +BETTY. Mary Gillingham. We're the first to know--he only proposed to-day. + +HECTOR. Gillingham, Gillingham.... Oh yes, I've seen her, just seen her, +but I don't remember.... I say, not the daughter of the sealing-wax man? + +WALTER. Yes. + +HECTOR. Then there's lots of tin! Fine! Oh you artful old dodger! Is she +pretty? + +WALTER. So-So. + +BETTY. [_Still leaning against the table, and looking at them both._] +She's excessively pretty. She has yellow hair and blue eyes. + +HECTOR. [_Chuckling._] And she has caught old Wallie. The cynical old +Wallie who sniffed at women! Though perhaps it's the money-- + +BETTY. No. He's in love with her. + +HECTOR. That's good. I'm glad. And I congratulate you--heartily, my boy. +[_He seizes_ WALTER'S _hand, and wrings it._] We must drink to it! [_He +gets up, goes to the side-table, and pours some whiskey into a tumbler._] +Charge your glass, Walter! [WALTER _rises and goes to the side-table._] +Ladies and gentlemen. I give you the bride and bridegroom! [_He fills the +glass from the syphon and passes it to_ WALTER, _then proceeds to fill his +own._] Betty, you must join us. + +BETTY. [_Quietly._] No. + +HECTOR. You can't toast him in water, of course. Has she cleared away yet? +I'll get you some Hock. + + [_He puts his glass down and moves to the door at back._ + +BETTY. Don't be so silly. I won't drink at all. + +HECTOR. [_Amazed._] Not to old Walter? + +BETTY. [_Steadily._] No. + +HECTOR. Why? + +BETTY. [_Almost jeeringly._] Because--old Walter--has been my lover. + +HECTOR. [_Stopping, and staring at her._] What? + +BETTY. [_Calmly, looking full at him._] My lover ... these last two years. + +HECTOR. [_Staring stupidly at her._] He has been-- + +BETTY. [_Impatiently, as she taps the floor with her foot._] Yes, yes. How +often must I tell you? My lover--don't you know what that means? Why do +you stare at me with those fat goggle-eyes of yours? He has been my +lover--and now he has fallen in love with this girl and means to marry +her. That's all. + +HECTOR. [_Turning towards_ WALTER, _who hasn't stirred from the +side-table._] What? You? + + [WALTER _remains motionless and silent._ + +HECTOR. [_In muffled tones, scarcely able to speak._] You! It's true what +this woman says? + +BETTY. [_Contemptuously._] This woman! Don't be so melodramatic! Have you +forgotten my name? + +HECTOR. [_Turning fiercely to her, roaring madly._] Silence, Jezebel! +[_She shrinks back, in alarm, towards the fire._] Your name! Wait a bit, +I'll tell you! [_He takes a step towards her--she crouches in terror +against the wall._] You shall hear what your name is! Just now I'm dealing +with _him._ [_He swings round to_ WALTER.] You there, you skunk and thief! +You, you lying hound! I was your best friend. So you've taken my wife, +have you? And now mean to go off and marry this girl. That's it? Oh, it's +so simple! Here--come here--sit down. Sit down, I tell you. Here, in this +chair. Shall I have to drag you to it? I want to keep my hands off you. +Here. [WALTER _has moved slowly towards him._ HECTOR _has banged down a +chair behind the centre table,_ WALTER _sits in it_--HECTOR _speaks over +his shoulder to_ BETTY.] And you--fetch pen and ink and paper-- + +BETTY. [_In abject panic._] Hector-- + +HECTOR. [_Turning fiercely and scowling at her._] If you speak to me I'll +brain you too. Just you go in there and fetch the things. D'you hear? Go. +[_She moves into the other room._ HECTOR _swings round to_ WALTER.] As for +you, you're a scoundrel. A rogue, a thief, a liar, a traitor. Of the very +worst kind, the blackest. Not an ordinary case of a husband and wife--I +trusted you--you were my best friend. You spawn, you thing of the gutter, +you foul-hearted, damnable slug! + + [BETTY _comes back, dragging her feet, carrying paper and + envelopes and a stylograph--she puts them on the table._ + +HECTOR. Not that stylograph--that's mine--his dirty hands shan't touch +it--I could never use it again. Fetch _your_ pen--yours--you belong to +him, don't you? Go in and fetch it. D'you hear? + + [BETTY _goes into the inner room again._ + +HECTOR. My wife. And you the man I've done more for than for any one else +in the world. The man I cared for, you low dog. Used my house--came here +because it was dull at the Club--and took my wife? I don't know why I +don't kill you. I've the right. But I won't. You shall pay for it, my fine +fellow--you are going to pay--now. + + [BETTY _brings a pen and an inkstand; she places them on the + table;_ HECTOR _seizes them and pushes them in front of_ WALTER. + BETTY _slinks to the other side of the room, and stands by the + sofa._ + +HECTOR. [_To_ WALTER.] Now you write. You hear? You write what I dictate. +Word for word. What's the old brute's name? + +WALTER. Whose? + +HECTOR. Whose! Her father, the sealing-wax man, old Gillingham? + +WALTER. [_Staring._] Gillingham? + +HECTOR. Gillingham. Yes. What is it? + +WALTER. You want me to write to him? + +HECTOR. [_Nodding._] To him. Who else? A confession? I've had that. His +name? + +WALTER. [_Dropping the pen and half rising._] I won't-- + +HECTOR. [_Springing upon him in a mad fury, and forcing him back into the +chair._] You won't, you dog! You dare say that--to me! By Heaven, you +will! You'll lick the dust off this floor, if I tell you! You'll go on +your hands and knees, and crawl! Sit down, you! Sit down and take up your +filthy pen. So. [_Thoroughly cowed,_ WALTER _has taken up the pen again._] +And now--his name. Don't make me ask you again, I tell you, don't. What is +it? + +WALTER. Richard. + +HECTOR. Very well, Richard. So write that down. To Richard Gillingham. I +have to-day proposed to your daughter, and she has accepted me. Got that? +She has accepted me. But I can't marry her--can't marry her--because I +have seduced the wife of my friend Hector Allen-- + +WALTER. [_Appealingly, dropping his pen._] Hector! + +HECTOR. [_Frantically gripping_ WALTER _by the throat, till he takes up +his pen again._] The wife of my friend Hector Allen--write it--and +plainly, you hound, plainly--so--and because I am taking the woman away +with me to-night. + +BETTY. [_With a loud cry._] Hector! + +HECTOR. [_Over his shoulder, watching_ WALTER _write._] Silence, over +there, you! Hold your tongue! Go into your room and put on your +things--we've done with you here! Take what you want--I don't care--you +don't show your face here again. And you--[_he taps his clenched hand +against_ WALTER'S _arm_] write. What are you stopping for? How far have +you got? [_He peers over_ WALTER'S _shoulder._] Because--I--am--taking-- +the--woman--away--with--me--to-night. + +BETTY. [_Beside herself, wringing her hands._] Hector, Hector-- + +HECTOR. [_Savagely, as he makes a half-turn towards her._] You still +there? Wait a bit. I'll come to you, when I've finished with him. If you +haven't gone and put on your things, you shall go off without them. Into +the street. You'll find other women there like you. [_He turns back to_ +WALTER.] Here, you, have you written? [_He looks over_ WALTER'S +_shoulder._] Go on--I'm getting impatient. Go on, I tell you. +I--am--taking--the-- + + [WALTER _is slowly writing down the words,_ HECTOR _standing over + him;_ BETTY _suddenly bursts into a peal of wild, uproarious + laughter, and lets herself fall into a chair to the left of the + card-table._ + +HECTOR. [_Madly._] You! + + [_He leaves_ WALTER, _and almost springs at her._ + +BETTY. [_Brimming with merriment._] Oh, you old donkey! _How_ we have +pulled your leg! + +HECTOR. [_Staring at her, stopping dead short._] You-- + +BETTY. [_Through her laughter, choking._] Hector, Hector! Conventional +situations! The usual stodge! The lover and husband! You goose, you +wonderful old goose! + + [WALTER, _with a mighty effort, has pulled himself together, and + roars with laughter too. He jumps up._ HECTOR _is standing there + blinking, paralysed._ + +WALTER. [_Merrily, to_ BETTY.] Oh really, you shouldn't. You've given it +away too soon! + +BETTY. Too soon! He'd have strangled us. Did you ever see such a tiger? + +WALTER. [_Chuckling hugely._] He didn't give the lover much chance to +stand up to him, did he? + +BETTY. And _wasn't_ he original! Dog, hound, villain, traitor! + +WALTER. To say nothing of Jezebel! Though, between ourselves, I think he +meant Messalina! + +BETTY. And I was to go into the street. But he did let me fill my bag! + +WALTER. I think the playwrights come out on top, I do indeed. [_He goes +to_ HECTOR, _and stands to left of him._] Hector, old chap, here's the +letter! + +BETTY. [_Going to the other side of_ HECTOR, _and dropping a low +curtsey._] And please, Mr. Husband, was it to be a big bag, or a small +bag, and might I have taken the silver teapot? + + [HECTOR _has been standing there stupid, dazed, dumbfounded, too + bewildered for his mind to act or thoughts to come to him; he + suddenly bursts into a roar of Titanic, overwhelming laughter. He + laughs, and laughs, staggers to the sofa, falls on it, rocks and + roars till the tears roll down his cheeks. He sways from side to + side, unable to control himself--his laughter is so colossal that + the infection catches the others; theirs becomes genuine too._ + +BETTY. [_With difficulty, trying to control herself._] The letter! Old +Gillingham! "His name, scoundrel, his name!" + +WALTER. [_Gurgling._] With his hand at my throat! Sit there, villain, and +write! + +BETTY. "I'll deal with _you_ presently! Wait till I've finished with +_him!_" + +WALTER. "Into the street!" At least, they _do_ usually say "into the +night!" + +HECTOR. [_Rubbing his eyes and panting for breath._] Oh, you pair of +blackguards! Too bad--no, really too bad! It was! I fell in, I did! Oh, +Lord, oh, Lord, what a nightmare! But it wasn't right, really it +wasn't--no really! My Lord, how I floundered--head and shoulders-- +swallowed it all! Comes of reading that muck every day--never stopped to +think! I didn't! Walter, old chap! [_He holds out his hand._] Betty! My +poor Betty! [_He draws her towards him._] The things I said to you! + +BETTY. [_Carelessly eluding the caress._] At least admit that you're +rather hard on the playwriting people! + +HECTOR. [_Getting up and shaking himself._] Oh, they be blowed! Well, you +_have_ had a game with me! [_He shakes himself again._] Brrrrr! Oh, my +Lord! What I went through! + +BETTY. It _was_ a lark! you should have seen yourself! Your eyes starting +out of your head! You looked like a murderer! + +HECTOR. By Jove, and I felt it! For two pins I'd have-- + +BETTY. And Mary Gillingham! _That's_ the funniest part! That you could +have thought _he_ was engaged--to _her!_ + + [_Involuntarily the smile dies away on_ WALTER'S _face; he turns + and stares at her; she goes on calmly._ + +BETTY. When she happens to be the one girl in this world he can't stand! + +WALTER. [_With a movement that he can't control._] Betty! + +BETTY. [_Turning smilingly to him._] No harm in my telling Hector--he +scarcely knows her! [_She swings round to_ HECTOR _again._] Why, Walter +simply _loathes_ the poor girl! That's what made it so funny! [_At the +mere thought of it she bursts out laughing again, and goes on speaking +through her laughter._] And I tell you--if you ever hear he's engaged to +_her_--why, you can believe the rest of the story too! + +HECTOR. [_Laughing heartily as he pats_ WALTER _on the shoulder._] Poor +old Walter! And, d'you know, I was quite pleased at the thought of his +getting married! I was! [_He turns to him._] But it's better, old chap, +for us--we'd have missed you--terribly! [_With another pat on_ WALTER'S +_shoulder, he goes to the fire, and drops in the letter._] Mustn't leave +_that_ lying about! [_He turns._] Well, by Jove, if any one had told +me.... And drinking to him, and all! + +BETTY. If you'll fetch me that glass of Hock now, I _will_ drink to him, +Hector. To Walter, the Bachelor! + +HECTOR. [_Beaming._] So we will! Good. I'll get it. + + [_He bustles into the dining-room._ + +BETTY. [_Moving swiftly to_ WALTER.] Well, now's your time. One thing or +the other. + +WALTER. [_Savagely._] You fiend! + +BETTY. I'll go and see her to-morrow--see her constantly-- + +WALTER. Why are you doing this? + +BETTY. You've ruined my life and his. At least, _you_ shan't be happy. + +WALTER. And you imagine I'll come back to _you_--that we'll go on, you and +I? + +BETTY. [_Scornfully._] No--don't be afraid! You've shown yourself to me +to-day. That's all done with--finished. _His_ friend now--with the load +off you--but never _her_ husband. Never! + + [HECTOR _comes bustling back, with the bottle of Hock, and a + wine-glass that he gives to_ BETTY--_she holds it, and he fills + it from the bottle._ + +HECTOR. Here you are, my girl--and now, where's my whiskey? [_He trots +round to the side table, finds his glass, and_ WALTER'S--_hands one to_ +WALTER.] Here, Wallie--yours must be the one that's begun--I didn't have +time to touch mine! Here. [WALTER _takes it._] And forgive me, old man, +for thinking, even one minute--[_He wrings him by the hand._] Here's to +you, old friend. And Betty, to you! Oh, Lord, I just want this drink! + +BETTY. [_In cold, clear tones, as she holds up her glass._] To Walter, the +Bachelor! + + [_She drains her glass;_ WALTER _has his moment's hesitation; he + drinks, and with tremendous effort succeeds in composing his + face._ + +HECTOR. [_Gaily._] To Walter, the Bachelor! [_He drinks his glass to the +dregs and puts it down._] And now--for a game. + +WALTER. I think I-- + +HECTOR. [_Coaxingly._] Sit down, laddie--just one rubber. It's quite +early. Do. There's a good chap. [_They all sit:_ HECTOR _at back,_ BETTY +_to the left of him,_ WALTER _to the right--he spreads out the cards--they +draw for partners._] As we are--you and Betty--I've got the dummy. [_He +shuffles the cards_--BETTY _cuts--he begins to deal._] That's how I like +it--one on each side of me. Also I like having dummy. Now, Betty, play +up. Oh, Lord, how good it is, how good! A nightmare, I tell you--terrible! +And really you must forgive me for being such an ass. But the way you +played up, both of you! My little Betty--a Duse, that's what she is--a +real Duse! [_He gathers up his cards._] And the gods are kind to me--I've +got a hand, I tell you! I call NO TRUMPS! + + [_He beams at them--they are placidly sorting their cards. He + puts his hand down and proceeds to look at his dummy, as the + curtain falls._ + + +CURTAIN + + + + +A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED.... + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + +MR. HARRISON CROCKSTEAD +LADY ALINE DE VAUX + + +_Produced at the +Garrick Theatre +on March 27, 1904_ + + + +A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED.... + + +SCENE _The conservatory of No. 300 Grosvenor Square. Hour, close on +midnight. A ball is in progress, and dreamy waltz music is heard in the +distance._ + + LADY ALINE DE VAUX _enters, leaning on the arm of_ MR. HARRISON + CROCKSTEAD. + + LADY ALINE _is a tall, exquisitely-gowned girl, of the + conventional and much-admired type of beauty. Put her in any + drawing-room in the world, and she would at once be recognised as + a highborn Englishwoman. She has in her, in embryo, all those + excellent qualities that go to make a great lady: the icy stare, + the haughty movement of the shoulder, the disdainful arch of the + lip; she has also, but only an experienced observer would notice + it, something of wistfulness, something that speaks of a sore and + wounded heart--though it is sufficiently evident that this organ + is kept under admirable control. A girl who has been placed in a + position of life where artificiality rules, who has been taught + to be artificial and has thoroughly learned her lesson; yet one + who would unhesitatingly know the proper thing to do did a camel + bolt with her in the desert, or an eastern potentate invite her + to become his two hundred and fifty-seventh wife. In a word, a + lady of complete self-possession and magnificent control._ MR. + CROCKSTEAD _is a big, burly man of forty or so, and of the kind + to whom the ordinary West End butler would consider himself + perfectly justified in declaring that her ladyship was not at + home. And yet his evening clothes sit well on him; and there is a + certain air of command about the man that would have made the + butler uncomfortable. That functionary would have excused himself + by declaring that_ MR. CROCKSTEAD _didn't look a gentleman. And + perhaps he doesn't. His walk is rather a slouch; he has a way of + keeping his hands in his pockets, and of jerking out his + sentences; a way, above all, of seeming perfectly indifferent to + the comfort of the people he happens to be addressing. The + impression he gives is one of power, not of refinement; and the + massive face, with its heavy lines, and eyes that are usually + veiled, seems to give no clue whatever to the character of the + man within._ + + _The couple break apart when they enter the room;_ LADY ALINE _is + the least bit nervous, though she shows no trace of it;_ MR. + CROCKSTEAD _absolutely imperturbable and undisturbed._ + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Looking around._] Ah--this is the place--very quiet, +retired, romantic--et cetera. Music in the distance--all very appropriate +and sentimental. + +[_She leaves him, and sits, quietly fanning herself; he stands, looking +at her._] You seem perfectly calm, Lady Aline? + +ALINE. [_Sitting._] Conservatories are not unusual appendages to a +ball-room, Mr. Crockstead; nor is this conservatory unlike other +conservatories. + +CROCKSTEAD [_Turning to her._] I wonder why women are always so evasive? + +ALINE. With your permission we will not discuss the sex. You and I are too +old to be cynical, and too young to be appreciative. And besides, it is a +rule of mine, whenever I sit out a dance, that my partner shall avoid the +subjects of women--and golf. + +CROCKSTEAD. You limit the area of conversation. But then, in this +particular instance, I take it, we have not come here to talk? + +ALINE. [_Coldly._] I beg your pardon! + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Sitting beside her._] Lady Aline, they are dancing a +cotillon in there, so we have half an hour before us. We shall not be +disturbed, for the Duchess, your aunt, has considerately stationed her +aged companion in the corridor, with instructions to ward off intruders. + +ALINE. [_Very surprised._] Mr. Crockstead! + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Looking hard at her._] Didn't you know? [ALINE _turns aside, +embarrassed._] That's right--of course you did. Don't you know why I have +brought you here? That's right; of course you do. The Duchess, your aunt, +and the Marchioness, your mother--observe how fondly my tongue trips out +the titles--smiled sweetly on us as we left the ball-room. There will be +a notice in the _Morning Post_ to-morrow: "A Marriage Has Been Arranged +Between--" + +ALINE. [_Bewildered and offended._] Mr. Crockstead! This--this is-- + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Always in the same quiet tone._] Because I have not yet +proposed, you mean? Of course I intend to, Lady Aline. Only as I know that +you will accept me-- + +ALINE. [_In icy tones, as she rises._] Let us go back to the ball-room. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Quite undisturbed._] Oh, please! That won't help us, you +know. Do sit down. I assure you I have never proposed before, so that +naturally I am a trifle nervous. Of course I know that we are only supers +really, without much of a speaking part; but the spirit moves me to gag, +in the absence of the stage-manager, who is, let us say, the Duchess-- + +ALINE. I have heard of the New Humour, Mr. Crockstead, though I confess I +have never understood it. This may be an exquisite example-- + +CROCKSTEAD. By no means. I am merely trying to do the right thing, though +perhaps not the conventional one. Before making you the formal offer of my +hand and fortune, which amounts to a little over three millions-- + +ALINE. [_Fanning herself._] How people exaggerate! Between six and seven, +_I_ heard. + +CROCKSTEAD. Only three at present, but we must be patient. Before throwing +myself at your feet, metaphorically, I am anxious that you should know +something of the man whom you are about to marry. + +ALINE. That is really most considerate! + +CROCKSTEAD. I have the advantage of you, you see, inasmuch as you have +many dear friends, who have told me all about you. + +ALINE. [_With growing exasperation, but keeping very cool._] Indeed? + +CROCKSTEAD. I am aware, for instance, that this is your ninth season-- + +ALINE. [_Snapping her fan._] You are remarkably well-informed. + +CROCKSTEAD. I have been told that again to-night, three times, by charming +young women who vowed that they loved you. Now, as I have no dearest +friends, it is unlikely that you will have heard anything equally definite +concerning myself. I propose to enlighten you. + +ALINE. [_Satirically._] The story of your life--how thrilling! + +CROCKSTEAD. I trust you may find it so. [_He sits, and pauses for a +moment, then begins, very quietly._] Lady Aline, I am a self-made man, as +the foolish phrase has it--a man whose early years were spent in savage +and desolate places, where the devil had much to say; a man in whom +whatever there once had been of natural kindness was very soon kicked out. +I was poor, and lonely, for thirty-two years: I have been rich, and +lonely, for ten. My millions have been made honestly enough; but poverty +and wretchedness had left their mark on me, and you will find very few +men with a good word to say for Harrison Crockstead. I have no polish, or +culture, or tastes. Art wearies me, literature sends me to sleep-- + +ALINE. When you come to the chapter of your personal deficiencies, Mr. +Crockstead, please remember that they are sufficiently evident for me to +have already observed them. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Without a trace of annoyance._] That is true. I will pass, +then, to more intimate matters. In a little township in Australia--a +horrible place where there was gold--I met a woman whom I loved. She was +what is technically known as a bad woman. She ran away with another man. I +tracked them to Texas, and in a mining camp there I shot the man. I wanted +to take the woman back, but she refused. That has been my solitary love +affair; and I shall never love any woman again as I loved her. I think +that is all that I have to tell you. And now--will you marry me, Lady +Aline? + +ALINE. [_Very steadily, facing him._] Not if you were the last man in this +world, Mr. Crockstead. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_With a pleasant smile._] At least that is emphatic. + +ALINE. See, I will give you confidence for confidence. This is, as you +suggest, my ninth season. Living in an absurd milieu where marriage with a +wealthy man is regarded as the one aim in life, I have, during the past +few weeks, done all that lay in my power to wring a proposal from you. + +CROCKSTEAD. I appreciate your sincerity. + +ALINE. Perhaps the knowledge that other women were doing the same lent a +little zest to the pursuit, which otherwise would have been very dreary; +for I confess that your personality did not--especially appeal to me. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Cheerfully._] Thank you very much. + +ALINE. Not at all. Indeed, this room being the Palace of Truth, I will +admit that it was only by thinking hard of your three millions that I have +been able to conceal the weariness I have felt in your society. And now +will you marry me, Mr. Crockstead? + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Serenely._] I fancy that's what we're here for, isn't it? + +ALINE. [_Stamping her foot._] I have, of course, been debarred from the +disreputable amours on which you linger so fondly; but I loved a soldier +cousin of mine, and would have run away with him had my mother not packed +me off in time. He went to India, and I stayed here; but he is the only +man I have loved or ever shall love. Further, let me tell you I am +twenty-eight; I have always been poor--I hate poverty, and it has soured +me no less than you. Dress is the thing in life I care for most, vulgarity +my chief abomination. And to be frank, I consider you the most vulgar +person I have ever met. Will you still marry me, Mr. Crockstead? + +CROCKSTEAD. [_With undiminished cheerfulness._] Why not? + +ALINE. This is an outrage. Am I a horse, do you think, or a +ballet-dancer? Do you imagine I will sell myself to you for your three +millions? + +CROCKSTEAD. Logic, my dear Lady Aline, is evidently not one of your more +special possessions. For, had it not been for my--somewhat eccentric +preliminaries--you _would_ have accepted me, would you not? + +ALINE. [_Embarrassed._] I--I-- + +CROCKSTEAD. If I had said to you, timidly: "Lady Aline, I love you: I am a +simple, unsophisticated person; will you marry me?" You would have +answered, "Yes, Harrison, I will." + +ALINE. It is a mercy to have escaped marrying a man with such a Christian +name as Harrison. + +CROCKSTEAD. It has been in the family for generations, you know; but it is +a strange thing that I am always called Harrison, and that no one ever +adopts the diminutive. + +ALINE. That does not surprise me: we have no pet name for the East wind. + +CROCKSTEAD. The possession of millions, you see, Lady Aline, puts you into +eternal quarantine. It is a kind of yellow fever, with the difference that +people are perpetually anxious to catch your complaint. But we digress. To +return to the question of our marriage-- + +ALINE. I beg your pardon. + +CROCKSTEAD. I presume that it is--arranged? + +ALINE. [_Haughtily._] Mr. Crockstead, let me remind you that frankness has +its limits: exceeding these, it is apt to degenerate into impertinence. +Be good enough to conduct me to the ball-room. + + [_She moves to the door._ + +CROCKSTEAD. You have five sisters, I believe, Lady Aline? [ALINE _stops +short._] All younger than yourself, all marriageable, and all unmarried? + + [ALINE _hangs her head and is silent._ + +CROCKSTEAD. Your father-- + +ALINE. [_Fiercely._] Not a word of my father! + +CROCKSTEAD. Your father is a gentleman. The breed is rare, and very fine +when you get it. But he is exceedingly poor. People marry for money +nowadays; and your mother will be very unhappy if this marriage of ours +falls through. + +ALINE. [_Moving a step towards him._] Is it to oblige my mother, then, +that you desire to marry me? + +CROCKSTEAD. Well, no. But you see I must marry some one, in mere +self-defence; and honestly, I think you will do at least as well as any +one else. [ALINE _bursts out laughing._] That strikes you as funny? + +ALINE. If you had the least grain of chivalrous feeling, you would realise +that the man who could speak to a woman as you have spoken to me-- + + [_She pauses._ + +CROCKSTEAD. Yes? + +ALINE. I leave you to finish the sentence. + +CROCKSTEAD. Thank you. I will finish it my own way. I will say that when a +woman deliberately tries to wring an offer of marriage from a man whom +she does not love, she deserves to be spoken to as I have spoken to you, +Lady Aline. + +ALINE. [_Scornfully._] Love! What has love to do with marriage? + +CROCKSTEAD. That remark rings hollow. You have been good enough to tell me +of your cousin, whom you did love-- + +ALINE. Well? + +CROCKSTEAD. And with whom you would have eloped, had your mother not +prevented you. + +ALINE. I most certainly should. + +CROCKSTEAD. So you see that at one period of your life you thought +differently.--You were very fond of him? + +ALINE. I have told you. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Meditatively._] If I had been he, mother or no mother, money +or no money, I would have carried you off. I fancy it must be pleasant to +be loved by you, Lady Aline. + +ALINE. [_Dropping a mock curtsey, as she sits on the sofa._] You do me too +much honour. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Still thoughtful, moving about the room._] Next to being +king, it is good to be maker of kings. Where is this cousin now? + +ALINE. In America. But might I suggest that we have exhausted the subject? + +CROCKSTEAD. Do you remember your "Arabian Nights," Lady Aline? + +ALINE. Vaguely. + +CROCKSTEAD. You have at least not forgotten that sublime Caliph, Haroun +Al-Raschid? + +ALINE. Oh, no--but why? + +CROCKSTEAD. We millionaires are the Caliphs to-day; and we command more +faithful than ever bowed to them. And, like that old scoundrel Haroun, we +may at times permit ourselves a respectable impulse. What is your cousin's +address? + +ALINE. Again I ask--why? + +CROCKSTEAD. I will put him in a position to marry you. + +ALINE. [_In extreme surprise._] What! [_She rises._ + +CROCKSTEAD. Oh, don't be alarmed, I'll manage it pleasantly. I'll give him +tips, shares, speculate for him, make him a director of one or two of my +companies. He shall have an income of four thousand a year. You can live +on that. + +ALINE. You are not serious? + +CROCKSTEAD. Oh yes; and though men may not like me, they always trust my +word. You may. + +ALINE. And why will you do this thing? + +CROCKSTEAD. Call it caprice--call it a mere vulgar desire to let my +magnificence dazzle you--call it the less vulgar desire to know that my +money has made you happy with the man you love. + +ALINE. That is generous. + +CROCKSTEAD. I remember an old poem I learnt at school--which told how +Frederick the Great coveted a mill that adjoined a favourite estate of +his; but the miller refused to sell. Frederick could have turned him out, +of course--there was not very much public opinion in those days--but he +respected the miller's firmness, and left him in solid possession. And +mark that, at that very same time, he annexed--in other words stole--the +province of Silesia. + +ALINE. Ah-- + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Moving to the fireplace._] + + "Ce sont là jeux de Princes: + Ils respectent un meunier, + Ils volent une province." + + [_The music stops._ + +ALINE. You speak French? + +CROCKSTEAD. I am fond of it. It is the true and native language of +insincerity. + +ALINE. And yet you seem sincere. + +CROCKSTEAD. I am permitting myself that luxury to-night. I am uncorking, +let us say, the one bottle of '47 port left in my cellar. + +ALINE. You are not quite fair to yourself, perhaps. + +CROCKSTEAD. Do not let this action of mine cause you too suddenly to alter +your opinion. The verdict you pronounced before was, on the whole, just. + +ALINE. What verdict? + +CROCKSTEAD. I was the most unpleasant person you ever had met. + +ALINE. That was an exaggeration. + +CROCKSTEAD. The most repulsive-- + +ALINE. [_Quickly._] I did not say that. + +CROCKSTEAD. And who prided himself on his repulsiveness. Very true, in the +main, and yet consider! My wealth dates back ten years; till then I had +known hunger, and every kind of sorrow and despair. I had stretched out +longing arms to the world, but not a heart opened to me. And suddenly, +when the taste of men's cruelty was bitter in my mouth, capricious fortune +snatched me from abject poverty and gave me delirious wealth. I was +ploughing a barren field, and flung up a nugget. From that moment gold +dogged my footsteps. I enriched the few friends I had--they turned +howlingly from me because I did not give them more. I showered money on +whoever sought it of me--they cursed me because it was mine to give. In my +poverty there had been the bond of common sorrow between me and my +fellows: in my wealth I stand alone, a modern Ishmael, with every man's +hand against me. + +ALINE. [_Gently._] Why do you tell me this? + +CROCKSTEAD. Because I am no longer asking you to marry me. Because you are +the first person in all these years who has been truthful and frank with +me. And because, perhaps, in the happiness that will, I trust, be yours, I +want you to think kindly of me. [_She puts out her hand, he takes it._] +And now, shall we return to the ball-room? The music has stopped; they +must be going to supper. + +ALINE. What shall I say to the Marchioness, my mother, and the Duchess, my +aunt? + +CROCKSTEAD. You will acquaint those noble ladies with the fact of your +having refused me. + + [_They have both risen, and move up the room together._ + +ALINE. I shall be a nine days' wonder. And how do you propose to carry +out your little scheme? + +CROCKSTEAD. I will take Saturday's boat--you will give me a line to your +cousin. I had better state the case plainly to him, perhaps? + +ALINE. That demands consideration. + +CROCKSTEAD. And I will tell you what you shall do for me in return. Find +me a wife! + +ALINE. I? + +CROCKSTEAD. You. I beg it on my knees. I give you carte blanche. I +undertake to propose, with my eyes shut, to the woman you shall select. + +ALINE. And will you treat her to the--little preliminaries--with which you +have favoured me? + +CROCKSTEAD. No. I said those things to you because I liked you. + +ALINE. And you don't intend to like the other one? + +CROCKSTEAD. I will marry her, I can trust you to find me a loyal and +intelligent woman. + +ALINE. In Society? + +CROCKSTEAD. For preference. She will be better versed in spending money +than a governess, or country parson's daughter. + +ALINE. But why this voracity for marriage? + +CROCKSTEAD. Lady Aline, I am hunted, pestered, worried, persecuted. I have +settled two breach of promise actions already, though Heaven knows I did +no more than remark it was a fine day, or enquire after the lady's health. +If you do not help me, some energetic woman will capture me--I feel +it--and bully me for the rest of my days. I raise a despairing cry to +you--Find me a wife! + +ALINE. Do you desire the lady to have any--special qualifications? + +CROCKSTEAD. No--the home-grown article will do. One thing, though--I +should like her to be--merciful. + +ALINE. I don't understand. + +CROCKSTEAD. I have a vague desire to do something with my money: my wife +might help me. I should like her to have pity. + +ALINE. Pity? + +CROCKSTEAD. In the midst of her wealth I should wish her to be sorry for +those who are poor. + +ALINE. Yes. And, as regards the rest-- + +CROCKSTEAD. The rest I leave to you, with absolute confidence. You will +help me? + +ALINE. I will try. My choice is to be final? + +CROCKSTEAD. Absolutely. + +ALINE. I have an intimate friend--I wonder whether she would do? + +CROCKSTEAD. Tell me about her. + +ALINE. She and I made our debut the same season. Like myself she has +hitherto been her mother's despair. + +CROCKSTEAD. Because she has not yet-- + +ALINE. Married--yes. Oh, if men knew how hard the lot is of the +portionless girl, who has to sit, and smile, and wait, with a very +desolate heart--they would think less unkindly of her, perhaps--[_She +smiles._] But I am digressing, too. + +CROCKSTEAD. Tell me more of your friend. + +ALINE. She is outwardly hard, and a trifle bitter, but I fancy sunshine +would thaw her. There has not been much happiness in her life. + +CROCKSTEAD. Would she marry a man she did not love? + +ALINE. If she did you would not respect her? + +CROCKSTEAD. I don't say that. She will be your choice; and therefore +deserving of confidence. Is she handsome? + +ALINE. Well--no. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_With a quick glance at her._] That's a pity. But we can't +have everything. + +ALINE. No. There is one episode in her life that I feel she would like you +to know-- + +CROCKSTEAD. If you are not betraying a confidence-- + +ALINE. [_Looking down._] No. She loved a man, years ago, very dearly. They +were too poor to marry, but they vowed to wait. Within six months she +learned that he was engaged. + +CROCKSTEAD. Ah! + +ALINE. To a fat and wealthy widow-- + +CROCKSTEAD. The old story. + +ALINE. Who was touring through India, and had been made love to by every +unmarried officer in the regiment. She chose him. + +CROCKSTEAD. India? [_He moves towards her._] + +ALINE. Yes. + +CROCKSTEAD. I have an idea that I shall like your friend. [_He takes her +hand in his._] + +ALINE. I shall be careful to tell her all that you said to me--at the +beginning-- + +CROCKSTEAD. It is quite possible that my remarks may not apply after all. + +ALINE. But I believe myself from what I know of you both that--if she +marries you--it will not be--altogether--for your money. + +CROCKSTEAD. Listen--they're playing "God Save the King." Will you be my +wife, Aline? + +ALINE. Yes--Harry. + + [_He takes her in his arms and kisses her._ + + +CURTAIN + + + + +THE MAN ON THE KERB + +A DUOLOGUE + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +JOSEPH MATTHEWS +MARY (HIS WIFE) + +TIME--_The present_ + +SCENE--_Their home in the West End_ + +_Produced at the +Aldwych Theatre +on March 24, 1908_ + + + +THE MAN ON THE KERB + + +SCENE: _An underground room, bare of any furniture except two or + three broken chairs, a tattered mattress on the stone floor and + an old trunk. On a packing-chest are a few pots and pans and a + kettle. A few sacks are spread over the floor, close to the empty + grate; the walls are discoloured, with plentiful signs of damp + oozing through. Close to the door, at back, is a window, looking + on to the area; two of the panes are broken and stuffed with + paper._ + + _On the mattress a child is sleeping, covered with a tattered old + mantle;_ MARY _is bending over her, crooning a song. The woman is + still quite young, and must have been very pretty; but her cheeks + are hollow and there are great circles round her eyes; her face + is very pale and bloodless. Her dress is painfully worn and + shabby, but displays pathetic attempts at neatness. The only + light in the room comes from the street lamp on the pavement + above._ + + JOE _comes down the area steps, and enters. His clothes are of + the familiar colourless, shapeless kind one sees at street + corners; he would be a pleasant-looking young fellow enough were + it not that his face is abnormally lined, and pinched, and + weather-beaten. He shambles in, with the intense weariness of a + man who has for hours been forcing benumbed limbs to move; he + shakes himself, on the threshold, dog-fashion, to get rid of the + rain._ MARY _first makes sure that the child is asleep, then + rises eagerly and goes to him. Her face falls as she notes his + air of dejection._ + +MARY. [_Wistfully._] Nothing, Joe? + +JOE. Nothing. Not a farthing. Nothing. + + [MARY _turns away and checks a moan._ + +JOE. Nothing at all. Same as yesterday--worse than yesterday--I _did_ +bring home a few coppers--And you? + +MARY. A lady gave Minnie some food-- + +JOE. [_Heartily._] Bless her for that! + +MARY. Took her into the pastrycook's, Joe-- + +JOE. And the kiddie had a tuck-out? Thank God! And you? + +MARY. Minnie managed to hide a great big bun for me. + +JOE. The lady didn't give you anything? + +MARY. Only a lecture, Joe, for bringing the child out on so bitter a day. + +JOE. [_With a sour laugh, as he sits on a chair._] Ho, ho! Always so ready +with their lectures, aren't they? "Shouldn't beg, my man! Never give to +beggars in the street!"--Look at me, I said to one of them. Feel my arm. +Tap my chest. I tell you I'm starving, and they're starving at +home.--"Never give to beggars in the street." + +MARY. [_Laying a hand on his arm._] Oh, Joe, you're wet! + +JOE. It's been raining hard the last three hours--pouring. My stars, it's +cold. Couldn't we raise a bit of fire, Mary? + +MARY. With what, Joe? + +JOE. [_After a look round, suddenly getting up, seizing a ricketty chair +by the wall, breaking off the legs._] With this! Wonderful fine furniture +they give you on the Hire System--so solid and substantial--as advertised. +[_He breaks the flimsy thing up, as he speaks._] And to think we paid for +this muck, in the days we were human beings--paid about three times its +value! And to think of the poor devils, poor devils like us, who sweated +their life-blood out to make it--and of the blood-sucking devils who sold +it and got fat on it--and now back it goes to the devil it came from, and +we can at least get warm for a minute. [_He crams the wood into the +grate._] Got any paper, Mary? + +MARY. [_Taking an old newspaper from the trunk._] Here, Joe. + +JOE. That will help to build up a fire. [_He glances at it, then lays it +carefully underneath the wood._ MARY _gets lamp from table._] The Daily +Something or other--that tells the world what a happy people we are--how +proud of belonging to an Empire on which the sun never sets. And I'd sell +Gibraltar to-night for a sausage with mashed potatoes; and let Russia +take India if some one would give me a clerkship at a pound a +week.--There, in you go! A match, Mary? + +MARY. [_Standing above_ JOE, _handing him one._] Ok Joe, be careful--we've +only two left! + +JOE. I'll be careful. Wait, though--I'll see whether there's a bit of +tobacco still in my pipe. [_He fishes the pipe out of his pocket._] A +policeman who warned me away from the kerb gave me some tobacco. "Mustn't +beg," he said. "Got a pipe? Well, here's some tobacco." I believe he'd +have given me money. But it was the first kind word I had heard all day, +and it choked me.--There's just a bit left at the bottom. [_He bustles._] +Now, first the fire. [_He puts the match to the paper--it kindles._] And +then my pipe. [_The fire burns up; he throws himself in front of it._] +Boo-o-oh, I'm sizzling.... I got so wet that I felt the water running into +my lungs--my feet didn't seem to belong to me--and as for my head and +nose! [_Yawns._] Well, smoke's good--by the powers, I'm getting warm--come +closer to it, Mary. It's a little after midnight now--and I left home, +this fine, luxurious British home, just as soon as it was light. And I've +tramped the streets all day. Net result, a policeman gave me a pipeful of +tobacco, I lunched off a bit of bread that I saw floating down the +gutter--and I dined off the kitchen smell of the Café Royal. That's my +day. + +MARY. [_Stroking his hand._] Poor boy, poor boy! + +JOE. I stood for an hour in Leicester Square when the theatres emptied, +thinking I might earn a copper, calling a cab, or something. There they +were, all streaming out, happy and clean and warm--broughams and +motor-cars--supper at the Savoy and the Carlton--and a hundred or two of +us others in the gutter, hungry--looking at them. They went off to their +supper--it was pouring, and I got soaked--and there I stood, dodging the +policemen, dodging the horses' heads and the motors--and it was +always--get away, you loafer, get away--get away--get away-- + +MARY. We've done nothing to deserve it, Joe-- + +JOE. [_With sudden fury._] Deserve it! What have I ever done wrong! Wasn't +_my_ fault the firm went bankrupt and I couldn't get another job. I've a +first-rate character--I'm respectable--what's the use? I want to +work--they won't let me! + +MARY. That illness of mine ate up all our savings. O Joe, I wish I had +died! + +JOE. And left me alone? That's not kind of you, Mary. How about Mrs. +Willis? Is she worrying about the rent? + +MARY. Well, she'd like to have it, of course--they're so dreadfully poor +themselves--but she says she won't turn us out. And I'm going to-morrow to +her daughter's upstairs--she makes matchboxes, you know--and I don't see +why I shouldn't try--I could earn nearly a shilling a day. + +JOE. A shilling a day! Princely! [_His pipe goes out. He takes a last +puff at it, squints into it to make sure all the tobacco is gone, then +lays it down with a sigh._] I reckon _I'll_ try making 'em too. I went to +the Vestry again, this morning, to see whether they'd take me as +sweeper--but they've thirty names down, ahead of me. I've tried chopping +wood, but I can't--I begin to cough the third stroke--there's something +wrong with me inside, somewhere. I've tried every Institution on God's +earth--and there are others before me, and there is no vacancy, and I +mustn't beg, and I mustn't worry the gentlemen. A shilling a day--can one +earn as much as that! Why, Mary, that will be fourteen shillings a +week--an income! We'll do it! + +MARY. It's not quite a shilling, Joe--you have to find your own paste and +odds and ends. And of course it takes a few weeks to learn, before you +begin to make any money. + +JOE. [_Crestfallen._] Does it though? And what are we going to do, those +few weeks? I thought there was a catch in it, somewhere. [_He gets up and +stretches himself._] Well, here's a free-born Englishman, able to conduct +correspondence in three languages, bookkeeping by double entry, twelve +years' experience--and all he's allowed to do is to starve. [_He stretches +himself again._] + + But in spite of all temptations + To belong to other nations-- + +[_With sudden passion._] God! I wish I were a Zulu! + +MARY. [_Edging to him._] Joe-- + +JOE. [_Turning._] Well? + +MARY. Joe, Joe, we've tried very hard, haven't we? + +JOE. Tried! Is there a job in this world we'd refuse? Is there anything +we'd turn up our nose at? Is there any chance we've neglected? + +MARY. [_Stealing nervously to him and laying a hand on his arm._] Joe-- + +JOE. [_Raising his head and looking at her._] Yes--what is it? [_She +stands timidly with downcast eyes._] Well? Out with it, Mary! + +MARY. [_Suddenly._] It's this, Joe. + + [_She goes feverishly to the mattress, and from underneath it she + pulls out a big, fat purse which she hands him._ + +JOE. [_Staring._] A purse! + +MARY. [_Nodding._] Yes. + +JOE. You-- + +MARY. Found it. + +JOE. [_Looking at her._] Found? + +MARY. [_Awkwardly._] In a way I did--yes. + +JOE. How? + +MARY. It came on to rain, Joe--and I went into a Tube Station--and was +standing by a bookstall, showing Minnie the illustrated papers--and an old +lady bought one--and she took out her purse--this purse--and paid for +it--and laid the purse on the board while she fumbled to pick up her +skirts--and then some one spoke to her--a friend, I suppose--and--there +were lots of people standing about--I don't know how it was--I was out in +the street, with Minnie-- + +JOE. You had the purse? + +MARY. Yes-- + +JOE. No one followed you? + +MARY. No one. I couldn't run, as I had to carry Minnie. + +JOE. What made you do it? + +MARY. I don't know--something in me did it--She put the purse down just by +the side of my hand--my fingers clutched it before I knew--and I was out +in the street. + +JOE. How much is there in it? + +MARY. I haven't looked, Joe. + +JOE. [_Wondering._] You haven't looked? + +MARY. No; I didn't dare. + +JOE. [_Sorrowfully._] I didn't think we'd come to this, Mary. + +MARY. [_Desperately._] We've got to do something. Before we can earn any +money at making matchboxes we'll have to spend some weeks learning. And +you've not had a decent meal for a month--nor have I. If there's money +inside this purse you can get some clothes--and for me too--I need them! +It's not as though the old lady would miss it--she's rich enough--her +cloak was real sable--and no one can find us out--they can't tell one +piece of money from the other. It's heavy, Joe--I think there's a lot +inside. + +JOE. [_Weighing it mechanically._] Yes--it's heavy-- + +MARY. [_Eagerly._] Open it, Joe. + +JOE. [_Turning to her again._] Why didn't you? + +MARY. I just thought I'd wait--I'd an idea something might have happened; +that some one might have stopped you in the street, some one with a +heart--and that he'd have come in with you to-night--and seen us--seen +Minnie--and said--"Well, here's money--I'll put you on your legs +again"--And then we'd have given the purse back, Joe. + +JOE. [_As he still mechanically balances it in his hand._] Yes. + +MARY. Can't go on like this, can we? You'll cough all night again, as you +did yesterday--and the stuff they gave you at the Dispensary's no good. If +you had clothes, you might get some sort of a job perhaps--you know you +had to give up trying because you were so shabby. + +JOE. They laugh at me. + +MARY. [_With a glance at herself._] And I'm really ashamed to walk through +the streets-- + +JOE. I know--though I'm getting used to it. Besides, there's the kiddie. +Let's have a look at her. + +MARY. Be careful you don't wake her, Joe! + +JOE. There's a fire. + +MARY. She'll be hungry. + +JOE. You said that she had some food? + +MARY. That was at three o'clock. And little things aren't like us--they +want their regular meals. Night after night she has been hungry, and I've +had nothing to give her. That's why I took the purse. + +JOE. [_Still holding it mechanically and staring at it._] Yes. And, after +all, why not? + +MARY. We can get the poor little thing some warm clothes, some good food-- + +JOE. [_Under his breath._] A thief's daughter. + + [_Covers his face with his hands._ + +MARY. Joe! + +JOE. Not nice, is it? Can't be helped, of course. And who cares? For three +months this game has gone on--we getting shabbier, wretcheder, +hungrier--no one bothers--all _they_ say is "keep off the pavement." Let's +see what's in the purse. + +MARY. [_Eagerly._] Yes, yes! + +JOE. [_Lifting his head as he is on the point of opening the purse._] +That's the policeman passing. + +MARY. [_Impatiently._] Never mind that-- + +JOE. [_Turning to the purse again._] First time in my life I've been afraid +when I heard the policeman. + + [_He has his finger on the catch of the purse when he pauses for + a moment--then acting on a sudden impulse, makes a dart for the + door, opens it, and is out, and up the area steps._ + +MARY. [_With a despairing cry._] Joe! + + [_She flings herself on the mattress, and sobs silently, so as + not to awaken, the child._ JOE _returns, hanging his head, + dragging one foot before the other._ + +MARY. [_Still sobbing, but trying to control herself._] Why did you do +that? + +JOE. [_Humbly._] I don't know-- + +MARY. You gave it to the policeman? + +JOE. Yes. + +MARY. What did you tell him? + +JOE. That you had found it. + +MARY. Where? + +JOE. In a Tube Station. Picked it up because we were starving. That we +hadn't opened it. And that we lived here, in this cellar. + +MARY. [_With a little shake._] I expect he'll keep it himself! + +JOE. [_Miserably._] Perhaps. + + [_There is silence for a moment; she has ceased to cry; suddenly + she raises herself violently on her elbow._ + +MARY. You fool! You fool! + +JOE. [_Pleading._] Mary! + +MARY. With your stupid ideas of honesty! What have they done for you, or +me? + +JOE. [_Dropping his head again._] It's the kiddie, you know--her being a +thief's daughter-- + +MARY. Is that worse than being the daughter of a pair of miserable +beggars? + +JOE. [_Under his breath._] I suppose it is, somehow-- + +MARY. You'd rather she went hungry? + +JOE. [_Despairingly._] I don't know how it was--hearing his tramp up +there-- + +MARY. You were afraid? + +JOE. I don't want you taken to prison. + +MARY. [_With a wail._] I'll be taken to the graveyard soon, in a pauper's +coffin! + +JOE. [_Starts suddenly._] Suppose we did that? + +MARY. [_Staring._] The workhouse? + +JOE. Why not, after all? That's what it will come to, sooner or later. + +MARY. They'd separate us. + +JOE. At least you and the kiddie'd have food. + +MARY. They'd separate us. And I love you, Joe. My poor, poor Joe! I love +you. + + [_She nestles up to him and takes his hand._ + +JOE. [_Holding her hand in his, and bending over her._] You forgive me for +returning the purse? + +MARY. [_Dropping her head on his shoulder._] Forgive you! You were right. +It was the cold and the hunger maddened me. You were right! + +JOE. [_Springing to his feet, with sudden passion._ MARY _staggers back._] +I _wasn't_ right--I was a coward, a criminal--a vile and wicked fool. + +MARY. [_Startled._] Joe! + +JOE. I had money there--money in my hand--money that you need so badly, +you, the woman I love with all my ragged soul--money that would have put +food into the body of my little girl--money that was mine, that belonged +to me--and I've given it back, because of my rotten honesty! What right +have I to be honest? They've made a dog of me--what business had I to +remember I was a man? + +MARY. [_Following him and laying a hand on his arm._] Hush, Joe--you'll +wake Minnie. + +JOE. [_Turning and staring haggardly at her._] I could have got clothes--a +job, perhaps--we might have left this cellar. We could have gone out +to-morrow and bought things--gone into shops--we might have had food, +coal-- + +MARY. Don't, Joe--what's the use? And who knows--it may prove a blessing +to us. You told the policeman where we lived? + +JOE. A blessing! I'll get up to-morrow, after having coughed out my lungs +all night--and I'll go into the streets and walk there from left to right +and from right to left, standing at this corner and at that, peering into +men's faces, watching people go to their shops and their offices, people +who are warm and comfortable--and so it will go on, till the end comes. + +MARY. [_Standing very close to him, almost in a whisper._] Why not now, +Joe? + +JOE. [_With a startled glance at her._] The end? + +MARY. There's no room for us in this world-- + +JOE. If I'd taken that money-- + +MARY. It's too late for that now. And I'm glad you didn't--yes, I am--I'm +glad. We'll go before God clean-handed. And we'll say to Him we didn't +steal, or do anything He didn't want us too. And we'll tell Him we've died +because people wouldn't allow us to live. + +JOE. [_With a shudder._] No. Not that--we'll wait, Mary. Don't speak of +that. + +MARY. [_Wistfully._] You've thought of it too? + +JOE. Thought of it! Don't, Mary, don't! It's bad enough, in the night, +when I lie there and think of to-morrow! Something will happen--it must. + +MARY. What? We haven't a friend in the world. + +JOE. I may meet some one I used to know. + +MARY. You've met them before--they always refuse-- + +JOE. [_Passionately._] I've done nothing wrong--I haven't drunk or +gambled--I can't help being only a clerk, and unable to do heavy work! I +can't help my lungs being weak! I've a wife and a child, like other +people--and all we ask is to be allowed to live! + +MARY. [_Pleading._] Let's give it up, Joe. Go away together, you'd sleep +without coughing. Sleep, that's all. And God will be kinder than men. + +JOE. [_Groaning._] Don't, Mary--don't! + +MARY. Joe, I can't stand it any longer--I can't. Not only myself--but +Minnie--Joe, it's too much for me! I can't stand Minnie crying, and asking +me for her breakfast, as she will in the morning. Joe, dear Joe, let there +be no morning! + +JOE. [_Completely overcome._] Oh, Mary, Mary! + +MARY. It's not _your_ fault, dear--you've done what you could. Not _your_ +fault they won't let you work--you've tried hard enough. And no woman ever +had a better husband than you've been to me. I love you, dear Joe. And +let's do it--let's make an end. And take Minnie with us. + +JOE. [_Springing up._] Mary, I'll steal something to-morrow. + +MARY. And they'd send you to prison. Besides, then God would be angry. Now +we can go to Him and need not be ashamed. Let us, dear Joe--oh, do let us! +I'm so tired! + +JOE. No. + +MARY. [_Sorrowfully._] You won't? + +JOE. [_Doggedly._] No. We'll go to the workhouse. + +MARY. You've seen them in there, haven't you? + +JOE. Yes. + +MARY. You've seen them standing at the window, staring at the world? And +they'd take you away from me. + +JOE. That's better than-- + +MARY. [_Firmly._] I won't do it, Joe. I've been a good wife to you--I've +been a good mother: and I love you, though I'm ragged and have pawned all +my clothes; and I'll strangle myself rather than go to the workhouse and +be shut away from you. + +JOE. [_With a loud cry._] No! I'll _make_ them give me something; and if I +_have_ to kill, it shan't be my wife and child! To-morrow I'll come home +with food and money--to-morrow-- + + [_There is a sudden wail from the child;_ JOE _stops and stares + at her;_ MARY _goes quickly to the mattress and soothes the + little girl._ + +MARY. Hush, dear, hush--no it's not morning yet, not time for breakfast. +Go to sleep again, dear. Yes, daddy's come back, and things are going to +be all right now--No, dear, you can't be hungry, really--remember those +beautiful cakes. Go to sleep, Minnie, dear. You're cold? [_She takes off +her ragged shawl and wraps it round the child._] There, dear, you won't be +cold now. Go to sleep, Minnie-- + + [_The child's wail dies away, as_ MARY _soothes her back to + sleep._ + +JOE. [_Staggering forward with a sudden cry._] God, O God, give us bread! + + +THE CURTAIN SLOWLY FALLS + + + + +THE OPEN DOOR + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +SIR GEOFFREY TRANSOM +LADY TORMINSTER + + + +THE OPEN DOOR + + +SCENE: _The drawing-room of_ LORD TORMINSTER'S _cottage by the + sea. It is 2 a.m. of a fine July night; the French windows are + open on to the lawn. The room is dark; in an armchair,_ SIR + GEOFFREY TRANSOM, _a man of forty, with a frank, pleasant face, + is seated, deep in thought. Suddenly the door opens, and_ LADY + TORMINSTER _appears and switches on the light. She starts at + seeing_ SIR GEOFFREY. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Oh! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Rising._] Hullo! Don't be afraid--it's only I! + +LADY TORMINSTER. What a start you gave me Why haven't you gone to bed? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I'm tired of going to bed. One always has to get up again, +and it becomes monotonous. Why haven't you gone to sleep? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I don't know--it's too hot, or something. I've come for a +book. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Let me choose one for you. + + [_He goes to the table._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why were you sitting in the dark? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Because the light annoyed me. What sort of book will you +have? A red one or a green one? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Is there a virtue in the colour of the binding? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? They're all the same inside. There are three +hundred ways, they say, of cooking a potato--there are as many of dressing +up a lie, and calling it a novel. But it's always the same old lie. Here +take this. [_He hands her a book._] Popular Astronomy. That will send you +to sleep. + +LADY TORMINSTER. The stars frighten me. But I'll try it. Good-night. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Good-night. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And you really had better go to bed. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I move as an amendment that you sit down and talk. + +LADY TORMINSTER. At this time of night! + +SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? It's day in the Antipodes. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And in this attire! + + [_She glances at her peignoir._ + +SIR GEOFFREY. Pooh! You are more dressed than you were at dinner. That's +awfully rude, isn't it? But then, you see, you're not my hostess +now--you're a spirit, walking in the night. One can't be polite to +spirits. Sit down, oh shade, and let us converse. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Hesitating._] I don't know-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. The household have all retired; and we will make this +concession to Mrs. Grundy--we will leave the door open. There! [_He flings +it open._] The Open Door! Centuries ago, when I was alive, I remember +paragraphs with that heading. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Laughing._] So you're not alive now? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Sir Geoffrey Transom ceased to be when he said good-night to +Lady Torminster. Sir Geoffrey is upstairs asleep. So is her ladyship. We +are their souls. Let us talk. + +LADY TORMINSTER. You are in your whimsical mood. + +SIR GEOFFREY. And you in your wrapper--peignoir--tea gown--it don't matter +what you call it. You look--jolly. Ridiculous word--I don't mean that at +all. You look--you. More you than I've seen you for years. Sh--don't +interrupt. Shades never do that. By the way, do you know that the old +lumber-room, my owner--my corporeal sheath--means to go away in the +morning, before you are up? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Sir Geoffrey! What nonsense! You've promised to stay a +month! + +SIR GEOFFREY. I assure you I have been charged to invent fitting and +appropriate lies to account for the ridiculous creature's abrupt +departure. The man Transom is a poor liar. + +LADY TORMINSTER. You are making me giddy. Would you mind putting on your +body? I've not been introduced to your soul. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Springing up with a flourish._] How very remiss of me! +Permit me. Gertrude this is Geoffrey. You have often heard me speak of +him. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Rising._] I think I'll go to bed. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Now that is preposterous. Jack, my dear old friend--the best +and only friend I have in the world--is slumbering peacefully upstairs, +and Jack's wife is reluctant to talk to Jack's old pal because the sun +happens to be hidden on the other side of the globe. Lady Torminster, sit +down. If you're good you shall have a cigarette. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Sitting._] Well, just one. And when I've finished it, +I'll go. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Agreed. + + [_He hands her the box; she takes a cigarette; he strikes a match + and holds it for her; he then takes a cigarette himself, and + lights it._ + +SIR GEOFFREY. And, while smoking it, remember Penelope's web. For I've +heaps of things to tell you. + +LADY TORMINSTER. They'll keep till to-morrow. + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's a fearful delusion. Nothing keeps. There is one law +in the universe: NOW. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I want to know what you mean by this nonsense about your +going. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Puffing out smoke._] Yes--I'm off in the morning. It has +occurred to me that I haven't been to China. Now that is a serious +omission. How can I face my forefathers, and confess to them that I +haven't seen the land where the Yellow Labour comes from? + +LADY TORMINSTER. China has waited a long time--a month more or less will +make no difference. They are a patient race. + +SIR GEOFFREY. There is gipsy blood in my veins--I must wander--I'm +restless.... Not like Jack--he's untroubled--he can sleep. Jack's a fine +sleeper, isn't he? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Calm, serene, untroubled, with the conscience of a +babe--one, two, three, he sleeps. He and I have had some rare times +together. I've been roped to him on the Andes--he shot a tiger that was +about to scrunch me--I rubbed his nose when it was frost-bitten. He saved +my life--I saved his nose. I always maintain that the balance of gratitude +is on his side--for where would he have been without his nose? + +LADY TORMINSTER. You _are_ absurd. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Would you have married him without a nose? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I might have. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Now you know you wouldn't. You'd have been afraid of what +people would say. And what would he have done when he became +short-sighted, and had to wear glasses? + +LADY TORMINSTER. My cigarette has gone out. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Jumping up and handing her the box._] Take another. Never +re-light a cigarette--it's like dragging up the past. Here. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I said only one. + +SIR GEOFFREY. This is not the hour for inflexibility. The Medes and +Persians have all gone to bed. + + [_She takes the cigarette; he lights it for her._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. Tell me why you mean to leave us. And remember--I shan't +let _this_ one go out. + +SIR GEOFFREY. My explanation will be handed to you with your cup of tea in +the morning. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And you will be gone? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I shall be gone. There is a train at 7.45--which will be +packed with husbands. I shall breakfast in town. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Well, one must breakfast somewhere. It's a convention. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Sir Geoffrey, I want you to tell me what this means. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Give your decision, said the judge to the arbitrator, but +never your reasons. I go, because I go. Besides, has one reasons? Why do +people die, or get married, or buy umbrellas? Because of typhoid, love, or +the rain? Not at all. Isn't that so? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I wish you'd be serious. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I'm fearfully serious. When Jack shot that tiger he had to +go so near the brute that he held his life in his hands. Do you know what +was my chief impression as I lay there, with the ugly cat's paw upon my +chest, beginning to rip me? + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Shuddering._] Horrible! What? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I resented his having eaten something that smelt like +onions. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Smiling._] A tiger! + +SIR GEOFFREY. Onions may have been his undoing. That's the beggar's skin +on the floor. But you should have seen me rub Jack's nose! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Warningly._] Sir Geoffrey, there's very little +cigarette left-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. There are lots more in the box--and dawn is a long way off. +Hang it, Lady Torminster, don't be in a hurry! Do you hear the sea out +there? It's breathing as regularly as old Jack. And don't you think this +is fine? Here we are, we two, meeting just as we shall meet on the other +side of the Never-Never Land. It's a chance for a man to speak to a woman, +and tell her things. + +LADY TORMINSTER. What things! + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's just it--what things? What have I to say, after all? +I am going to-morrow because I am a fantastic, capricious ass. Also +because I'm lonely. + +LADY TORMINSTER. How will China help you? + +SIR GEOFFREY. They colour it green on the map--and there _is_ such a lot +of it! + +LADY TORMINSTER. You should get married. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a sudden burst of passion._] _You_ say that--you! + + [_He starts back, ashamed, and hangs his head._ LADY TORMINSTER + _throws a quick glance at him, then looks ahead of her, puffing + quietly at her cigarette._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Quietly._] So that is why you are going? + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a great sigh of relief._] Now, that really is fine of +you! Every other woman in the world would have seized that chance for a +melodramatic exit. "Good-night, Sir Geoffrey; I must go to my husband." +"Good-night, Lady Torminster." A clasp of the hand--a hot tear--mine--on +your wrist. But you sit there. Splendid! + +LADY TORMINSTER. I ask you again--is that truly why you are going? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Well, yes, that's the fact. I apologise humbly--it's so +conventional. Isn't it? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I suppose it's difficult for human beings to invent new +situations. + +SIR GEOFFREY. You've known it, of course, all the time; you've known it +ever since Jack brought me to you, the day after you were engaged. And +that's nine years ago. It's the usual kind of fatality. + +LADY TORMINSTER. These things happen. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Yes. Well, I thought I was cured. I've been here five days, +and I find I am not. So I go. That's best, isn't it? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes. + +SIR GEOFFREY. It's so infernally stupid. You're a beautiful woman, of +course; but there are heaps of beautiful women. You've qualities--well, so +have other women, too. I'm only forty-one--and, as you say, why don't I +marry? Simply because of you. Because you've an uncomfortable knack of +intruding between me and the other lady. + +LADY TORMINSTER. That is a great misfortune. + +SIR GEOFFREY. It's most annoying. So I shall try China. I shall come back +in two years--I shall be forty-three then--I shall come back, sound as a +bell; and I shall marry some healthy, pink-cheeked young woman, take a +house next to yours, and in the fulness of time your eldest son shall fall +in love with my daughter. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why not? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I shouldn't have told you, of course; but I'm glad that I +have. It clears the air. Now what excuse shall I make? + +LADY TORMINSTER. A wire from town? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Jack knows all about my affairs; in fact, that's why I take +the early train, to avoid his questions. + +LADY TORMINSTER. You find it impossible to stay out your time here? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Quite. There are moments when I am unpleasantly volcanic. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Then I tell you the best thing to do. Don't take your +trunks; just go up with a bag. Leave a note that you'll come back on +Tuesday. Then write from town and say you're prevented. + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's a good idea--yes, that's much better. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And, if you find that you really cannot come back-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. Exactly; you'll forward my goods and chattels. And old Jack +will ascribe it all to my wayward mood; he'll think I have found it too +dull down here. I'm immensely obliged. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_With a smile._] Remark that I've not offered to be a +sister to you. + +SIR GEOFFREY. You've been superb. Oh, the good talk we've had! Do you +know, I could almost wish old Jack to have heard what I said. I'm so fond +of him, that grand old fellow, that I've been on the point of telling him, +myself, more than once. For you know he _will_ have me take you about, and +it's painful. Besides, I've felt it almost disloyal to--keep this thing +from him. You understand, don't you? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes. + +SIR GEOFFREY. He and I almost are one, you see. It's not British to show +any feeling, but really I--love him. And the devil comes along, and, of +all women in the world, singles out Jack's wife, and fills my heart with +her. That's the devil's sense of humour. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Perhaps he has read Bernard Shaw. But you must never let +Jack know--never. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I suppose not. He's so direct, so single-minded, that the +shock would be terrible. But I'm not to blame. How could I help it? Oh, +all that cackle about being master of one's fate! + +LADY TORMINSTER. Two years in China-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. We'll hope so. Of course, it didn't matter about my telling +you, because you knew already. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Nodding_] Yes, I knew. Although-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. Oh, you've done what you could! I've felt, in a hundred +subtle ways, how you almost implored me--not to. Well, there it is. I'll +write that note at once. + + [_He sits at the table and begins to write._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. I'm sorry you are so lonely. + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's my fault, too--the fault of the ridiculous class to +which we belong. I don't do anything. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why not? + +SIR GEOFFREY. What would you have me do? Go into the House? Thank you, +I've been there. You spend your time on the Terrace or in the smoke-room +till a muffin-bell rings; then you gravely walk into the lobby, where an +energetic gentleman counts you as Polyphemus counted his sheep. +Philanthropy! Well, I've tried that, but it's not in my line. I'm quite a +respectable landlord, but a fellow can't live all by himself in a great +Elizabethan barrack. Town--the Season? Christian mothers invite you to +inspect their daughters' shoulders, with a view to purchase. I'm tired of +golf and polo; I'm tired of bridge. So I'll try the good sea and the open +plains; sleep in a tent and watch the stars twinkle--the stars that make +you afraid. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes, I'm afraid of the stars. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Why? + +LADY TORMINSTER. You remember the Persian poet? "I too have said to the +stars and the wind, I will. But the wind and the stars have mocked +me--they have laughed in my face...." + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_A little uncomfortable._] Persian poets, like all poets, +have a funny way of pretending that the stars take an interest in us. To +me, it's their chief charm that they're so unconcerned. They are lonely, +too. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Suddenly, violently._] Don't say that again--don't--I +can't bear it! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Aghast._] Gertrude!!! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_In a whisper._] Yes. + + [_He stares haggardly at her; she does not move, but looks out, + through the open window, into the night._ + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a deep breath._] Well, I suppose we had better turn +in-- + +LADY TORMINSTER. When do you go to China? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I shall take the first boat. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And you will come back--? + +SIR GEOFFREY. In a year--or two--or three-- + +LADY TORMINSTER. We shall hear from you? + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With an effort of lightness._] Certainly. And I will send +you chests of tea--best family Souchong--and jars of ginger. Also little +boxes that fit into each other. I am afraid that is all I know at present +of Chinese manufactures. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Musing._] You will be away so long? + +SIR GEOFFREY. You told me to do something. I shall learn Chinese. I +believe there are five hundred letters in the alphabet. + +LADY TORMINSTER. As many as that! + +SIR GEOFFREY. It is possible that I exaggerate. Well, Lady Torminster, I +think I'll say good-night. + + [_He offers his hand, which she ignores. She smiles, and motions + him back to his seat._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. The sun is still shining in the antipodes, my dear +Geoffrey, and you are still Jack's old friend, talking to Jack's wife. Sit +down, and don't be foolish. You'll be away for years; it's possible we may +never meet again. It's possible, too, that next time we do meet you may be +married. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With iron control._] Who knows? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Exactly--who knows? So there's no reason why we shouldn't +look each other squarely in the face for once, and speak out what's in us. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Sorrowfully._] Oh, Lady Torminster, what is there to say? + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Bending forward a little and smiling._] How you resent +my having told _you!_ + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a guilty start._] Resent! I! + +LADY TORMINSTER. You do, and you know it. In your heart you are saying, +"All was going so well--she has spoiled it! If she _does_ love me she +shouldn't have said it--Jack's wife!" + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Sturdily._] Well--Jack's wife. Yes! + +LADY TORMINSTER. Geoffrey, Jack bores me. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Aghast._] Lady Torminster! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Clapping her hands in glee._] There! I've said it! Oh, +it's such a relief! I never have before, and I don't suppose I ever shall +again--for whom can I say it to but you? Listen--I tell you--quite _entre +nous_--he bores me shockingly! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_In positive distress._] Lady Torminster! I beg of you! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Cheerfully._] The best fellow in all the world, and he +bores me. A heart of gold, a model husband, a perfect father--and a bore, +bore, bore! There! I assure you I feel better. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I suppose there are moments when every woman says that of +every man. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Fanning herself._] My dear Geoffrey, please send for +your soul; it has wandered off somewhere, and I don't like talking to +copybooks. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Doggedly._] You are talking to Jack's friend. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Jack's friend--and mine--don't forget that! And could I +say these things about Jack to any one else, and can't you conceive what a +joy it is to say them? Besides, aren't we just now on the rim of the +world--aren't we a little more than ourselves--aren't we almost on the +other side of things? If we ever meet again, we shall look curiously at +each other, and wonder, was it all true? As it is, I am scarcely sure that +you are real. Everything is so still, so strange. Jack! He is up there, of +course, the dear boy, his big red face pressed on the pillow. Oh, +Geoffrey, when Jack brought you to me, and I was engaged--if you only +hadn't been so loyal! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Grimly._] Do you know what you are saying? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I am saying the things a woman says once in a lifetime, +and feels all her life. Oh, it was all so simple! You loved me--you ... +were blind because of Jack ... And I married Jack ... I mustn't complain +... I am one of the hundreds of women who marry--Jacks. + +SIR GEOFFREY. A better, finer man never lived. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I dare say--in fact, I am sure. But you should see us +when we are alone, sitting there night after night, with never a word to +say to each other! You tell me you're tired of polo, and golf, and bridge. +Well, how about me? And need you be scowling so fiercely, and begrudge me +my one little wail, you who are going away? + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Angrily._] Yes, I am going away, and I shall marry a +Chinese. I shall marry the first Chinese woman I meet. + +LADY TORMINSTER. This is very sudden. Why? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Because, at least, not knowing the language, she won't be +able to say unkind things about me to my friends. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Her chin on her hand, looking squarely at him._] +Geoffrey, _is_ Jack a bore? + +SIR GEOFFREY. He never bores me. + +LADY TORMINSTER. That's because he shot your tiger, and you rubbed his +nose. Besides, you talk about horses, and so on. And yet I heard him, for +a solid hour, telling you about a rubber he lost at bridge through his +partner making diamonds trumps when he should have made spades. + +SIR GEOFFREY. He's not clever, of course--and you are. But still! Is +cleverness everything? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Haven't I told you he's the very best fellow in all the +world? And do you think I'm posing, pretending that I'm misunderstood, and +the rest? You know me better. I am indulging, for once, in the luxury of +absolute candour. + +SIR GEOFFREY. You loved him-- + +LADY TORMINSTER. Of course I loved him--and I love him now. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Triumphantly._] You see! + +LADY TORMINSTER. If we women had had a hand in the making of the language, +how many words there would be to express our feelings towards the men we +are fond of! Of course I love Jack. I'm cruel to him sometimes; and there +comes a look into his eyes--he has dog's eyes, you know--a faithful +Newfoundland-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Very earnestly._] I don't think women quite realise what +friendship means to a man. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I am certain that men don't realise what marriage means +to a woman! Dear funeral, am I not a good wife--shall I not remain a good +wife, till the end of the chapter? Because there isn't only Jack--there +are Jack's children. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Yes. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And isn't it wonderful, when you think of it--here are we +two, Jack's friend and his wife, alone on a desert island--and we have +confessed our love for each other, and we are able to discuss it as calmly +as though it were rheumatism! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a groan._] If only I hadn't induced you to stay! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Smiling._] My dear friend, you didn't! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Amazed._] I didn't? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why no--of course not. I knew you were going to-morrow. + +SIR GEOFFREY. How? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Oh, never mind how! I knew. And I suspected you would be +sitting up here to-night. So I came down, hoping to find you. I wanted +this talk with you. And I extracted your confession--as though it had been +a tooth. + +SIR GEOFFREY. And why? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why? Because it will be something to think of, in the +dull days ahead. Because I knew that you loved me, and wanted to be told. +Because your life lies before you, and mine is ended. Because I love you, +and insisted that you should know. You leave me now, and I have no +illusions. Paolo and Francesca are merely a poet's dream. You will +marry--of course you will marry--but this moment, at least, has been mine. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Stretching out yearning hands._] This moment, and every +moment, in past and future! + +LADY TORMINSTER. Ah, the future! Strange little syllables that hide so +much! I can see you, introducing your wife to me, a little shyly--I can +see myself, shaking hands with her--and with you.... My boy is seven +already--time travels fast.... But it's good to know that you really have +loved me, all these years.... + +SIR GEOFFREY. By day and by night--you, and only you! + +LADY TORMINSTER. And I have loved you--ah, yes, I have loved you!... And, +having said this to each other, we will not meet again--till you bring me +your wife. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Ah--then! + +LADY TORMINSTER. I have loved you, and I love you, for the fine, upright, +loyal creature that you are. I love you for loving Jack; and it is Jack's +great quality in my eyes that he has been able to inspire such love. And, +my dear friend, let us not be ashamed, we two, but only very proud, and +very happy. We shall go our ways, and do our duty; but we shall never +forget this talk we have had to-night. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Gently._] I am beginning to understand.... + +LADY TORMINSTER. You will be less lonely in future ... and I no longer +afraid of the stars.... Brave heart--oh, brave little heart that I for a +moment have held in my hands! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a passionate movement towards her._] Gertrude! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Lifting a finger._] No--stay where you are.... Those +are the first rays of dawn--I must go.... Good-bye. We have no need to +shake hands, you and I.... Ah, Geoffrey--good-bye! + + [_She goes swiftly, and closes the door. He bends his head, and + remains standing, motionless, by the table._ + + +CURTAIN + + + + +THE BRACELET + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +HARVEY WESTERN +HIS HONOUR JUDGE BANKET +MARTIN +WILLIAM +MRS. WESTERN +MRS. BANKET +MISS FARREN +SMITHERS + +TIME--_The present_ + + +_Produced at +the Liverpool +Repertory Theatre +on Feb. 26, 1912_ + + + +THE BRACELET + + +_The dining-room in an upper middle-class house near the Park. It + is furnished in the conventional modern style, soberly and + without imagination. The room is on the ground floor, facing the + street, the door is to the right, and leads into the hall. To the + left of this door is a sideboard, glittering with silver. Three + tall windows, at the back heavily curtained; between them hang + two or three family portraits. The table, on which there is the + usual debris of a meal that is over--coffee-cups, + liqueur-glasses, etc.--has been laid for four persons, and their + four chairs are still around it. The fireplace, with its rather + crude and ambitious mantelpiece, is in the centre of the left + wall; and uncomfortable-looking heavy armchairs are on each side + of it. On the mantelpiece are a marble clock and a few bits of + china. In the angle formed at the left side is a small Queen Anne + writing-table, open. To the right of the room is a large sofa. + The floor is heavily carpeted, and there are many rugs scattered + about._ + + _When the curtain rises, the room is in darkness._ WILLIAM, _the + footman, enters hurriedly and switches on the electric light. He + rushes to the table, looks eagerly around, shifting cups and + glasses, napkins, etc., then goes on his hands and knees and + searches on the carpet. After a moment,_ SMITHERS, _the + lady's-maid, follows him._ + +SMITHERS. [_Eagerly._] Can't you find it? + +WILLIAM. [_Sulkily._] No. Not yet. Give me time. + +SMITHERS. [_Feeling along the table-cloth._] Under one of those rugs, +perhaps. + +WILLIAM. Well, I'm looking. [_Motor-horn sounds sharply, off._] All right, +all right! + +SMITHERS. [_With a jerk of the head._] Missis is telling him to do it. + +WILLIAM. [_On all fours, crawling about._] Very like her voice, too, when +she's angry. Drat the thing! Where can it be? + + [_He peers into the coal-scuttle._ + +SMITHERS. No good looking in there, stupid. + +WILLIAM. They always say it's the unlikeliest places-- + + [MARTIN, _the butler, comes in._ + +MARTIN. Come, come, haven't you found it? + +WILLIAM. No, Mr. Martin. It ain't here. + +MARTIN. [_Bustling about._] Must be, must be. She says-- + +WILLIAM. I can't help what she says. It ain't. + +MARTIN. [_Looking under the sofa._] Just you hustle, young man, and don't +give me any back-answers. + + [_Having completed his examination of the sofa, he moves to the + sideboard, and fusses round that._ + +SMITHERS. [_Methodically shaking out each napkin._] I tell you she's +cross. + +MARTIN. [_Hard at work, searching._] Doesn't mind disturbing _us,_ in the +midst of our supper! + +WILLIAM. [_Who, all the time, has been on all fours searching._] We're +dirt, that's what we are--dirt. + +MARTIN. [_Reprovingly._] William, I've told you before-- + +WILLIAM. Very sorry, Mr. Martin, but this is the first time I've accepted +an engagement at a stockbroker's. [_He has been crawling round the +curtains at the back, shaking them; pulling hard at one of them he +dislodges the lower part._] Lor! _Now_ I've done it! + +SMITHERS. Clumsy! + +MARTIN. [_Severely._] That comes of too much talk Never mind the +curtain--go on looking. + + [WILLIAM _drops on to his hands and knees again;_ HARVEY WESTERN + _comes into the room, perturbed and restless. He is a + well-preserved man of fifty._ + +HARVEY. I say--not found it? + +MARTIN. Not yet, sir. + +HARVEY. Nuisance. _Must_ be here, you know. + +MARTIN. Is it a very valuable one, sir? + +HARVEY. [_Who has gone to the table, and is turning things over._] No, no, +not particularly--but that's not the point. [_He looks under the table._ + +MARTIN. [_Still seeking._] When did madam find that she'd lost it, sir? + +HARVEY. Oh, about five minutes after we'd started And we've turned over +everything in the car. It's certainly not there. [_He fusses around the +table._ + +MARTIN. Is madam quite sure she was wearing it, sir? + +SMITHERS. [_Fretfully._] Yes, yes, of course she was wearing it. I put it +on her myself. + +MARTIN. Where did madam put her cloak on, sir? + +SMITHERS. In here. I brought it in. + +MARTIN. You didn't notice whether-- + +SMITHERS. No. Don't you think if we moved _all_ the rugs-- + + [_She moves across the room and joins_ WILLIAM, _who is still + grovelling on the floor, and goes on her knees by his side._ + +HARVEY. It must be here _somewhere._ + + [_They are all searching furiously_--WILLIAM _by the windows, + peering into the spaces between the wall and the carpets,_ MARTIN + _at the sideboard,_ SMITHERS _gathering the rugs together, all on + their hands and knees, while_ HARVEY, _bent double, is looking + under the table._ MRS. WESTERN _comes in stonily, followed by + the_ JUDGE _and_ MRS. BANKET. MRS. WESTERN _is a handsome woman + of forty-five, with a rather stern, cold face; the_ JUDGE, _a + somewhat corpulent, genial man of fifty-five; and his wife, an + amiable nullity, seven or eight years younger. They are all in + evening-dress, the ladies in opera-cloaks._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Pausing on the threshold._] Well! + +HARVEY. [_Rising and dusting himself._] No trace of it. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Looking around._] A nice mess you've made of the room! + +MARTIN. You told us to look, Madam. + +JUDGE. [_Going to the fire and standing with his back to it._] I'm afraid +we'll be shockingly late, Alice. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Firmly._] I don't go without my bracelet. + + [_She goes to the table, and proceeds to shift the cups and + glasses._ + +MRS. BANKET. [_Moving to the other side of the table, and doing the +same._] Quite right, dear--I wouldn't. + + [_They all search, except the_ JUDGE, _who shrugs his shoulders + placidly, then takes a cigarette from his case, and lights it. + The three servants still are grovelling on the floor._ + +MRS. WESTERN. I _know_ I had it while I was drinking my coffee-- + +JUDGE. My experience is, one should never look for things. They find +themselves. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Shortly._] Nonsense. + +JUDGE. A fact. Or at least one should _pretend_ to be looking for +something else. My glasses now. When I lose them I declare loudly I can't +find my cigar-case. That disheartens the glasses--they return at once. + +MRS. BANKET. [_Reproachfully._] Don't be so irritating, Tom! + +JUDGE. That's all very well, but how about me? I was asked here to dine. +I've dined--I'm not complaining about the dinner. But now the curtain's +up--and here am I watching half-a-dozen people looking very hard for a +thing that isn't there. + +MRS. BANKET. Tom, Tom, it's those laughs you get in Court that make you so +fond of talking. Don't you see how you're vexing your sister? + +MRS. WESTERN. Oh, I'm used to Tom. Harvey, I think you might be looking. + +HARVEY. My dear, I've been turning round and round in this corner like a +bird in a cage. + +MARTIN. [_Who all this time, like the other servants, has been crawling +around the different articles of furniture in the room, suddenly rises to +his feet and addresses his mistress firmly but respectfully._] It's not +here, madam. + + [_The other servants also rise; and stand, each in their corner._ + +JUDGE. That, I imagine, is perfectly clear; and I congratulate the witness +on the manner in which he has given his evidence. [_He throws his +cigarette into the fire and steps forward._] Now, my dear Alice-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sitting doggedly in the chair in front of the table and +proceeding to pull off her gloves._ I don't go without my bracelet. + +JUDGE. Heaven forbid that I should speak slightingly of a gift of +Harvey's--but really it isn't of such priceless value. + +MRS. WESTERN. That has nothing to do with it. + +MRS. BANKET. Of course not. Oh, these men! + +HARVEY. [_Stepping forward._] Tom's right. Let's go. Look here, I'll get +you another. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Drily._] Thanks--I want _that_ one.--Smithers, and you, +William, just look again in the hall. + +SMITHERS. Yes, m'm. + +MRS. WESTERN. And then help the chauffeur--turn out _everything_ in the +car. + +SMITHERS. Yes, m'm. + +MRS. WESTERN. Bring the rugs into the house, and shake them. + +SMITHERS. Yes, m'm. [_She and_ WILLIAM _go._ + +JUDGE. [_Going hack to the fire._] Sumptuary laws--that's what we want. If +women didn't wear bracelets, they couldn't lose them. + +MRS. WESTERN. Martin, William is honest, isn't he? + +HARVEY. [_Protesting._] Oh, hang it, Alice! + +MARTIN. Quite, madam--excellent character--a little flighty, but a most +respectable young man. + +MRS. WESTERN. I've seen him reading a sporting paper. + +JUDGE. A weakness, my dear Alice, common to the best of us, I do it +myself sometimes, but I'm willing to be searched. + +MRS. BANKET. O Tom, _do_ be quiet! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_To the_ JUDGE.] You're very unsympathetic. [_Turning to_ +MARTIN _again._] None of the other servants came in after we left? + +MARTIN. No, madam. + +MRS. WESTERN. You're sure? + +MARTIN. Quite sure, madam. They were all downstairs, having their supper. + +MRS. WESTERN. Most mysterious! Incomprehensible! + +JUDGE. [_Looking at his watch._] Past nine! We shall plunge into the +play--like body-snatchers, looking for the corpse of the plot--and we +shall never know what it was that the heroine did. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Ignoring him, to_ MARTIN.] Smithers I'll answer for. + +MARTIN. Oh yes, madam. If I _might_ make a suggestion-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Well? + +MARTIN. It couldn't have fallen anywhere into your dress, madam? + +MRS. WESTERN. Nonsense, how could it? [_She gets up and shakes herself._] +Absurd. [_She sits again._ + +MARTIN. Into your cloak? + +MRS. WESTERN. Silk! No. That'll do, Martin. You might help the others +outside. [MARTIN _goes._ + +JUDGE. [_With a step forward._] Now, admirable sister-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Didn't it strike you that Martin's manner was rather +strange? + +HARVEY. [_Fretfully._] Really you _must_ not suspect the servants! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning to him._] _Must_ not--must! That's scarcely the +way to speak to me, Harvey. + +HARVEY. [_Deprecatingly._] My dear-- + +MRS. WESTERN. And I wasn't suspecting--I was merely asking a question of +my brother. + +JUDGE. Come, Alice, let's go. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Shaking her head._] You three go. You'll excuse me. + +JUDGE. [_Cheerfully._] If you insist-- + +MRS. BANKET. [_Coming forward._] No, no. _Do_ come, Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. I can't--I'm so puzzled. [_With a sudden idea._] Oh! + +HARVEY. [_Who is behind her to the left, between her and the_ JUDGE.] +What? Have you found it? + +MRS. WESTERN. No, no--of course not. But ring, please, will you? + +HARVEY. Why? + +MRS. WESTERN, I want you to ring. [_He presses the bell by the +fireplace._] I just remember Miss Farren came in while we were having +coffee. + +HARVEY. [_Indignantly._] Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. I asked her to write a card to Harrod's--she'll have written +it in here. + +HARVEY. [_Angrily._] I say--really! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Coldly._] No need to snub me again--before our guests! I +need scarcely say I am not _suspecting_ Miss Farren--but in justice to +her-- + +MRS. BANKET. But, Alice, she'll have gone out--you told her she might-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Only to her sister's close by--and she may not have gone +yet. Why don't they answer the bell? Ring again, Harvey. + +JUDGE. The poor things are still searching. + +HARVEY. [_Firmly._] Alice, I protest, I do indeed-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Don't be so foolishly sentimental--it's ridiculous at your +age. The young woman is in my employ, as governess to my children. [MARTIN +_comes in._] Has Miss Farren gone out yet? + +MARTIN. No, madam. I believe she's in her room, dressing. + +MRS. WESTERN. Ask her to come. + +MARTIN. Yes, madam. [_He goes._ + +JUDGE. [_Shaking his head._] No sense of proportion, that's the +truth--they've no sense of proportion. + +MRS. BANKET. Tom! + +JUDGE. A fact, my dear--but you can't help it. You've every quality in the +world but just that--you _will_ always look through the wrong end of the +telescope. + +MRS. BANKET. Really, Tom, this isn't the moment for your nonsense--and if +you only knew how stupid you are when you try to be funny! + +HARVEY. [_Going nervously to_ MRS. WESTERN.] I say, I really do think-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Roughly._] I don't care _what_ you think. Leave me alone! + + [_There is silence. The_ JUDGE, _sitting by the fire, whistles + loudly "Waltz me around again, Willie!"_ HARVEY _has gone moodily + across the room and stands by the sideboard._ MRS. BANKET _is + sitting behind the table. After a moment the door opens, and_ + MISS FARREN _comes in, with hat and cloak on, and goes straight + to_ MRS. WESTERN. _She is an extremely pretty girl of twenty._ + +MISS FARREN. You want me, Mrs. Western? + +MRS. WESTERN. Oh, Miss Farren, I've lost my bracelet. + +MISS FARREN. Really! I'm so sorry! Where? + +MRS. WESTERN. I don't know. You didn't see it, of course, after we'd gone? + +MISS FARREN. [_Shaking her head._] No--and no one came in. I was writing +the letter to Harrod's. + +MRS. WESTERN. No one at all? + +MISS FARREN. No--I'm sure of that. And I'd hardly got to my room when I +heard the car come back. + +MRS. WESTERN. Well, thank you, Miss Farren. + +MISS FARREN. It's very annoying. You're sure it's not in the car? + +JUDGE. My dear Miss Farren, it's not in the car, it's not anywhere, and +I'm beginning to believe it never was at all. Come, Alice, let's go. We +shan't see much of the play, but we can at least help the British drama by +buying two programmes. + +MISS FARREN. [_With a light laugh--then turning to_ MRS. WESTERN _again._] +Do you want me any more, Mrs. Western? + +MRS. WESTERN. No, thanks. [MISS FARREN _turns to go_--MRS. WESTERN, _who +has suddenly cast an eager glance at her, as though attracted by +something, calls her back._] Oh, Miss Farren! + +MISS FARREN. [_Turning._] Yes? + +MRS. WESTERN. I wonder whether you'd be so good as to shift this aigrette +of mine--it's hurting me. + +MISS FARREN. Certainly. + + [_She comes back to_ MRS. WESTERN, _and stands by her side; as + she raises her arm_ MRS. WESTERN _jumps up and seizes it by the + wrist._ + +MRS. WESTERN. My bracelet! + + [_Keeping a tight hold of_ MISS FARREN'S _wrist, she holds it at + arm's length. There is a general cry of amazement--the_ JUDGE + _and his wife start to their feet_--HARVEY _rushes eagerly + towards her._ + +JUDGE. Alice! + +MRS. BANKET. Oh! + +HARVEY. No, no-- + + [_These three exclamations are simultaneous._ + +MRS. WESTERN. There it is! She took it! + +JUDGE. Are you sure? + +HARVEY. [_Breathless and urgent._] Alice-- + +MISS FARREN. [_Recovering from her shock and bewilderment._] Mrs. Western, +it isn't-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sternly, still holding the girl by the wrist._] You dare +to pretend-- + +HARVEY. [_Who is now at the back of his wife's chair, looking closely at +the bracelet._] Let me look, let me look.... I say, Alice, you're wrong. +It's not yours at all. The setting's different. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Angrily._] What do you mean, different? You think I don't +know my own bracelet? Are you mad? I say it's mine--and it is! + +JUDGE. [_Stepping forward._] Alice, be careful-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Careful! You're as bad as he! Of course the thing's +mine--I've been wearing it for weeks--and you think I can make a mistake? +She found it, and took it. + +MISS FARREN. [_Very distressed._] No, no, Mrs. Western, really! It isn't +yours! I assure you! + +HARVEY. Alice, I declare to you-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Roughly._] Be quiet and go away. This is no business of +yours. + +HARVEY. [_Eagerly._] But it is! It was I who bought the wretched +thing--well, I am prepared to swear that this isn't the one! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_A little shaken, looking at it again._] You're prepared +to.... [_She lifts her head._] How can you talk such utter nonsense? There +is not the least doubt--not the least! + +JUDGE. [_Stopping_ HARVEY, _who is about to protest violently._] Alice, +mind what you're saying. You'll get yourself into trouble. If Harvey +says-- + +MRS. BANKET. [_Contemptuously._] He's saying it to shield her, that's all. + +HARVEY. [_Indignantly._] I'm not. It's not true. But you mustn't bring +such an accusation. It's monstrous. And I won't allow-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Drawing herself up._] You--won't--allow! The girl takes my +bracelet--and you won't allow! + +Miss FARREN. [_Trying to free herself._] Mrs. Western, I haven't, I +haven't! + +JUDGE. [_Impressively._] Alice, will you listen to me? + +MRS. WESTERN. No, I won't! This doesn't concern you, or any one, but me +and this girl! Look at her--she knows! + +MISS FARREN. Mrs. Western, you're hurting my arm.... + +MRS. WESTERN. Come now--confess! I won't be hard on you if you confess-- + + [_She wrenches off the bracelet, and releases the girl, who + staggers back, nursing her wrist._ + +HARVEY. [_Almost beside himself, stamping his foot._] Alice, Alice, will +you hear-- + +MISS FARREN. Oh, you _have_ hurt me! And you've no right--to say such +things.... + +HARVEY. No, you haven't, you haven't! + +MRS. WESTERN. Besides, a bracelet like that! [_She holds it up. To_ MISS +FARREN.] You won't confess? Very well, then. I'll send for a policeman. + +HARVEY. [_Doggedly._] The bracelet is hers. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Jeeringly._] Turquoise and emeralds! Hers! A coincidence, +perhaps. Very likely. I'll give her in charge at once. + +HARVEY. The bracelet is hers, I tell you. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning furiously on him._] You dare to say that? + +HARVEY. [_Steadily._] Yes. Because I myself--gave it to her. + + [_There is a moment's almost stupefied silence;_ HARVEY _and_ + ALICE _are face to face._ MISS FARREN _to the left of her,_ MRS. + BANKET _is still at the back, the_ JUDGE _by the fire._ MRS. + WESTERN _breaks the silence._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sternly._] You--gave--it--her? + +HARVEY. [_Steadily._] Yes. + +MRS. WESTERN. You ask me to believe that you gave a bracelet to--this +person--my children's governess? + +HARVEY. I did. + +MRS. WESTERN. An exact copy of the one you gave me? + +HARVEY. I've told you--it's not an exact copy--there's a difference in the +setting. + +MRS. BANKET. Nonsense, nonsense, it can't be--he's just saying this-- + +JUDGE. Fanny, don't interfere. + +HARVEY. I'm saying what's true. + +MRS. WESTERN. I refuse to believe it. It's incredible. You've not sunk so +low as that. It's a lie. + +HARVEY. [_Indignantly._] Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. Yes, a lie. A trumped-up story. The girl has taken it-- + +MISS FARREN. I have not! + +MRS. WESTERN. You can tell that to the magistrate--[_She turns to_ HARVEY] +and you too, if you like. [_She moves to the bell._ + +JUDGE. [_Putting out a hand to stop her._] Alice-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Leave me alone, Tom. I know what I'm doing. I'll send for a +policeman. + +HARVEY. [_Imploringly._] Alice, Alice-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Pausing, with her hand on the bell._] I'll let the girl +off, if you'll tell me the truth. + +HARVEY. I _have_ told you the truth. + +MRS. WESTERN. You persist in this silly falsehood? + +HARVEY. It isn't--I tell you it isn't! + +MRS. WESTERN. Very well, then. + + [_She presses the bell. At that moment the door bursts open, and_ + MARTIN _comes in triumphantly, with the bracelet on a salver._ + SMITHERS _and_ WILLIAM _are behind him, but do not pass beyond + the threshold._ + +MARTIN. [_Eagerly._] Ma'am, ma'am, we've found the-- + + [MRS. WESTERN _has turned towards him, still holding the other + bracelet in her hand._ MARTIN _catches sight of it, and stops dead + short, staring bewilderedly at it._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly._] Where did you find it? + + [_She takes the bracelet off the salver and lays it on the + table._ + +MARTIN. [_With a great effort._] It had fallen into the pocket of the +car--there was a hole in the pocket--it had worked its way right down into +the body. + +MRS. WESTERN. Very well. Thank you. + + [MARTIN _goes; the other servants have already slunk off. There + is a moment's silence._ MRS. WESTERN _suddenly flings the + bracelet she has in her hand in_ MISS FARREN'S _direction._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Contemptuously._] Here. I return you your property. And +now pack up your things and leave the house. + +HARVEY. [_Who has stepped forward and picked up the bracelet, standing +between_ MRS. WESTERN _and_ MISS FARREN.] No. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Staring at him._] What? + +HARVEY. [_Violently._] I say, No! + +MRS. WESTERN. I have told the girl to leave my house. + +HARVEY. _My_ house--mine! And she shall stay in it! Or, at least, when she +goes, it shall be without the slightest stain or suspicion-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Scornfully._] I am not accusing her of theft. + +HARVEY. But you are insinuating--I declare solemnly before you all-- + +JUDGE. [_Interposing._] Harvey, one moment.... I am sure that Miss Farren +would rather go to her room.... + +MISS FARREN. Yes. + +HARVEY. By all means. Here, take your bracelet. [_He gives it to her._] +But you don't leave this house--you understand that? _I_ am master here. + + [MISS FARREN _goes quietly._ + +JUDGE. Now just listen to me, both of you. Be calm--all this excitement +won't help. Harvey, you too. You and Alice will have your explanation-- + +MRS. WESTERN. If the girl doesn't go to-night-- + +HARVEY. I tell you again she shall not! And there's no need. I was a fool +to give her that bracelet--she didn't want to take it-- + +MRS. BANKET. Why _did_ you? + +HARVEY. I had given Alice one on her birthday. + +MRS. WESTERN. Well? + +HARVEY. And so I got _her_ one. + +MRS. WESTERN. Why? + +HARVEY. Because--[_He stops, very embarrassed._] + +MRS. WESTERN. Well? + +HARVEY. Because--oh, because--well, she admired it--and _she_ liked pretty +things too.... + +MRS. WESTERN. I don't think you need say anything more. + +MRS. BANKET. No. He needn't. It's clear enough! + +HARVEY. [_Eagerly._] Look here, on my honour--I _am_ fond of her, of +course, in a way--but I'm old enough to be her father--and I swear to you +all--I've seen her about, of course, a good deal--and I gave her that +thing--but beyond that, nothing, nothing! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sitting, and with a shrug of the shoulder._] A ridiculous +fairy tale! + +JUDGE. My dear Alice, take my advice, and believe your husband. + +MRS. WESTERN. You too! + +MRS. BANKET. All alike, when there's a pretty face! + +JUDGE. Let her find another situation, by all means.... But to turn a girl +out, at a moment's notice! You couldn't. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning to the_ JUDGE.] You are really suggesting that I +should sleep under the same roof with-- + +JUDGE. [_Almost sternly._] You are condemning, without the slightest +evidence. And condemning, remember, an utterly defenceless creature. This +girl has a claim on you: were your suspicions justified, she-would _still_ +have a claim. + +MRS. WESTERN. Indeed! + +MRS. BANKET. The nonsense he talks! It's really too silly! + +JUDGE. You are extraordinary, you women! You exact such rigid morality +from the governess and the housemaid! You're full of excuses when it's one +of yourselves! + +MRS. BANKET. [_Indignantly._] Tom! + +JUDGE. Well, that's true--we all know it! And here--I believe every word +Harvey has said. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Scarcely believing her ears._] You do! + +JUDGE. Because he is a man of honour, and men of honour have their code. +Their children's governess ... is safe. You will do well to believe it, +too. Now, Fanny, we'll go. Be sensible, Alice--I tell you again, Harvey's +right; the girl must not be--summarily dismissed: it would be an act of +cruel injustice. Good-bye. [_He offers to kiss her--she turns away._] As +you like. Good-bye, Harvey, old man. + +HARVEY. Good-bye, Tom. [_They shake hands._] And thank you. + +MRS. BANKET. [_Kissing_ MRS. WESTERN.] My poor, dear Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. Good-bye, Fanny. I'm sorry that our party to-night-- + +MRS. BANKET. Oh, that doesn't matter! Poor thing! I promise you that Tom +shall have a good talking to! + + [_She is too angry with_ HARVEY _to say good-bye to him: she and + the_ JUDGE _go. The moment the door closes,_ HARVEY _begins, + feverishly and passionately._ + +HARVEY. Now just listen. I'm going to speak to you--I'm going to say +things--things that have been in my heart, in my life, for years. I'm not +going to spare you, I'm going to tell you the truth, and the truth, and +the truth! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly, looking ironically at him._] If it's the same kind +of truth you've been giving us to-night-- + +HARVEY. We've been married ten years. Oh, I know, we were neither of us +very young. But anyhow the last five have been nothing but misery for me. +Misery--do you hear that? You sitting there, calm and collected--not +caring one damn for me-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Quietly._] That's not true. + +HARVEY. It is, and you know it. The mother of my children! Satisfied with +that. Never a word of kindness, or sympathy. And as for--affection! + +MRS. WESTERN. We're not sweethearts--we're middle-aged people. + +HARVEY. Well, I need something more. And, look here, I'll tell you. This +girl has made life worth living. That's all. I'd come home at night +dog-tired, all day in the City--sick of it, Stock Exchange, office, and +the mud and the grime and the worry--there were you, with a nod, ah, +Harvey, good evening--and you'd scarcely look up from your Committee +Report or your Blue-book, or damned pamphlet or other-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Contemptuously._] You are one of the men who want their +wife to be a mere sort of doll. + +HARVEY. [_More and more vehemently._] I want my wife to care for me! I +want her to smile when I come in, and be glad--I want her to love me! You +don't! By the Lord, I've sneaked upstairs, gone in and had a peep at the +children--well, they'd be asleep. I tell you I've been hungry, hungry, for +a word, for a look! And there, in the schoolroom, was this girl. I've +played it low down, I know--she's fond of me. But I couldn't help it--I +was lonely--that's what it was. I've gone up there night after night. +_You_ didn't know where I was--and you didn't care. In my study, you +thought--the cold, chilly box that you call my study--glad to have me out +of the way. Well, there I was, with this girl. It was something to look +forward to, in the cab, coming home. It was something to catch hold of, +when things went wrong, in that dreary grind of money-making. Her eyes lit +up when they saw me. She'd ask me about things--if I coughed, she'd fuss +me--she had pretty ways, and was pleased, oh, pleased beyond words, if I +brought her home something-- + +MRS. WESTERN. So this isn't the first time! + +HARVEY. [_With a snarl._] No, of course not! She admired that bracelet of +yours--by Jove, I said to myself, I'll get her one like it! Whatever I +brought home to _you_ you'd scarcely say thank you--and usually it went +into the drawer--I'd such shocking bad taste! _She'd_ beam! Well, as +ill-luck would have it, you took a fancy to this one. I told her she +mustn't wear hers-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly and cuttingly._] Conspiring behind my back. + +HARVEY. [_Raging._] Oh, if you knew what has gone on behind your back! +Not when I was with her--when I was alone! The things I've said about +you--to myself! When I thought of this miserable life that had to be +dragged on here, thought of your superior smile, your damnable cruelty-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Genuinely surprised._] Cruelty! Why? + +HARVEY. What else? I'd go up to you timidly--bah, why talk of it? To you +I've been the machine that made money--money to pay for the house, and the +car, and the dressmakers' bills--a machine that had to be fed--and when +you'd done that, you'd done all. Well, there was this girl-- + +MRS. WESTERN. You had your children. + +HARVEY. A boy of seven and a girl of five--in bed when I came home--and +_your_ children much more than mine--I'm a stranger to them! And anyhow, I +wanted something more--something human, alive--that only a woman can give. +And she gave it. Nothing between us, I swear--but just that. As Tom says, +I've not been such a cur--and _you_ ought to know me well enough, after +all these years!... But there is the truth--she's fond of me: she is, it's +a fact. And I _needed_ that fondness--it has kept me going. And now--do +you think I'll let her be thrust out into the street? + + [_As he says these last words he drops into a chair, facing her, + and looks fiercely and doggedly at her._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly._] Stop now, and listen to me. I've let you rattle +on. Will you hear me for one moment? + +HARVEY. Go on. + +MRS. WESTERN. All those things you've said about me--[_With a shrug._] +Well, what's the use? I suppose we're like most married people when they +come to our age. I've interests of my own, that don't appeal to you-- + +HARVEY. Blue-books and Committees! + +MRS. WESTERN. I do useful work--oh yes, you may sneer--you always have +sneered! If a woman tries to do something sensible with her life, instead +of cuddling and kissing you all day, she's cold and cruel. We've drifted +apart--well, your fault as much as mine. More, perhaps--but it's no good +going into that--no good making reproaches. That's how things are--we must +make the best of them. Wait, let me finish. About this girl. Granted that +what you say is true--and I'm inclined to believe it-- + +HARVEY. [_Genuinely grateful._] At least thank you for that! + +MRS. WESTERN. Or at any rate it's better policy to believe it, for every +one's sake-- + +HARVEY. [_Bitterly._] That's right--that's more like you! + +MRS. WESTERN. We gain nothing by abusing each other. And I didn't +interrupt _you._ Let's look facts in the face. Here we are, we two--tied. + +HARVEY. [_With a groan._] Yes. + +MRS. WESTERN. With our two children. If it weren't for them.... Well, +we've _got_ to remain together. Now there's this girl. It's quite evident, +after what you've said, that she can't stop here-- + +HARVEY. [_Jumping to his feet._] She shall! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Fretfully._] Oh, do be a man, and drop this mawkish +sentiment! You say she's fond of you--you've _made_ her fond of you. Was +this a very pretty thing--for a man of your age to do? + +HARVEY. [_Sullenly, as he drops back into his chair._] Never mind my age. + +MRS. WESTERN. Very well then--for a married man? + +HARVEY. An unhappy man. + +MRS. WESTERN. Even granting that--though if you're unhappy it's your own +fault--I've always been urging you to go on the County Council--What's +to become of the girl, if she stops here? + +HARVEY. [_Desperately._] I don't know--but I can't let her go--I tell you +I can't! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Scarcely able to conceal her disgust._] Oh, if you knew +how painful it is to hear you whining like this! It's pitiable, really! In +the girl's own interest--how can she stop? + +HARVEY. She must. I can't let her be turned out. It would break her heart. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning right round, and staring at him._] What? + +HARVEY. [_Doggedly._] Yes--it would. She's very fond of me, that's the +truth. I know that I've been to blame--but it's too late for that now. +She's romantic, of course--what you'd call sentimental. I dare say I've +played on her feelings--she saw I was lonely. She has a side that you've +never suspected--a tender, sensitive side--she has ideals.... Well, do you +realise what it would mean, with a girl like that? No one knows her as I +do. I'm quite startled sometimes, to find how fond she is of me. Oh, have +some sympathy! It's difficult, I know--it's terribly difficult. But she +loves me--that's the truth--and a young girl's love--why, she might throw +herself into the river! Oh yes, you smile--but she might! What do _you_ +know of life, with your Blue-books? Anyhow, I daren't risk it. +By-and-by--there's no hurry, is there? And I put it to you--be merciful! +You're not the ordinary woman--you have a brain--you're not conventional. +Don't act like the others. Don't drive this girl out of the house. It +would end in tragedy. Believe it! + +MRS. WESTERN. You can't really expect me to keep a girl here, as governess +to my children, who, as you say, is in love with you. + +HARVEY. [_Pleading._] I expect you--I'm asking you--to help her--and me. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Shaking her head._] That's too much. We won't turn her out +to-night--I'll give her a reference, and all that-- + +HARVEY. [_Springing to his feet again._] Alice, I can't let her go! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Conciliatorily._] Ask Tom, ask any one-- + +HARVEY. [_More and more passionately._] I tell you, I can't let her go! + +MRS. WESTERN. Be sensible, Harvey--you must realise yourself there's no +alternative-- + +HARVEY. [_With a violent and uncontrollable outburst._] I vow and declare +to you--if she goes, I go too! And the consequences will be on your head! + + [MRS. WESTERN _has also risen--they stand face to face, looking + at each other--and for a moment there is silence. The door opens, + and_ MISS FARREN _comes in, dressed as before. She walks straight + to_ MRS. WESTERN. + +MISS FARREN. Mrs. Western, my things are packed, and on the cab-- + +HARVEY. [_Wildly._] My poor child, you're _not_ to go--I told you. + +MISS FARREN. [_With a demure glance at him, stopping him as he is moving +towards her._] Of course I must--I can't stay here--that's not possible. +My sister will take me in for to-night. + +MRS. WESTERN. Miss Farren, my husband has explained to me--I withdraw +all-- + +MISS FARREN. [_Carelessly._] Oh, that's all right--though thank you all +the same. And it really doesn't matter much. I was going to give notice +to-morrow anyway-- + +HARVEY. [_Starting violently._] What! + +MISS FARREN. Well, I put it off as long as I could, Mr. Western, because +... But the fact is I'm going on the stage--musical comedy-- + +HARVEY. [_Breathless, staggering back._] You--are--going-- + +MISS FARREN. I've accepted an engagement--oh, I'm only to be a show-girl +at first--but they believe I'll do well. They've been wanting me some +time. And my _fiancé_ has persuaded me. + +HARVEY. [_Collapsing utterly, dropping into the chair by the fire._] +Your-- + +MISS FARREN. [_Gravely._] My _fiancé_--yes. He's one of the comic men +there. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Who has been watching them both with an unmoved face._] +I'll write a cheque for your salary, Miss Farren. + + [_She goes to the desk at back._ + +MISS FARREN. [_Coquettishly, to_ HARVEY.] I ought to have told you, I +know, Mr. Western. But it _was_ so dull here--and you've been most awfully +good to me. I can never be sufficiently grateful. + +HARVEY. [_With difficulty, his face turned away._] Don't mention it. And I +hope you'll be happy. + +MISS FARREN. [_Lightly._] Thank you. I mean to try! + + [MRS. WESTERN _returns with a cheque which she hands to_ MISS + FARREN. + +MRS. WESTERN. Here, Miss Farren. + +MISS FARREN. [_Putting it into her bag._] Thank you so much. Good-bye. + +MRS. WESTERN. If you should ever need a reference, don't be afraid to-- + +MISS FARREN. Oh, thanks, no more governessing for me. Good-bye! + + [_She trips out, without another glance at_ HARVEY, _who sits + huddled by the fire._ MRS. WESTERN _moves slowly to the door. At + the threshold she pauses, turns, and looks at_ HARVEY. + +MRS. WESTERN. I'll take care that the next governess--shall be quite as +pretty as this one, Harvey. + + [_She opens the door and goes._ HARVEY _doesn't stir._ + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Little Plays, by Alfred Sutro + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14519 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5806a6a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14519 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14519) diff --git a/old/14519-8.txt b/old/14519-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d395969 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14519-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4045 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Little Plays, by Alfred Sutro + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Five Little Plays + +Author: Alfred Sutro + +Release Date: December 29, 2004 [EBook #14519] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIVE LITTLE PLAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Diane Monico and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +FIVE LITTLE PLAYS + + + + +FIVE LITTLE PLAYS + +BY ALFRED SUTRO + + +BRENTANO +NEW YORK 1922 + +_Printed in Great Britain +by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE MAN IN THE STALLS + +A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED.... + +THE MAN ON THE KERB + +THE OPEN DOOR + +THE BRACELET + + + + +THE MAN IN THE STALLS + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +HECTOR ALLEN +ELIZABETH ALLEN (BETTY) +WALTER COZENS + + +_This play was produced +at the Palace Theatre +on October 6, 1911_ + + + +THE MAN IN THE STALLS + + +_The sitting-room of a little flat in Shaftesbury Avenue. At back + is a door leading to the dining-room--it is open, and the + dinner-table is in full view of the audience. To the extreme + right is another door, leading to the hall._ + + _The place is pleasantly and prettily, though quite + inexpensively, furnished. To the left, at angles with the + distempered wall, is a baby-grand piano; the fireplace, in which + a fire is burning merrily, is on the same side, full centre. To + the right of the door leading to the dining-room is a small + side-table, on which there is a tray with decanter and glasses; + in front of this, a card-table, open, with two packs of cards on + it, and chairs on each side. Another table, a round one, is in + the centre of the room--to right and to left of it are + comfortable armchairs. Against the right wall is a long sofa; + above it hang a few good, water-colours and engravings; on the + piano and the table there are flowers. A general appearance of + refinement and comfort pervades the room; no luxury, but evidence + everywhere of good taste, and the countless feminine touches that + make a room homelike and pleasant._ + + _When the curtain rises,_ HECTOR ALLEN, _a youngish man of + forty, with an attractive intellectual face, is seen standing by + the dining-table in the inner room, draining his liqueur-glass, + with_ WALTER COZENS _to the right of him, lighting a cigarette._ + WALTER _is a few years younger than his friend, moderately + good-looking, with fine, curly brown hair and a splendid silky + moustache. His morning-clothes are conspicuously well-cut--he is + evidently something of a dandy;_ HECTOR _wears a rather shabby + dress-suit, his boots are awkward, and his tie ready-made._ + BETTY, _a handsome woman of thirty, wearing a very pretty + tea-gown, is talking to the maid at the back of the dining-room._ + + HECTOR _puts down his glass and comes into the sitting-room, + followed by_ WALTER. HECTOR _is puffing at a short, stumpy little + black cigar._ + +HECTOR [_Talking as he comes through, continuing the conversation--he +walks to the fireplace and stands with his back to it._] I tell you, if +I'd known what it meant, I'd never have taken the job! Sounded so fine, to +be reader of plays for the Duke's Theatre--adviser to the great Mr. +Honeyswill! And then--when the old man said I was to go to all the first +nights--why, I just chortled! "It's the first nights that show you the +grip of the thing--that teach you most"--he said. Teach you! As though +there were anything to learn! Oh my stars! I tell you, it's a dog's life! + +WALTER. [_Sitting to left of the round table._] I'd change places with +you, sonny. + +HECTOR. You would, eh? That's what they all say! Four new plays this week, +my lad--one yesterday, one to-day--another to-morrow, and the night after! +All day long I'm _reading_ plays--and I spend my nights seeing 'em! D'you +know I read about two thousand a year? Divide two thousand by three +hundred and sixty five. A dog's life--that's what it is! + +WALTER. Better than being a stockbroker's clerk--you believe _me!_ + +HECTOR. Is it? I wish _you_ could have a turn at it, my bonny boy! _Your_ +hair'd go grey, like mine! And look here--what are the plays to-day? +They're either so chock-full of intellect that they send you to sleep--or +they reek of sentiment till you yearn for the smell of a cabbage! + +WALTER. Well, you've the change, at any rate. + +HECTOR. [_Snorting._] Change? By Jove, give me a Punch and Judy show on +the sands--or performing dogs! Plays--I'm sick of 'em! And look here--the +one I'm off to to-night. It's adapted from the French--well, we know what +_that_ means. Husband, wife and mistress. Or wife, husband, lover. That's +what a French play means. And you make it English, and pass the Censor, by +putting the lady in a mackintosh, and dumping in a curate! + +BETTY. [_Coming in, and closing the door leading to the dining-room._] You +ought to be going, Hector. + + [_She, stands listening for a moment, then goes through the other + door into the hall._ + +HECTOR. [_Disregarding her, too intent on his theme._] And I tell you, of +the two, I prefer the home-made stodge. I'm sick of the eternal triangle. +They always do the same thing. Husband strikes attitudes--sometimes he +strikes the lover. The lover never stands up to him--why shouldn't he? He +would--in real life. [BETTY _comes back, with his overcoat and +muffler--she proceeds affectionately to wrap this round his neck, and +helps him on with his coat, he talking all the time._] He'd say, look +here, you go to Hell. _That's_ what he'd say--well, there you'd have a +situation. But not one of the playwriting chaps dares do it. Why not, I +ask you? There you'd have truth, something big. But no--they're +afraid--think the public won't like it. The husband's got to down the +lover--like a big tom-cat with a mouse--or the author'd have to sell one +of his motor-cars! That's just the fact of it! + +BETTY. [_Looking at the clock on the mantelpiece._] Twenty-five past, +Hector. + +HECTOR. [_Cheerily._] All right, my lass, I'm off. By-bye, Walter--keep the +old woman company for a bit. Good-bye, sweetheart. [_He kisses her._] +Don't wait up. Now for the drama. Oh, the dog's life! + + [_He goes._ BETTY _waits till the hall door has banged, then she + sits on the elbow of_ WALTER'S _chair, and rests her head on his + shoulder._ + +BETTY. [_Softly._] Poor Hector! + +WALTER. [_Uncomfortably._] ... Yes ... + +BETTY. Doesn't it make you feel dreadful when he talks like that? [_She +kisses him; then puts her arms round his neck, draws his face to her, and +kisses him again, on the cheek._] Doesn't it? + + [_She nestles contentedly closer to him._ + +WALTER. [_Trying to edge away._] Well, it does. Yes. + +BETTY. [_Dreamily._] I--like it. + +WALTER. Betty! + +BETTY. Yes, I like it. I don't know why. I suppose I'm frightfully wicked. +Or the danger perhaps--I don't know. + +WALTER. [_Making a futile effort to get up._] Betty-- + +BETTY. [_Tightening her arms around him._] Stop there, and don't move. How +smooth your chin is--_his_ scrapes. Why don't husbands shave better? Or is +it that the forbidden chin is always smoother? Poor old Hector! If he +could see us! He hasn't a suspicion. I think it's lovely--really, I do. He +leaves us here together, night after night, and imagines you're teaching +me bridge. + +WALTER. [_Restlessly._] So I am. Where are the cards? + +BETTY. [_Caressing him._] Silly, have you forgotten that this is +Tuesday--Maggie's night out? She's gone--I told her she needn't wait to +clear away. We've arranged master's supper. Master! _You're_ my master, +aren't you? + +WALTER. ... I don't know what I am ... + +BETTY. Oh yes you do--you're my boy. Whom I love. There. [_She kisses him +again, full on the lips._] That was a nice one, wasn't it? Poor old +Hector, sitting in his stall--thinks he's so wonderful, knows such a lot! +Yes, Maggie's out--with _her_ young man, I suppose. The world's full of +women, with their young men--and husbands sitting in the stalls.... And I +suppose that's how it always has been, and always will be. + +WALTER. [_Shifting uneasily._] Don't, Betty--I don't like it. I mean, he +has such confidence in us. + +BETTY. Of course he has. And quite rightly. Aren't you his oldest friend? + +WALTER. [_With something of a groan._] I've known him since I was seven. + +BETTY. The first man he introduced me to--his best man at the wedding--do +you remember coming to see us during the honeymoon? I liked you _then._ + +WALTER. [_Really shocked._] Betty! + +BETTY. I did. You had a way of squeezing my hand.... And then when we came +back here. You know it didn't take me long to discover-- + +WALTER. [_Protesting._] I scarcely saw you the first two or three years! + +BETTY. No--you were afraid. Oh I thought you so silly! [_He suddenly +contrives to release himself--gets up, and moves to the card-table._] Why, +what's the matter? + +WALTER. [_At the table, with his back to her._] I hate hearing you talk +like this. + +BETTY. Silly boy! [_She rises, and goes to him; he has taken a cigarette +out of the box on the table, and stands there, with his head bent, tapping +the cigarette against his hand._] Women only talk "like this," as you call +it, to their lovers. They talk "like that" to their husbands--and that's +why the husbands never know. That's why the husbands are always sitting in +the stalls, looking on. [_She puts her arms round him again._] Looking and +not seeing. + + [_She approaches her lips to his--he almost fretfully unclasps + her arms._ + +WALTER. Betty--I want to say a--serious word ... + +BETTY. [_Looking fondly at him._] Well, isn't what _I'm_ saying serious? + +WALTER. I'm thirty-eight. + +BETTY. Yes. I'm only thirty. But I'm not complaining. + +WALTER. Has it ever occurred to you-- + + [_He stops._ + +BETTY. What? + + [WALTER _looks at her--tries to speak, but cannot--then he breaks + away, goes across the room to the fireplace and stands for a + moment looking into the fire. She has remained where she was, her + eyes following him wonderingly. Suddenly he stamps his foot + violently._ + +WALTER. Damn it! DAMN it! + +BETTY. [_Moving towards him in alarm._] What's the matter? + +WALTER. [_With a swift turn towards her._] I'm going to get married. + +BETTY. [_Stonily, stopping by the round table._] You ... + +WALTER. [_Savagely._] Going to get married, yes. Married, married! + + [_She stands there and doesn't stir--doesn't speak or try to + speak; merely stands there, and looks at him, giving no sign. Her + silence irritates him; he becomes more and more violent, as + though to give himself courage._ + +WALTER. You're wonderful, you women--you really are. Always contrive to +make us seem brutes, or cowards! I've wanted to tell you this a dozen +times--I've not had the pluck. Well, to-day I must. Must, do you hear +that?... Oh, for Heaven's sake, say something. + +BETTY. [_Still staring helplessly at him._] You ... + +WALTER. [_Feverishly._] Yes, I, I! Now it's out, at least--it's spoken! I +mean to get married, like other men--fooled, too, I dare say, like the +others--at least I deserve it! But I'm tired, I tell you--tired-- + +BETTY. Of me? + +WALTER. Tired of the life I lead--the beastly, empty rooms--the meals at +the Club. And I'm thirty-eight--it's now or never. + +BETTY. [_Slowly._] And how about--me? + +WALTER. You? + +BETTY. [_Passionately._] Yes. Me. Me! + +WALTER. You didn't think this would last for ever? + +BETTY. [_Nodding her head._] I did--yes--I did. Why shouldn't it? + +WALTER. [_Working himself into a fury again._] Why? You ask that? Why? Oh +yes, it's all right for _you_--you've your home and your husband--I'm +there as an--annexe. To be telephoned to, when I'm wanted, at your beck +and call, throw over everything, come when you whistle. And it's not only +that--I tell you it makes me feel--horrid. After all, he's my--friend. + +BETTY. He has been that always. You didn't feel--horrid--before.... Who is +she? + +WALTER. [_Shortly, as he turns back to the fire._] That doesn't matter. + +BETTY. Yes, it does. Who? + +WALTER. [_Fretfully._] Oh, why should we-- + +BETTY. I want to know--I'm _entitled_ to know. + +WALTER. [_Still with his back to her._] Mary Gillingham. + +BETTY. Mary Gillingham! + +WALTER. [_Firmly, swinging round to her._] Yes. + +BETTY. That child, that chit of a girl! + +WALTER. She's twenty-three. + +BETTY. Whom I introduced you to--my own friend? + +WALTER. [_Grumbling._] What _has_ that to do with it? And besides ... +[_He suddenly changes his tone, noticing how calm she has become--he takes +a step towards her, and stands by her side, at the back of the table, his +voice becomes gentle and affectionate._] But I say, really, you're taking +it awfully well--pluckily. I knew you would--I knew I was an ass to be +so--afraid.... And look here, we'll always be pals--the very best of pals. +I'll ... never forget--never. You may be quite sure ... of that. I want to +get married--I do--have a home of my own, and so forth--but you'll still +be--just the one woman I really have loved--the one woman in my life--to +whom I owe--everything. + +BETTY. [_With a mirthless laugh._] Do you tell all that--to Mary +Gillingham? + +WALTER. [_Pettishly, as he moves away._] Do I--don't be so absurd. + +BETTY. You tell _her_ she is the only _girl_ you have loved. + +WALTER. [_Moving back to the fire, with his back to her._] I tell her--I +tell her--what does it matter what I tell her? And one girl or +another--she or someone else-- + +BETTY. But you haven't answered my question--what's to become of me? + +WALTER. [_Angrily, facing her._] Become of you! Don't talk such nonsense. +Because it is--really it is. You'll be as you were. And Hector's a +splendid chap--and after all we've been frightfully wrong--treating him +infernally badly--despicably. Oh yes, we have--and you know it. Lord, +there've been nights when I have--but never mind that--that's all over! In +future we can look him in the face without feeling guilty--we can-- + +BETTY. [_Quietly._] _You_ can. + +WALTER. What do you mean? + +BETTY. _You_ can, because of this girl. Oh, I know, of course! You'll come +here three or four times--then you'll drop off--you'll feel I'm not quite +the woman you want your wife to know. + +WALTER. [_With genuine feeling, as he impulsively steps towards her._] +Betty, Betty, what sort of cad do you take me for? What sort of cad, or +bounder? Haven't I told you I'd never forget--never? And you think you'll +pass out of my life--that I _want_ you to? Why, good Heaven, I'll be your +best friend as long as I live. Friend--yes--what I always should have +been--meant to be! And Hector. Why, Betty, I tell you, merely talking +to-night, as I've done, has made me feel--different--sort of--lifted--a +load. Because I've always had it--somewhere deep down in me--when I've +thought of--him. + +BETTY. [_Calmly._] Liar. + +WALTER. [_Falling back._] Betty! + +BETTY. Liar--yes. Why these stupid, silly lies? "Always, deep down in me!" +Where was it, this beautiful feeling, when you got me to go to your rooms? + +WALTER. [_Harshly._] We needn't-- + +BETTY. I liked you--I've said that--I liked you from the first. But I was +straight enough. Liked you, of course--but I had no idea, not the +slightest.... Thought it fun to play the fool, flirt just a bit. But it +was you, you, _you_ who-- + +WALTER. [_Breaking in sulkily and stamping his foot._] Never mind about +who it was. + +BETTY. [_Passionately._] Never mind! You dare! + +WALTER. [_Doggedly._] Yes--I dare. And look here--since you force me to +it--that's all rot--yes, it is--just rot. Just as you like it now, hearing +Hector ask me to stop with you, and kissing me the moment his back is +turned--so you met me halfway, and more than halfway. + +BETTY. You cur! + +WALTER. That's what a woman always says, when a man speaks the truth. +Because it _is_ the truth--and you know it. "The way I squeezed your +hand!" D'you think I _meant_ to squeeze it--in a way! Why, as there's a +Heaven above me, you were as sacred to me--as my own sister! + +BETTY. [_Quietly, as she sits, to right of the table._] What I'm +wondering is--you see, you're the only lover I've had--what I wonder is, +when a man breaks off, tells a woman he's tired of her, wants to get +married--does he _always_ abuse the woman-- + +WALTER. [_Sulkily._] I haven't-- + +BETTY. Degrade, and throw mud on, the love she has had for him? + +WALTER. [_With a bitter shrug._] Love-- + +BETTY. [_Passionately, as she springs to her feet._] Love, love, yes, +you--cruel man! Love, what else? I adore you, don't you know that? Live +for you! would give up everything in the world--everything, everything! +And Walter, Walter! If it's only _that_--that you want a home--well, let's +go off together. He'll divorce us--we can get married. Don't go away, and +leave me here, alone with him! I couldn't stand it--Walter, I couldn't, I +couldn't! + + [_She goes eagerly to him, flings her arms round his neck, and a + dry sob bursts from her._ + +WALTER. [_Very gently._] Betty, Betty, you've been so brave ... Betty, +dear, the horrid things I've said were only to make you angry, to make you +feel what a brute I was, how well you're rid of me. Oh, I'm not proud of +myself! But look here, we must be sensible--we must, really.... You know, +if you were divorced--if I were the co-respondent in a divorce case--I'd +lose my berth, get the sack-- + +BETTY. [_Clinging to him._] We could go to Australia--anywhere-- + +WALTER. I've no money. + +BETTY. [_With a sudden movement, raising her head and leaving him._] And +Mary Gillingham has lots? + +WALTER. It's not for her money that I-- + +BETTY. [_With a start._] You love her? + +WALTER. [_Dropping his head, and speaking under his breath._] Yes. + +BETTY. [_Wringing her hands._] You do, you do? + +WALTER. Yes, that's the truth--I do. Oh, Betty I'm so frightfully +sorry-- + +BETTY. [_With a groan._] Then you don't love me any more ... + +WALTER. It's not that. But you see-- + +BETTY. [_Moaning._] You don't, you don't! + + [_She stands there, crushed, overwhelmed, dry-eyed, broken moans + escaping from her; suddenly she hears a key turning in the lock + of the hall-door outside, and rushes to the card-table._ + +BETTY. Hector! Quick, quick--the cards! + + [WALTER _flies to the table, and sits by her side. He seizes one + pack and proceeds to shuffle it, she is dealing with the other. + All this takes only a second._ HECTOR _comes in--they both spring + up._ + +BETTY. Hector! You're not ill? + +HECTOR. [_Kissing her._] Play postponed, my child--bit of luck! When I got +to the theatre I found that the actor-manager's car had collided with a +cab outside the stage-door--he was thrown through the window--there's a +magnificent exit for you! and has been cut about a bit. Nothing serious. +But the play's postponed for a week. Bit of luck! + +WALTER. [_Sitting._] Not for him. + +HECTOR. Oh _he_ has had luck enough--tons of it! I'll get into a +jacket--then we'll have some bridge. See what progress you've made, Betty! + + [_He hurries out, and closes the door._ + +BETTY. [_Producing a little mirror from her bag, looking into it, +touching her hair._] We were only just in time. + +WALTER. [_Eagerly, as he bends across the table._] You're splendid--you +are--splendid! + +BETTY. Yes. All very nice and comfortable for you--isn't it? [_She puts +the mirror back into the bag._] + +WALTER. [_Coaxingly._] Betty. + +BETTY. To-morrow you'll go to her--or to-night perhaps-- + +WALTER. To-night--ridiculous! At this hour! + +BETTY. She's a deceitful little cat. I saw her last week--she never told +me-- + +WALTER. I don't think she knew. I only proposed to-day. + +BETTY. [_Flinging herself back in her chair, and opening wide eyes._] +You--proposed--to-day! + +WALTER. [_Very embarrassed._] Yes--I mean-- + +BETTY. You--proposed--to-day! And waited till she had accepted you--to +tell _me_-- + +WALTER. [_Eagerly._] Don't be so silly--come, come, he'll be back in a +minute.... And, believe me, I'm not worth making a fuss about! + +BETTY. [_Looking contemptuously at him._] That's true. + +WALTER. Yes, it is, worse luck! I deserve all you've said to me. And +you'll be ... much better ... without me. + +BETTY. Better? + +WALTER. Yes, better, better--any way you choose to put it! I'm a--but +never mind that!--Look here--you'd like me to stop? + +BETTY. He wants to play bridge. + +WALTER. Don't you think that I-- + +BETTY.[_Hearing_ HECTOR _coming._] Sh. + + [HECTOR _comes in--she is idly tossing the cards about._ HECTOR + _has put on a smoking-jacket--he comes in, very jolly, fussing + around, rubbing his hands, so glad to be home. He sits, to the + right of_ BETTY. + +HECTOR. Now for a game! + + [_He seizes a pack, and spreads out the cards._ + +BETTY. [_Leaning back._] Not sure that I want to play. + +HECTOR. Don't be disagreeable, Betty! Why? + +BETTY. [_Listlessly, as she rises and moves across the room._] No fun, +being three. + +HECTOR. Good practice for you. Come on. + +BETTY. [_Leaning against the other table, and turning and facing them._] +Besides, _he_ has something to tell you. + +HECTOR. Walter? + +BETTY. Yes. + +HECTOR. [_Looking inquiringly at_ WALTER.] To tell _me?_ What is it? + +BETTY. That he's engaged. + +HECTOR. [_Shouting, as he leans across the table._] Never! Walter! +Engaged? You? + +WALTER. [_Nervously._] Yes. + +HECTOR. [_Noisily and affectionately._] You old scoundrel! You rascal and +villain! Engaged--and you don't come and tell _me_ first! Well +I--am--damned! + +WALTER. [_Trying to take it gaily._] I knew you'd chaff me about it. + +HECTOR. Chaff you! Silly old coon! why I'm glad! Of course we shall miss +you--but marriage--it's the only thing, my boy--the only thing! Who is +she? Do I know her? + +WALTER. [_Mumbling, as he fingers the cards._] A friend of Betty's--I +fancy you've met her-- + +HECTOR. Who? + +BETTY. Mary Gillingham. We're the first to know--he only proposed to-day. + +HECTOR. Gillingham, Gillingham.... Oh yes, I've seen her, just seen her, +but I don't remember.... I say, not the daughter of the sealing-wax man? + +WALTER. Yes. + +HECTOR. Then there's lots of tin! Fine! Oh you artful old dodger! Is she +pretty? + +WALTER. So-So. + +BETTY. [_Still leaning against the table, and looking at them both._] +She's excessively pretty. She has yellow hair and blue eyes. + +HECTOR. [_Chuckling._] And she has caught old Wallie. The cynical old +Wallie who sniffed at women! Though perhaps it's the money-- + +BETTY. No. He's in love with her. + +HECTOR. That's good. I'm glad. And I congratulate you--heartily, my boy. +[_He seizes_ WALTER'S _hand, and wrings it._] We must drink to it! [_He +gets up, goes to the side-table, and pours some whiskey into a tumbler._] +Charge your glass, Walter! [WALTER _rises and goes to the side-table._] +Ladies and gentlemen. I give you the bride and bridegroom! [_He fills the +glass from the syphon and passes it to_ WALTER, _then proceeds to fill his +own._] Betty, you must join us. + +BETTY. [_Quietly._] No. + +HECTOR. You can't toast him in water, of course. Has she cleared away yet? +I'll get you some Hock. + + [_He puts his glass down and moves to the door at back._ + +BETTY. Don't be so silly. I won't drink at all. + +HECTOR. [_Amazed._] Not to old Walter? + +BETTY. [_Steadily._] No. + +HECTOR. Why? + +BETTY. [_Almost jeeringly._] Because--old Walter--has been my lover. + +HECTOR. [_Stopping, and staring at her._] What? + +BETTY. [_Calmly, looking full at him._] My lover ... these last two years. + +HECTOR. [_Staring stupidly at her._] He has been-- + +BETTY. [_Impatiently, as she taps the floor with her foot._] Yes, yes. How +often must I tell you? My lover--don't you know what that means? Why do +you stare at me with those fat goggle-eyes of yours? He has been my +lover--and now he has fallen in love with this girl and means to marry +her. That's all. + +HECTOR. [_Turning towards_ WALTER, _who hasn't stirred from the +side-table._] What? You? + + [WALTER _remains motionless and silent._ + +HECTOR. [_In muffled tones, scarcely able to speak._] You! It's true what +this woman says? + +BETTY. [_Contemptuously._] This woman! Don't be so melodramatic! Have you +forgotten my name? + +HECTOR. [_Turning fiercely to her, roaring madly._] Silence, Jezebel! +[_She shrinks back, in alarm, towards the fire._] Your name! Wait a bit, +I'll tell you! [_He takes a step towards her--she crouches in terror +against the wall._] You shall hear what your name is! Just now I'm dealing +with _him._ [_He swings round to_ WALTER.] You there, you skunk and thief! +You, you lying hound! I was your best friend. So you've taken my wife, +have you? And now mean to go off and marry this girl. That's it? Oh, it's +so simple! Here--come here--sit down. Sit down, I tell you. Here, in this +chair. Shall I have to drag you to it? I want to keep my hands off you. +Here. [WALTER _has moved slowly towards him._ HECTOR _has banged down a +chair behind the centre table,_ WALTER _sits in it_--HECTOR _speaks over +his shoulder to_ BETTY.] And you--fetch pen and ink and paper-- + +BETTY. [_In abject panic._] Hector-- + +HECTOR. [_Turning fiercely and scowling at her._] If you speak to me I'll +brain you too. Just you go in there and fetch the things. D'you hear? Go. +[_She moves into the other room._ HECTOR _swings round to_ WALTER.] As for +you, you're a scoundrel. A rogue, a thief, a liar, a traitor. Of the very +worst kind, the blackest. Not an ordinary case of a husband and wife--I +trusted you--you were my best friend. You spawn, you thing of the gutter, +you foul-hearted, damnable slug! + + [BETTY _comes back, dragging her feet, carrying paper and + envelopes and a stylograph--she puts them on the table._ + +HECTOR. Not that stylograph--that's mine--his dirty hands shan't touch +it--I could never use it again. Fetch _your_ pen--yours--you belong to +him, don't you? Go in and fetch it. D'you hear? + + [BETTY _goes into the inner room again._ + +HECTOR. My wife. And you the man I've done more for than for any one else +in the world. The man I cared for, you low dog. Used my house--came here +because it was dull at the Club--and took my wife? I don't know why I +don't kill you. I've the right. But I won't. You shall pay for it, my fine +fellow--you are going to pay--now. + + [BETTY _brings a pen and an inkstand; she places them on the + table;_ HECTOR _seizes them and pushes them in front of_ WALTER. + BETTY _slinks to the other side of the room, and stands by the + sofa._ + +HECTOR. [_To_ WALTER.] Now you write. You hear? You write what I dictate. +Word for word. What's the old brute's name? + +WALTER. Whose? + +HECTOR. Whose! Her father, the sealing-wax man, old Gillingham? + +WALTER. [_Staring._] Gillingham? + +HECTOR. Gillingham. Yes. What is it? + +WALTER. You want me to write to him? + +HECTOR. [_Nodding._] To him. Who else? A confession? I've had that. His +name? + +WALTER. [_Dropping the pen and half rising._] I won't-- + +HECTOR. [_Springing upon him in a mad fury, and forcing him back into the +chair._] You won't, you dog! You dare say that--to me! By Heaven, you +will! You'll lick the dust off this floor, if I tell you! You'll go on +your hands and knees, and crawl! Sit down, you! Sit down and take up your +filthy pen. So. [_Thoroughly cowed,_ WALTER _has taken up the pen again._] +And now--his name. Don't make me ask you again, I tell you, don't. What is +it? + +WALTER. Richard. + +HECTOR. Very well, Richard. So write that down. To Richard Gillingham. I +have to-day proposed to your daughter, and she has accepted me. Got that? +She has accepted me. But I can't marry her--can't marry her--because I +have seduced the wife of my friend Hector Allen-- + +WALTER. [_Appealingly, dropping his pen._] Hector! + +HECTOR. [_Frantically gripping_ WALTER _by the throat, till he takes up +his pen again._] The wife of my friend Hector Allen--write it--and +plainly, you hound, plainly--so--and because I am taking the woman away +with me to-night. + +BETTY. [_With a loud cry._] Hector! + +HECTOR. [_Over his shoulder, watching_ WALTER _write._] Silence, over +there, you! Hold your tongue! Go into your room and put on your +things--we've done with you here! Take what you want--I don't care--you +don't show your face here again. And you--[_he taps his clenched hand +against_ WALTER'S _arm_] write. What are you stopping for? How far have +you got? [_He peers over_ WALTER'S _shoulder._] Because--I--am--taking-- +the--woman--away--with--me--to-night. + +BETTY. [_Beside herself, wringing her hands._] Hector, Hector-- + +HECTOR. [_Savagely, as he makes a half-turn towards her._] You still +there? Wait a bit. I'll come to you, when I've finished with him. If you +haven't gone and put on your things, you shall go off without them. Into +the street. You'll find other women there like you. [_He turns back to_ +WALTER.] Here, you, have you written? [_He looks over_ WALTER'S +_shoulder._] Go on--I'm getting impatient. Go on, I tell you. +I--am--taking--the-- + + [WALTER _is slowly writing down the words,_ HECTOR _standing over + him;_ BETTY _suddenly bursts into a peal of wild, uproarious + laughter, and lets herself fall into a chair to the left of the + card-table._ + +HECTOR. [_Madly._] You! + + [_He leaves_ WALTER, _and almost springs at her._ + +BETTY. [_Brimming with merriment._] Oh, you old donkey! _How_ we have +pulled your leg! + +HECTOR. [_Staring at her, stopping dead short._] You-- + +BETTY. [_Through her laughter, choking._] Hector, Hector! Conventional +situations! The usual stodge! The lover and husband! You goose, you +wonderful old goose! + + [WALTER, _with a mighty effort, has pulled himself together, and + roars with laughter too. He jumps up._ HECTOR _is standing there + blinking, paralysed._ + +WALTER. [_Merrily, to_ BETTY.] Oh really, you shouldn't. You've given it +away too soon! + +BETTY. Too soon! He'd have strangled us. Did you ever see such a tiger? + +WALTER. [_Chuckling hugely._] He didn't give the lover much chance to +stand up to him, did he? + +BETTY. And _wasn't_ he original! Dog, hound, villain, traitor! + +WALTER. To say nothing of Jezebel! Though, between ourselves, I think he +meant Messalina! + +BETTY. And I was to go into the street. But he did let me fill my bag! + +WALTER. I think the playwrights come out on top, I do indeed. [_He goes +to_ HECTOR, _and stands to left of him._] Hector, old chap, here's the +letter! + +BETTY. [_Going to the other side of_ HECTOR, _and dropping a low +curtsey._] And please, Mr. Husband, was it to be a big bag, or a small +bag, and might I have taken the silver teapot? + + [HECTOR _has been standing there stupid, dazed, dumbfounded, too + bewildered for his mind to act or thoughts to come to him; he + suddenly bursts into a roar of Titanic, overwhelming laughter. He + laughs, and laughs, staggers to the sofa, falls on it, rocks and + roars till the tears roll down his cheeks. He sways from side to + side, unable to control himself--his laughter is so colossal that + the infection catches the others; theirs becomes genuine too._ + +BETTY. [_With difficulty, trying to control herself._] The letter! Old +Gillingham! "His name, scoundrel, his name!" + +WALTER. [_Gurgling._] With his hand at my throat! Sit there, villain, and +write! + +BETTY. "I'll deal with _you_ presently! Wait till I've finished with +_him!_" + +WALTER. "Into the street!" At least, they _do_ usually say "into the +night!" + +HECTOR. [_Rubbing his eyes and panting for breath._] Oh, you pair of +blackguards! Too bad--no, really too bad! It was! I fell in, I did! Oh, +Lord, oh, Lord, what a nightmare! But it wasn't right, really it +wasn't--no really! My Lord, how I floundered--head and shoulders-- +swallowed it all! Comes of reading that muck every day--never stopped to +think! I didn't! Walter, old chap! [_He holds out his hand._] Betty! My +poor Betty! [_He draws her towards him._] The things I said to you! + +BETTY. [_Carelessly eluding the caress._] At least admit that you're +rather hard on the playwriting people! + +HECTOR. [_Getting up and shaking himself._] Oh, they be blowed! Well, you +_have_ had a game with me! [_He shakes himself again._] Brrrrr! Oh, my +Lord! What I went through! + +BETTY. It _was_ a lark! you should have seen yourself! Your eyes starting +out of your head! You looked like a murderer! + +HECTOR. By Jove, and I felt it! For two pins I'd have-- + +BETTY. And Mary Gillingham! _That's_ the funniest part! That you could +have thought _he_ was engaged--to _her!_ + + [_Involuntarily the smile dies away on_ WALTER'S _face; he turns + and stares at her; she goes on calmly._ + +BETTY. When she happens to be the one girl in this world he can't stand! + +WALTER. [_With a movement that he can't control._] Betty! + +BETTY. [_Turning smilingly to him._] No harm in my telling Hector--he +scarcely knows her! [_She swings round to_ HECTOR _again._] Why, Walter +simply _loathes_ the poor girl! That's what made it so funny! [_At the +mere thought of it she bursts out laughing again, and goes on speaking +through her laughter._] And I tell you--if you ever hear he's engaged to +_her_--why, you can believe the rest of the story too! + +HECTOR. [_Laughing heartily as he pats_ WALTER _on the shoulder._] Poor +old Walter! And, d'you know, I was quite pleased at the thought of his +getting married! I was! [_He turns to him._] But it's better, old chap, +for us--we'd have missed you--terribly! [_With another pat on_ WALTER'S +_shoulder, he goes to the fire, and drops in the letter._] Mustn't leave +_that_ lying about! [_He turns._] Well, by Jove, if any one had told +me.... And drinking to him, and all! + +BETTY. If you'll fetch me that glass of Hock now, I _will_ drink to him, +Hector. To Walter, the Bachelor! + +HECTOR. [_Beaming._] So we will! Good. I'll get it. + + [_He bustles into the dining-room._ + +BETTY. [_Moving swiftly to_ WALTER.] Well, now's your time. One thing or +the other. + +WALTER. [_Savagely._] You fiend! + +BETTY. I'll go and see her to-morrow--see her constantly-- + +WALTER. Why are you doing this? + +BETTY. You've ruined my life and his. At least, _you_ shan't be happy. + +WALTER. And you imagine I'll come back to _you_--that we'll go on, you and +I? + +BETTY. [_Scornfully._] No--don't be afraid! You've shown yourself to me +to-day. That's all done with--finished. _His_ friend now--with the load +off you--but never _her_ husband. Never! + + [HECTOR _comes bustling back, with the bottle of Hock, and a + wine-glass that he gives to_ BETTY--_she holds it, and he fills + it from the bottle._ + +HECTOR. Here you are, my girl--and now, where's my whiskey? [_He trots +round to the side table, finds his glass, and_ WALTER'S--_hands one to_ +WALTER.] Here, Wallie--yours must be the one that's begun--I didn't have +time to touch mine! Here. [WALTER _takes it._] And forgive me, old man, +for thinking, even one minute--[_He wrings him by the hand._] Here's to +you, old friend. And Betty, to you! Oh, Lord, I just want this drink! + +BETTY. [_In cold, clear tones, as she holds up her glass._] To Walter, the +Bachelor! + + [_She drains her glass;_ WALTER _has his moment's hesitation; he + drinks, and with tremendous effort succeeds in composing his + face._ + +HECTOR. [_Gaily._] To Walter, the Bachelor! [_He drinks his glass to the +dregs and puts it down._] And now--for a game. + +WALTER. I think I-- + +HECTOR. [_Coaxingly._] Sit down, laddie--just one rubber. It's quite +early. Do. There's a good chap. [_They all sit:_ HECTOR _at back,_ BETTY +_to the left of him,_ WALTER _to the right--he spreads out the cards--they +draw for partners._] As we are--you and Betty--I've got the dummy. [_He +shuffles the cards_--BETTY _cuts--he begins to deal._] That's how I like +it--one on each side of me. Also I like having dummy. Now, Betty, play +up. Oh, Lord, how good it is, how good! A nightmare, I tell you--terrible! +And really you must forgive me for being such an ass. But the way you +played up, both of you! My little Betty--a Duse, that's what she is--a +real Duse! [_He gathers up his cards._] And the gods are kind to me--I've +got a hand, I tell you! I call NO TRUMPS! + + [_He beams at them--they are placidly sorting their cards. He + puts his hand down and proceeds to look at his dummy, as the + curtain falls._ + + +CURTAIN + + + + +A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED.... + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + +MR. HARRISON CROCKSTEAD +LADY ALINE DE VAUX + + +_Produced at the +Garrick Theatre +on March 27, 1904_ + + + +A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED.... + + +SCENE _The conservatory of No. 300 Grosvenor Square. Hour, close on +midnight. A ball is in progress, and dreamy waltz music is heard in the +distance._ + + LADY ALINE DE VAUX _enters, leaning on the arm of_ MR. HARRISON + CROCKSTEAD. + + LADY ALINE _is a tall, exquisitely-gowned girl, of the + conventional and much-admired type of beauty. Put her in any + drawing-room in the world, and she would at once be recognised as + a highborn Englishwoman. She has in her, in embryo, all those + excellent qualities that go to make a great lady: the icy stare, + the haughty movement of the shoulder, the disdainful arch of the + lip; she has also, but only an experienced observer would notice + it, something of wistfulness, something that speaks of a sore and + wounded heart--though it is sufficiently evident that this organ + is kept under admirable control. A girl who has been placed in a + position of life where artificiality rules, who has been taught + to be artificial and has thoroughly learned her lesson; yet one + who would unhesitatingly know the proper thing to do did a camel + bolt with her in the desert, or an eastern potentate invite her + to become his two hundred and fifty-seventh wife. In a word, a + lady of complete self-possession and magnificent control._ MR. + CROCKSTEAD _is a big, burly man of forty or so, and of the kind + to whom the ordinary West End butler would consider himself + perfectly justified in declaring that her ladyship was not at + home. And yet his evening clothes sit well on him; and there is a + certain air of command about the man that would have made the + butler uncomfortable. That functionary would have excused himself + by declaring that_ MR. CROCKSTEAD _didn't look a gentleman. And + perhaps he doesn't. His walk is rather a slouch; he has a way of + keeping his hands in his pockets, and of jerking out his + sentences; a way, above all, of seeming perfectly indifferent to + the comfort of the people he happens to be addressing. The + impression he gives is one of power, not of refinement; and the + massive face, with its heavy lines, and eyes that are usually + veiled, seems to give no clue whatever to the character of the + man within._ + + _The couple break apart when they enter the room;_ LADY ALINE _is + the least bit nervous, though she shows no trace of it;_ MR. + CROCKSTEAD _absolutely imperturbable and undisturbed._ + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Looking around._] Ah--this is the place--very quiet, +retired, romantic--et cetera. Music in the distance--all very appropriate +and sentimental. + +[_She leaves him, and sits, quietly fanning herself; he stands, looking +at her._] You seem perfectly calm, Lady Aline? + +ALINE. [_Sitting._] Conservatories are not unusual appendages to a +ball-room, Mr. Crockstead; nor is this conservatory unlike other +conservatories. + +CROCKSTEAD [_Turning to her._] I wonder why women are always so evasive? + +ALINE. With your permission we will not discuss the sex. You and I are too +old to be cynical, and too young to be appreciative. And besides, it is a +rule of mine, whenever I sit out a dance, that my partner shall avoid the +subjects of women--and golf. + +CROCKSTEAD. You limit the area of conversation. But then, in this +particular instance, I take it, we have not come here to talk? + +ALINE. [_Coldly._] I beg your pardon! + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Sitting beside her._] Lady Aline, they are dancing a +cotillon in there, so we have half an hour before us. We shall not be +disturbed, for the Duchess, your aunt, has considerately stationed her +aged companion in the corridor, with instructions to ward off intruders. + +ALINE. [_Very surprised._] Mr. Crockstead! + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Looking hard at her._] Didn't you know? [ALINE _turns aside, +embarrassed._] That's right--of course you did. Don't you know why I have +brought you here? That's right; of course you do. The Duchess, your aunt, +and the Marchioness, your mother--observe how fondly my tongue trips out +the titles--smiled sweetly on us as we left the ball-room. There will be +a notice in the _Morning Post_ to-morrow: "A Marriage Has Been Arranged +Between--" + +ALINE. [_Bewildered and offended._] Mr. Crockstead! This--this is-- + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Always in the same quiet tone._] Because I have not yet +proposed, you mean? Of course I intend to, Lady Aline. Only as I know that +you will accept me-- + +ALINE. [_In icy tones, as she rises._] Let us go back to the ball-room. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Quite undisturbed._] Oh, please! That won't help us, you +know. Do sit down. I assure you I have never proposed before, so that +naturally I am a trifle nervous. Of course I know that we are only supers +really, without much of a speaking part; but the spirit moves me to gag, +in the absence of the stage-manager, who is, let us say, the Duchess-- + +ALINE. I have heard of the New Humour, Mr. Crockstead, though I confess I +have never understood it. This may be an exquisite example-- + +CROCKSTEAD. By no means. I am merely trying to do the right thing, though +perhaps not the conventional one. Before making you the formal offer of my +hand and fortune, which amounts to a little over three millions-- + +ALINE. [_Fanning herself._] How people exaggerate! Between six and seven, +_I_ heard. + +CROCKSTEAD. Only three at present, but we must be patient. Before throwing +myself at your feet, metaphorically, I am anxious that you should know +something of the man whom you are about to marry. + +ALINE. That is really most considerate! + +CROCKSTEAD. I have the advantage of you, you see, inasmuch as you have +many dear friends, who have told me all about you. + +ALINE. [_With growing exasperation, but keeping very cool._] Indeed? + +CROCKSTEAD. I am aware, for instance, that this is your ninth season-- + +ALINE. [_Snapping her fan._] You are remarkably well-informed. + +CROCKSTEAD. I have been told that again to-night, three times, by charming +young women who vowed that they loved you. Now, as I have no dearest +friends, it is unlikely that you will have heard anything equally definite +concerning myself. I propose to enlighten you. + +ALINE. [_Satirically._] The story of your life--how thrilling! + +CROCKSTEAD. I trust you may find it so. [_He sits, and pauses for a +moment, then begins, very quietly._] Lady Aline, I am a self-made man, as +the foolish phrase has it--a man whose early years were spent in savage +and desolate places, where the devil had much to say; a man in whom +whatever there once had been of natural kindness was very soon kicked out. +I was poor, and lonely, for thirty-two years: I have been rich, and +lonely, for ten. My millions have been made honestly enough; but poverty +and wretchedness had left their mark on me, and you will find very few +men with a good word to say for Harrison Crockstead. I have no polish, or +culture, or tastes. Art wearies me, literature sends me to sleep-- + +ALINE. When you come to the chapter of your personal deficiencies, Mr. +Crockstead, please remember that they are sufficiently evident for me to +have already observed them. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Without a trace of annoyance._] That is true. I will pass, +then, to more intimate matters. In a little township in Australia--a +horrible place where there was gold--I met a woman whom I loved. She was +what is technically known as a bad woman. She ran away with another man. I +tracked them to Texas, and in a mining camp there I shot the man. I wanted +to take the woman back, but she refused. That has been my solitary love +affair; and I shall never love any woman again as I loved her. I think +that is all that I have to tell you. And now--will you marry me, Lady +Aline? + +ALINE. [_Very steadily, facing him._] Not if you were the last man in this +world, Mr. Crockstead. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_With a pleasant smile._] At least that is emphatic. + +ALINE. See, I will give you confidence for confidence. This is, as you +suggest, my ninth season. Living in an absurd milieu where marriage with a +wealthy man is regarded as the one aim in life, I have, during the past +few weeks, done all that lay in my power to wring a proposal from you. + +CROCKSTEAD. I appreciate your sincerity. + +ALINE. Perhaps the knowledge that other women were doing the same lent a +little zest to the pursuit, which otherwise would have been very dreary; +for I confess that your personality did not--especially appeal to me. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Cheerfully._] Thank you very much. + +ALINE. Not at all. Indeed, this room being the Palace of Truth, I will +admit that it was only by thinking hard of your three millions that I have +been able to conceal the weariness I have felt in your society. And now +will you marry me, Mr. Crockstead? + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Serenely._] I fancy that's what we're here for, isn't it? + +ALINE. [_Stamping her foot._] I have, of course, been debarred from the +disreputable amours on which you linger so fondly; but I loved a soldier +cousin of mine, and would have run away with him had my mother not packed +me off in time. He went to India, and I stayed here; but he is the only +man I have loved or ever shall love. Further, let me tell you I am +twenty-eight; I have always been poor--I hate poverty, and it has soured +me no less than you. Dress is the thing in life I care for most, vulgarity +my chief abomination. And to be frank, I consider you the most vulgar +person I have ever met. Will you still marry me, Mr. Crockstead? + +CROCKSTEAD. [_With undiminished cheerfulness._] Why not? + +ALINE. This is an outrage. Am I a horse, do you think, or a +ballet-dancer? Do you imagine I will sell myself to you for your three +millions? + +CROCKSTEAD. Logic, my dear Lady Aline, is evidently not one of your more +special possessions. For, had it not been for my--somewhat eccentric +preliminaries--you _would_ have accepted me, would you not? + +ALINE. [_Embarrassed._] I--I-- + +CROCKSTEAD. If I had said to you, timidly: "Lady Aline, I love you: I am a +simple, unsophisticated person; will you marry me?" You would have +answered, "Yes, Harrison, I will." + +ALINE. It is a mercy to have escaped marrying a man with such a Christian +name as Harrison. + +CROCKSTEAD. It has been in the family for generations, you know; but it is +a strange thing that I am always called Harrison, and that no one ever +adopts the diminutive. + +ALINE. That does not surprise me: we have no pet name for the East wind. + +CROCKSTEAD. The possession of millions, you see, Lady Aline, puts you into +eternal quarantine. It is a kind of yellow fever, with the difference that +people are perpetually anxious to catch your complaint. But we digress. To +return to the question of our marriage-- + +ALINE. I beg your pardon. + +CROCKSTEAD. I presume that it is--arranged? + +ALINE. [_Haughtily._] Mr. Crockstead, let me remind you that frankness has +its limits: exceeding these, it is apt to degenerate into impertinence. +Be good enough to conduct me to the ball-room. + + [_She moves to the door._ + +CROCKSTEAD. You have five sisters, I believe, Lady Aline? [ALINE _stops +short._] All younger than yourself, all marriageable, and all unmarried? + + [ALINE _hangs her head and is silent._ + +CROCKSTEAD. Your father-- + +ALINE. [_Fiercely._] Not a word of my father! + +CROCKSTEAD. Your father is a gentleman. The breed is rare, and very fine +when you get it. But he is exceedingly poor. People marry for money +nowadays; and your mother will be very unhappy if this marriage of ours +falls through. + +ALINE. [_Moving a step towards him._] Is it to oblige my mother, then, +that you desire to marry me? + +CROCKSTEAD. Well, no. But you see I must marry some one, in mere +self-defence; and honestly, I think you will do at least as well as any +one else. [ALINE _bursts out laughing._] That strikes you as funny? + +ALINE. If you had the least grain of chivalrous feeling, you would realise +that the man who could speak to a woman as you have spoken to me-- + + [_She pauses._ + +CROCKSTEAD. Yes? + +ALINE. I leave you to finish the sentence. + +CROCKSTEAD. Thank you. I will finish it my own way. I will say that when a +woman deliberately tries to wring an offer of marriage from a man whom +she does not love, she deserves to be spoken to as I have spoken to you, +Lady Aline. + +ALINE. [_Scornfully._] Love! What has love to do with marriage? + +CROCKSTEAD. That remark rings hollow. You have been good enough to tell me +of your cousin, whom you did love-- + +ALINE. Well? + +CROCKSTEAD. And with whom you would have eloped, had your mother not +prevented you. + +ALINE. I most certainly should. + +CROCKSTEAD. So you see that at one period of your life you thought +differently.--You were very fond of him? + +ALINE. I have told you. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Meditatively._] If I had been he, mother or no mother, money +or no money, I would have carried you off. I fancy it must be pleasant to +be loved by you, Lady Aline. + +ALINE. [_Dropping a mock curtsey, as she sits on the sofa._] You do me too +much honour. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Still thoughtful, moving about the room._] Next to being +king, it is good to be maker of kings. Where is this cousin now? + +ALINE. In America. But might I suggest that we have exhausted the subject? + +CROCKSTEAD. Do you remember your "Arabian Nights," Lady Aline? + +ALINE. Vaguely. + +CROCKSTEAD. You have at least not forgotten that sublime Caliph, Haroun +Al-Raschid? + +ALINE. Oh, no--but why? + +CROCKSTEAD. We millionaires are the Caliphs to-day; and we command more +faithful than ever bowed to them. And, like that old scoundrel Haroun, we +may at times permit ourselves a respectable impulse. What is your cousin's +address? + +ALINE. Again I ask--why? + +CROCKSTEAD. I will put him in a position to marry you. + +ALINE. [_In extreme surprise._] What! [_She rises._ + +CROCKSTEAD. Oh, don't be alarmed, I'll manage it pleasantly. I'll give him +tips, shares, speculate for him, make him a director of one or two of my +companies. He shall have an income of four thousand a year. You can live +on that. + +ALINE. You are not serious? + +CROCKSTEAD. Oh yes; and though men may not like me, they always trust my +word. You may. + +ALINE. And why will you do this thing? + +CROCKSTEAD. Call it caprice--call it a mere vulgar desire to let my +magnificence dazzle you--call it the less vulgar desire to know that my +money has made you happy with the man you love. + +ALINE. That is generous. + +CROCKSTEAD. I remember an old poem I learnt at school--which told how +Frederick the Great coveted a mill that adjoined a favourite estate of +his; but the miller refused to sell. Frederick could have turned him out, +of course--there was not very much public opinion in those days--but he +respected the miller's firmness, and left him in solid possession. And +mark that, at that very same time, he annexed--in other words stole--the +province of Silesia. + +ALINE. Ah-- + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Moving to the fireplace._] + + "Ce sont là jeux de Princes: + Ils respectent un meunier, + Ils volent une province." + + [_The music stops._ + +ALINE. You speak French? + +CROCKSTEAD. I am fond of it. It is the true and native language of +insincerity. + +ALINE. And yet you seem sincere. + +CROCKSTEAD. I am permitting myself that luxury to-night. I am uncorking, +let us say, the one bottle of '47 port left in my cellar. + +ALINE. You are not quite fair to yourself, perhaps. + +CROCKSTEAD. Do not let this action of mine cause you too suddenly to alter +your opinion. The verdict you pronounced before was, on the whole, just. + +ALINE. What verdict? + +CROCKSTEAD. I was the most unpleasant person you ever had met. + +ALINE. That was an exaggeration. + +CROCKSTEAD. The most repulsive-- + +ALINE. [_Quickly._] I did not say that. + +CROCKSTEAD. And who prided himself on his repulsiveness. Very true, in the +main, and yet consider! My wealth dates back ten years; till then I had +known hunger, and every kind of sorrow and despair. I had stretched out +longing arms to the world, but not a heart opened to me. And suddenly, +when the taste of men's cruelty was bitter in my mouth, capricious fortune +snatched me from abject poverty and gave me delirious wealth. I was +ploughing a barren field, and flung up a nugget. From that moment gold +dogged my footsteps. I enriched the few friends I had--they turned +howlingly from me because I did not give them more. I showered money on +whoever sought it of me--they cursed me because it was mine to give. In my +poverty there had been the bond of common sorrow between me and my +fellows: in my wealth I stand alone, a modern Ishmael, with every man's +hand against me. + +ALINE. [_Gently._] Why do you tell me this? + +CROCKSTEAD. Because I am no longer asking you to marry me. Because you are +the first person in all these years who has been truthful and frank with +me. And because, perhaps, in the happiness that will, I trust, be yours, I +want you to think kindly of me. [_She puts out her hand, he takes it._] +And now, shall we return to the ball-room? The music has stopped; they +must be going to supper. + +ALINE. What shall I say to the Marchioness, my mother, and the Duchess, my +aunt? + +CROCKSTEAD. You will acquaint those noble ladies with the fact of your +having refused me. + + [_They have both risen, and move up the room together._ + +ALINE. I shall be a nine days' wonder. And how do you propose to carry +out your little scheme? + +CROCKSTEAD. I will take Saturday's boat--you will give me a line to your +cousin. I had better state the case plainly to him, perhaps? + +ALINE. That demands consideration. + +CROCKSTEAD. And I will tell you what you shall do for me in return. Find +me a wife! + +ALINE. I? + +CROCKSTEAD. You. I beg it on my knees. I give you carte blanche. I +undertake to propose, with my eyes shut, to the woman you shall select. + +ALINE. And will you treat her to the--little preliminaries--with which you +have favoured me? + +CROCKSTEAD. No. I said those things to you because I liked you. + +ALINE. And you don't intend to like the other one? + +CROCKSTEAD. I will marry her, I can trust you to find me a loyal and +intelligent woman. + +ALINE. In Society? + +CROCKSTEAD. For preference. She will be better versed in spending money +than a governess, or country parson's daughter. + +ALINE. But why this voracity for marriage? + +CROCKSTEAD. Lady Aline, I am hunted, pestered, worried, persecuted. I have +settled two breach of promise actions already, though Heaven knows I did +no more than remark it was a fine day, or enquire after the lady's health. +If you do not help me, some energetic woman will capture me--I feel +it--and bully me for the rest of my days. I raise a despairing cry to +you--Find me a wife! + +ALINE. Do you desire the lady to have any--special qualifications? + +CROCKSTEAD. No--the home-grown article will do. One thing, though--I +should like her to be--merciful. + +ALINE. I don't understand. + +CROCKSTEAD. I have a vague desire to do something with my money: my wife +might help me. I should like her to have pity. + +ALINE. Pity? + +CROCKSTEAD. In the midst of her wealth I should wish her to be sorry for +those who are poor. + +ALINE. Yes. And, as regards the rest-- + +CROCKSTEAD. The rest I leave to you, with absolute confidence. You will +help me? + +ALINE. I will try. My choice is to be final? + +CROCKSTEAD. Absolutely. + +ALINE. I have an intimate friend--I wonder whether she would do? + +CROCKSTEAD. Tell me about her. + +ALINE. She and I made our debut the same season. Like myself she has +hitherto been her mother's despair. + +CROCKSTEAD. Because she has not yet-- + +ALINE. Married--yes. Oh, if men knew how hard the lot is of the +portionless girl, who has to sit, and smile, and wait, with a very +desolate heart--they would think less unkindly of her, perhaps--[_She +smiles._] But I am digressing, too. + +CROCKSTEAD. Tell me more of your friend. + +ALINE. She is outwardly hard, and a trifle bitter, but I fancy sunshine +would thaw her. There has not been much happiness in her life. + +CROCKSTEAD. Would she marry a man she did not love? + +ALINE. If she did you would not respect her? + +CROCKSTEAD. I don't say that. She will be your choice; and therefore +deserving of confidence. Is she handsome? + +ALINE. Well--no. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_With a quick glance at her._] That's a pity. But we can't +have everything. + +ALINE. No. There is one episode in her life that I feel she would like you +to know-- + +CROCKSTEAD. If you are not betraying a confidence-- + +ALINE. [_Looking down._] No. She loved a man, years ago, very dearly. They +were too poor to marry, but they vowed to wait. Within six months she +learned that he was engaged. + +CROCKSTEAD. Ah! + +ALINE. To a fat and wealthy widow-- + +CROCKSTEAD. The old story. + +ALINE. Who was touring through India, and had been made love to by every +unmarried officer in the regiment. She chose him. + +CROCKSTEAD. India? [_He moves towards her._] + +ALINE. Yes. + +CROCKSTEAD. I have an idea that I shall like your friend. [_He takes her +hand in his._] + +ALINE. I shall be careful to tell her all that you said to me--at the +beginning-- + +CROCKSTEAD. It is quite possible that my remarks may not apply after all. + +ALINE. But I believe myself from what I know of you both that--if she +marries you--it will not be--altogether--for your money. + +CROCKSTEAD. Listen--they're playing "God Save the King." Will you be my +wife, Aline? + +ALINE. Yes--Harry. + + [_He takes her in his arms and kisses her._ + + +CURTAIN + + + + +THE MAN ON THE KERB + +A DUOLOGUE + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +JOSEPH MATTHEWS +MARY (HIS WIFE) + +TIME--_The present_ + +SCENE--_Their home in the West End_ + +_Produced at the +Aldwych Theatre +on March 24, 1908_ + + + +THE MAN ON THE KERB + + +SCENE: _An underground room, bare of any furniture except two or + three broken chairs, a tattered mattress on the stone floor and + an old trunk. On a packing-chest are a few pots and pans and a + kettle. A few sacks are spread over the floor, close to the empty + grate; the walls are discoloured, with plentiful signs of damp + oozing through. Close to the door, at back, is a window, looking + on to the area; two of the panes are broken and stuffed with + paper._ + + _On the mattress a child is sleeping, covered with a tattered old + mantle;_ MARY _is bending over her, crooning a song. The woman is + still quite young, and must have been very pretty; but her cheeks + are hollow and there are great circles round her eyes; her face + is very pale and bloodless. Her dress is painfully worn and + shabby, but displays pathetic attempts at neatness. The only + light in the room comes from the street lamp on the pavement + above._ + + JOE _comes down the area steps, and enters. His clothes are of + the familiar colourless, shapeless kind one sees at street + corners; he would be a pleasant-looking young fellow enough were + it not that his face is abnormally lined, and pinched, and + weather-beaten. He shambles in, with the intense weariness of a + man who has for hours been forcing benumbed limbs to move; he + shakes himself, on the threshold, dog-fashion, to get rid of the + rain._ MARY _first makes sure that the child is asleep, then + rises eagerly and goes to him. Her face falls as she notes his + air of dejection._ + +MARY. [_Wistfully._] Nothing, Joe? + +JOE. Nothing. Not a farthing. Nothing. + + [MARY _turns away and checks a moan._ + +JOE. Nothing at all. Same as yesterday--worse than yesterday--I _did_ +bring home a few coppers--And you? + +MARY. A lady gave Minnie some food-- + +JOE. [_Heartily._] Bless her for that! + +MARY. Took her into the pastrycook's, Joe-- + +JOE. And the kiddie had a tuck-out? Thank God! And you? + +MARY. Minnie managed to hide a great big bun for me. + +JOE. The lady didn't give you anything? + +MARY. Only a lecture, Joe, for bringing the child out on so bitter a day. + +JOE. [_With a sour laugh, as he sits on a chair._] Ho, ho! Always so ready +with their lectures, aren't they? "Shouldn't beg, my man! Never give to +beggars in the street!"--Look at me, I said to one of them. Feel my arm. +Tap my chest. I tell you I'm starving, and they're starving at +home.--"Never give to beggars in the street." + +MARY. [_Laying a hand on his arm._] Oh, Joe, you're wet! + +JOE. It's been raining hard the last three hours--pouring. My stars, it's +cold. Couldn't we raise a bit of fire, Mary? + +MARY. With what, Joe? + +JOE. [_After a look round, suddenly getting up, seizing a ricketty chair +by the wall, breaking off the legs._] With this! Wonderful fine furniture +they give you on the Hire System--so solid and substantial--as advertised. +[_He breaks the flimsy thing up, as he speaks._] And to think we paid for +this muck, in the days we were human beings--paid about three times its +value! And to think of the poor devils, poor devils like us, who sweated +their life-blood out to make it--and of the blood-sucking devils who sold +it and got fat on it--and now back it goes to the devil it came from, and +we can at least get warm for a minute. [_He crams the wood into the +grate._] Got any paper, Mary? + +MARY. [_Taking an old newspaper from the trunk._] Here, Joe. + +JOE. That will help to build up a fire. [_He glances at it, then lays it +carefully underneath the wood._ MARY _gets lamp from table._] The Daily +Something or other--that tells the world what a happy people we are--how +proud of belonging to an Empire on which the sun never sets. And I'd sell +Gibraltar to-night for a sausage with mashed potatoes; and let Russia +take India if some one would give me a clerkship at a pound a +week.--There, in you go! A match, Mary? + +MARY. [_Standing above_ JOE, _handing him one._] Ok Joe, be careful--we've +only two left! + +JOE. I'll be careful. Wait, though--I'll see whether there's a bit of +tobacco still in my pipe. [_He fishes the pipe out of his pocket._] A +policeman who warned me away from the kerb gave me some tobacco. "Mustn't +beg," he said. "Got a pipe? Well, here's some tobacco." I believe he'd +have given me money. But it was the first kind word I had heard all day, +and it choked me.--There's just a bit left at the bottom. [_He bustles._] +Now, first the fire. [_He puts the match to the paper--it kindles._] And +then my pipe. [_The fire burns up; he throws himself in front of it._] +Boo-o-oh, I'm sizzling.... I got so wet that I felt the water running into +my lungs--my feet didn't seem to belong to me--and as for my head and +nose! [_Yawns._] Well, smoke's good--by the powers, I'm getting warm--come +closer to it, Mary. It's a little after midnight now--and I left home, +this fine, luxurious British home, just as soon as it was light. And I've +tramped the streets all day. Net result, a policeman gave me a pipeful of +tobacco, I lunched off a bit of bread that I saw floating down the +gutter--and I dined off the kitchen smell of the Café Royal. That's my +day. + +MARY. [_Stroking his hand._] Poor boy, poor boy! + +JOE. I stood for an hour in Leicester Square when the theatres emptied, +thinking I might earn a copper, calling a cab, or something. There they +were, all streaming out, happy and clean and warm--broughams and +motor-cars--supper at the Savoy and the Carlton--and a hundred or two of +us others in the gutter, hungry--looking at them. They went off to their +supper--it was pouring, and I got soaked--and there I stood, dodging the +policemen, dodging the horses' heads and the motors--and it was +always--get away, you loafer, get away--get away--get away-- + +MARY. We've done nothing to deserve it, Joe-- + +JOE. [_With sudden fury._] Deserve it! What have I ever done wrong! Wasn't +_my_ fault the firm went bankrupt and I couldn't get another job. I've a +first-rate character--I'm respectable--what's the use? I want to +work--they won't let me! + +MARY. That illness of mine ate up all our savings. O Joe, I wish I had +died! + +JOE. And left me alone? That's not kind of you, Mary. How about Mrs. +Willis? Is she worrying about the rent? + +MARY. Well, she'd like to have it, of course--they're so dreadfully poor +themselves--but she says she won't turn us out. And I'm going to-morrow to +her daughter's upstairs--she makes matchboxes, you know--and I don't see +why I shouldn't try--I could earn nearly a shilling a day. + +JOE. A shilling a day! Princely! [_His pipe goes out. He takes a last +puff at it, squints into it to make sure all the tobacco is gone, then +lays it down with a sigh._] I reckon _I'll_ try making 'em too. I went to +the Vestry again, this morning, to see whether they'd take me as +sweeper--but they've thirty names down, ahead of me. I've tried chopping +wood, but I can't--I begin to cough the third stroke--there's something +wrong with me inside, somewhere. I've tried every Institution on God's +earth--and there are others before me, and there is no vacancy, and I +mustn't beg, and I mustn't worry the gentlemen. A shilling a day--can one +earn as much as that! Why, Mary, that will be fourteen shillings a +week--an income! We'll do it! + +MARY. It's not quite a shilling, Joe--you have to find your own paste and +odds and ends. And of course it takes a few weeks to learn, before you +begin to make any money. + +JOE. [_Crestfallen._] Does it though? And what are we going to do, those +few weeks? I thought there was a catch in it, somewhere. [_He gets up and +stretches himself._] Well, here's a free-born Englishman, able to conduct +correspondence in three languages, bookkeeping by double entry, twelve +years' experience--and all he's allowed to do is to starve. [_He stretches +himself again._] + + But in spite of all temptations + To belong to other nations-- + +[_With sudden passion._] God! I wish I were a Zulu! + +MARY. [_Edging to him._] Joe-- + +JOE. [_Turning._] Well? + +MARY. Joe, Joe, we've tried very hard, haven't we? + +JOE. Tried! Is there a job in this world we'd refuse? Is there anything +we'd turn up our nose at? Is there any chance we've neglected? + +MARY. [_Stealing nervously to him and laying a hand on his arm._] Joe-- + +JOE. [_Raising his head and looking at her._] Yes--what is it? [_She +stands timidly with downcast eyes._] Well? Out with it, Mary! + +MARY. [_Suddenly._] It's this, Joe. + + [_She goes feverishly to the mattress, and from underneath it she + pulls out a big, fat purse which she hands him._ + +JOE. [_Staring._] A purse! + +MARY. [_Nodding._] Yes. + +JOE. You-- + +MARY. Found it. + +JOE. [_Looking at her._] Found? + +MARY. [_Awkwardly._] In a way I did--yes. + +JOE. How? + +MARY. It came on to rain, Joe--and I went into a Tube Station--and was +standing by a bookstall, showing Minnie the illustrated papers--and an old +lady bought one--and she took out her purse--this purse--and paid for +it--and laid the purse on the board while she fumbled to pick up her +skirts--and then some one spoke to her--a friend, I suppose--and--there +were lots of people standing about--I don't know how it was--I was out in +the street, with Minnie-- + +JOE. You had the purse? + +MARY. Yes-- + +JOE. No one followed you? + +MARY. No one. I couldn't run, as I had to carry Minnie. + +JOE. What made you do it? + +MARY. I don't know--something in me did it--She put the purse down just by +the side of my hand--my fingers clutched it before I knew--and I was out +in the street. + +JOE. How much is there in it? + +MARY. I haven't looked, Joe. + +JOE. [_Wondering._] You haven't looked? + +MARY. No; I didn't dare. + +JOE. [_Sorrowfully._] I didn't think we'd come to this, Mary. + +MARY. [_Desperately._] We've got to do something. Before we can earn any +money at making matchboxes we'll have to spend some weeks learning. And +you've not had a decent meal for a month--nor have I. If there's money +inside this purse you can get some clothes--and for me too--I need them! +It's not as though the old lady would miss it--she's rich enough--her +cloak was real sable--and no one can find us out--they can't tell one +piece of money from the other. It's heavy, Joe--I think there's a lot +inside. + +JOE. [_Weighing it mechanically._] Yes--it's heavy-- + +MARY. [_Eagerly._] Open it, Joe. + +JOE. [_Turning to her again._] Why didn't you? + +MARY. I just thought I'd wait--I'd an idea something might have happened; +that some one might have stopped you in the street, some one with a +heart--and that he'd have come in with you to-night--and seen us--seen +Minnie--and said--"Well, here's money--I'll put you on your legs +again"--And then we'd have given the purse back, Joe. + +JOE. [_As he still mechanically balances it in his hand._] Yes. + +MARY. Can't go on like this, can we? You'll cough all night again, as you +did yesterday--and the stuff they gave you at the Dispensary's no good. If +you had clothes, you might get some sort of a job perhaps--you know you +had to give up trying because you were so shabby. + +JOE. They laugh at me. + +MARY. [_With a glance at herself._] And I'm really ashamed to walk through +the streets-- + +JOE. I know--though I'm getting used to it. Besides, there's the kiddie. +Let's have a look at her. + +MARY. Be careful you don't wake her, Joe! + +JOE. There's a fire. + +MARY. She'll be hungry. + +JOE. You said that she had some food? + +MARY. That was at three o'clock. And little things aren't like us--they +want their regular meals. Night after night she has been hungry, and I've +had nothing to give her. That's why I took the purse. + +JOE. [_Still holding it mechanically and staring at it._] Yes. And, after +all, why not? + +MARY. We can get the poor little thing some warm clothes, some good food-- + +JOE. [_Under his breath._] A thief's daughter. + + [_Covers his face with his hands._ + +MARY. Joe! + +JOE. Not nice, is it? Can't be helped, of course. And who cares? For three +months this game has gone on--we getting shabbier, wretcheder, +hungrier--no one bothers--all _they_ say is "keep off the pavement." Let's +see what's in the purse. + +MARY. [_Eagerly._] Yes, yes! + +JOE. [_Lifting his head as he is on the point of opening the purse._] +That's the policeman passing. + +MARY. [_Impatiently._] Never mind that-- + +JOE. [_Turning to the purse again._] First time in my life I've been afraid +when I heard the policeman. + + [_He has his finger on the catch of the purse when he pauses for + a moment--then acting on a sudden impulse, makes a dart for the + door, opens it, and is out, and up the area steps._ + +MARY. [_With a despairing cry._] Joe! + + [_She flings herself on the mattress, and sobs silently, so as + not to awaken, the child._ JOE _returns, hanging his head, + dragging one foot before the other._ + +MARY. [_Still sobbing, but trying to control herself._] Why did you do +that? + +JOE. [_Humbly._] I don't know-- + +MARY. You gave it to the policeman? + +JOE. Yes. + +MARY. What did you tell him? + +JOE. That you had found it. + +MARY. Where? + +JOE. In a Tube Station. Picked it up because we were starving. That we +hadn't opened it. And that we lived here, in this cellar. + +MARY. [_With a little shake._] I expect he'll keep it himself! + +JOE. [_Miserably._] Perhaps. + + [_There is silence for a moment; she has ceased to cry; suddenly + she raises herself violently on her elbow._ + +MARY. You fool! You fool! + +JOE. [_Pleading._] Mary! + +MARY. With your stupid ideas of honesty! What have they done for you, or +me? + +JOE. [_Dropping his head again._] It's the kiddie, you know--her being a +thief's daughter-- + +MARY. Is that worse than being the daughter of a pair of miserable +beggars? + +JOE. [_Under his breath._] I suppose it is, somehow-- + +MARY. You'd rather she went hungry? + +JOE. [_Despairingly._] I don't know how it was--hearing his tramp up +there-- + +MARY. You were afraid? + +JOE. I don't want you taken to prison. + +MARY. [_With a wail._] I'll be taken to the graveyard soon, in a pauper's +coffin! + +JOE. [_Starts suddenly._] Suppose we did that? + +MARY. [_Staring._] The workhouse? + +JOE. Why not, after all? That's what it will come to, sooner or later. + +MARY. They'd separate us. + +JOE. At least you and the kiddie'd have food. + +MARY. They'd separate us. And I love you, Joe. My poor, poor Joe! I love +you. + + [_She nestles up to him and takes his hand._ + +JOE. [_Holding her hand in his, and bending over her._] You forgive me for +returning the purse? + +MARY. [_Dropping her head on his shoulder._] Forgive you! You were right. +It was the cold and the hunger maddened me. You were right! + +JOE. [_Springing to his feet, with sudden passion._ MARY _staggers back._] +I _wasn't_ right--I was a coward, a criminal--a vile and wicked fool. + +MARY. [_Startled._] Joe! + +JOE. I had money there--money in my hand--money that you need so badly, +you, the woman I love with all my ragged soul--money that would have put +food into the body of my little girl--money that was mine, that belonged +to me--and I've given it back, because of my rotten honesty! What right +have I to be honest? They've made a dog of me--what business had I to +remember I was a man? + +MARY. [_Following him and laying a hand on his arm._] Hush, Joe--you'll +wake Minnie. + +JOE. [_Turning and staring haggardly at her._] I could have got clothes--a +job, perhaps--we might have left this cellar. We could have gone out +to-morrow and bought things--gone into shops--we might have had food, +coal-- + +MARY. Don't, Joe--what's the use? And who knows--it may prove a blessing +to us. You told the policeman where we lived? + +JOE. A blessing! I'll get up to-morrow, after having coughed out my lungs +all night--and I'll go into the streets and walk there from left to right +and from right to left, standing at this corner and at that, peering into +men's faces, watching people go to their shops and their offices, people +who are warm and comfortable--and so it will go on, till the end comes. + +MARY. [_Standing very close to him, almost in a whisper._] Why not now, +Joe? + +JOE. [_With a startled glance at her._] The end? + +MARY. There's no room for us in this world-- + +JOE. If I'd taken that money-- + +MARY. It's too late for that now. And I'm glad you didn't--yes, I am--I'm +glad. We'll go before God clean-handed. And we'll say to Him we didn't +steal, or do anything He didn't want us too. And we'll tell Him we've died +because people wouldn't allow us to live. + +JOE. [_With a shudder._] No. Not that--we'll wait, Mary. Don't speak of +that. + +MARY. [_Wistfully._] You've thought of it too? + +JOE. Thought of it! Don't, Mary, don't! It's bad enough, in the night, +when I lie there and think of to-morrow! Something will happen--it must. + +MARY. What? We haven't a friend in the world. + +JOE. I may meet some one I used to know. + +MARY. You've met them before--they always refuse-- + +JOE. [_Passionately._] I've done nothing wrong--I haven't drunk or +gambled--I can't help being only a clerk, and unable to do heavy work! I +can't help my lungs being weak! I've a wife and a child, like other +people--and all we ask is to be allowed to live! + +MARY. [_Pleading._] Let's give it up, Joe. Go away together, you'd sleep +without coughing. Sleep, that's all. And God will be kinder than men. + +JOE. [_Groaning._] Don't, Mary--don't! + +MARY. Joe, I can't stand it any longer--I can't. Not only myself--but +Minnie--Joe, it's too much for me! I can't stand Minnie crying, and asking +me for her breakfast, as she will in the morning. Joe, dear Joe, let there +be no morning! + +JOE. [_Completely overcome._] Oh, Mary, Mary! + +MARY. It's not _your_ fault, dear--you've done what you could. Not _your_ +fault they won't let you work--you've tried hard enough. And no woman ever +had a better husband than you've been to me. I love you, dear Joe. And +let's do it--let's make an end. And take Minnie with us. + +JOE. [_Springing up._] Mary, I'll steal something to-morrow. + +MARY. And they'd send you to prison. Besides, then God would be angry. Now +we can go to Him and need not be ashamed. Let us, dear Joe--oh, do let us! +I'm so tired! + +JOE. No. + +MARY. [_Sorrowfully._] You won't? + +JOE. [_Doggedly._] No. We'll go to the workhouse. + +MARY. You've seen them in there, haven't you? + +JOE. Yes. + +MARY. You've seen them standing at the window, staring at the world? And +they'd take you away from me. + +JOE. That's better than-- + +MARY. [_Firmly._] I won't do it, Joe. I've been a good wife to you--I've +been a good mother: and I love you, though I'm ragged and have pawned all +my clothes; and I'll strangle myself rather than go to the workhouse and +be shut away from you. + +JOE. [_With a loud cry._] No! I'll _make_ them give me something; and if I +_have_ to kill, it shan't be my wife and child! To-morrow I'll come home +with food and money--to-morrow-- + + [_There is a sudden wail from the child;_ JOE _stops and stares + at her;_ MARY _goes quickly to the mattress and soothes the + little girl._ + +MARY. Hush, dear, hush--no it's not morning yet, not time for breakfast. +Go to sleep again, dear. Yes, daddy's come back, and things are going to +be all right now--No, dear, you can't be hungry, really--remember those +beautiful cakes. Go to sleep, Minnie, dear. You're cold? [_She takes off +her ragged shawl and wraps it round the child._] There, dear, you won't be +cold now. Go to sleep, Minnie-- + + [_The child's wail dies away, as_ MARY _soothes her back to + sleep._ + +JOE. [_Staggering forward with a sudden cry._] God, O God, give us bread! + + +THE CURTAIN SLOWLY FALLS + + + + +THE OPEN DOOR + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +SIR GEOFFREY TRANSOM +LADY TORMINSTER + + + +THE OPEN DOOR + + +SCENE: _The drawing-room of_ LORD TORMINSTER'S _cottage by the + sea. It is 2 a.m. of a fine July night; the French windows are + open on to the lawn. The room is dark; in an armchair,_ SIR + GEOFFREY TRANSOM, _a man of forty, with a frank, pleasant face, + is seated, deep in thought. Suddenly the door opens, and_ LADY + TORMINSTER _appears and switches on the light. She starts at + seeing_ SIR GEOFFREY. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Oh! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Rising._] Hullo! Don't be afraid--it's only I! + +LADY TORMINSTER. What a start you gave me Why haven't you gone to bed? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I'm tired of going to bed. One always has to get up again, +and it becomes monotonous. Why haven't you gone to sleep? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I don't know--it's too hot, or something. I've come for a +book. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Let me choose one for you. + + [_He goes to the table._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why were you sitting in the dark? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Because the light annoyed me. What sort of book will you +have? A red one or a green one? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Is there a virtue in the colour of the binding? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? They're all the same inside. There are three +hundred ways, they say, of cooking a potato--there are as many of dressing +up a lie, and calling it a novel. But it's always the same old lie. Here +take this. [_He hands her a book._] Popular Astronomy. That will send you +to sleep. + +LADY TORMINSTER. The stars frighten me. But I'll try it. Good-night. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Good-night. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And you really had better go to bed. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I move as an amendment that you sit down and talk. + +LADY TORMINSTER. At this time of night! + +SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? It's day in the Antipodes. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And in this attire! + + [_She glances at her peignoir._ + +SIR GEOFFREY. Pooh! You are more dressed than you were at dinner. That's +awfully rude, isn't it? But then, you see, you're not my hostess +now--you're a spirit, walking in the night. One can't be polite to +spirits. Sit down, oh shade, and let us converse. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Hesitating._] I don't know-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. The household have all retired; and we will make this +concession to Mrs. Grundy--we will leave the door open. There! [_He flings +it open._] The Open Door! Centuries ago, when I was alive, I remember +paragraphs with that heading. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Laughing._] So you're not alive now? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Sir Geoffrey Transom ceased to be when he said good-night to +Lady Torminster. Sir Geoffrey is upstairs asleep. So is her ladyship. We +are their souls. Let us talk. + +LADY TORMINSTER. You are in your whimsical mood. + +SIR GEOFFREY. And you in your wrapper--peignoir--tea gown--it don't matter +what you call it. You look--jolly. Ridiculous word--I don't mean that at +all. You look--you. More you than I've seen you for years. Sh--don't +interrupt. Shades never do that. By the way, do you know that the old +lumber-room, my owner--my corporeal sheath--means to go away in the +morning, before you are up? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Sir Geoffrey! What nonsense! You've promised to stay a +month! + +SIR GEOFFREY. I assure you I have been charged to invent fitting and +appropriate lies to account for the ridiculous creature's abrupt +departure. The man Transom is a poor liar. + +LADY TORMINSTER. You are making me giddy. Would you mind putting on your +body? I've not been introduced to your soul. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Springing up with a flourish._] How very remiss of me! +Permit me. Gertrude this is Geoffrey. You have often heard me speak of +him. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Rising._] I think I'll go to bed. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Now that is preposterous. Jack, my dear old friend--the best +and only friend I have in the world--is slumbering peacefully upstairs, +and Jack's wife is reluctant to talk to Jack's old pal because the sun +happens to be hidden on the other side of the globe. Lady Torminster, sit +down. If you're good you shall have a cigarette. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Sitting._] Well, just one. And when I've finished it, +I'll go. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Agreed. + + [_He hands her the box; she takes a cigarette; he strikes a match + and holds it for her; he then takes a cigarette himself, and + lights it._ + +SIR GEOFFREY. And, while smoking it, remember Penelope's web. For I've +heaps of things to tell you. + +LADY TORMINSTER. They'll keep till to-morrow. + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's a fearful delusion. Nothing keeps. There is one law +in the universe: NOW. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I want to know what you mean by this nonsense about your +going. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Puffing out smoke._] Yes--I'm off in the morning. It has +occurred to me that I haven't been to China. Now that is a serious +omission. How can I face my forefathers, and confess to them that I +haven't seen the land where the Yellow Labour comes from? + +LADY TORMINSTER. China has waited a long time--a month more or less will +make no difference. They are a patient race. + +SIR GEOFFREY. There is gipsy blood in my veins--I must wander--I'm +restless.... Not like Jack--he's untroubled--he can sleep. Jack's a fine +sleeper, isn't he? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Calm, serene, untroubled, with the conscience of a +babe--one, two, three, he sleeps. He and I have had some rare times +together. I've been roped to him on the Andes--he shot a tiger that was +about to scrunch me--I rubbed his nose when it was frost-bitten. He saved +my life--I saved his nose. I always maintain that the balance of gratitude +is on his side--for where would he have been without his nose? + +LADY TORMINSTER. You _are_ absurd. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Would you have married him without a nose? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I might have. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Now you know you wouldn't. You'd have been afraid of what +people would say. And what would he have done when he became +short-sighted, and had to wear glasses? + +LADY TORMINSTER. My cigarette has gone out. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Jumping up and handing her the box._] Take another. Never +re-light a cigarette--it's like dragging up the past. Here. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I said only one. + +SIR GEOFFREY. This is not the hour for inflexibility. The Medes and +Persians have all gone to bed. + + [_She takes the cigarette; he lights it for her._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. Tell me why you mean to leave us. And remember--I shan't +let _this_ one go out. + +SIR GEOFFREY. My explanation will be handed to you with your cup of tea in +the morning. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And you will be gone? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I shall be gone. There is a train at 7.45--which will be +packed with husbands. I shall breakfast in town. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Well, one must breakfast somewhere. It's a convention. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Sir Geoffrey, I want you to tell me what this means. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Give your decision, said the judge to the arbitrator, but +never your reasons. I go, because I go. Besides, has one reasons? Why do +people die, or get married, or buy umbrellas? Because of typhoid, love, or +the rain? Not at all. Isn't that so? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I wish you'd be serious. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I'm fearfully serious. When Jack shot that tiger he had to +go so near the brute that he held his life in his hands. Do you know what +was my chief impression as I lay there, with the ugly cat's paw upon my +chest, beginning to rip me? + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Shuddering._] Horrible! What? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I resented his having eaten something that smelt like +onions. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Smiling._] A tiger! + +SIR GEOFFREY. Onions may have been his undoing. That's the beggar's skin +on the floor. But you should have seen me rub Jack's nose! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Warningly._] Sir Geoffrey, there's very little +cigarette left-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. There are lots more in the box--and dawn is a long way off. +Hang it, Lady Torminster, don't be in a hurry! Do you hear the sea out +there? It's breathing as regularly as old Jack. And don't you think this +is fine? Here we are, we two, meeting just as we shall meet on the other +side of the Never-Never Land. It's a chance for a man to speak to a woman, +and tell her things. + +LADY TORMINSTER. What things! + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's just it--what things? What have I to say, after all? +I am going to-morrow because I am a fantastic, capricious ass. Also +because I'm lonely. + +LADY TORMINSTER. How will China help you? + +SIR GEOFFREY. They colour it green on the map--and there _is_ such a lot +of it! + +LADY TORMINSTER. You should get married. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a sudden burst of passion._] _You_ say that--you! + + [_He starts back, ashamed, and hangs his head._ LADY TORMINSTER + _throws a quick glance at him, then looks ahead of her, puffing + quietly at her cigarette._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Quietly._] So that is why you are going? + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a great sigh of relief._] Now, that really is fine of +you! Every other woman in the world would have seized that chance for a +melodramatic exit. "Good-night, Sir Geoffrey; I must go to my husband." +"Good-night, Lady Torminster." A clasp of the hand--a hot tear--mine--on +your wrist. But you sit there. Splendid! + +LADY TORMINSTER. I ask you again--is that truly why you are going? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Well, yes, that's the fact. I apologise humbly--it's so +conventional. Isn't it? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I suppose it's difficult for human beings to invent new +situations. + +SIR GEOFFREY. You've known it, of course, all the time; you've known it +ever since Jack brought me to you, the day after you were engaged. And +that's nine years ago. It's the usual kind of fatality. + +LADY TORMINSTER. These things happen. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Yes. Well, I thought I was cured. I've been here five days, +and I find I am not. So I go. That's best, isn't it? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes. + +SIR GEOFFREY. It's so infernally stupid. You're a beautiful woman, of +course; but there are heaps of beautiful women. You've qualities--well, so +have other women, too. I'm only forty-one--and, as you say, why don't I +marry? Simply because of you. Because you've an uncomfortable knack of +intruding between me and the other lady. + +LADY TORMINSTER. That is a great misfortune. + +SIR GEOFFREY. It's most annoying. So I shall try China. I shall come back +in two years--I shall be forty-three then--I shall come back, sound as a +bell; and I shall marry some healthy, pink-cheeked young woman, take a +house next to yours, and in the fulness of time your eldest son shall fall +in love with my daughter. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why not? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I shouldn't have told you, of course; but I'm glad that I +have. It clears the air. Now what excuse shall I make? + +LADY TORMINSTER. A wire from town? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Jack knows all about my affairs; in fact, that's why I take +the early train, to avoid his questions. + +LADY TORMINSTER. You find it impossible to stay out your time here? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Quite. There are moments when I am unpleasantly volcanic. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Then I tell you the best thing to do. Don't take your +trunks; just go up with a bag. Leave a note that you'll come back on +Tuesday. Then write from town and say you're prevented. + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's a good idea--yes, that's much better. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And, if you find that you really cannot come back-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. Exactly; you'll forward my goods and chattels. And old Jack +will ascribe it all to my wayward mood; he'll think I have found it too +dull down here. I'm immensely obliged. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_With a smile._] Remark that I've not offered to be a +sister to you. + +SIR GEOFFREY. You've been superb. Oh, the good talk we've had! Do you +know, I could almost wish old Jack to have heard what I said. I'm so fond +of him, that grand old fellow, that I've been on the point of telling him, +myself, more than once. For you know he _will_ have me take you about, and +it's painful. Besides, I've felt it almost disloyal to--keep this thing +from him. You understand, don't you? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes. + +SIR GEOFFREY. He and I almost are one, you see. It's not British to show +any feeling, but really I--love him. And the devil comes along, and, of +all women in the world, singles out Jack's wife, and fills my heart with +her. That's the devil's sense of humour. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Perhaps he has read Bernard Shaw. But you must never let +Jack know--never. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I suppose not. He's so direct, so single-minded, that the +shock would be terrible. But I'm not to blame. How could I help it? Oh, +all that cackle about being master of one's fate! + +LADY TORMINSTER. Two years in China-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. We'll hope so. Of course, it didn't matter about my telling +you, because you knew already. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Nodding_] Yes, I knew. Although-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. Oh, you've done what you could! I've felt, in a hundred +subtle ways, how you almost implored me--not to. Well, there it is. I'll +write that note at once. + + [_He sits at the table and begins to write._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. I'm sorry you are so lonely. + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's my fault, too--the fault of the ridiculous class to +which we belong. I don't do anything. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why not? + +SIR GEOFFREY. What would you have me do? Go into the House? Thank you, +I've been there. You spend your time on the Terrace or in the smoke-room +till a muffin-bell rings; then you gravely walk into the lobby, where an +energetic gentleman counts you as Polyphemus counted his sheep. +Philanthropy! Well, I've tried that, but it's not in my line. I'm quite a +respectable landlord, but a fellow can't live all by himself in a great +Elizabethan barrack. Town--the Season? Christian mothers invite you to +inspect their daughters' shoulders, with a view to purchase. I'm tired of +golf and polo; I'm tired of bridge. So I'll try the good sea and the open +plains; sleep in a tent and watch the stars twinkle--the stars that make +you afraid. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes, I'm afraid of the stars. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Why? + +LADY TORMINSTER. You remember the Persian poet? "I too have said to the +stars and the wind, I will. But the wind and the stars have mocked +me--they have laughed in my face...." + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_A little uncomfortable._] Persian poets, like all poets, +have a funny way of pretending that the stars take an interest in us. To +me, it's their chief charm that they're so unconcerned. They are lonely, +too. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Suddenly, violently._] Don't say that again--don't--I +can't bear it! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Aghast._] Gertrude!!! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_In a whisper._] Yes. + + [_He stares haggardly at her; she does not move, but looks out, + through the open window, into the night._ + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a deep breath._] Well, I suppose we had better turn +in-- + +LADY TORMINSTER. When do you go to China? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I shall take the first boat. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And you will come back--? + +SIR GEOFFREY. In a year--or two--or three-- + +LADY TORMINSTER. We shall hear from you? + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With an effort of lightness._] Certainly. And I will send +you chests of tea--best family Souchong--and jars of ginger. Also little +boxes that fit into each other. I am afraid that is all I know at present +of Chinese manufactures. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Musing._] You will be away so long? + +SIR GEOFFREY. You told me to do something. I shall learn Chinese. I +believe there are five hundred letters in the alphabet. + +LADY TORMINSTER. As many as that! + +SIR GEOFFREY. It is possible that I exaggerate. Well, Lady Torminster, I +think I'll say good-night. + + [_He offers his hand, which she ignores. She smiles, and motions + him back to his seat._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. The sun is still shining in the antipodes, my dear +Geoffrey, and you are still Jack's old friend, talking to Jack's wife. Sit +down, and don't be foolish. You'll be away for years; it's possible we may +never meet again. It's possible, too, that next time we do meet you may be +married. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With iron control._] Who knows? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Exactly--who knows? So there's no reason why we shouldn't +look each other squarely in the face for once, and speak out what's in us. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Sorrowfully._] Oh, Lady Torminster, what is there to say? + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Bending forward a little and smiling._] How you resent +my having told _you!_ + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a guilty start._] Resent! I! + +LADY TORMINSTER. You do, and you know it. In your heart you are saying, +"All was going so well--she has spoiled it! If she _does_ love me she +shouldn't have said it--Jack's wife!" + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Sturdily._] Well--Jack's wife. Yes! + +LADY TORMINSTER. Geoffrey, Jack bores me. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Aghast._] Lady Torminster! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Clapping her hands in glee._] There! I've said it! Oh, +it's such a relief! I never have before, and I don't suppose I ever shall +again--for whom can I say it to but you? Listen--I tell you--quite _entre +nous_--he bores me shockingly! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_In positive distress._] Lady Torminster! I beg of you! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Cheerfully._] The best fellow in all the world, and he +bores me. A heart of gold, a model husband, a perfect father--and a bore, +bore, bore! There! I assure you I feel better. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I suppose there are moments when every woman says that of +every man. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Fanning herself._] My dear Geoffrey, please send for +your soul; it has wandered off somewhere, and I don't like talking to +copybooks. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Doggedly._] You are talking to Jack's friend. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Jack's friend--and mine--don't forget that! And could I +say these things about Jack to any one else, and can't you conceive what a +joy it is to say them? Besides, aren't we just now on the rim of the +world--aren't we a little more than ourselves--aren't we almost on the +other side of things? If we ever meet again, we shall look curiously at +each other, and wonder, was it all true? As it is, I am scarcely sure that +you are real. Everything is so still, so strange. Jack! He is up there, of +course, the dear boy, his big red face pressed on the pillow. Oh, +Geoffrey, when Jack brought you to me, and I was engaged--if you only +hadn't been so loyal! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Grimly._] Do you know what you are saying? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I am saying the things a woman says once in a lifetime, +and feels all her life. Oh, it was all so simple! You loved me--you ... +were blind because of Jack ... And I married Jack ... I mustn't complain +... I am one of the hundreds of women who marry--Jacks. + +SIR GEOFFREY. A better, finer man never lived. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I dare say--in fact, I am sure. But you should see us +when we are alone, sitting there night after night, with never a word to +say to each other! You tell me you're tired of polo, and golf, and bridge. +Well, how about me? And need you be scowling so fiercely, and begrudge me +my one little wail, you who are going away? + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Angrily._] Yes, I am going away, and I shall marry a +Chinese. I shall marry the first Chinese woman I meet. + +LADY TORMINSTER. This is very sudden. Why? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Because, at least, not knowing the language, she won't be +able to say unkind things about me to my friends. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Her chin on her hand, looking squarely at him._] +Geoffrey, _is_ Jack a bore? + +SIR GEOFFREY. He never bores me. + +LADY TORMINSTER. That's because he shot your tiger, and you rubbed his +nose. Besides, you talk about horses, and so on. And yet I heard him, for +a solid hour, telling you about a rubber he lost at bridge through his +partner making diamonds trumps when he should have made spades. + +SIR GEOFFREY. He's not clever, of course--and you are. But still! Is +cleverness everything? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Haven't I told you he's the very best fellow in all the +world? And do you think I'm posing, pretending that I'm misunderstood, and +the rest? You know me better. I am indulging, for once, in the luxury of +absolute candour. + +SIR GEOFFREY. You loved him-- + +LADY TORMINSTER. Of course I loved him--and I love him now. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Triumphantly._] You see! + +LADY TORMINSTER. If we women had had a hand in the making of the language, +how many words there would be to express our feelings towards the men we +are fond of! Of course I love Jack. I'm cruel to him sometimes; and there +comes a look into his eyes--he has dog's eyes, you know--a faithful +Newfoundland-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Very earnestly._] I don't think women quite realise what +friendship means to a man. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I am certain that men don't realise what marriage means +to a woman! Dear funeral, am I not a good wife--shall I not remain a good +wife, till the end of the chapter? Because there isn't only Jack--there +are Jack's children. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Yes. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And isn't it wonderful, when you think of it--here are we +two, Jack's friend and his wife, alone on a desert island--and we have +confessed our love for each other, and we are able to discuss it as calmly +as though it were rheumatism! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a groan._] If only I hadn't induced you to stay! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Smiling._] My dear friend, you didn't! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Amazed._] I didn't? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why no--of course not. I knew you were going to-morrow. + +SIR GEOFFREY. How? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Oh, never mind how! I knew. And I suspected you would be +sitting up here to-night. So I came down, hoping to find you. I wanted +this talk with you. And I extracted your confession--as though it had been +a tooth. + +SIR GEOFFREY. And why? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why? Because it will be something to think of, in the +dull days ahead. Because I knew that you loved me, and wanted to be told. +Because your life lies before you, and mine is ended. Because I love you, +and insisted that you should know. You leave me now, and I have no +illusions. Paolo and Francesca are merely a poet's dream. You will +marry--of course you will marry--but this moment, at least, has been mine. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Stretching out yearning hands._] This moment, and every +moment, in past and future! + +LADY TORMINSTER. Ah, the future! Strange little syllables that hide so +much! I can see you, introducing your wife to me, a little shyly--I can +see myself, shaking hands with her--and with you.... My boy is seven +already--time travels fast.... But it's good to know that you really have +loved me, all these years.... + +SIR GEOFFREY. By day and by night--you, and only you! + +LADY TORMINSTER. And I have loved you--ah, yes, I have loved you!... And, +having said this to each other, we will not meet again--till you bring me +your wife. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Ah--then! + +LADY TORMINSTER. I have loved you, and I love you, for the fine, upright, +loyal creature that you are. I love you for loving Jack; and it is Jack's +great quality in my eyes that he has been able to inspire such love. And, +my dear friend, let us not be ashamed, we two, but only very proud, and +very happy. We shall go our ways, and do our duty; but we shall never +forget this talk we have had to-night. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Gently._] I am beginning to understand.... + +LADY TORMINSTER. You will be less lonely in future ... and I no longer +afraid of the stars.... Brave heart--oh, brave little heart that I for a +moment have held in my hands! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a passionate movement towards her._] Gertrude! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Lifting a finger._] No--stay where you are.... Those +are the first rays of dawn--I must go.... Good-bye. We have no need to +shake hands, you and I.... Ah, Geoffrey--good-bye! + + [_She goes swiftly, and closes the door. He bends his head, and + remains standing, motionless, by the table._ + + +CURTAIN + + + + +THE BRACELET + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +HARVEY WESTERN +HIS HONOUR JUDGE BANKET +MARTIN +WILLIAM +MRS. WESTERN +MRS. BANKET +MISS FARREN +SMITHERS + +TIME--_The present_ + + +_Produced at +the Liverpool +Repertory Theatre +on Feb. 26, 1912_ + + + +THE BRACELET + + +_The dining-room in an upper middle-class house near the Park. It + is furnished in the conventional modern style, soberly and + without imagination. The room is on the ground floor, facing the + street, the door is to the right, and leads into the hall. To the + left of this door is a sideboard, glittering with silver. Three + tall windows, at the back heavily curtained; between them hang + two or three family portraits. The table, on which there is the + usual debris of a meal that is over--coffee-cups, + liqueur-glasses, etc.--has been laid for four persons, and their + four chairs are still around it. The fireplace, with its rather + crude and ambitious mantelpiece, is in the centre of the left + wall; and uncomfortable-looking heavy armchairs are on each side + of it. On the mantelpiece are a marble clock and a few bits of + china. In the angle formed at the left side is a small Queen Anne + writing-table, open. To the right of the room is a large sofa. + The floor is heavily carpeted, and there are many rugs scattered + about._ + + _When the curtain rises, the room is in darkness._ WILLIAM, _the + footman, enters hurriedly and switches on the electric light. He + rushes to the table, looks eagerly around, shifting cups and + glasses, napkins, etc., then goes on his hands and knees and + searches on the carpet. After a moment,_ SMITHERS, _the + lady's-maid, follows him._ + +SMITHERS. [_Eagerly._] Can't you find it? + +WILLIAM. [_Sulkily._] No. Not yet. Give me time. + +SMITHERS. [_Feeling along the table-cloth._] Under one of those rugs, +perhaps. + +WILLIAM. Well, I'm looking. [_Motor-horn sounds sharply, off._] All right, +all right! + +SMITHERS. [_With a jerk of the head._] Missis is telling him to do it. + +WILLIAM. [_On all fours, crawling about._] Very like her voice, too, when +she's angry. Drat the thing! Where can it be? + + [_He peers into the coal-scuttle._ + +SMITHERS. No good looking in there, stupid. + +WILLIAM. They always say it's the unlikeliest places-- + + [MARTIN, _the butler, comes in._ + +MARTIN. Come, come, haven't you found it? + +WILLIAM. No, Mr. Martin. It ain't here. + +MARTIN. [_Bustling about._] Must be, must be. She says-- + +WILLIAM. I can't help what she says. It ain't. + +MARTIN. [_Looking under the sofa._] Just you hustle, young man, and don't +give me any back-answers. + + [_Having completed his examination of the sofa, he moves to the + sideboard, and fusses round that._ + +SMITHERS. [_Methodically shaking out each napkin._] I tell you she's +cross. + +MARTIN. [_Hard at work, searching._] Doesn't mind disturbing _us,_ in the +midst of our supper! + +WILLIAM. [_Who, all the time, has been on all fours searching._] We're +dirt, that's what we are--dirt. + +MARTIN. [_Reprovingly._] William, I've told you before-- + +WILLIAM. Very sorry, Mr. Martin, but this is the first time I've accepted +an engagement at a stockbroker's. [_He has been crawling round the +curtains at the back, shaking them; pulling hard at one of them he +dislodges the lower part._] Lor! _Now_ I've done it! + +SMITHERS. Clumsy! + +MARTIN. [_Severely._] That comes of too much talk Never mind the +curtain--go on looking. + + [WILLIAM _drops on to his hands and knees again;_ HARVEY WESTERN + _comes into the room, perturbed and restless. He is a + well-preserved man of fifty._ + +HARVEY. I say--not found it? + +MARTIN. Not yet, sir. + +HARVEY. Nuisance. _Must_ be here, you know. + +MARTIN. Is it a very valuable one, sir? + +HARVEY. [_Who has gone to the table, and is turning things over._] No, no, +not particularly--but that's not the point. [_He looks under the table._ + +MARTIN. [_Still seeking._] When did madam find that she'd lost it, sir? + +HARVEY. Oh, about five minutes after we'd started And we've turned over +everything in the car. It's certainly not there. [_He fusses around the +table._ + +MARTIN. Is madam quite sure she was wearing it, sir? + +SMITHERS. [_Fretfully._] Yes, yes, of course she was wearing it. I put it +on her myself. + +MARTIN. Where did madam put her cloak on, sir? + +SMITHERS. In here. I brought it in. + +MARTIN. You didn't notice whether-- + +SMITHERS. No. Don't you think if we moved _all_ the rugs-- + + [_She moves across the room and joins_ WILLIAM, _who is still + grovelling on the floor, and goes on her knees by his side._ + +HARVEY. It must be here _somewhere._ + + [_They are all searching furiously_--WILLIAM _by the windows, + peering into the spaces between the wall and the carpets,_ MARTIN + _at the sideboard,_ SMITHERS _gathering the rugs together, all on + their hands and knees, while_ HARVEY, _bent double, is looking + under the table._ MRS. WESTERN _comes in stonily, followed by + the_ JUDGE _and_ MRS. BANKET. MRS. WESTERN _is a handsome woman + of forty-five, with a rather stern, cold face; the_ JUDGE, _a + somewhat corpulent, genial man of fifty-five; and his wife, an + amiable nullity, seven or eight years younger. They are all in + evening-dress, the ladies in opera-cloaks._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Pausing on the threshold._] Well! + +HARVEY. [_Rising and dusting himself._] No trace of it. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Looking around._] A nice mess you've made of the room! + +MARTIN. You told us to look, Madam. + +JUDGE. [_Going to the fire and standing with his back to it._] I'm afraid +we'll be shockingly late, Alice. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Firmly._] I don't go without my bracelet. + + [_She goes to the table, and proceeds to shift the cups and + glasses._ + +MRS. BANKET. [_Moving to the other side of the table, and doing the +same._] Quite right, dear--I wouldn't. + + [_They all search, except the_ JUDGE, _who shrugs his shoulders + placidly, then takes a cigarette from his case, and lights it. + The three servants still are grovelling on the floor._ + +MRS. WESTERN. I _know_ I had it while I was drinking my coffee-- + +JUDGE. My experience is, one should never look for things. They find +themselves. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Shortly._] Nonsense. + +JUDGE. A fact. Or at least one should _pretend_ to be looking for +something else. My glasses now. When I lose them I declare loudly I can't +find my cigar-case. That disheartens the glasses--they return at once. + +MRS. BANKET. [_Reproachfully._] Don't be so irritating, Tom! + +JUDGE. That's all very well, but how about me? I was asked here to dine. +I've dined--I'm not complaining about the dinner. But now the curtain's +up--and here am I watching half-a-dozen people looking very hard for a +thing that isn't there. + +MRS. BANKET. Tom, Tom, it's those laughs you get in Court that make you so +fond of talking. Don't you see how you're vexing your sister? + +MRS. WESTERN. Oh, I'm used to Tom. Harvey, I think you might be looking. + +HARVEY. My dear, I've been turning round and round in this corner like a +bird in a cage. + +MARTIN. [_Who all this time, like the other servants, has been crawling +around the different articles of furniture in the room, suddenly rises to +his feet and addresses his mistress firmly but respectfully._] It's not +here, madam. + + [_The other servants also rise; and stand, each in their corner._ + +JUDGE. That, I imagine, is perfectly clear; and I congratulate the witness +on the manner in which he has given his evidence. [_He throws his +cigarette into the fire and steps forward._] Now, my dear Alice-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sitting doggedly in the chair in front of the table and +proceeding to pull off her gloves._ I don't go without my bracelet. + +JUDGE. Heaven forbid that I should speak slightingly of a gift of +Harvey's--but really it isn't of such priceless value. + +MRS. WESTERN. That has nothing to do with it. + +MRS. BANKET. Of course not. Oh, these men! + +HARVEY. [_Stepping forward._] Tom's right. Let's go. Look here, I'll get +you another. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Drily._] Thanks--I want _that_ one.--Smithers, and you, +William, just look again in the hall. + +SMITHERS. Yes, m'm. + +MRS. WESTERN. And then help the chauffeur--turn out _everything_ in the +car. + +SMITHERS. Yes, m'm. + +MRS. WESTERN. Bring the rugs into the house, and shake them. + +SMITHERS. Yes, m'm. [_She and_ WILLIAM _go._ + +JUDGE. [_Going hack to the fire._] Sumptuary laws--that's what we want. If +women didn't wear bracelets, they couldn't lose them. + +MRS. WESTERN. Martin, William is honest, isn't he? + +HARVEY. [_Protesting._] Oh, hang it, Alice! + +MARTIN. Quite, madam--excellent character--a little flighty, but a most +respectable young man. + +MRS. WESTERN. I've seen him reading a sporting paper. + +JUDGE. A weakness, my dear Alice, common to the best of us, I do it +myself sometimes, but I'm willing to be searched. + +MRS. BANKET. O Tom, _do_ be quiet! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_To the_ JUDGE.] You're very unsympathetic. [_Turning to_ +MARTIN _again._] None of the other servants came in after we left? + +MARTIN. No, madam. + +MRS. WESTERN. You're sure? + +MARTIN. Quite sure, madam. They were all downstairs, having their supper. + +MRS. WESTERN. Most mysterious! Incomprehensible! + +JUDGE. [_Looking at his watch._] Past nine! We shall plunge into the +play--like body-snatchers, looking for the corpse of the plot--and we +shall never know what it was that the heroine did. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Ignoring him, to_ MARTIN.] Smithers I'll answer for. + +MARTIN. Oh yes, madam. If I _might_ make a suggestion-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Well? + +MARTIN. It couldn't have fallen anywhere into your dress, madam? + +MRS. WESTERN. Nonsense, how could it? [_She gets up and shakes herself._] +Absurd. [_She sits again._ + +MARTIN. Into your cloak? + +MRS. WESTERN. Silk! No. That'll do, Martin. You might help the others +outside. [MARTIN _goes._ + +JUDGE. [_With a step forward._] Now, admirable sister-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Didn't it strike you that Martin's manner was rather +strange? + +HARVEY. [_Fretfully._] Really you _must_ not suspect the servants! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning to him._] _Must_ not--must! That's scarcely the +way to speak to me, Harvey. + +HARVEY. [_Deprecatingly._] My dear-- + +MRS. WESTERN. And I wasn't suspecting--I was merely asking a question of +my brother. + +JUDGE. Come, Alice, let's go. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Shaking her head._] You three go. You'll excuse me. + +JUDGE. [_Cheerfully._] If you insist-- + +MRS. BANKET. [_Coming forward._] No, no. _Do_ come, Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. I can't--I'm so puzzled. [_With a sudden idea._] Oh! + +HARVEY. [_Who is behind her to the left, between her and the_ JUDGE.] +What? Have you found it? + +MRS. WESTERN. No, no--of course not. But ring, please, will you? + +HARVEY. Why? + +MRS. WESTERN, I want you to ring. [_He presses the bell by the +fireplace._] I just remember Miss Farren came in while we were having +coffee. + +HARVEY. [_Indignantly._] Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. I asked her to write a card to Harrod's--she'll have written +it in here. + +HARVEY. [_Angrily._] I say--really! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Coldly._] No need to snub me again--before our guests! I +need scarcely say I am not _suspecting_ Miss Farren--but in justice to +her-- + +MRS. BANKET. But, Alice, she'll have gone out--you told her she might-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Only to her sister's close by--and she may not have gone +yet. Why don't they answer the bell? Ring again, Harvey. + +JUDGE. The poor things are still searching. + +HARVEY. [_Firmly._] Alice, I protest, I do indeed-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Don't be so foolishly sentimental--it's ridiculous at your +age. The young woman is in my employ, as governess to my children. [MARTIN +_comes in._] Has Miss Farren gone out yet? + +MARTIN. No, madam. I believe she's in her room, dressing. + +MRS. WESTERN. Ask her to come. + +MARTIN. Yes, madam. [_He goes._ + +JUDGE. [_Shaking his head._] No sense of proportion, that's the +truth--they've no sense of proportion. + +MRS. BANKET. Tom! + +JUDGE. A fact, my dear--but you can't help it. You've every quality in the +world but just that--you _will_ always look through the wrong end of the +telescope. + +MRS. BANKET. Really, Tom, this isn't the moment for your nonsense--and if +you only knew how stupid you are when you try to be funny! + +HARVEY. [_Going nervously to_ MRS. WESTERN.] I say, I really do think-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Roughly._] I don't care _what_ you think. Leave me alone! + + [_There is silence. The_ JUDGE, _sitting by the fire, whistles + loudly "Waltz me around again, Willie!"_ HARVEY _has gone moodily + across the room and stands by the sideboard._ MRS. BANKET _is + sitting behind the table. After a moment the door opens, and_ + MISS FARREN _comes in, with hat and cloak on, and goes straight + to_ MRS. WESTERN. _She is an extremely pretty girl of twenty._ + +MISS FARREN. You want me, Mrs. Western? + +MRS. WESTERN. Oh, Miss Farren, I've lost my bracelet. + +MISS FARREN. Really! I'm so sorry! Where? + +MRS. WESTERN. I don't know. You didn't see it, of course, after we'd gone? + +MISS FARREN. [_Shaking her head._] No--and no one came in. I was writing +the letter to Harrod's. + +MRS. WESTERN. No one at all? + +MISS FARREN. No--I'm sure of that. And I'd hardly got to my room when I +heard the car come back. + +MRS. WESTERN. Well, thank you, Miss Farren. + +MISS FARREN. It's very annoying. You're sure it's not in the car? + +JUDGE. My dear Miss Farren, it's not in the car, it's not anywhere, and +I'm beginning to believe it never was at all. Come, Alice, let's go. We +shan't see much of the play, but we can at least help the British drama by +buying two programmes. + +MISS FARREN. [_With a light laugh--then turning to_ MRS. WESTERN _again._] +Do you want me any more, Mrs. Western? + +MRS. WESTERN. No, thanks. [MISS FARREN _turns to go_--MRS. WESTERN, _who +has suddenly cast an eager glance at her, as though attracted by +something, calls her back._] Oh, Miss Farren! + +MISS FARREN. [_Turning._] Yes? + +MRS. WESTERN. I wonder whether you'd be so good as to shift this aigrette +of mine--it's hurting me. + +MISS FARREN. Certainly. + + [_She comes back to_ MRS. WESTERN, _and stands by her side; as + she raises her arm_ MRS. WESTERN _jumps up and seizes it by the + wrist._ + +MRS. WESTERN. My bracelet! + + [_Keeping a tight hold of_ MISS FARREN'S _wrist, she holds it at + arm's length. There is a general cry of amazement--the_ JUDGE + _and his wife start to their feet_--HARVEY _rushes eagerly + towards her._ + +JUDGE. Alice! + +MRS. BANKET. Oh! + +HARVEY. No, no-- + + [_These three exclamations are simultaneous._ + +MRS. WESTERN. There it is! She took it! + +JUDGE. Are you sure? + +HARVEY. [_Breathless and urgent._] Alice-- + +MISS FARREN. [_Recovering from her shock and bewilderment._] Mrs. Western, +it isn't-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sternly, still holding the girl by the wrist._] You dare +to pretend-- + +HARVEY. [_Who is now at the back of his wife's chair, looking closely at +the bracelet._] Let me look, let me look.... I say, Alice, you're wrong. +It's not yours at all. The setting's different. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Angrily._] What do you mean, different? You think I don't +know my own bracelet? Are you mad? I say it's mine--and it is! + +JUDGE. [_Stepping forward._] Alice, be careful-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Careful! You're as bad as he! Of course the thing's +mine--I've been wearing it for weeks--and you think I can make a mistake? +She found it, and took it. + +MISS FARREN. [_Very distressed._] No, no, Mrs. Western, really! It isn't +yours! I assure you! + +HARVEY. Alice, I declare to you-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Roughly._] Be quiet and go away. This is no business of +yours. + +HARVEY. [_Eagerly._] But it is! It was I who bought the wretched +thing--well, I am prepared to swear that this isn't the one! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_A little shaken, looking at it again._] You're prepared +to.... [_She lifts her head._] How can you talk such utter nonsense? There +is not the least doubt--not the least! + +JUDGE. [_Stopping_ HARVEY, _who is about to protest violently._] Alice, +mind what you're saying. You'll get yourself into trouble. If Harvey +says-- + +MRS. BANKET. [_Contemptuously._] He's saying it to shield her, that's all. + +HARVEY. [_Indignantly._] I'm not. It's not true. But you mustn't bring +such an accusation. It's monstrous. And I won't allow-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Drawing herself up._] You--won't--allow! The girl takes my +bracelet--and you won't allow! + +Miss FARREN. [_Trying to free herself._] Mrs. Western, I haven't, I +haven't! + +JUDGE. [_Impressively._] Alice, will you listen to me? + +MRS. WESTERN. No, I won't! This doesn't concern you, or any one, but me +and this girl! Look at her--she knows! + +MISS FARREN. Mrs. Western, you're hurting my arm.... + +MRS. WESTERN. Come now--confess! I won't be hard on you if you confess-- + + [_She wrenches off the bracelet, and releases the girl, who + staggers back, nursing her wrist._ + +HARVEY. [_Almost beside himself, stamping his foot._] Alice, Alice, will +you hear-- + +MISS FARREN. Oh, you _have_ hurt me! And you've no right--to say such +things.... + +HARVEY. No, you haven't, you haven't! + +MRS. WESTERN. Besides, a bracelet like that! [_She holds it up. To_ MISS +FARREN.] You won't confess? Very well, then. I'll send for a policeman. + +HARVEY. [_Doggedly._] The bracelet is hers. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Jeeringly._] Turquoise and emeralds! Hers! A coincidence, +perhaps. Very likely. I'll give her in charge at once. + +HARVEY. The bracelet is hers, I tell you. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning furiously on him._] You dare to say that? + +HARVEY. [_Steadily._] Yes. Because I myself--gave it to her. + + [_There is a moment's almost stupefied silence;_ HARVEY _and_ + ALICE _are face to face._ MISS FARREN _to the left of her,_ MRS. + BANKET _is still at the back, the_ JUDGE _by the fire._ MRS. + WESTERN _breaks the silence._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sternly._] You--gave--it--her? + +HARVEY. [_Steadily._] Yes. + +MRS. WESTERN. You ask me to believe that you gave a bracelet to--this +person--my children's governess? + +HARVEY. I did. + +MRS. WESTERN. An exact copy of the one you gave me? + +HARVEY. I've told you--it's not an exact copy--there's a difference in the +setting. + +MRS. BANKET. Nonsense, nonsense, it can't be--he's just saying this-- + +JUDGE. Fanny, don't interfere. + +HARVEY. I'm saying what's true. + +MRS. WESTERN. I refuse to believe it. It's incredible. You've not sunk so +low as that. It's a lie. + +HARVEY. [_Indignantly._] Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. Yes, a lie. A trumped-up story. The girl has taken it-- + +MISS FARREN. I have not! + +MRS. WESTERN. You can tell that to the magistrate--[_She turns to_ HARVEY] +and you too, if you like. [_She moves to the bell._ + +JUDGE. [_Putting out a hand to stop her._] Alice-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Leave me alone, Tom. I know what I'm doing. I'll send for a +policeman. + +HARVEY. [_Imploringly._] Alice, Alice-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Pausing, with her hand on the bell._] I'll let the girl +off, if you'll tell me the truth. + +HARVEY. I _have_ told you the truth. + +MRS. WESTERN. You persist in this silly falsehood? + +HARVEY. It isn't--I tell you it isn't! + +MRS. WESTERN. Very well, then. + + [_She presses the bell. At that moment the door bursts open, and_ + MARTIN _comes in triumphantly, with the bracelet on a salver._ + SMITHERS _and_ WILLIAM _are behind him, but do not pass beyond + the threshold._ + +MARTIN. [_Eagerly._] Ma'am, ma'am, we've found the-- + + [MRS. WESTERN _has turned towards him, still holding the other + bracelet in her hand._ MARTIN _catches sight of it, and stops dead + short, staring bewilderedly at it._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly._] Where did you find it? + + [_She takes the bracelet off the salver and lays it on the + table._ + +MARTIN. [_With a great effort._] It had fallen into the pocket of the +car--there was a hole in the pocket--it had worked its way right down into +the body. + +MRS. WESTERN. Very well. Thank you. + + [MARTIN _goes; the other servants have already slunk off. There + is a moment's silence._ MRS. WESTERN _suddenly flings the + bracelet she has in her hand in_ MISS FARREN'S _direction._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Contemptuously._] Here. I return you your property. And +now pack up your things and leave the house. + +HARVEY. [_Who has stepped forward and picked up the bracelet, standing +between_ MRS. WESTERN _and_ MISS FARREN.] No. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Staring at him._] What? + +HARVEY. [_Violently._] I say, No! + +MRS. WESTERN. I have told the girl to leave my house. + +HARVEY. _My_ house--mine! And she shall stay in it! Or, at least, when she +goes, it shall be without the slightest stain or suspicion-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Scornfully._] I am not accusing her of theft. + +HARVEY. But you are insinuating--I declare solemnly before you all-- + +JUDGE. [_Interposing._] Harvey, one moment.... I am sure that Miss Farren +would rather go to her room.... + +MISS FARREN. Yes. + +HARVEY. By all means. Here, take your bracelet. [_He gives it to her._] +But you don't leave this house--you understand that? _I_ am master here. + + [MISS FARREN _goes quietly._ + +JUDGE. Now just listen to me, both of you. Be calm--all this excitement +won't help. Harvey, you too. You and Alice will have your explanation-- + +MRS. WESTERN. If the girl doesn't go to-night-- + +HARVEY. I tell you again she shall not! And there's no need. I was a fool +to give her that bracelet--she didn't want to take it-- + +MRS. BANKET. Why _did_ you? + +HARVEY. I had given Alice one on her birthday. + +MRS. WESTERN. Well? + +HARVEY. And so I got _her_ one. + +MRS. WESTERN. Why? + +HARVEY. Because--[_He stops, very embarrassed._] + +MRS. WESTERN. Well? + +HARVEY. Because--oh, because--well, she admired it--and _she_ liked pretty +things too.... + +MRS. WESTERN. I don't think you need say anything more. + +MRS. BANKET. No. He needn't. It's clear enough! + +HARVEY. [_Eagerly._] Look here, on my honour--I _am_ fond of her, of +course, in a way--but I'm old enough to be her father--and I swear to you +all--I've seen her about, of course, a good deal--and I gave her that +thing--but beyond that, nothing, nothing! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sitting, and with a shrug of the shoulder._] A ridiculous +fairy tale! + +JUDGE. My dear Alice, take my advice, and believe your husband. + +MRS. WESTERN. You too! + +MRS. BANKET. All alike, when there's a pretty face! + +JUDGE. Let her find another situation, by all means.... But to turn a girl +out, at a moment's notice! You couldn't. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning to the_ JUDGE.] You are really suggesting that I +should sleep under the same roof with-- + +JUDGE. [_Almost sternly._] You are condemning, without the slightest +evidence. And condemning, remember, an utterly defenceless creature. This +girl has a claim on you: were your suspicions justified, she-would _still_ +have a claim. + +MRS. WESTERN. Indeed! + +MRS. BANKET. The nonsense he talks! It's really too silly! + +JUDGE. You are extraordinary, you women! You exact such rigid morality +from the governess and the housemaid! You're full of excuses when it's one +of yourselves! + +MRS. BANKET. [_Indignantly._] Tom! + +JUDGE. Well, that's true--we all know it! And here--I believe every word +Harvey has said. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Scarcely believing her ears._] You do! + +JUDGE. Because he is a man of honour, and men of honour have their code. +Their children's governess ... is safe. You will do well to believe it, +too. Now, Fanny, we'll go. Be sensible, Alice--I tell you again, Harvey's +right; the girl must not be--summarily dismissed: it would be an act of +cruel injustice. Good-bye. [_He offers to kiss her--she turns away._] As +you like. Good-bye, Harvey, old man. + +HARVEY. Good-bye, Tom. [_They shake hands._] And thank you. + +MRS. BANKET. [_Kissing_ MRS. WESTERN.] My poor, dear Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. Good-bye, Fanny. I'm sorry that our party to-night-- + +MRS. BANKET. Oh, that doesn't matter! Poor thing! I promise you that Tom +shall have a good talking to! + + [_She is too angry with_ HARVEY _to say good-bye to him: she and + the_ JUDGE _go. The moment the door closes,_ HARVEY _begins, + feverishly and passionately._ + +HARVEY. Now just listen. I'm going to speak to you--I'm going to say +things--things that have been in my heart, in my life, for years. I'm not +going to spare you, I'm going to tell you the truth, and the truth, and +the truth! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly, looking ironically at him._] If it's the same kind +of truth you've been giving us to-night-- + +HARVEY. We've been married ten years. Oh, I know, we were neither of us +very young. But anyhow the last five have been nothing but misery for me. +Misery--do you hear that? You sitting there, calm and collected--not +caring one damn for me-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Quietly._] That's not true. + +HARVEY. It is, and you know it. The mother of my children! Satisfied with +that. Never a word of kindness, or sympathy. And as for--affection! + +MRS. WESTERN. We're not sweethearts--we're middle-aged people. + +HARVEY. Well, I need something more. And, look here, I'll tell you. This +girl has made life worth living. That's all. I'd come home at night +dog-tired, all day in the City--sick of it, Stock Exchange, office, and +the mud and the grime and the worry--there were you, with a nod, ah, +Harvey, good evening--and you'd scarcely look up from your Committee +Report or your Blue-book, or damned pamphlet or other-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Contemptuously._] You are one of the men who want their +wife to be a mere sort of doll. + +HARVEY. [_More and more vehemently._] I want my wife to care for me! I +want her to smile when I come in, and be glad--I want her to love me! You +don't! By the Lord, I've sneaked upstairs, gone in and had a peep at the +children--well, they'd be asleep. I tell you I've been hungry, hungry, for +a word, for a look! And there, in the schoolroom, was this girl. I've +played it low down, I know--she's fond of me. But I couldn't help it--I +was lonely--that's what it was. I've gone up there night after night. +_You_ didn't know where I was--and you didn't care. In my study, you +thought--the cold, chilly box that you call my study--glad to have me out +of the way. Well, there I was, with this girl. It was something to look +forward to, in the cab, coming home. It was something to catch hold of, +when things went wrong, in that dreary grind of money-making. Her eyes lit +up when they saw me. She'd ask me about things--if I coughed, she'd fuss +me--she had pretty ways, and was pleased, oh, pleased beyond words, if I +brought her home something-- + +MRS. WESTERN. So this isn't the first time! + +HARVEY. [_With a snarl._] No, of course not! She admired that bracelet of +yours--by Jove, I said to myself, I'll get her one like it! Whatever I +brought home to _you_ you'd scarcely say thank you--and usually it went +into the drawer--I'd such shocking bad taste! _She'd_ beam! Well, as +ill-luck would have it, you took a fancy to this one. I told her she +mustn't wear hers-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly and cuttingly._] Conspiring behind my back. + +HARVEY. [_Raging._] Oh, if you knew what has gone on behind your back! +Not when I was with her--when I was alone! The things I've said about +you--to myself! When I thought of this miserable life that had to be +dragged on here, thought of your superior smile, your damnable cruelty-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Genuinely surprised._] Cruelty! Why? + +HARVEY. What else? I'd go up to you timidly--bah, why talk of it? To you +I've been the machine that made money--money to pay for the house, and the +car, and the dressmakers' bills--a machine that had to be fed--and when +you'd done that, you'd done all. Well, there was this girl-- + +MRS. WESTERN. You had your children. + +HARVEY. A boy of seven and a girl of five--in bed when I came home--and +_your_ children much more than mine--I'm a stranger to them! And anyhow, I +wanted something more--something human, alive--that only a woman can give. +And she gave it. Nothing between us, I swear--but just that. As Tom says, +I've not been such a cur--and _you_ ought to know me well enough, after +all these years!... But there is the truth--she's fond of me: she is, it's +a fact. And I _needed_ that fondness--it has kept me going. And now--do +you think I'll let her be thrust out into the street? + + [_As he says these last words he drops into a chair, facing her, + and looks fiercely and doggedly at her._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly._] Stop now, and listen to me. I've let you rattle +on. Will you hear me for one moment? + +HARVEY. Go on. + +MRS. WESTERN. All those things you've said about me--[_With a shrug._] +Well, what's the use? I suppose we're like most married people when they +come to our age. I've interests of my own, that don't appeal to you-- + +HARVEY. Blue-books and Committees! + +MRS. WESTERN. I do useful work--oh yes, you may sneer--you always have +sneered! If a woman tries to do something sensible with her life, instead +of cuddling and kissing you all day, she's cold and cruel. We've drifted +apart--well, your fault as much as mine. More, perhaps--but it's no good +going into that--no good making reproaches. That's how things are--we must +make the best of them. Wait, let me finish. About this girl. Granted that +what you say is true--and I'm inclined to believe it-- + +HARVEY. [_Genuinely grateful._] At least thank you for that! + +MRS. WESTERN. Or at any rate it's better policy to believe it, for every +one's sake-- + +HARVEY. [_Bitterly._] That's right--that's more like you! + +MRS. WESTERN. We gain nothing by abusing each other. And I didn't +interrupt _you._ Let's look facts in the face. Here we are, we two--tied. + +HARVEY. [_With a groan._] Yes. + +MRS. WESTERN. With our two children. If it weren't for them.... Well, +we've _got_ to remain together. Now there's this girl. It's quite evident, +after what you've said, that she can't stop here-- + +HARVEY. [_Jumping to his feet._] She shall! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Fretfully._] Oh, do be a man, and drop this mawkish +sentiment! You say she's fond of you--you've _made_ her fond of you. Was +this a very pretty thing--for a man of your age to do? + +HARVEY. [_Sullenly, as he drops back into his chair._] Never mind my age. + +MRS. WESTERN. Very well then--for a married man? + +HARVEY. An unhappy man. + +MRS. WESTERN. Even granting that--though if you're unhappy it's your own +fault--I've always been urging you to go on the County Council--What's +to become of the girl, if she stops here? + +HARVEY. [_Desperately._] I don't know--but I can't let her go--I tell you +I can't! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Scarcely able to conceal her disgust._] Oh, if you knew +how painful it is to hear you whining like this! It's pitiable, really! In +the girl's own interest--how can she stop? + +HARVEY. She must. I can't let her be turned out. It would break her heart. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning right round, and staring at him._] What? + +HARVEY. [_Doggedly._] Yes--it would. She's very fond of me, that's the +truth. I know that I've been to blame--but it's too late for that now. +She's romantic, of course--what you'd call sentimental. I dare say I've +played on her feelings--she saw I was lonely. She has a side that you've +never suspected--a tender, sensitive side--she has ideals.... Well, do you +realise what it would mean, with a girl like that? No one knows her as I +do. I'm quite startled sometimes, to find how fond she is of me. Oh, have +some sympathy! It's difficult, I know--it's terribly difficult. But she +loves me--that's the truth--and a young girl's love--why, she might throw +herself into the river! Oh yes, you smile--but she might! What do _you_ +know of life, with your Blue-books? Anyhow, I daren't risk it. +By-and-by--there's no hurry, is there? And I put it to you--be merciful! +You're not the ordinary woman--you have a brain--you're not conventional. +Don't act like the others. Don't drive this girl out of the house. It +would end in tragedy. Believe it! + +MRS. WESTERN. You can't really expect me to keep a girl here, as governess +to my children, who, as you say, is in love with you. + +HARVEY. [_Pleading._] I expect you--I'm asking you--to help her--and me. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Shaking her head._] That's too much. We won't turn her out +to-night--I'll give her a reference, and all that-- + +HARVEY. [_Springing to his feet again._] Alice, I can't let her go! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Conciliatorily._] Ask Tom, ask any one-- + +HARVEY. [_More and more passionately._] I tell you, I can't let her go! + +MRS. WESTERN. Be sensible, Harvey--you must realise yourself there's no +alternative-- + +HARVEY. [_With a violent and uncontrollable outburst._] I vow and declare +to you--if she goes, I go too! And the consequences will be on your head! + + [MRS. WESTERN _has also risen--they stand face to face, looking + at each other--and for a moment there is silence. The door opens, + and_ MISS FARREN _comes in, dressed as before. She walks straight + to_ MRS. WESTERN. + +MISS FARREN. Mrs. Western, my things are packed, and on the cab-- + +HARVEY. [_Wildly._] My poor child, you're _not_ to go--I told you. + +MISS FARREN. [_With a demure glance at him, stopping him as he is moving +towards her._] Of course I must--I can't stay here--that's not possible. +My sister will take me in for to-night. + +MRS. WESTERN. Miss Farren, my husband has explained to me--I withdraw +all-- + +MISS FARREN. [_Carelessly._] Oh, that's all right--though thank you all +the same. And it really doesn't matter much. I was going to give notice +to-morrow anyway-- + +HARVEY. [_Starting violently._] What! + +MISS FARREN. Well, I put it off as long as I could, Mr. Western, because +... But the fact is I'm going on the stage--musical comedy-- + +HARVEY. [_Breathless, staggering back._] You--are--going-- + +MISS FARREN. I've accepted an engagement--oh, I'm only to be a show-girl +at first--but they believe I'll do well. They've been wanting me some +time. And my _fiancé_ has persuaded me. + +HARVEY. [_Collapsing utterly, dropping into the chair by the fire._] +Your-- + +MISS FARREN. [_Gravely._] My _fiancé_--yes. He's one of the comic men +there. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Who has been watching them both with an unmoved face._] +I'll write a cheque for your salary, Miss Farren. + + [_She goes to the desk at back._ + +MISS FARREN. [_Coquettishly, to_ HARVEY.] I ought to have told you, I +know, Mr. Western. But it _was_ so dull here--and you've been most awfully +good to me. I can never be sufficiently grateful. + +HARVEY. [_With difficulty, his face turned away._] Don't mention it. And I +hope you'll be happy. + +MISS FARREN. [_Lightly._] Thank you. I mean to try! + + [MRS. WESTERN _returns with a cheque which she hands to_ MISS + FARREN. + +MRS. WESTERN. Here, Miss Farren. + +MISS FARREN. [_Putting it into her bag._] Thank you so much. Good-bye. + +MRS. WESTERN. If you should ever need a reference, don't be afraid to-- + +MISS FARREN. Oh, thanks, no more governessing for me. Good-bye! + + [_She trips out, without another glance at_ HARVEY, _who sits + huddled by the fire._ MRS. WESTERN _moves slowly to the door. At + the threshold she pauses, turns, and looks at_ HARVEY. + +MRS. WESTERN. I'll take care that the next governess--shall be quite as +pretty as this one, Harvey. + + [_She opens the door and goes._ HARVEY _doesn't stir._ + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Little Plays, by Alfred Sutro + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIVE LITTLE PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 14519-8.txt or 14519-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/5/1/14519/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Diane Monico and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/14519-8.zip b/old/14519-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..37724dc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14519-8.zip diff --git a/old/14519.txt b/old/14519.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8a684f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14519.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4045 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Little Plays, by Alfred Sutro + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Five Little Plays + +Author: Alfred Sutro + +Release Date: December 29, 2004 [EBook #14519] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIVE LITTLE PLAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Diane Monico and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +FIVE LITTLE PLAYS + + + + +FIVE LITTLE PLAYS + +BY ALFRED SUTRO + + +BRENTANO +NEW YORK 1922 + +_Printed in Great Britain +by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE MAN IN THE STALLS + +A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED.... + +THE MAN ON THE KERB + +THE OPEN DOOR + +THE BRACELET + + + + +THE MAN IN THE STALLS + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +HECTOR ALLEN +ELIZABETH ALLEN (BETTY) +WALTER COZENS + + +_This play was produced +at the Palace Theatre +on October 6, 1911_ + + + +THE MAN IN THE STALLS + + +_The sitting-room of a little flat in Shaftesbury Avenue. At back + is a door leading to the dining-room--it is open, and the + dinner-table is in full view of the audience. To the extreme + right is another door, leading to the hall._ + + _The place is pleasantly and prettily, though quite + inexpensively, furnished. To the left, at angles with the + distempered wall, is a baby-grand piano; the fireplace, in which + a fire is burning merrily, is on the same side, full centre. To + the right of the door leading to the dining-room is a small + side-table, on which there is a tray with decanter and glasses; + in front of this, a card-table, open, with two packs of cards on + it, and chairs on each side. Another table, a round one, is in + the centre of the room--to right and to left of it are + comfortable armchairs. Against the right wall is a long sofa; + above it hang a few good, water-colours and engravings; on the + piano and the table there are flowers. A general appearance of + refinement and comfort pervades the room; no luxury, but evidence + everywhere of good taste, and the countless feminine touches that + make a room homelike and pleasant._ + + _When the curtain rises,_ HECTOR ALLEN, _a youngish man of + forty, with an attractive intellectual face, is seen standing by + the dining-table in the inner room, draining his liqueur-glass, + with_ WALTER COZENS _to the right of him, lighting a cigarette._ + WALTER _is a few years younger than his friend, moderately + good-looking, with fine, curly brown hair and a splendid silky + moustache. His morning-clothes are conspicuously well-cut--he is + evidently something of a dandy;_ HECTOR _wears a rather shabby + dress-suit, his boots are awkward, and his tie ready-made._ + BETTY, _a handsome woman of thirty, wearing a very pretty + tea-gown, is talking to the maid at the back of the dining-room._ + + HECTOR _puts down his glass and comes into the sitting-room, + followed by_ WALTER. HECTOR _is puffing at a short, stumpy little + black cigar._ + +HECTOR [_Talking as he comes through, continuing the conversation--he +walks to the fireplace and stands with his back to it._] I tell you, if +I'd known what it meant, I'd never have taken the job! Sounded so fine, to +be reader of plays for the Duke's Theatre--adviser to the great Mr. +Honeyswill! And then--when the old man said I was to go to all the first +nights--why, I just chortled! "It's the first nights that show you the +grip of the thing--that teach you most"--he said. Teach you! As though +there were anything to learn! Oh my stars! I tell you, it's a dog's life! + +WALTER. [_Sitting to left of the round table._] I'd change places with +you, sonny. + +HECTOR. You would, eh? That's what they all say! Four new plays this week, +my lad--one yesterday, one to-day--another to-morrow, and the night after! +All day long I'm _reading_ plays--and I spend my nights seeing 'em! D'you +know I read about two thousand a year? Divide two thousand by three +hundred and sixty five. A dog's life--that's what it is! + +WALTER. Better than being a stockbroker's clerk--you believe _me!_ + +HECTOR. Is it? I wish _you_ could have a turn at it, my bonny boy! _Your_ +hair'd go grey, like mine! And look here--what are the plays to-day? +They're either so chock-full of intellect that they send you to sleep--or +they reek of sentiment till you yearn for the smell of a cabbage! + +WALTER. Well, you've the change, at any rate. + +HECTOR. [_Snorting._] Change? By Jove, give me a Punch and Judy show on +the sands--or performing dogs! Plays--I'm sick of 'em! And look here--the +one I'm off to to-night. It's adapted from the French--well, we know what +_that_ means. Husband, wife and mistress. Or wife, husband, lover. That's +what a French play means. And you make it English, and pass the Censor, by +putting the lady in a mackintosh, and dumping in a curate! + +BETTY. [_Coming in, and closing the door leading to the dining-room._] You +ought to be going, Hector. + + [_She, stands listening for a moment, then goes through the other + door into the hall._ + +HECTOR. [_Disregarding her, too intent on his theme._] And I tell you, of +the two, I prefer the home-made stodge. I'm sick of the eternal triangle. +They always do the same thing. Husband strikes attitudes--sometimes he +strikes the lover. The lover never stands up to him--why shouldn't he? He +would--in real life. [BETTY _comes back, with his overcoat and +muffler--she proceeds affectionately to wrap this round his neck, and +helps him on with his coat, he talking all the time._] He'd say, look +here, you go to Hell. _That's_ what he'd say--well, there you'd have a +situation. But not one of the playwriting chaps dares do it. Why not, I +ask you? There you'd have truth, something big. But no--they're +afraid--think the public won't like it. The husband's got to down the +lover--like a big tom-cat with a mouse--or the author'd have to sell one +of his motor-cars! That's just the fact of it! + +BETTY. [_Looking at the clock on the mantelpiece._] Twenty-five past, +Hector. + +HECTOR. [_Cheerily._] All right, my lass, I'm off. By-bye, Walter--keep the +old woman company for a bit. Good-bye, sweetheart. [_He kisses her._] +Don't wait up. Now for the drama. Oh, the dog's life! + + [_He goes._ BETTY _waits till the hall door has banged, then she + sits on the elbow of_ WALTER'S _chair, and rests her head on his + shoulder._ + +BETTY. [_Softly._] Poor Hector! + +WALTER. [_Uncomfortably._] ... Yes ... + +BETTY. Doesn't it make you feel dreadful when he talks like that? [_She +kisses him; then puts her arms round his neck, draws his face to her, and +kisses him again, on the cheek._] Doesn't it? + + [_She nestles contentedly closer to him._ + +WALTER. [_Trying to edge away._] Well, it does. Yes. + +BETTY. [_Dreamily._] I--like it. + +WALTER. Betty! + +BETTY. Yes, I like it. I don't know why. I suppose I'm frightfully wicked. +Or the danger perhaps--I don't know. + +WALTER. [_Making a futile effort to get up._] Betty-- + +BETTY. [_Tightening her arms around him._] Stop there, and don't move. How +smooth your chin is--_his_ scrapes. Why don't husbands shave better? Or is +it that the forbidden chin is always smoother? Poor old Hector! If he +could see us! He hasn't a suspicion. I think it's lovely--really, I do. He +leaves us here together, night after night, and imagines you're teaching +me bridge. + +WALTER. [_Restlessly._] So I am. Where are the cards? + +BETTY. [_Caressing him._] Silly, have you forgotten that this is +Tuesday--Maggie's night out? She's gone--I told her she needn't wait to +clear away. We've arranged master's supper. Master! _You're_ my master, +aren't you? + +WALTER. ... I don't know what I am ... + +BETTY. Oh yes you do--you're my boy. Whom I love. There. [_She kisses him +again, full on the lips._] That was a nice one, wasn't it? Poor old +Hector, sitting in his stall--thinks he's so wonderful, knows such a lot! +Yes, Maggie's out--with _her_ young man, I suppose. The world's full of +women, with their young men--and husbands sitting in the stalls.... And I +suppose that's how it always has been, and always will be. + +WALTER. [_Shifting uneasily._] Don't, Betty--I don't like it. I mean, he +has such confidence in us. + +BETTY. Of course he has. And quite rightly. Aren't you his oldest friend? + +WALTER. [_With something of a groan._] I've known him since I was seven. + +BETTY. The first man he introduced me to--his best man at the wedding--do +you remember coming to see us during the honeymoon? I liked you _then._ + +WALTER. [_Really shocked._] Betty! + +BETTY. I did. You had a way of squeezing my hand.... And then when we came +back here. You know it didn't take me long to discover-- + +WALTER. [_Protesting._] I scarcely saw you the first two or three years! + +BETTY. No--you were afraid. Oh I thought you so silly! [_He suddenly +contrives to release himself--gets up, and moves to the card-table._] Why, +what's the matter? + +WALTER. [_At the table, with his back to her._] I hate hearing you talk +like this. + +BETTY. Silly boy! [_She rises, and goes to him; he has taken a cigarette +out of the box on the table, and stands there, with his head bent, tapping +the cigarette against his hand._] Women only talk "like this," as you call +it, to their lovers. They talk "like that" to their husbands--and that's +why the husbands never know. That's why the husbands are always sitting in +the stalls, looking on. [_She puts her arms round him again._] Looking and +not seeing. + + [_She approaches her lips to his--he almost fretfully unclasps + her arms._ + +WALTER. Betty--I want to say a--serious word ... + +BETTY. [_Looking fondly at him._] Well, isn't what _I'm_ saying serious? + +WALTER. I'm thirty-eight. + +BETTY. Yes. I'm only thirty. But I'm not complaining. + +WALTER. Has it ever occurred to you-- + + [_He stops._ + +BETTY. What? + + [WALTER _looks at her--tries to speak, but cannot--then he breaks + away, goes across the room to the fireplace and stands for a + moment looking into the fire. She has remained where she was, her + eyes following him wonderingly. Suddenly he stamps his foot + violently._ + +WALTER. Damn it! DAMN it! + +BETTY. [_Moving towards him in alarm._] What's the matter? + +WALTER. [_With a swift turn towards her._] I'm going to get married. + +BETTY. [_Stonily, stopping by the round table._] You ... + +WALTER. [_Savagely._] Going to get married, yes. Married, married! + + [_She stands there and doesn't stir--doesn't speak or try to + speak; merely stands there, and looks at him, giving no sign. Her + silence irritates him; he becomes more and more violent, as + though to give himself courage._ + +WALTER. You're wonderful, you women--you really are. Always contrive to +make us seem brutes, or cowards! I've wanted to tell you this a dozen +times--I've not had the pluck. Well, to-day I must. Must, do you hear +that?... Oh, for Heaven's sake, say something. + +BETTY. [_Still staring helplessly at him._] You ... + +WALTER. [_Feverishly._] Yes, I, I! Now it's out, at least--it's spoken! I +mean to get married, like other men--fooled, too, I dare say, like the +others--at least I deserve it! But I'm tired, I tell you--tired-- + +BETTY. Of me? + +WALTER. Tired of the life I lead--the beastly, empty rooms--the meals at +the Club. And I'm thirty-eight--it's now or never. + +BETTY. [_Slowly._] And how about--me? + +WALTER. You? + +BETTY. [_Passionately._] Yes. Me. Me! + +WALTER. You didn't think this would last for ever? + +BETTY. [_Nodding her head._] I did--yes--I did. Why shouldn't it? + +WALTER. [_Working himself into a fury again._] Why? You ask that? Why? Oh +yes, it's all right for _you_--you've your home and your husband--I'm +there as an--annexe. To be telephoned to, when I'm wanted, at your beck +and call, throw over everything, come when you whistle. And it's not only +that--I tell you it makes me feel--horrid. After all, he's my--friend. + +BETTY. He has been that always. You didn't feel--horrid--before.... Who is +she? + +WALTER. [_Shortly, as he turns back to the fire._] That doesn't matter. + +BETTY. Yes, it does. Who? + +WALTER. [_Fretfully._] Oh, why should we-- + +BETTY. I want to know--I'm _entitled_ to know. + +WALTER. [_Still with his back to her._] Mary Gillingham. + +BETTY. Mary Gillingham! + +WALTER. [_Firmly, swinging round to her._] Yes. + +BETTY. That child, that chit of a girl! + +WALTER. She's twenty-three. + +BETTY. Whom I introduced you to--my own friend? + +WALTER. [_Grumbling._] What _has_ that to do with it? And besides ... +[_He suddenly changes his tone, noticing how calm she has become--he takes +a step towards her, and stands by her side, at the back of the table, his +voice becomes gentle and affectionate._] But I say, really, you're taking +it awfully well--pluckily. I knew you would--I knew I was an ass to be +so--afraid.... And look here, we'll always be pals--the very best of pals. +I'll ... never forget--never. You may be quite sure ... of that. I want to +get married--I do--have a home of my own, and so forth--but you'll still +be--just the one woman I really have loved--the one woman in my life--to +whom I owe--everything. + +BETTY. [_With a mirthless laugh._] Do you tell all that--to Mary +Gillingham? + +WALTER. [_Pettishly, as he moves away._] Do I--don't be so absurd. + +BETTY. You tell _her_ she is the only _girl_ you have loved. + +WALTER. [_Moving back to the fire, with his back to her._] I tell her--I +tell her--what does it matter what I tell her? And one girl or +another--she or someone else-- + +BETTY. But you haven't answered my question--what's to become of me? + +WALTER. [_Angrily, facing her._] Become of you! Don't talk such nonsense. +Because it is--really it is. You'll be as you were. And Hector's a +splendid chap--and after all we've been frightfully wrong--treating him +infernally badly--despicably. Oh yes, we have--and you know it. Lord, +there've been nights when I have--but never mind that--that's all over! In +future we can look him in the face without feeling guilty--we can-- + +BETTY. [_Quietly._] _You_ can. + +WALTER. What do you mean? + +BETTY. _You_ can, because of this girl. Oh, I know, of course! You'll come +here three or four times--then you'll drop off--you'll feel I'm not quite +the woman you want your wife to know. + +WALTER. [_With genuine feeling, as he impulsively steps towards her._] +Betty, Betty, what sort of cad do you take me for? What sort of cad, or +bounder? Haven't I told you I'd never forget--never? And you think you'll +pass out of my life--that I _want_ you to? Why, good Heaven, I'll be your +best friend as long as I live. Friend--yes--what I always should have +been--meant to be! And Hector. Why, Betty, I tell you, merely talking +to-night, as I've done, has made me feel--different--sort of--lifted--a +load. Because I've always had it--somewhere deep down in me--when I've +thought of--him. + +BETTY. [_Calmly._] Liar. + +WALTER. [_Falling back._] Betty! + +BETTY. Liar--yes. Why these stupid, silly lies? "Always, deep down in me!" +Where was it, this beautiful feeling, when you got me to go to your rooms? + +WALTER. [_Harshly._] We needn't-- + +BETTY. I liked you--I've said that--I liked you from the first. But I was +straight enough. Liked you, of course--but I had no idea, not the +slightest.... Thought it fun to play the fool, flirt just a bit. But it +was you, you, _you_ who-- + +WALTER. [_Breaking in sulkily and stamping his foot._] Never mind about +who it was. + +BETTY. [_Passionately._] Never mind! You dare! + +WALTER. [_Doggedly._] Yes--I dare. And look here--since you force me to +it--that's all rot--yes, it is--just rot. Just as you like it now, hearing +Hector ask me to stop with you, and kissing me the moment his back is +turned--so you met me halfway, and more than halfway. + +BETTY. You cur! + +WALTER. That's what a woman always says, when a man speaks the truth. +Because it _is_ the truth--and you know it. "The way I squeezed your +hand!" D'you think I _meant_ to squeeze it--in a way! Why, as there's a +Heaven above me, you were as sacred to me--as my own sister! + +BETTY. [_Quietly, as she sits, to right of the table._] What I'm +wondering is--you see, you're the only lover I've had--what I wonder is, +when a man breaks off, tells a woman he's tired of her, wants to get +married--does he _always_ abuse the woman-- + +WALTER. [_Sulkily._] I haven't-- + +BETTY. Degrade, and throw mud on, the love she has had for him? + +WALTER. [_With a bitter shrug._] Love-- + +BETTY. [_Passionately, as she springs to her feet._] Love, love, yes, +you--cruel man! Love, what else? I adore you, don't you know that? Live +for you! would give up everything in the world--everything, everything! +And Walter, Walter! If it's only _that_--that you want a home--well, let's +go off together. He'll divorce us--we can get married. Don't go away, and +leave me here, alone with him! I couldn't stand it--Walter, I couldn't, I +couldn't! + + [_She goes eagerly to him, flings her arms round his neck, and a + dry sob bursts from her._ + +WALTER. [_Very gently._] Betty, Betty, you've been so brave ... Betty, +dear, the horrid things I've said were only to make you angry, to make you +feel what a brute I was, how well you're rid of me. Oh, I'm not proud of +myself! But look here, we must be sensible--we must, really.... You know, +if you were divorced--if I were the co-respondent in a divorce case--I'd +lose my berth, get the sack-- + +BETTY. [_Clinging to him._] We could go to Australia--anywhere-- + +WALTER. I've no money. + +BETTY. [_With a sudden movement, raising her head and leaving him._] And +Mary Gillingham has lots? + +WALTER. It's not for her money that I-- + +BETTY. [_With a start._] You love her? + +WALTER. [_Dropping his head, and speaking under his breath._] Yes. + +BETTY. [_Wringing her hands._] You do, you do? + +WALTER. Yes, that's the truth--I do. Oh, Betty I'm so frightfully +sorry-- + +BETTY. [_With a groan._] Then you don't love me any more ... + +WALTER. It's not that. But you see-- + +BETTY. [_Moaning._] You don't, you don't! + + [_She stands there, crushed, overwhelmed, dry-eyed, broken moans + escaping from her; suddenly she hears a key turning in the lock + of the hall-door outside, and rushes to the card-table._ + +BETTY. Hector! Quick, quick--the cards! + + [WALTER _flies to the table, and sits by her side. He seizes one + pack and proceeds to shuffle it, she is dealing with the other. + All this takes only a second._ HECTOR _comes in--they both spring + up._ + +BETTY. Hector! You're not ill? + +HECTOR. [_Kissing her._] Play postponed, my child--bit of luck! When I got +to the theatre I found that the actor-manager's car had collided with a +cab outside the stage-door--he was thrown through the window--there's a +magnificent exit for you! and has been cut about a bit. Nothing serious. +But the play's postponed for a week. Bit of luck! + +WALTER. [_Sitting._] Not for him. + +HECTOR. Oh _he_ has had luck enough--tons of it! I'll get into a +jacket--then we'll have some bridge. See what progress you've made, Betty! + + [_He hurries out, and closes the door._ + +BETTY. [_Producing a little mirror from her bag, looking into it, +touching her hair._] We were only just in time. + +WALTER. [_Eagerly, as he bends across the table._] You're splendid--you +are--splendid! + +BETTY. Yes. All very nice and comfortable for you--isn't it? [_She puts +the mirror back into the bag._] + +WALTER. [_Coaxingly._] Betty. + +BETTY. To-morrow you'll go to her--or to-night perhaps-- + +WALTER. To-night--ridiculous! At this hour! + +BETTY. She's a deceitful little cat. I saw her last week--she never told +me-- + +WALTER. I don't think she knew. I only proposed to-day. + +BETTY. [_Flinging herself back in her chair, and opening wide eyes._] +You--proposed--to-day! + +WALTER. [_Very embarrassed._] Yes--I mean-- + +BETTY. You--proposed--to-day! And waited till she had accepted you--to +tell _me_-- + +WALTER. [_Eagerly._] Don't be so silly--come, come, he'll be back in a +minute.... And, believe me, I'm not worth making a fuss about! + +BETTY. [_Looking contemptuously at him._] That's true. + +WALTER. Yes, it is, worse luck! I deserve all you've said to me. And +you'll be ... much better ... without me. + +BETTY. Better? + +WALTER. Yes, better, better--any way you choose to put it! I'm a--but +never mind that!--Look here--you'd like me to stop? + +BETTY. He wants to play bridge. + +WALTER. Don't you think that I-- + +BETTY.[_Hearing_ HECTOR _coming._] Sh. + + [HECTOR _comes in--she is idly tossing the cards about._ HECTOR + _has put on a smoking-jacket--he comes in, very jolly, fussing + around, rubbing his hands, so glad to be home. He sits, to the + right of_ BETTY. + +HECTOR. Now for a game! + + [_He seizes a pack, and spreads out the cards._ + +BETTY. [_Leaning back._] Not sure that I want to play. + +HECTOR. Don't be disagreeable, Betty! Why? + +BETTY. [_Listlessly, as she rises and moves across the room._] No fun, +being three. + +HECTOR. Good practice for you. Come on. + +BETTY. [_Leaning against the other table, and turning and facing them._] +Besides, _he_ has something to tell you. + +HECTOR. Walter? + +BETTY. Yes. + +HECTOR. [_Looking inquiringly at_ WALTER.] To tell _me?_ What is it? + +BETTY. That he's engaged. + +HECTOR. [_Shouting, as he leans across the table._] Never! Walter! +Engaged? You? + +WALTER. [_Nervously._] Yes. + +HECTOR. [_Noisily and affectionately._] You old scoundrel! You rascal and +villain! Engaged--and you don't come and tell _me_ first! Well +I--am--damned! + +WALTER. [_Trying to take it gaily._] I knew you'd chaff me about it. + +HECTOR. Chaff you! Silly old coon! why I'm glad! Of course we shall miss +you--but marriage--it's the only thing, my boy--the only thing! Who is +she? Do I know her? + +WALTER. [_Mumbling, as he fingers the cards._] A friend of Betty's--I +fancy you've met her-- + +HECTOR. Who? + +BETTY. Mary Gillingham. We're the first to know--he only proposed to-day. + +HECTOR. Gillingham, Gillingham.... Oh yes, I've seen her, just seen her, +but I don't remember.... I say, not the daughter of the sealing-wax man? + +WALTER. Yes. + +HECTOR. Then there's lots of tin! Fine! Oh you artful old dodger! Is she +pretty? + +WALTER. So-So. + +BETTY. [_Still leaning against the table, and looking at them both._] +She's excessively pretty. She has yellow hair and blue eyes. + +HECTOR. [_Chuckling._] And she has caught old Wallie. The cynical old +Wallie who sniffed at women! Though perhaps it's the money-- + +BETTY. No. He's in love with her. + +HECTOR. That's good. I'm glad. And I congratulate you--heartily, my boy. +[_He seizes_ WALTER'S _hand, and wrings it._] We must drink to it! [_He +gets up, goes to the side-table, and pours some whiskey into a tumbler._] +Charge your glass, Walter! [WALTER _rises and goes to the side-table._] +Ladies and gentlemen. I give you the bride and bridegroom! [_He fills the +glass from the syphon and passes it to_ WALTER, _then proceeds to fill his +own._] Betty, you must join us. + +BETTY. [_Quietly._] No. + +HECTOR. You can't toast him in water, of course. Has she cleared away yet? +I'll get you some Hock. + + [_He puts his glass down and moves to the door at back._ + +BETTY. Don't be so silly. I won't drink at all. + +HECTOR. [_Amazed._] Not to old Walter? + +BETTY. [_Steadily._] No. + +HECTOR. Why? + +BETTY. [_Almost jeeringly._] Because--old Walter--has been my lover. + +HECTOR. [_Stopping, and staring at her._] What? + +BETTY. [_Calmly, looking full at him._] My lover ... these last two years. + +HECTOR. [_Staring stupidly at her._] He has been-- + +BETTY. [_Impatiently, as she taps the floor with her foot._] Yes, yes. How +often must I tell you? My lover--don't you know what that means? Why do +you stare at me with those fat goggle-eyes of yours? He has been my +lover--and now he has fallen in love with this girl and means to marry +her. That's all. + +HECTOR. [_Turning towards_ WALTER, _who hasn't stirred from the +side-table._] What? You? + + [WALTER _remains motionless and silent._ + +HECTOR. [_In muffled tones, scarcely able to speak._] You! It's true what +this woman says? + +BETTY. [_Contemptuously._] This woman! Don't be so melodramatic! Have you +forgotten my name? + +HECTOR. [_Turning fiercely to her, roaring madly._] Silence, Jezebel! +[_She shrinks back, in alarm, towards the fire._] Your name! Wait a bit, +I'll tell you! [_He takes a step towards her--she crouches in terror +against the wall._] You shall hear what your name is! Just now I'm dealing +with _him._ [_He swings round to_ WALTER.] You there, you skunk and thief! +You, you lying hound! I was your best friend. So you've taken my wife, +have you? And now mean to go off and marry this girl. That's it? Oh, it's +so simple! Here--come here--sit down. Sit down, I tell you. Here, in this +chair. Shall I have to drag you to it? I want to keep my hands off you. +Here. [WALTER _has moved slowly towards him._ HECTOR _has banged down a +chair behind the centre table,_ WALTER _sits in it_--HECTOR _speaks over +his shoulder to_ BETTY.] And you--fetch pen and ink and paper-- + +BETTY. [_In abject panic._] Hector-- + +HECTOR. [_Turning fiercely and scowling at her._] If you speak to me I'll +brain you too. Just you go in there and fetch the things. D'you hear? Go. +[_She moves into the other room._ HECTOR _swings round to_ WALTER.] As for +you, you're a scoundrel. A rogue, a thief, a liar, a traitor. Of the very +worst kind, the blackest. Not an ordinary case of a husband and wife--I +trusted you--you were my best friend. You spawn, you thing of the gutter, +you foul-hearted, damnable slug! + + [BETTY _comes back, dragging her feet, carrying paper and + envelopes and a stylograph--she puts them on the table._ + +HECTOR. Not that stylograph--that's mine--his dirty hands shan't touch +it--I could never use it again. Fetch _your_ pen--yours--you belong to +him, don't you? Go in and fetch it. D'you hear? + + [BETTY _goes into the inner room again._ + +HECTOR. My wife. And you the man I've done more for than for any one else +in the world. The man I cared for, you low dog. Used my house--came here +because it was dull at the Club--and took my wife? I don't know why I +don't kill you. I've the right. But I won't. You shall pay for it, my fine +fellow--you are going to pay--now. + + [BETTY _brings a pen and an inkstand; she places them on the + table;_ HECTOR _seizes them and pushes them in front of_ WALTER. + BETTY _slinks to the other side of the room, and stands by the + sofa._ + +HECTOR. [_To_ WALTER.] Now you write. You hear? You write what I dictate. +Word for word. What's the old brute's name? + +WALTER. Whose? + +HECTOR. Whose! Her father, the sealing-wax man, old Gillingham? + +WALTER. [_Staring._] Gillingham? + +HECTOR. Gillingham. Yes. What is it? + +WALTER. You want me to write to him? + +HECTOR. [_Nodding._] To him. Who else? A confession? I've had that. His +name? + +WALTER. [_Dropping the pen and half rising._] I won't-- + +HECTOR. [_Springing upon him in a mad fury, and forcing him back into the +chair._] You won't, you dog! You dare say that--to me! By Heaven, you +will! You'll lick the dust off this floor, if I tell you! You'll go on +your hands and knees, and crawl! Sit down, you! Sit down and take up your +filthy pen. So. [_Thoroughly cowed,_ WALTER _has taken up the pen again._] +And now--his name. Don't make me ask you again, I tell you, don't. What is +it? + +WALTER. Richard. + +HECTOR. Very well, Richard. So write that down. To Richard Gillingham. I +have to-day proposed to your daughter, and she has accepted me. Got that? +She has accepted me. But I can't marry her--can't marry her--because I +have seduced the wife of my friend Hector Allen-- + +WALTER. [_Appealingly, dropping his pen._] Hector! + +HECTOR. [_Frantically gripping_ WALTER _by the throat, till he takes up +his pen again._] The wife of my friend Hector Allen--write it--and +plainly, you hound, plainly--so--and because I am taking the woman away +with me to-night. + +BETTY. [_With a loud cry._] Hector! + +HECTOR. [_Over his shoulder, watching_ WALTER _write._] Silence, over +there, you! Hold your tongue! Go into your room and put on your +things--we've done with you here! Take what you want--I don't care--you +don't show your face here again. And you--[_he taps his clenched hand +against_ WALTER'S _arm_] write. What are you stopping for? How far have +you got? [_He peers over_ WALTER'S _shoulder._] Because--I--am--taking-- +the--woman--away--with--me--to-night. + +BETTY. [_Beside herself, wringing her hands._] Hector, Hector-- + +HECTOR. [_Savagely, as he makes a half-turn towards her._] You still +there? Wait a bit. I'll come to you, when I've finished with him. If you +haven't gone and put on your things, you shall go off without them. Into +the street. You'll find other women there like you. [_He turns back to_ +WALTER.] Here, you, have you written? [_He looks over_ WALTER'S +_shoulder._] Go on--I'm getting impatient. Go on, I tell you. +I--am--taking--the-- + + [WALTER _is slowly writing down the words,_ HECTOR _standing over + him;_ BETTY _suddenly bursts into a peal of wild, uproarious + laughter, and lets herself fall into a chair to the left of the + card-table._ + +HECTOR. [_Madly._] You! + + [_He leaves_ WALTER, _and almost springs at her._ + +BETTY. [_Brimming with merriment._] Oh, you old donkey! _How_ we have +pulled your leg! + +HECTOR. [_Staring at her, stopping dead short._] You-- + +BETTY. [_Through her laughter, choking._] Hector, Hector! Conventional +situations! The usual stodge! The lover and husband! You goose, you +wonderful old goose! + + [WALTER, _with a mighty effort, has pulled himself together, and + roars with laughter too. He jumps up._ HECTOR _is standing there + blinking, paralysed._ + +WALTER. [_Merrily, to_ BETTY.] Oh really, you shouldn't. You've given it +away too soon! + +BETTY. Too soon! He'd have strangled us. Did you ever see such a tiger? + +WALTER. [_Chuckling hugely._] He didn't give the lover much chance to +stand up to him, did he? + +BETTY. And _wasn't_ he original! Dog, hound, villain, traitor! + +WALTER. To say nothing of Jezebel! Though, between ourselves, I think he +meant Messalina! + +BETTY. And I was to go into the street. But he did let me fill my bag! + +WALTER. I think the playwrights come out on top, I do indeed. [_He goes +to_ HECTOR, _and stands to left of him._] Hector, old chap, here's the +letter! + +BETTY. [_Going to the other side of_ HECTOR, _and dropping a low +curtsey._] And please, Mr. Husband, was it to be a big bag, or a small +bag, and might I have taken the silver teapot? + + [HECTOR _has been standing there stupid, dazed, dumbfounded, too + bewildered for his mind to act or thoughts to come to him; he + suddenly bursts into a roar of Titanic, overwhelming laughter. He + laughs, and laughs, staggers to the sofa, falls on it, rocks and + roars till the tears roll down his cheeks. He sways from side to + side, unable to control himself--his laughter is so colossal that + the infection catches the others; theirs becomes genuine too._ + +BETTY. [_With difficulty, trying to control herself._] The letter! Old +Gillingham! "His name, scoundrel, his name!" + +WALTER. [_Gurgling._] With his hand at my throat! Sit there, villain, and +write! + +BETTY. "I'll deal with _you_ presently! Wait till I've finished with +_him!_" + +WALTER. "Into the street!" At least, they _do_ usually say "into the +night!" + +HECTOR. [_Rubbing his eyes and panting for breath._] Oh, you pair of +blackguards! Too bad--no, really too bad! It was! I fell in, I did! Oh, +Lord, oh, Lord, what a nightmare! But it wasn't right, really it +wasn't--no really! My Lord, how I floundered--head and shoulders-- +swallowed it all! Comes of reading that muck every day--never stopped to +think! I didn't! Walter, old chap! [_He holds out his hand._] Betty! My +poor Betty! [_He draws her towards him._] The things I said to you! + +BETTY. [_Carelessly eluding the caress._] At least admit that you're +rather hard on the playwriting people! + +HECTOR. [_Getting up and shaking himself._] Oh, they be blowed! Well, you +_have_ had a game with me! [_He shakes himself again._] Brrrrr! Oh, my +Lord! What I went through! + +BETTY. It _was_ a lark! you should have seen yourself! Your eyes starting +out of your head! You looked like a murderer! + +HECTOR. By Jove, and I felt it! For two pins I'd have-- + +BETTY. And Mary Gillingham! _That's_ the funniest part! That you could +have thought _he_ was engaged--to _her!_ + + [_Involuntarily the smile dies away on_ WALTER'S _face; he turns + and stares at her; she goes on calmly._ + +BETTY. When she happens to be the one girl in this world he can't stand! + +WALTER. [_With a movement that he can't control._] Betty! + +BETTY. [_Turning smilingly to him._] No harm in my telling Hector--he +scarcely knows her! [_She swings round to_ HECTOR _again._] Why, Walter +simply _loathes_ the poor girl! That's what made it so funny! [_At the +mere thought of it she bursts out laughing again, and goes on speaking +through her laughter._] And I tell you--if you ever hear he's engaged to +_her_--why, you can believe the rest of the story too! + +HECTOR. [_Laughing heartily as he pats_ WALTER _on the shoulder._] Poor +old Walter! And, d'you know, I was quite pleased at the thought of his +getting married! I was! [_He turns to him._] But it's better, old chap, +for us--we'd have missed you--terribly! [_With another pat on_ WALTER'S +_shoulder, he goes to the fire, and drops in the letter._] Mustn't leave +_that_ lying about! [_He turns._] Well, by Jove, if any one had told +me.... And drinking to him, and all! + +BETTY. If you'll fetch me that glass of Hock now, I _will_ drink to him, +Hector. To Walter, the Bachelor! + +HECTOR. [_Beaming._] So we will! Good. I'll get it. + + [_He bustles into the dining-room._ + +BETTY. [_Moving swiftly to_ WALTER.] Well, now's your time. One thing or +the other. + +WALTER. [_Savagely._] You fiend! + +BETTY. I'll go and see her to-morrow--see her constantly-- + +WALTER. Why are you doing this? + +BETTY. You've ruined my life and his. At least, _you_ shan't be happy. + +WALTER. And you imagine I'll come back to _you_--that we'll go on, you and +I? + +BETTY. [_Scornfully._] No--don't be afraid! You've shown yourself to me +to-day. That's all done with--finished. _His_ friend now--with the load +off you--but never _her_ husband. Never! + + [HECTOR _comes bustling back, with the bottle of Hock, and a + wine-glass that he gives to_ BETTY--_she holds it, and he fills + it from the bottle._ + +HECTOR. Here you are, my girl--and now, where's my whiskey? [_He trots +round to the side table, finds his glass, and_ WALTER'S--_hands one to_ +WALTER.] Here, Wallie--yours must be the one that's begun--I didn't have +time to touch mine! Here. [WALTER _takes it._] And forgive me, old man, +for thinking, even one minute--[_He wrings him by the hand._] Here's to +you, old friend. And Betty, to you! Oh, Lord, I just want this drink! + +BETTY. [_In cold, clear tones, as she holds up her glass._] To Walter, the +Bachelor! + + [_She drains her glass;_ WALTER _has his moment's hesitation; he + drinks, and with tremendous effort succeeds in composing his + face._ + +HECTOR. [_Gaily._] To Walter, the Bachelor! [_He drinks his glass to the +dregs and puts it down._] And now--for a game. + +WALTER. I think I-- + +HECTOR. [_Coaxingly._] Sit down, laddie--just one rubber. It's quite +early. Do. There's a good chap. [_They all sit:_ HECTOR _at back,_ BETTY +_to the left of him,_ WALTER _to the right--he spreads out the cards--they +draw for partners._] As we are--you and Betty--I've got the dummy. [_He +shuffles the cards_--BETTY _cuts--he begins to deal._] That's how I like +it--one on each side of me. Also I like having dummy. Now, Betty, play +up. Oh, Lord, how good it is, how good! A nightmare, I tell you--terrible! +And really you must forgive me for being such an ass. But the way you +played up, both of you! My little Betty--a Duse, that's what she is--a +real Duse! [_He gathers up his cards._] And the gods are kind to me--I've +got a hand, I tell you! I call NO TRUMPS! + + [_He beams at them--they are placidly sorting their cards. He + puts his hand down and proceeds to look at his dummy, as the + curtain falls._ + + +CURTAIN + + + + +A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED.... + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + +MR. HARRISON CROCKSTEAD +LADY ALINE DE VAUX + + +_Produced at the +Garrick Theatre +on March 27, 1904_ + + + +A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED.... + + +SCENE _The conservatory of No. 300 Grosvenor Square. Hour, close on +midnight. A ball is in progress, and dreamy waltz music is heard in the +distance._ + + LADY ALINE DE VAUX _enters, leaning on the arm of_ MR. HARRISON + CROCKSTEAD. + + LADY ALINE _is a tall, exquisitely-gowned girl, of the + conventional and much-admired type of beauty. Put her in any + drawing-room in the world, and she would at once be recognised as + a highborn Englishwoman. She has in her, in embryo, all those + excellent qualities that go to make a great lady: the icy stare, + the haughty movement of the shoulder, the disdainful arch of the + lip; she has also, but only an experienced observer would notice + it, something of wistfulness, something that speaks of a sore and + wounded heart--though it is sufficiently evident that this organ + is kept under admirable control. A girl who has been placed in a + position of life where artificiality rules, who has been taught + to be artificial and has thoroughly learned her lesson; yet one + who would unhesitatingly know the proper thing to do did a camel + bolt with her in the desert, or an eastern potentate invite her + to become his two hundred and fifty-seventh wife. In a word, a + lady of complete self-possession and magnificent control._ MR. + CROCKSTEAD _is a big, burly man of forty or so, and of the kind + to whom the ordinary West End butler would consider himself + perfectly justified in declaring that her ladyship was not at + home. And yet his evening clothes sit well on him; and there is a + certain air of command about the man that would have made the + butler uncomfortable. That functionary would have excused himself + by declaring that_ MR. CROCKSTEAD _didn't look a gentleman. And + perhaps he doesn't. His walk is rather a slouch; he has a way of + keeping his hands in his pockets, and of jerking out his + sentences; a way, above all, of seeming perfectly indifferent to + the comfort of the people he happens to be addressing. The + impression he gives is one of power, not of refinement; and the + massive face, with its heavy lines, and eyes that are usually + veiled, seems to give no clue whatever to the character of the + man within._ + + _The couple break apart when they enter the room;_ LADY ALINE _is + the least bit nervous, though she shows no trace of it;_ MR. + CROCKSTEAD _absolutely imperturbable and undisturbed._ + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Looking around._] Ah--this is the place--very quiet, +retired, romantic--et cetera. Music in the distance--all very appropriate +and sentimental. + +[_She leaves him, and sits, quietly fanning herself; he stands, looking +at her._] You seem perfectly calm, Lady Aline? + +ALINE. [_Sitting._] Conservatories are not unusual appendages to a +ball-room, Mr. Crockstead; nor is this conservatory unlike other +conservatories. + +CROCKSTEAD [_Turning to her._] I wonder why women are always so evasive? + +ALINE. With your permission we will not discuss the sex. You and I are too +old to be cynical, and too young to be appreciative. And besides, it is a +rule of mine, whenever I sit out a dance, that my partner shall avoid the +subjects of women--and golf. + +CROCKSTEAD. You limit the area of conversation. But then, in this +particular instance, I take it, we have not come here to talk? + +ALINE. [_Coldly._] I beg your pardon! + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Sitting beside her._] Lady Aline, they are dancing a +cotillon in there, so we have half an hour before us. We shall not be +disturbed, for the Duchess, your aunt, has considerately stationed her +aged companion in the corridor, with instructions to ward off intruders. + +ALINE. [_Very surprised._] Mr. Crockstead! + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Looking hard at her._] Didn't you know? [ALINE _turns aside, +embarrassed._] That's right--of course you did. Don't you know why I have +brought you here? That's right; of course you do. The Duchess, your aunt, +and the Marchioness, your mother--observe how fondly my tongue trips out +the titles--smiled sweetly on us as we left the ball-room. There will be +a notice in the _Morning Post_ to-morrow: "A Marriage Has Been Arranged +Between--" + +ALINE. [_Bewildered and offended._] Mr. Crockstead! This--this is-- + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Always in the same quiet tone._] Because I have not yet +proposed, you mean? Of course I intend to, Lady Aline. Only as I know that +you will accept me-- + +ALINE. [_In icy tones, as she rises._] Let us go back to the ball-room. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Quite undisturbed._] Oh, please! That won't help us, you +know. Do sit down. I assure you I have never proposed before, so that +naturally I am a trifle nervous. Of course I know that we are only supers +really, without much of a speaking part; but the spirit moves me to gag, +in the absence of the stage-manager, who is, let us say, the Duchess-- + +ALINE. I have heard of the New Humour, Mr. Crockstead, though I confess I +have never understood it. This may be an exquisite example-- + +CROCKSTEAD. By no means. I am merely trying to do the right thing, though +perhaps not the conventional one. Before making you the formal offer of my +hand and fortune, which amounts to a little over three millions-- + +ALINE. [_Fanning herself._] How people exaggerate! Between six and seven, +_I_ heard. + +CROCKSTEAD. Only three at present, but we must be patient. Before throwing +myself at your feet, metaphorically, I am anxious that you should know +something of the man whom you are about to marry. + +ALINE. That is really most considerate! + +CROCKSTEAD. I have the advantage of you, you see, inasmuch as you have +many dear friends, who have told me all about you. + +ALINE. [_With growing exasperation, but keeping very cool._] Indeed? + +CROCKSTEAD. I am aware, for instance, that this is your ninth season-- + +ALINE. [_Snapping her fan._] You are remarkably well-informed. + +CROCKSTEAD. I have been told that again to-night, three times, by charming +young women who vowed that they loved you. Now, as I have no dearest +friends, it is unlikely that you will have heard anything equally definite +concerning myself. I propose to enlighten you. + +ALINE. [_Satirically._] The story of your life--how thrilling! + +CROCKSTEAD. I trust you may find it so. [_He sits, and pauses for a +moment, then begins, very quietly._] Lady Aline, I am a self-made man, as +the foolish phrase has it--a man whose early years were spent in savage +and desolate places, where the devil had much to say; a man in whom +whatever there once had been of natural kindness was very soon kicked out. +I was poor, and lonely, for thirty-two years: I have been rich, and +lonely, for ten. My millions have been made honestly enough; but poverty +and wretchedness had left their mark on me, and you will find very few +men with a good word to say for Harrison Crockstead. I have no polish, or +culture, or tastes. Art wearies me, literature sends me to sleep-- + +ALINE. When you come to the chapter of your personal deficiencies, Mr. +Crockstead, please remember that they are sufficiently evident for me to +have already observed them. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Without a trace of annoyance._] That is true. I will pass, +then, to more intimate matters. In a little township in Australia--a +horrible place where there was gold--I met a woman whom I loved. She was +what is technically known as a bad woman. She ran away with another man. I +tracked them to Texas, and in a mining camp there I shot the man. I wanted +to take the woman back, but she refused. That has been my solitary love +affair; and I shall never love any woman again as I loved her. I think +that is all that I have to tell you. And now--will you marry me, Lady +Aline? + +ALINE. [_Very steadily, facing him._] Not if you were the last man in this +world, Mr. Crockstead. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_With a pleasant smile._] At least that is emphatic. + +ALINE. See, I will give you confidence for confidence. This is, as you +suggest, my ninth season. Living in an absurd milieu where marriage with a +wealthy man is regarded as the one aim in life, I have, during the past +few weeks, done all that lay in my power to wring a proposal from you. + +CROCKSTEAD. I appreciate your sincerity. + +ALINE. Perhaps the knowledge that other women were doing the same lent a +little zest to the pursuit, which otherwise would have been very dreary; +for I confess that your personality did not--especially appeal to me. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Cheerfully._] Thank you very much. + +ALINE. Not at all. Indeed, this room being the Palace of Truth, I will +admit that it was only by thinking hard of your three millions that I have +been able to conceal the weariness I have felt in your society. And now +will you marry me, Mr. Crockstead? + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Serenely._] I fancy that's what we're here for, isn't it? + +ALINE. [_Stamping her foot._] I have, of course, been debarred from the +disreputable amours on which you linger so fondly; but I loved a soldier +cousin of mine, and would have run away with him had my mother not packed +me off in time. He went to India, and I stayed here; but he is the only +man I have loved or ever shall love. Further, let me tell you I am +twenty-eight; I have always been poor--I hate poverty, and it has soured +me no less than you. Dress is the thing in life I care for most, vulgarity +my chief abomination. And to be frank, I consider you the most vulgar +person I have ever met. Will you still marry me, Mr. Crockstead? + +CROCKSTEAD. [_With undiminished cheerfulness._] Why not? + +ALINE. This is an outrage. Am I a horse, do you think, or a +ballet-dancer? Do you imagine I will sell myself to you for your three +millions? + +CROCKSTEAD. Logic, my dear Lady Aline, is evidently not one of your more +special possessions. For, had it not been for my--somewhat eccentric +preliminaries--you _would_ have accepted me, would you not? + +ALINE. [_Embarrassed._] I--I-- + +CROCKSTEAD. If I had said to you, timidly: "Lady Aline, I love you: I am a +simple, unsophisticated person; will you marry me?" You would have +answered, "Yes, Harrison, I will." + +ALINE. It is a mercy to have escaped marrying a man with such a Christian +name as Harrison. + +CROCKSTEAD. It has been in the family for generations, you know; but it is +a strange thing that I am always called Harrison, and that no one ever +adopts the diminutive. + +ALINE. That does not surprise me: we have no pet name for the East wind. + +CROCKSTEAD. The possession of millions, you see, Lady Aline, puts you into +eternal quarantine. It is a kind of yellow fever, with the difference that +people are perpetually anxious to catch your complaint. But we digress. To +return to the question of our marriage-- + +ALINE. I beg your pardon. + +CROCKSTEAD. I presume that it is--arranged? + +ALINE. [_Haughtily._] Mr. Crockstead, let me remind you that frankness has +its limits: exceeding these, it is apt to degenerate into impertinence. +Be good enough to conduct me to the ball-room. + + [_She moves to the door._ + +CROCKSTEAD. You have five sisters, I believe, Lady Aline? [ALINE _stops +short._] All younger than yourself, all marriageable, and all unmarried? + + [ALINE _hangs her head and is silent._ + +CROCKSTEAD. Your father-- + +ALINE. [_Fiercely._] Not a word of my father! + +CROCKSTEAD. Your father is a gentleman. The breed is rare, and very fine +when you get it. But he is exceedingly poor. People marry for money +nowadays; and your mother will be very unhappy if this marriage of ours +falls through. + +ALINE. [_Moving a step towards him._] Is it to oblige my mother, then, +that you desire to marry me? + +CROCKSTEAD. Well, no. But you see I must marry some one, in mere +self-defence; and honestly, I think you will do at least as well as any +one else. [ALINE _bursts out laughing._] That strikes you as funny? + +ALINE. If you had the least grain of chivalrous feeling, you would realise +that the man who could speak to a woman as you have spoken to me-- + + [_She pauses._ + +CROCKSTEAD. Yes? + +ALINE. I leave you to finish the sentence. + +CROCKSTEAD. Thank you. I will finish it my own way. I will say that when a +woman deliberately tries to wring an offer of marriage from a man whom +she does not love, she deserves to be spoken to as I have spoken to you, +Lady Aline. + +ALINE. [_Scornfully._] Love! What has love to do with marriage? + +CROCKSTEAD. That remark rings hollow. You have been good enough to tell me +of your cousin, whom you did love-- + +ALINE. Well? + +CROCKSTEAD. And with whom you would have eloped, had your mother not +prevented you. + +ALINE. I most certainly should. + +CROCKSTEAD. So you see that at one period of your life you thought +differently.--You were very fond of him? + +ALINE. I have told you. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Meditatively._] If I had been he, mother or no mother, money +or no money, I would have carried you off. I fancy it must be pleasant to +be loved by you, Lady Aline. + +ALINE. [_Dropping a mock curtsey, as she sits on the sofa._] You do me too +much honour. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Still thoughtful, moving about the room._] Next to being +king, it is good to be maker of kings. Where is this cousin now? + +ALINE. In America. But might I suggest that we have exhausted the subject? + +CROCKSTEAD. Do you remember your "Arabian Nights," Lady Aline? + +ALINE. Vaguely. + +CROCKSTEAD. You have at least not forgotten that sublime Caliph, Haroun +Al-Raschid? + +ALINE. Oh, no--but why? + +CROCKSTEAD. We millionaires are the Caliphs to-day; and we command more +faithful than ever bowed to them. And, like that old scoundrel Haroun, we +may at times permit ourselves a respectable impulse. What is your cousin's +address? + +ALINE. Again I ask--why? + +CROCKSTEAD. I will put him in a position to marry you. + +ALINE. [_In extreme surprise._] What! [_She rises._ + +CROCKSTEAD. Oh, don't be alarmed, I'll manage it pleasantly. I'll give him +tips, shares, speculate for him, make him a director of one or two of my +companies. He shall have an income of four thousand a year. You can live +on that. + +ALINE. You are not serious? + +CROCKSTEAD. Oh yes; and though men may not like me, they always trust my +word. You may. + +ALINE. And why will you do this thing? + +CROCKSTEAD. Call it caprice--call it a mere vulgar desire to let my +magnificence dazzle you--call it the less vulgar desire to know that my +money has made you happy with the man you love. + +ALINE. That is generous. + +CROCKSTEAD. I remember an old poem I learnt at school--which told how +Frederick the Great coveted a mill that adjoined a favourite estate of +his; but the miller refused to sell. Frederick could have turned him out, +of course--there was not very much public opinion in those days--but he +respected the miller's firmness, and left him in solid possession. And +mark that, at that very same time, he annexed--in other words stole--the +province of Silesia. + +ALINE. Ah-- + +CROCKSTEAD. [_Moving to the fireplace._] + + "Ce sont la jeux de Princes: + Ils respectent un meunier, + Ils volent une province." + + [_The music stops._ + +ALINE. You speak French? + +CROCKSTEAD. I am fond of it. It is the true and native language of +insincerity. + +ALINE. And yet you seem sincere. + +CROCKSTEAD. I am permitting myself that luxury to-night. I am uncorking, +let us say, the one bottle of '47 port left in my cellar. + +ALINE. You are not quite fair to yourself, perhaps. + +CROCKSTEAD. Do not let this action of mine cause you too suddenly to alter +your opinion. The verdict you pronounced before was, on the whole, just. + +ALINE. What verdict? + +CROCKSTEAD. I was the most unpleasant person you ever had met. + +ALINE. That was an exaggeration. + +CROCKSTEAD. The most repulsive-- + +ALINE. [_Quickly._] I did not say that. + +CROCKSTEAD. And who prided himself on his repulsiveness. Very true, in the +main, and yet consider! My wealth dates back ten years; till then I had +known hunger, and every kind of sorrow and despair. I had stretched out +longing arms to the world, but not a heart opened to me. And suddenly, +when the taste of men's cruelty was bitter in my mouth, capricious fortune +snatched me from abject poverty and gave me delirious wealth. I was +ploughing a barren field, and flung up a nugget. From that moment gold +dogged my footsteps. I enriched the few friends I had--they turned +howlingly from me because I did not give them more. I showered money on +whoever sought it of me--they cursed me because it was mine to give. In my +poverty there had been the bond of common sorrow between me and my +fellows: in my wealth I stand alone, a modern Ishmael, with every man's +hand against me. + +ALINE. [_Gently._] Why do you tell me this? + +CROCKSTEAD. Because I am no longer asking you to marry me. Because you are +the first person in all these years who has been truthful and frank with +me. And because, perhaps, in the happiness that will, I trust, be yours, I +want you to think kindly of me. [_She puts out her hand, he takes it._] +And now, shall we return to the ball-room? The music has stopped; they +must be going to supper. + +ALINE. What shall I say to the Marchioness, my mother, and the Duchess, my +aunt? + +CROCKSTEAD. You will acquaint those noble ladies with the fact of your +having refused me. + + [_They have both risen, and move up the room together._ + +ALINE. I shall be a nine days' wonder. And how do you propose to carry +out your little scheme? + +CROCKSTEAD. I will take Saturday's boat--you will give me a line to your +cousin. I had better state the case plainly to him, perhaps? + +ALINE. That demands consideration. + +CROCKSTEAD. And I will tell you what you shall do for me in return. Find +me a wife! + +ALINE. I? + +CROCKSTEAD. You. I beg it on my knees. I give you carte blanche. I +undertake to propose, with my eyes shut, to the woman you shall select. + +ALINE. And will you treat her to the--little preliminaries--with which you +have favoured me? + +CROCKSTEAD. No. I said those things to you because I liked you. + +ALINE. And you don't intend to like the other one? + +CROCKSTEAD. I will marry her, I can trust you to find me a loyal and +intelligent woman. + +ALINE. In Society? + +CROCKSTEAD. For preference. She will be better versed in spending money +than a governess, or country parson's daughter. + +ALINE. But why this voracity for marriage? + +CROCKSTEAD. Lady Aline, I am hunted, pestered, worried, persecuted. I have +settled two breach of promise actions already, though Heaven knows I did +no more than remark it was a fine day, or enquire after the lady's health. +If you do not help me, some energetic woman will capture me--I feel +it--and bully me for the rest of my days. I raise a despairing cry to +you--Find me a wife! + +ALINE. Do you desire the lady to have any--special qualifications? + +CROCKSTEAD. No--the home-grown article will do. One thing, though--I +should like her to be--merciful. + +ALINE. I don't understand. + +CROCKSTEAD. I have a vague desire to do something with my money: my wife +might help me. I should like her to have pity. + +ALINE. Pity? + +CROCKSTEAD. In the midst of her wealth I should wish her to be sorry for +those who are poor. + +ALINE. Yes. And, as regards the rest-- + +CROCKSTEAD. The rest I leave to you, with absolute confidence. You will +help me? + +ALINE. I will try. My choice is to be final? + +CROCKSTEAD. Absolutely. + +ALINE. I have an intimate friend--I wonder whether she would do? + +CROCKSTEAD. Tell me about her. + +ALINE. She and I made our debut the same season. Like myself she has +hitherto been her mother's despair. + +CROCKSTEAD. Because she has not yet-- + +ALINE. Married--yes. Oh, if men knew how hard the lot is of the +portionless girl, who has to sit, and smile, and wait, with a very +desolate heart--they would think less unkindly of her, perhaps--[_She +smiles._] But I am digressing, too. + +CROCKSTEAD. Tell me more of your friend. + +ALINE. She is outwardly hard, and a trifle bitter, but I fancy sunshine +would thaw her. There has not been much happiness in her life. + +CROCKSTEAD. Would she marry a man she did not love? + +ALINE. If she did you would not respect her? + +CROCKSTEAD. I don't say that. She will be your choice; and therefore +deserving of confidence. Is she handsome? + +ALINE. Well--no. + +CROCKSTEAD. [_With a quick glance at her._] That's a pity. But we can't +have everything. + +ALINE. No. There is one episode in her life that I feel she would like you +to know-- + +CROCKSTEAD. If you are not betraying a confidence-- + +ALINE. [_Looking down._] No. She loved a man, years ago, very dearly. They +were too poor to marry, but they vowed to wait. Within six months she +learned that he was engaged. + +CROCKSTEAD. Ah! + +ALINE. To a fat and wealthy widow-- + +CROCKSTEAD. The old story. + +ALINE. Who was touring through India, and had been made love to by every +unmarried officer in the regiment. She chose him. + +CROCKSTEAD. India? [_He moves towards her._] + +ALINE. Yes. + +CROCKSTEAD. I have an idea that I shall like your friend. [_He takes her +hand in his._] + +ALINE. I shall be careful to tell her all that you said to me--at the +beginning-- + +CROCKSTEAD. It is quite possible that my remarks may not apply after all. + +ALINE. But I believe myself from what I know of you both that--if she +marries you--it will not be--altogether--for your money. + +CROCKSTEAD. Listen--they're playing "God Save the King." Will you be my +wife, Aline? + +ALINE. Yes--Harry. + + [_He takes her in his arms and kisses her._ + + +CURTAIN + + + + +THE MAN ON THE KERB + +A DUOLOGUE + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +JOSEPH MATTHEWS +MARY (HIS WIFE) + +TIME--_The present_ + +SCENE--_Their home in the West End_ + +_Produced at the +Aldwych Theatre +on March 24, 1908_ + + + +THE MAN ON THE KERB + + +SCENE: _An underground room, bare of any furniture except two or + three broken chairs, a tattered mattress on the stone floor and + an old trunk. On a packing-chest are a few pots and pans and a + kettle. A few sacks are spread over the floor, close to the empty + grate; the walls are discoloured, with plentiful signs of damp + oozing through. Close to the door, at back, is a window, looking + on to the area; two of the panes are broken and stuffed with + paper._ + + _On the mattress a child is sleeping, covered with a tattered old + mantle;_ MARY _is bending over her, crooning a song. The woman is + still quite young, and must have been very pretty; but her cheeks + are hollow and there are great circles round her eyes; her face + is very pale and bloodless. Her dress is painfully worn and + shabby, but displays pathetic attempts at neatness. The only + light in the room comes from the street lamp on the pavement + above._ + + JOE _comes down the area steps, and enters. His clothes are of + the familiar colourless, shapeless kind one sees at street + corners; he would be a pleasant-looking young fellow enough were + it not that his face is abnormally lined, and pinched, and + weather-beaten. He shambles in, with the intense weariness of a + man who has for hours been forcing benumbed limbs to move; he + shakes himself, on the threshold, dog-fashion, to get rid of the + rain._ MARY _first makes sure that the child is asleep, then + rises eagerly and goes to him. Her face falls as she notes his + air of dejection._ + +MARY. [_Wistfully._] Nothing, Joe? + +JOE. Nothing. Not a farthing. Nothing. + + [MARY _turns away and checks a moan._ + +JOE. Nothing at all. Same as yesterday--worse than yesterday--I _did_ +bring home a few coppers--And you? + +MARY. A lady gave Minnie some food-- + +JOE. [_Heartily._] Bless her for that! + +MARY. Took her into the pastrycook's, Joe-- + +JOE. And the kiddie had a tuck-out? Thank God! And you? + +MARY. Minnie managed to hide a great big bun for me. + +JOE. The lady didn't give you anything? + +MARY. Only a lecture, Joe, for bringing the child out on so bitter a day. + +JOE. [_With a sour laugh, as he sits on a chair._] Ho, ho! Always so ready +with their lectures, aren't they? "Shouldn't beg, my man! Never give to +beggars in the street!"--Look at me, I said to one of them. Feel my arm. +Tap my chest. I tell you I'm starving, and they're starving at +home.--"Never give to beggars in the street." + +MARY. [_Laying a hand on his arm._] Oh, Joe, you're wet! + +JOE. It's been raining hard the last three hours--pouring. My stars, it's +cold. Couldn't we raise a bit of fire, Mary? + +MARY. With what, Joe? + +JOE. [_After a look round, suddenly getting up, seizing a ricketty chair +by the wall, breaking off the legs._] With this! Wonderful fine furniture +they give you on the Hire System--so solid and substantial--as advertised. +[_He breaks the flimsy thing up, as he speaks._] And to think we paid for +this muck, in the days we were human beings--paid about three times its +value! And to think of the poor devils, poor devils like us, who sweated +their life-blood out to make it--and of the blood-sucking devils who sold +it and got fat on it--and now back it goes to the devil it came from, and +we can at least get warm for a minute. [_He crams the wood into the +grate._] Got any paper, Mary? + +MARY. [_Taking an old newspaper from the trunk._] Here, Joe. + +JOE. That will help to build up a fire. [_He glances at it, then lays it +carefully underneath the wood._ MARY _gets lamp from table._] The Daily +Something or other--that tells the world what a happy people we are--how +proud of belonging to an Empire on which the sun never sets. And I'd sell +Gibraltar to-night for a sausage with mashed potatoes; and let Russia +take India if some one would give me a clerkship at a pound a +week.--There, in you go! A match, Mary? + +MARY. [_Standing above_ JOE, _handing him one._] Ok Joe, be careful--we've +only two left! + +JOE. I'll be careful. Wait, though--I'll see whether there's a bit of +tobacco still in my pipe. [_He fishes the pipe out of his pocket._] A +policeman who warned me away from the kerb gave me some tobacco. "Mustn't +beg," he said. "Got a pipe? Well, here's some tobacco." I believe he'd +have given me money. But it was the first kind word I had heard all day, +and it choked me.--There's just a bit left at the bottom. [_He bustles._] +Now, first the fire. [_He puts the match to the paper--it kindles._] And +then my pipe. [_The fire burns up; he throws himself in front of it._] +Boo-o-oh, I'm sizzling.... I got so wet that I felt the water running into +my lungs--my feet didn't seem to belong to me--and as for my head and +nose! [_Yawns._] Well, smoke's good--by the powers, I'm getting warm--come +closer to it, Mary. It's a little after midnight now--and I left home, +this fine, luxurious British home, just as soon as it was light. And I've +tramped the streets all day. Net result, a policeman gave me a pipeful of +tobacco, I lunched off a bit of bread that I saw floating down the +gutter--and I dined off the kitchen smell of the Cafe Royal. That's my +day. + +MARY. [_Stroking his hand._] Poor boy, poor boy! + +JOE. I stood for an hour in Leicester Square when the theatres emptied, +thinking I might earn a copper, calling a cab, or something. There they +were, all streaming out, happy and clean and warm--broughams and +motor-cars--supper at the Savoy and the Carlton--and a hundred or two of +us others in the gutter, hungry--looking at them. They went off to their +supper--it was pouring, and I got soaked--and there I stood, dodging the +policemen, dodging the horses' heads and the motors--and it was +always--get away, you loafer, get away--get away--get away-- + +MARY. We've done nothing to deserve it, Joe-- + +JOE. [_With sudden fury._] Deserve it! What have I ever done wrong! Wasn't +_my_ fault the firm went bankrupt and I couldn't get another job. I've a +first-rate character--I'm respectable--what's the use? I want to +work--they won't let me! + +MARY. That illness of mine ate up all our savings. O Joe, I wish I had +died! + +JOE. And left me alone? That's not kind of you, Mary. How about Mrs. +Willis? Is she worrying about the rent? + +MARY. Well, she'd like to have it, of course--they're so dreadfully poor +themselves--but she says she won't turn us out. And I'm going to-morrow to +her daughter's upstairs--she makes matchboxes, you know--and I don't see +why I shouldn't try--I could earn nearly a shilling a day. + +JOE. A shilling a day! Princely! [_His pipe goes out. He takes a last +puff at it, squints into it to make sure all the tobacco is gone, then +lays it down with a sigh._] I reckon _I'll_ try making 'em too. I went to +the Vestry again, this morning, to see whether they'd take me as +sweeper--but they've thirty names down, ahead of me. I've tried chopping +wood, but I can't--I begin to cough the third stroke--there's something +wrong with me inside, somewhere. I've tried every Institution on God's +earth--and there are others before me, and there is no vacancy, and I +mustn't beg, and I mustn't worry the gentlemen. A shilling a day--can one +earn as much as that! Why, Mary, that will be fourteen shillings a +week--an income! We'll do it! + +MARY. It's not quite a shilling, Joe--you have to find your own paste and +odds and ends. And of course it takes a few weeks to learn, before you +begin to make any money. + +JOE. [_Crestfallen._] Does it though? And what are we going to do, those +few weeks? I thought there was a catch in it, somewhere. [_He gets up and +stretches himself._] Well, here's a free-born Englishman, able to conduct +correspondence in three languages, bookkeeping by double entry, twelve +years' experience--and all he's allowed to do is to starve. [_He stretches +himself again._] + + But in spite of all temptations + To belong to other nations-- + +[_With sudden passion._] God! I wish I were a Zulu! + +MARY. [_Edging to him._] Joe-- + +JOE. [_Turning._] Well? + +MARY. Joe, Joe, we've tried very hard, haven't we? + +JOE. Tried! Is there a job in this world we'd refuse? Is there anything +we'd turn up our nose at? Is there any chance we've neglected? + +MARY. [_Stealing nervously to him and laying a hand on his arm._] Joe-- + +JOE. [_Raising his head and looking at her._] Yes--what is it? [_She +stands timidly with downcast eyes._] Well? Out with it, Mary! + +MARY. [_Suddenly._] It's this, Joe. + + [_She goes feverishly to the mattress, and from underneath it she + pulls out a big, fat purse which she hands him._ + +JOE. [_Staring._] A purse! + +MARY. [_Nodding._] Yes. + +JOE. You-- + +MARY. Found it. + +JOE. [_Looking at her._] Found? + +MARY. [_Awkwardly._] In a way I did--yes. + +JOE. How? + +MARY. It came on to rain, Joe--and I went into a Tube Station--and was +standing by a bookstall, showing Minnie the illustrated papers--and an old +lady bought one--and she took out her purse--this purse--and paid for +it--and laid the purse on the board while she fumbled to pick up her +skirts--and then some one spoke to her--a friend, I suppose--and--there +were lots of people standing about--I don't know how it was--I was out in +the street, with Minnie-- + +JOE. You had the purse? + +MARY. Yes-- + +JOE. No one followed you? + +MARY. No one. I couldn't run, as I had to carry Minnie. + +JOE. What made you do it? + +MARY. I don't know--something in me did it--She put the purse down just by +the side of my hand--my fingers clutched it before I knew--and I was out +in the street. + +JOE. How much is there in it? + +MARY. I haven't looked, Joe. + +JOE. [_Wondering._] You haven't looked? + +MARY. No; I didn't dare. + +JOE. [_Sorrowfully._] I didn't think we'd come to this, Mary. + +MARY. [_Desperately._] We've got to do something. Before we can earn any +money at making matchboxes we'll have to spend some weeks learning. And +you've not had a decent meal for a month--nor have I. If there's money +inside this purse you can get some clothes--and for me too--I need them! +It's not as though the old lady would miss it--she's rich enough--her +cloak was real sable--and no one can find us out--they can't tell one +piece of money from the other. It's heavy, Joe--I think there's a lot +inside. + +JOE. [_Weighing it mechanically._] Yes--it's heavy-- + +MARY. [_Eagerly._] Open it, Joe. + +JOE. [_Turning to her again._] Why didn't you? + +MARY. I just thought I'd wait--I'd an idea something might have happened; +that some one might have stopped you in the street, some one with a +heart--and that he'd have come in with you to-night--and seen us--seen +Minnie--and said--"Well, here's money--I'll put you on your legs +again"--And then we'd have given the purse back, Joe. + +JOE. [_As he still mechanically balances it in his hand._] Yes. + +MARY. Can't go on like this, can we? You'll cough all night again, as you +did yesterday--and the stuff they gave you at the Dispensary's no good. If +you had clothes, you might get some sort of a job perhaps--you know you +had to give up trying because you were so shabby. + +JOE. They laugh at me. + +MARY. [_With a glance at herself._] And I'm really ashamed to walk through +the streets-- + +JOE. I know--though I'm getting used to it. Besides, there's the kiddie. +Let's have a look at her. + +MARY. Be careful you don't wake her, Joe! + +JOE. There's a fire. + +MARY. She'll be hungry. + +JOE. You said that she had some food? + +MARY. That was at three o'clock. And little things aren't like us--they +want their regular meals. Night after night she has been hungry, and I've +had nothing to give her. That's why I took the purse. + +JOE. [_Still holding it mechanically and staring at it._] Yes. And, after +all, why not? + +MARY. We can get the poor little thing some warm clothes, some good food-- + +JOE. [_Under his breath._] A thief's daughter. + + [_Covers his face with his hands._ + +MARY. Joe! + +JOE. Not nice, is it? Can't be helped, of course. And who cares? For three +months this game has gone on--we getting shabbier, wretcheder, +hungrier--no one bothers--all _they_ say is "keep off the pavement." Let's +see what's in the purse. + +MARY. [_Eagerly._] Yes, yes! + +JOE. [_Lifting his head as he is on the point of opening the purse._] +That's the policeman passing. + +MARY. [_Impatiently._] Never mind that-- + +JOE. [_Turning to the purse again._] First time in my life I've been afraid +when I heard the policeman. + + [_He has his finger on the catch of the purse when he pauses for + a moment--then acting on a sudden impulse, makes a dart for the + door, opens it, and is out, and up the area steps._ + +MARY. [_With a despairing cry._] Joe! + + [_She flings herself on the mattress, and sobs silently, so as + not to awaken, the child._ JOE _returns, hanging his head, + dragging one foot before the other._ + +MARY. [_Still sobbing, but trying to control herself._] Why did you do +that? + +JOE. [_Humbly._] I don't know-- + +MARY. You gave it to the policeman? + +JOE. Yes. + +MARY. What did you tell him? + +JOE. That you had found it. + +MARY. Where? + +JOE. In a Tube Station. Picked it up because we were starving. That we +hadn't opened it. And that we lived here, in this cellar. + +MARY. [_With a little shake._] I expect he'll keep it himself! + +JOE. [_Miserably._] Perhaps. + + [_There is silence for a moment; she has ceased to cry; suddenly + she raises herself violently on her elbow._ + +MARY. You fool! You fool! + +JOE. [_Pleading._] Mary! + +MARY. With your stupid ideas of honesty! What have they done for you, or +me? + +JOE. [_Dropping his head again._] It's the kiddie, you know--her being a +thief's daughter-- + +MARY. Is that worse than being the daughter of a pair of miserable +beggars? + +JOE. [_Under his breath._] I suppose it is, somehow-- + +MARY. You'd rather she went hungry? + +JOE. [_Despairingly._] I don't know how it was--hearing his tramp up +there-- + +MARY. You were afraid? + +JOE. I don't want you taken to prison. + +MARY. [_With a wail._] I'll be taken to the graveyard soon, in a pauper's +coffin! + +JOE. [_Starts suddenly._] Suppose we did that? + +MARY. [_Staring._] The workhouse? + +JOE. Why not, after all? That's what it will come to, sooner or later. + +MARY. They'd separate us. + +JOE. At least you and the kiddie'd have food. + +MARY. They'd separate us. And I love you, Joe. My poor, poor Joe! I love +you. + + [_She nestles up to him and takes his hand._ + +JOE. [_Holding her hand in his, and bending over her._] You forgive me for +returning the purse? + +MARY. [_Dropping her head on his shoulder._] Forgive you! You were right. +It was the cold and the hunger maddened me. You were right! + +JOE. [_Springing to his feet, with sudden passion._ MARY _staggers back._] +I _wasn't_ right--I was a coward, a criminal--a vile and wicked fool. + +MARY. [_Startled._] Joe! + +JOE. I had money there--money in my hand--money that you need so badly, +you, the woman I love with all my ragged soul--money that would have put +food into the body of my little girl--money that was mine, that belonged +to me--and I've given it back, because of my rotten honesty! What right +have I to be honest? They've made a dog of me--what business had I to +remember I was a man? + +MARY. [_Following him and laying a hand on his arm._] Hush, Joe--you'll +wake Minnie. + +JOE. [_Turning and staring haggardly at her._] I could have got clothes--a +job, perhaps--we might have left this cellar. We could have gone out +to-morrow and bought things--gone into shops--we might have had food, +coal-- + +MARY. Don't, Joe--what's the use? And who knows--it may prove a blessing +to us. You told the policeman where we lived? + +JOE. A blessing! I'll get up to-morrow, after having coughed out my lungs +all night--and I'll go into the streets and walk there from left to right +and from right to left, standing at this corner and at that, peering into +men's faces, watching people go to their shops and their offices, people +who are warm and comfortable--and so it will go on, till the end comes. + +MARY. [_Standing very close to him, almost in a whisper._] Why not now, +Joe? + +JOE. [_With a startled glance at her._] The end? + +MARY. There's no room for us in this world-- + +JOE. If I'd taken that money-- + +MARY. It's too late for that now. And I'm glad you didn't--yes, I am--I'm +glad. We'll go before God clean-handed. And we'll say to Him we didn't +steal, or do anything He didn't want us too. And we'll tell Him we've died +because people wouldn't allow us to live. + +JOE. [_With a shudder._] No. Not that--we'll wait, Mary. Don't speak of +that. + +MARY. [_Wistfully._] You've thought of it too? + +JOE. Thought of it! Don't, Mary, don't! It's bad enough, in the night, +when I lie there and think of to-morrow! Something will happen--it must. + +MARY. What? We haven't a friend in the world. + +JOE. I may meet some one I used to know. + +MARY. You've met them before--they always refuse-- + +JOE. [_Passionately._] I've done nothing wrong--I haven't drunk or +gambled--I can't help being only a clerk, and unable to do heavy work! I +can't help my lungs being weak! I've a wife and a child, like other +people--and all we ask is to be allowed to live! + +MARY. [_Pleading._] Let's give it up, Joe. Go away together, you'd sleep +without coughing. Sleep, that's all. And God will be kinder than men. + +JOE. [_Groaning._] Don't, Mary--don't! + +MARY. Joe, I can't stand it any longer--I can't. Not only myself--but +Minnie--Joe, it's too much for me! I can't stand Minnie crying, and asking +me for her breakfast, as she will in the morning. Joe, dear Joe, let there +be no morning! + +JOE. [_Completely overcome._] Oh, Mary, Mary! + +MARY. It's not _your_ fault, dear--you've done what you could. Not _your_ +fault they won't let you work--you've tried hard enough. And no woman ever +had a better husband than you've been to me. I love you, dear Joe. And +let's do it--let's make an end. And take Minnie with us. + +JOE. [_Springing up._] Mary, I'll steal something to-morrow. + +MARY. And they'd send you to prison. Besides, then God would be angry. Now +we can go to Him and need not be ashamed. Let us, dear Joe--oh, do let us! +I'm so tired! + +JOE. No. + +MARY. [_Sorrowfully._] You won't? + +JOE. [_Doggedly._] No. We'll go to the workhouse. + +MARY. You've seen them in there, haven't you? + +JOE. Yes. + +MARY. You've seen them standing at the window, staring at the world? And +they'd take you away from me. + +JOE. That's better than-- + +MARY. [_Firmly._] I won't do it, Joe. I've been a good wife to you--I've +been a good mother: and I love you, though I'm ragged and have pawned all +my clothes; and I'll strangle myself rather than go to the workhouse and +be shut away from you. + +JOE. [_With a loud cry._] No! I'll _make_ them give me something; and if I +_have_ to kill, it shan't be my wife and child! To-morrow I'll come home +with food and money--to-morrow-- + + [_There is a sudden wail from the child;_ JOE _stops and stares + at her;_ MARY _goes quickly to the mattress and soothes the + little girl._ + +MARY. Hush, dear, hush--no it's not morning yet, not time for breakfast. +Go to sleep again, dear. Yes, daddy's come back, and things are going to +be all right now--No, dear, you can't be hungry, really--remember those +beautiful cakes. Go to sleep, Minnie, dear. You're cold? [_She takes off +her ragged shawl and wraps it round the child._] There, dear, you won't be +cold now. Go to sleep, Minnie-- + + [_The child's wail dies away, as_ MARY _soothes her back to + sleep._ + +JOE. [_Staggering forward with a sudden cry._] God, O God, give us bread! + + +THE CURTAIN SLOWLY FALLS + + + + +THE OPEN DOOR + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +SIR GEOFFREY TRANSOM +LADY TORMINSTER + + + +THE OPEN DOOR + + +SCENE: _The drawing-room of_ LORD TORMINSTER'S _cottage by the + sea. It is 2 a.m. of a fine July night; the French windows are + open on to the lawn. The room is dark; in an armchair,_ SIR + GEOFFREY TRANSOM, _a man of forty, with a frank, pleasant face, + is seated, deep in thought. Suddenly the door opens, and_ LADY + TORMINSTER _appears and switches on the light. She starts at + seeing_ SIR GEOFFREY. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Oh! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Rising._] Hullo! Don't be afraid--it's only I! + +LADY TORMINSTER. What a start you gave me Why haven't you gone to bed? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I'm tired of going to bed. One always has to get up again, +and it becomes monotonous. Why haven't you gone to sleep? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I don't know--it's too hot, or something. I've come for a +book. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Let me choose one for you. + + [_He goes to the table._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why were you sitting in the dark? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Because the light annoyed me. What sort of book will you +have? A red one or a green one? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Is there a virtue in the colour of the binding? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? They're all the same inside. There are three +hundred ways, they say, of cooking a potato--there are as many of dressing +up a lie, and calling it a novel. But it's always the same old lie. Here +take this. [_He hands her a book._] Popular Astronomy. That will send you +to sleep. + +LADY TORMINSTER. The stars frighten me. But I'll try it. Good-night. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Good-night. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And you really had better go to bed. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I move as an amendment that you sit down and talk. + +LADY TORMINSTER. At this time of night! + +SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? It's day in the Antipodes. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And in this attire! + + [_She glances at her peignoir._ + +SIR GEOFFREY. Pooh! You are more dressed than you were at dinner. That's +awfully rude, isn't it? But then, you see, you're not my hostess +now--you're a spirit, walking in the night. One can't be polite to +spirits. Sit down, oh shade, and let us converse. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Hesitating._] I don't know-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. The household have all retired; and we will make this +concession to Mrs. Grundy--we will leave the door open. There! [_He flings +it open._] The Open Door! Centuries ago, when I was alive, I remember +paragraphs with that heading. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Laughing._] So you're not alive now? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Sir Geoffrey Transom ceased to be when he said good-night to +Lady Torminster. Sir Geoffrey is upstairs asleep. So is her ladyship. We +are their souls. Let us talk. + +LADY TORMINSTER. You are in your whimsical mood. + +SIR GEOFFREY. And you in your wrapper--peignoir--tea gown--it don't matter +what you call it. You look--jolly. Ridiculous word--I don't mean that at +all. You look--you. More you than I've seen you for years. Sh--don't +interrupt. Shades never do that. By the way, do you know that the old +lumber-room, my owner--my corporeal sheath--means to go away in the +morning, before you are up? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Sir Geoffrey! What nonsense! You've promised to stay a +month! + +SIR GEOFFREY. I assure you I have been charged to invent fitting and +appropriate lies to account for the ridiculous creature's abrupt +departure. The man Transom is a poor liar. + +LADY TORMINSTER. You are making me giddy. Would you mind putting on your +body? I've not been introduced to your soul. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Springing up with a flourish._] How very remiss of me! +Permit me. Gertrude this is Geoffrey. You have often heard me speak of +him. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Rising._] I think I'll go to bed. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Now that is preposterous. Jack, my dear old friend--the best +and only friend I have in the world--is slumbering peacefully upstairs, +and Jack's wife is reluctant to talk to Jack's old pal because the sun +happens to be hidden on the other side of the globe. Lady Torminster, sit +down. If you're good you shall have a cigarette. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Sitting._] Well, just one. And when I've finished it, +I'll go. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Agreed. + + [_He hands her the box; she takes a cigarette; he strikes a match + and holds it for her; he then takes a cigarette himself, and + lights it._ + +SIR GEOFFREY. And, while smoking it, remember Penelope's web. For I've +heaps of things to tell you. + +LADY TORMINSTER. They'll keep till to-morrow. + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's a fearful delusion. Nothing keeps. There is one law +in the universe: NOW. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I want to know what you mean by this nonsense about your +going. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Puffing out smoke._] Yes--I'm off in the morning. It has +occurred to me that I haven't been to China. Now that is a serious +omission. How can I face my forefathers, and confess to them that I +haven't seen the land where the Yellow Labour comes from? + +LADY TORMINSTER. China has waited a long time--a month more or less will +make no difference. They are a patient race. + +SIR GEOFFREY. There is gipsy blood in my veins--I must wander--I'm +restless.... Not like Jack--he's untroubled--he can sleep. Jack's a fine +sleeper, isn't he? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Calm, serene, untroubled, with the conscience of a +babe--one, two, three, he sleeps. He and I have had some rare times +together. I've been roped to him on the Andes--he shot a tiger that was +about to scrunch me--I rubbed his nose when it was frost-bitten. He saved +my life--I saved his nose. I always maintain that the balance of gratitude +is on his side--for where would he have been without his nose? + +LADY TORMINSTER. You _are_ absurd. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Would you have married him without a nose? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I might have. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Now you know you wouldn't. You'd have been afraid of what +people would say. And what would he have done when he became +short-sighted, and had to wear glasses? + +LADY TORMINSTER. My cigarette has gone out. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Jumping up and handing her the box._] Take another. Never +re-light a cigarette--it's like dragging up the past. Here. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I said only one. + +SIR GEOFFREY. This is not the hour for inflexibility. The Medes and +Persians have all gone to bed. + + [_She takes the cigarette; he lights it for her._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. Tell me why you mean to leave us. And remember--I shan't +let _this_ one go out. + +SIR GEOFFREY. My explanation will be handed to you with your cup of tea in +the morning. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And you will be gone? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I shall be gone. There is a train at 7.45--which will be +packed with husbands. I shall breakfast in town. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Well, one must breakfast somewhere. It's a convention. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Sir Geoffrey, I want you to tell me what this means. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Give your decision, said the judge to the arbitrator, but +never your reasons. I go, because I go. Besides, has one reasons? Why do +people die, or get married, or buy umbrellas? Because of typhoid, love, or +the rain? Not at all. Isn't that so? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I wish you'd be serious. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I'm fearfully serious. When Jack shot that tiger he had to +go so near the brute that he held his life in his hands. Do you know what +was my chief impression as I lay there, with the ugly cat's paw upon my +chest, beginning to rip me? + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Shuddering._] Horrible! What? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I resented his having eaten something that smelt like +onions. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Smiling._] A tiger! + +SIR GEOFFREY. Onions may have been his undoing. That's the beggar's skin +on the floor. But you should have seen me rub Jack's nose! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Warningly._] Sir Geoffrey, there's very little +cigarette left-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. There are lots more in the box--and dawn is a long way off. +Hang it, Lady Torminster, don't be in a hurry! Do you hear the sea out +there? It's breathing as regularly as old Jack. And don't you think this +is fine? Here we are, we two, meeting just as we shall meet on the other +side of the Never-Never Land. It's a chance for a man to speak to a woman, +and tell her things. + +LADY TORMINSTER. What things! + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's just it--what things? What have I to say, after all? +I am going to-morrow because I am a fantastic, capricious ass. Also +because I'm lonely. + +LADY TORMINSTER. How will China help you? + +SIR GEOFFREY. They colour it green on the map--and there _is_ such a lot +of it! + +LADY TORMINSTER. You should get married. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a sudden burst of passion._] _You_ say that--you! + + [_He starts back, ashamed, and hangs his head._ LADY TORMINSTER + _throws a quick glance at him, then looks ahead of her, puffing + quietly at her cigarette._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Quietly._] So that is why you are going? + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a great sigh of relief._] Now, that really is fine of +you! Every other woman in the world would have seized that chance for a +melodramatic exit. "Good-night, Sir Geoffrey; I must go to my husband." +"Good-night, Lady Torminster." A clasp of the hand--a hot tear--mine--on +your wrist. But you sit there. Splendid! + +LADY TORMINSTER. I ask you again--is that truly why you are going? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Well, yes, that's the fact. I apologise humbly--it's so +conventional. Isn't it? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I suppose it's difficult for human beings to invent new +situations. + +SIR GEOFFREY. You've known it, of course, all the time; you've known it +ever since Jack brought me to you, the day after you were engaged. And +that's nine years ago. It's the usual kind of fatality. + +LADY TORMINSTER. These things happen. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Yes. Well, I thought I was cured. I've been here five days, +and I find I am not. So I go. That's best, isn't it? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes. + +SIR GEOFFREY. It's so infernally stupid. You're a beautiful woman, of +course; but there are heaps of beautiful women. You've qualities--well, so +have other women, too. I'm only forty-one--and, as you say, why don't I +marry? Simply because of you. Because you've an uncomfortable knack of +intruding between me and the other lady. + +LADY TORMINSTER. That is a great misfortune. + +SIR GEOFFREY. It's most annoying. So I shall try China. I shall come back +in two years--I shall be forty-three then--I shall come back, sound as a +bell; and I shall marry some healthy, pink-cheeked young woman, take a +house next to yours, and in the fulness of time your eldest son shall fall +in love with my daughter. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why not? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I shouldn't have told you, of course; but I'm glad that I +have. It clears the air. Now what excuse shall I make? + +LADY TORMINSTER. A wire from town? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Jack knows all about my affairs; in fact, that's why I take +the early train, to avoid his questions. + +LADY TORMINSTER. You find it impossible to stay out your time here? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Quite. There are moments when I am unpleasantly volcanic. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Then I tell you the best thing to do. Don't take your +trunks; just go up with a bag. Leave a note that you'll come back on +Tuesday. Then write from town and say you're prevented. + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's a good idea--yes, that's much better. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And, if you find that you really cannot come back-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. Exactly; you'll forward my goods and chattels. And old Jack +will ascribe it all to my wayward mood; he'll think I have found it too +dull down here. I'm immensely obliged. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_With a smile._] Remark that I've not offered to be a +sister to you. + +SIR GEOFFREY. You've been superb. Oh, the good talk we've had! Do you +know, I could almost wish old Jack to have heard what I said. I'm so fond +of him, that grand old fellow, that I've been on the point of telling him, +myself, more than once. For you know he _will_ have me take you about, and +it's painful. Besides, I've felt it almost disloyal to--keep this thing +from him. You understand, don't you? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes. + +SIR GEOFFREY. He and I almost are one, you see. It's not British to show +any feeling, but really I--love him. And the devil comes along, and, of +all women in the world, singles out Jack's wife, and fills my heart with +her. That's the devil's sense of humour. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Perhaps he has read Bernard Shaw. But you must never let +Jack know--never. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I suppose not. He's so direct, so single-minded, that the +shock would be terrible. But I'm not to blame. How could I help it? Oh, +all that cackle about being master of one's fate! + +LADY TORMINSTER. Two years in China-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. We'll hope so. Of course, it didn't matter about my telling +you, because you knew already. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Nodding_] Yes, I knew. Although-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. Oh, you've done what you could! I've felt, in a hundred +subtle ways, how you almost implored me--not to. Well, there it is. I'll +write that note at once. + + [_He sits at the table and begins to write._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. I'm sorry you are so lonely. + +SIR GEOFFREY. That's my fault, too--the fault of the ridiculous class to +which we belong. I don't do anything. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why not? + +SIR GEOFFREY. What would you have me do? Go into the House? Thank you, +I've been there. You spend your time on the Terrace or in the smoke-room +till a muffin-bell rings; then you gravely walk into the lobby, where an +energetic gentleman counts you as Polyphemus counted his sheep. +Philanthropy! Well, I've tried that, but it's not in my line. I'm quite a +respectable landlord, but a fellow can't live all by himself in a great +Elizabethan barrack. Town--the Season? Christian mothers invite you to +inspect their daughters' shoulders, with a view to purchase. I'm tired of +golf and polo; I'm tired of bridge. So I'll try the good sea and the open +plains; sleep in a tent and watch the stars twinkle--the stars that make +you afraid. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Yes, I'm afraid of the stars. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Why? + +LADY TORMINSTER. You remember the Persian poet? "I too have said to the +stars and the wind, I will. But the wind and the stars have mocked +me--they have laughed in my face...." + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_A little uncomfortable._] Persian poets, like all poets, +have a funny way of pretending that the stars take an interest in us. To +me, it's their chief charm that they're so unconcerned. They are lonely, +too. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Suddenly, violently._] Don't say that again--don't--I +can't bear it! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Aghast._] Gertrude!!! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_In a whisper._] Yes. + + [_He stares haggardly at her; she does not move, but looks out, + through the open window, into the night._ + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a deep breath._] Well, I suppose we had better turn +in-- + +LADY TORMINSTER. When do you go to China? + +SIR GEOFFREY. I shall take the first boat. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And you will come back--? + +SIR GEOFFREY. In a year--or two--or three-- + +LADY TORMINSTER. We shall hear from you? + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With an effort of lightness._] Certainly. And I will send +you chests of tea--best family Souchong--and jars of ginger. Also little +boxes that fit into each other. I am afraid that is all I know at present +of Chinese manufactures. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Musing._] You will be away so long? + +SIR GEOFFREY. You told me to do something. I shall learn Chinese. I +believe there are five hundred letters in the alphabet. + +LADY TORMINSTER. As many as that! + +SIR GEOFFREY. It is possible that I exaggerate. Well, Lady Torminster, I +think I'll say good-night. + + [_He offers his hand, which she ignores. She smiles, and motions + him back to his seat._ + +LADY TORMINSTER. The sun is still shining in the antipodes, my dear +Geoffrey, and you are still Jack's old friend, talking to Jack's wife. Sit +down, and don't be foolish. You'll be away for years; it's possible we may +never meet again. It's possible, too, that next time we do meet you may be +married. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With iron control._] Who knows? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Exactly--who knows? So there's no reason why we shouldn't +look each other squarely in the face for once, and speak out what's in us. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Sorrowfully._] Oh, Lady Torminster, what is there to say? + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Bending forward a little and smiling._] How you resent +my having told _you!_ + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a guilty start._] Resent! I! + +LADY TORMINSTER. You do, and you know it. In your heart you are saying, +"All was going so well--she has spoiled it! If she _does_ love me she +shouldn't have said it--Jack's wife!" + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Sturdily._] Well--Jack's wife. Yes! + +LADY TORMINSTER. Geoffrey, Jack bores me. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Aghast._] Lady Torminster! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Clapping her hands in glee._] There! I've said it! Oh, +it's such a relief! I never have before, and I don't suppose I ever shall +again--for whom can I say it to but you? Listen--I tell you--quite _entre +nous_--he bores me shockingly! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_In positive distress._] Lady Torminster! I beg of you! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Cheerfully._] The best fellow in all the world, and he +bores me. A heart of gold, a model husband, a perfect father--and a bore, +bore, bore! There! I assure you I feel better. + +SIR GEOFFREY. I suppose there are moments when every woman says that of +every man. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Fanning herself._] My dear Geoffrey, please send for +your soul; it has wandered off somewhere, and I don't like talking to +copybooks. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Doggedly._] You are talking to Jack's friend. + +LADY TORMINSTER. Jack's friend--and mine--don't forget that! And could I +say these things about Jack to any one else, and can't you conceive what a +joy it is to say them? Besides, aren't we just now on the rim of the +world--aren't we a little more than ourselves--aren't we almost on the +other side of things? If we ever meet again, we shall look curiously at +each other, and wonder, was it all true? As it is, I am scarcely sure that +you are real. Everything is so still, so strange. Jack! He is up there, of +course, the dear boy, his big red face pressed on the pillow. Oh, +Geoffrey, when Jack brought you to me, and I was engaged--if you only +hadn't been so loyal! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Grimly._] Do you know what you are saying? + +LADY TORMINSTER. I am saying the things a woman says once in a lifetime, +and feels all her life. Oh, it was all so simple! You loved me--you ... +were blind because of Jack ... And I married Jack ... I mustn't complain +... I am one of the hundreds of women who marry--Jacks. + +SIR GEOFFREY. A better, finer man never lived. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I dare say--in fact, I am sure. But you should see us +when we are alone, sitting there night after night, with never a word to +say to each other! You tell me you're tired of polo, and golf, and bridge. +Well, how about me? And need you be scowling so fiercely, and begrudge me +my one little wail, you who are going away? + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Angrily._] Yes, I am going away, and I shall marry a +Chinese. I shall marry the first Chinese woman I meet. + +LADY TORMINSTER. This is very sudden. Why? + +SIR GEOFFREY. Because, at least, not knowing the language, she won't be +able to say unkind things about me to my friends. + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Her chin on her hand, looking squarely at him._] +Geoffrey, _is_ Jack a bore? + +SIR GEOFFREY. He never bores me. + +LADY TORMINSTER. That's because he shot your tiger, and you rubbed his +nose. Besides, you talk about horses, and so on. And yet I heard him, for +a solid hour, telling you about a rubber he lost at bridge through his +partner making diamonds trumps when he should have made spades. + +SIR GEOFFREY. He's not clever, of course--and you are. But still! Is +cleverness everything? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Haven't I told you he's the very best fellow in all the +world? And do you think I'm posing, pretending that I'm misunderstood, and +the rest? You know me better. I am indulging, for once, in the luxury of +absolute candour. + +SIR GEOFFREY. You loved him-- + +LADY TORMINSTER. Of course I loved him--and I love him now. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Triumphantly._] You see! + +LADY TORMINSTER. If we women had had a hand in the making of the language, +how many words there would be to express our feelings towards the men we +are fond of! Of course I love Jack. I'm cruel to him sometimes; and there +comes a look into his eyes--he has dog's eyes, you know--a faithful +Newfoundland-- + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Very earnestly._] I don't think women quite realise what +friendship means to a man. + +LADY TORMINSTER. I am certain that men don't realise what marriage means +to a woman! Dear funeral, am I not a good wife--shall I not remain a good +wife, till the end of the chapter? Because there isn't only Jack--there +are Jack's children. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Yes. + +LADY TORMINSTER. And isn't it wonderful, when you think of it--here are we +two, Jack's friend and his wife, alone on a desert island--and we have +confessed our love for each other, and we are able to discuss it as calmly +as though it were rheumatism! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a groan._] If only I hadn't induced you to stay! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Smiling._] My dear friend, you didn't! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Amazed._] I didn't? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why no--of course not. I knew you were going to-morrow. + +SIR GEOFFREY. How? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Oh, never mind how! I knew. And I suspected you would be +sitting up here to-night. So I came down, hoping to find you. I wanted +this talk with you. And I extracted your confession--as though it had been +a tooth. + +SIR GEOFFREY. And why? + +LADY TORMINSTER. Why? Because it will be something to think of, in the +dull days ahead. Because I knew that you loved me, and wanted to be told. +Because your life lies before you, and mine is ended. Because I love you, +and insisted that you should know. You leave me now, and I have no +illusions. Paolo and Francesca are merely a poet's dream. You will +marry--of course you will marry--but this moment, at least, has been mine. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Stretching out yearning hands._] This moment, and every +moment, in past and future! + +LADY TORMINSTER. Ah, the future! Strange little syllables that hide so +much! I can see you, introducing your wife to me, a little shyly--I can +see myself, shaking hands with her--and with you.... My boy is seven +already--time travels fast.... But it's good to know that you really have +loved me, all these years.... + +SIR GEOFFREY. By day and by night--you, and only you! + +LADY TORMINSTER. And I have loved you--ah, yes, I have loved you!... And, +having said this to each other, we will not meet again--till you bring me +your wife. + +SIR GEOFFREY. Ah--then! + +LADY TORMINSTER. I have loved you, and I love you, for the fine, upright, +loyal creature that you are. I love you for loving Jack; and it is Jack's +great quality in my eyes that he has been able to inspire such love. And, +my dear friend, let us not be ashamed, we two, but only very proud, and +very happy. We shall go our ways, and do our duty; but we shall never +forget this talk we have had to-night. + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_Gently._] I am beginning to understand.... + +LADY TORMINSTER. You will be less lonely in future ... and I no longer +afraid of the stars.... Brave heart--oh, brave little heart that I for a +moment have held in my hands! + +SIR GEOFFREY. [_With a passionate movement towards her._] Gertrude! + +LADY TORMINSTER. [_Lifting a finger._] No--stay where you are.... Those +are the first rays of dawn--I must go.... Good-bye. We have no need to +shake hands, you and I.... Ah, Geoffrey--good-bye! + + [_She goes swiftly, and closes the door. He bends his head, and + remains standing, motionless, by the table._ + + +CURTAIN + + + + +THE BRACELET + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +HARVEY WESTERN +HIS HONOUR JUDGE BANKET +MARTIN +WILLIAM +MRS. WESTERN +MRS. BANKET +MISS FARREN +SMITHERS + +TIME--_The present_ + + +_Produced at +the Liverpool +Repertory Theatre +on Feb. 26, 1912_ + + + +THE BRACELET + + +_The dining-room in an upper middle-class house near the Park. It + is furnished in the conventional modern style, soberly and + without imagination. The room is on the ground floor, facing the + street, the door is to the right, and leads into the hall. To the + left of this door is a sideboard, glittering with silver. Three + tall windows, at the back heavily curtained; between them hang + two or three family portraits. The table, on which there is the + usual debris of a meal that is over--coffee-cups, + liqueur-glasses, etc.--has been laid for four persons, and their + four chairs are still around it. The fireplace, with its rather + crude and ambitious mantelpiece, is in the centre of the left + wall; and uncomfortable-looking heavy armchairs are on each side + of it. On the mantelpiece are a marble clock and a few bits of + china. In the angle formed at the left side is a small Queen Anne + writing-table, open. To the right of the room is a large sofa. + The floor is heavily carpeted, and there are many rugs scattered + about._ + + _When the curtain rises, the room is in darkness._ WILLIAM, _the + footman, enters hurriedly and switches on the electric light. He + rushes to the table, looks eagerly around, shifting cups and + glasses, napkins, etc., then goes on his hands and knees and + searches on the carpet. After a moment,_ SMITHERS, _the + lady's-maid, follows him._ + +SMITHERS. [_Eagerly._] Can't you find it? + +WILLIAM. [_Sulkily._] No. Not yet. Give me time. + +SMITHERS. [_Feeling along the table-cloth._] Under one of those rugs, +perhaps. + +WILLIAM. Well, I'm looking. [_Motor-horn sounds sharply, off._] All right, +all right! + +SMITHERS. [_With a jerk of the head._] Missis is telling him to do it. + +WILLIAM. [_On all fours, crawling about._] Very like her voice, too, when +she's angry. Drat the thing! Where can it be? + + [_He peers into the coal-scuttle._ + +SMITHERS. No good looking in there, stupid. + +WILLIAM. They always say it's the unlikeliest places-- + + [MARTIN, _the butler, comes in._ + +MARTIN. Come, come, haven't you found it? + +WILLIAM. No, Mr. Martin. It ain't here. + +MARTIN. [_Bustling about._] Must be, must be. She says-- + +WILLIAM. I can't help what she says. It ain't. + +MARTIN. [_Looking under the sofa._] Just you hustle, young man, and don't +give me any back-answers. + + [_Having completed his examination of the sofa, he moves to the + sideboard, and fusses round that._ + +SMITHERS. [_Methodically shaking out each napkin._] I tell you she's +cross. + +MARTIN. [_Hard at work, searching._] Doesn't mind disturbing _us,_ in the +midst of our supper! + +WILLIAM. [_Who, all the time, has been on all fours searching._] We're +dirt, that's what we are--dirt. + +MARTIN. [_Reprovingly._] William, I've told you before-- + +WILLIAM. Very sorry, Mr. Martin, but this is the first time I've accepted +an engagement at a stockbroker's. [_He has been crawling round the +curtains at the back, shaking them; pulling hard at one of them he +dislodges the lower part._] Lor! _Now_ I've done it! + +SMITHERS. Clumsy! + +MARTIN. [_Severely._] That comes of too much talk Never mind the +curtain--go on looking. + + [WILLIAM _drops on to his hands and knees again;_ HARVEY WESTERN + _comes into the room, perturbed and restless. He is a + well-preserved man of fifty._ + +HARVEY. I say--not found it? + +MARTIN. Not yet, sir. + +HARVEY. Nuisance. _Must_ be here, you know. + +MARTIN. Is it a very valuable one, sir? + +HARVEY. [_Who has gone to the table, and is turning things over._] No, no, +not particularly--but that's not the point. [_He looks under the table._ + +MARTIN. [_Still seeking._] When did madam find that she'd lost it, sir? + +HARVEY. Oh, about five minutes after we'd started And we've turned over +everything in the car. It's certainly not there. [_He fusses around the +table._ + +MARTIN. Is madam quite sure she was wearing it, sir? + +SMITHERS. [_Fretfully._] Yes, yes, of course she was wearing it. I put it +on her myself. + +MARTIN. Where did madam put her cloak on, sir? + +SMITHERS. In here. I brought it in. + +MARTIN. You didn't notice whether-- + +SMITHERS. No. Don't you think if we moved _all_ the rugs-- + + [_She moves across the room and joins_ WILLIAM, _who is still + grovelling on the floor, and goes on her knees by his side._ + +HARVEY. It must be here _somewhere._ + + [_They are all searching furiously_--WILLIAM _by the windows, + peering into the spaces between the wall and the carpets,_ MARTIN + _at the sideboard,_ SMITHERS _gathering the rugs together, all on + their hands and knees, while_ HARVEY, _bent double, is looking + under the table._ MRS. WESTERN _comes in stonily, followed by + the_ JUDGE _and_ MRS. BANKET. MRS. WESTERN _is a handsome woman + of forty-five, with a rather stern, cold face; the_ JUDGE, _a + somewhat corpulent, genial man of fifty-five; and his wife, an + amiable nullity, seven or eight years younger. They are all in + evening-dress, the ladies in opera-cloaks._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Pausing on the threshold._] Well! + +HARVEY. [_Rising and dusting himself._] No trace of it. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Looking around._] A nice mess you've made of the room! + +MARTIN. You told us to look, Madam. + +JUDGE. [_Going to the fire and standing with his back to it._] I'm afraid +we'll be shockingly late, Alice. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Firmly._] I don't go without my bracelet. + + [_She goes to the table, and proceeds to shift the cups and + glasses._ + +MRS. BANKET. [_Moving to the other side of the table, and doing the +same._] Quite right, dear--I wouldn't. + + [_They all search, except the_ JUDGE, _who shrugs his shoulders + placidly, then takes a cigarette from his case, and lights it. + The three servants still are grovelling on the floor._ + +MRS. WESTERN. I _know_ I had it while I was drinking my coffee-- + +JUDGE. My experience is, one should never look for things. They find +themselves. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Shortly._] Nonsense. + +JUDGE. A fact. Or at least one should _pretend_ to be looking for +something else. My glasses now. When I lose them I declare loudly I can't +find my cigar-case. That disheartens the glasses--they return at once. + +MRS. BANKET. [_Reproachfully._] Don't be so irritating, Tom! + +JUDGE. That's all very well, but how about me? I was asked here to dine. +I've dined--I'm not complaining about the dinner. But now the curtain's +up--and here am I watching half-a-dozen people looking very hard for a +thing that isn't there. + +MRS. BANKET. Tom, Tom, it's those laughs you get in Court that make you so +fond of talking. Don't you see how you're vexing your sister? + +MRS. WESTERN. Oh, I'm used to Tom. Harvey, I think you might be looking. + +HARVEY. My dear, I've been turning round and round in this corner like a +bird in a cage. + +MARTIN. [_Who all this time, like the other servants, has been crawling +around the different articles of furniture in the room, suddenly rises to +his feet and addresses his mistress firmly but respectfully._] It's not +here, madam. + + [_The other servants also rise; and stand, each in their corner._ + +JUDGE. That, I imagine, is perfectly clear; and I congratulate the witness +on the manner in which he has given his evidence. [_He throws his +cigarette into the fire and steps forward._] Now, my dear Alice-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sitting doggedly in the chair in front of the table and +proceeding to pull off her gloves._ I don't go without my bracelet. + +JUDGE. Heaven forbid that I should speak slightingly of a gift of +Harvey's--but really it isn't of such priceless value. + +MRS. WESTERN. That has nothing to do with it. + +MRS. BANKET. Of course not. Oh, these men! + +HARVEY. [_Stepping forward._] Tom's right. Let's go. Look here, I'll get +you another. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Drily._] Thanks--I want _that_ one.--Smithers, and you, +William, just look again in the hall. + +SMITHERS. Yes, m'm. + +MRS. WESTERN. And then help the chauffeur--turn out _everything_ in the +car. + +SMITHERS. Yes, m'm. + +MRS. WESTERN. Bring the rugs into the house, and shake them. + +SMITHERS. Yes, m'm. [_She and_ WILLIAM _go._ + +JUDGE. [_Going hack to the fire._] Sumptuary laws--that's what we want. If +women didn't wear bracelets, they couldn't lose them. + +MRS. WESTERN. Martin, William is honest, isn't he? + +HARVEY. [_Protesting._] Oh, hang it, Alice! + +MARTIN. Quite, madam--excellent character--a little flighty, but a most +respectable young man. + +MRS. WESTERN. I've seen him reading a sporting paper. + +JUDGE. A weakness, my dear Alice, common to the best of us, I do it +myself sometimes, but I'm willing to be searched. + +MRS. BANKET. O Tom, _do_ be quiet! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_To the_ JUDGE.] You're very unsympathetic. [_Turning to_ +MARTIN _again._] None of the other servants came in after we left? + +MARTIN. No, madam. + +MRS. WESTERN. You're sure? + +MARTIN. Quite sure, madam. They were all downstairs, having their supper. + +MRS. WESTERN. Most mysterious! Incomprehensible! + +JUDGE. [_Looking at his watch._] Past nine! We shall plunge into the +play--like body-snatchers, looking for the corpse of the plot--and we +shall never know what it was that the heroine did. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Ignoring him, to_ MARTIN.] Smithers I'll answer for. + +MARTIN. Oh yes, madam. If I _might_ make a suggestion-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Well? + +MARTIN. It couldn't have fallen anywhere into your dress, madam? + +MRS. WESTERN. Nonsense, how could it? [_She gets up and shakes herself._] +Absurd. [_She sits again._ + +MARTIN. Into your cloak? + +MRS. WESTERN. Silk! No. That'll do, Martin. You might help the others +outside. [MARTIN _goes._ + +JUDGE. [_With a step forward._] Now, admirable sister-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Didn't it strike you that Martin's manner was rather +strange? + +HARVEY. [_Fretfully._] Really you _must_ not suspect the servants! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning to him._] _Must_ not--must! That's scarcely the +way to speak to me, Harvey. + +HARVEY. [_Deprecatingly._] My dear-- + +MRS. WESTERN. And I wasn't suspecting--I was merely asking a question of +my brother. + +JUDGE. Come, Alice, let's go. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Shaking her head._] You three go. You'll excuse me. + +JUDGE. [_Cheerfully._] If you insist-- + +MRS. BANKET. [_Coming forward._] No, no. _Do_ come, Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. I can't--I'm so puzzled. [_With a sudden idea._] Oh! + +HARVEY. [_Who is behind her to the left, between her and the_ JUDGE.] +What? Have you found it? + +MRS. WESTERN. No, no--of course not. But ring, please, will you? + +HARVEY. Why? + +MRS. WESTERN, I want you to ring. [_He presses the bell by the +fireplace._] I just remember Miss Farren came in while we were having +coffee. + +HARVEY. [_Indignantly._] Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. I asked her to write a card to Harrod's--she'll have written +it in here. + +HARVEY. [_Angrily._] I say--really! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Coldly._] No need to snub me again--before our guests! I +need scarcely say I am not _suspecting_ Miss Farren--but in justice to +her-- + +MRS. BANKET. But, Alice, she'll have gone out--you told her she might-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Only to her sister's close by--and she may not have gone +yet. Why don't they answer the bell? Ring again, Harvey. + +JUDGE. The poor things are still searching. + +HARVEY. [_Firmly._] Alice, I protest, I do indeed-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Don't be so foolishly sentimental--it's ridiculous at your +age. The young woman is in my employ, as governess to my children. [MARTIN +_comes in._] Has Miss Farren gone out yet? + +MARTIN. No, madam. I believe she's in her room, dressing. + +MRS. WESTERN. Ask her to come. + +MARTIN. Yes, madam. [_He goes._ + +JUDGE. [_Shaking his head._] No sense of proportion, that's the +truth--they've no sense of proportion. + +MRS. BANKET. Tom! + +JUDGE. A fact, my dear--but you can't help it. You've every quality in the +world but just that--you _will_ always look through the wrong end of the +telescope. + +MRS. BANKET. Really, Tom, this isn't the moment for your nonsense--and if +you only knew how stupid you are when you try to be funny! + +HARVEY. [_Going nervously to_ MRS. WESTERN.] I say, I really do think-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Roughly._] I don't care _what_ you think. Leave me alone! + + [_There is silence. The_ JUDGE, _sitting by the fire, whistles + loudly "Waltz me around again, Willie!"_ HARVEY _has gone moodily + across the room and stands by the sideboard._ MRS. BANKET _is + sitting behind the table. After a moment the door opens, and_ + MISS FARREN _comes in, with hat and cloak on, and goes straight + to_ MRS. WESTERN. _She is an extremely pretty girl of twenty._ + +MISS FARREN. You want me, Mrs. Western? + +MRS. WESTERN. Oh, Miss Farren, I've lost my bracelet. + +MISS FARREN. Really! I'm so sorry! Where? + +MRS. WESTERN. I don't know. You didn't see it, of course, after we'd gone? + +MISS FARREN. [_Shaking her head._] No--and no one came in. I was writing +the letter to Harrod's. + +MRS. WESTERN. No one at all? + +MISS FARREN. No--I'm sure of that. And I'd hardly got to my room when I +heard the car come back. + +MRS. WESTERN. Well, thank you, Miss Farren. + +MISS FARREN. It's very annoying. You're sure it's not in the car? + +JUDGE. My dear Miss Farren, it's not in the car, it's not anywhere, and +I'm beginning to believe it never was at all. Come, Alice, let's go. We +shan't see much of the play, but we can at least help the British drama by +buying two programmes. + +MISS FARREN. [_With a light laugh--then turning to_ MRS. WESTERN _again._] +Do you want me any more, Mrs. Western? + +MRS. WESTERN. No, thanks. [MISS FARREN _turns to go_--MRS. WESTERN, _who +has suddenly cast an eager glance at her, as though attracted by +something, calls her back._] Oh, Miss Farren! + +MISS FARREN. [_Turning._] Yes? + +MRS. WESTERN. I wonder whether you'd be so good as to shift this aigrette +of mine--it's hurting me. + +MISS FARREN. Certainly. + + [_She comes back to_ MRS. WESTERN, _and stands by her side; as + she raises her arm_ MRS. WESTERN _jumps up and seizes it by the + wrist._ + +MRS. WESTERN. My bracelet! + + [_Keeping a tight hold of_ MISS FARREN'S _wrist, she holds it at + arm's length. There is a general cry of amazement--the_ JUDGE + _and his wife start to their feet_--HARVEY _rushes eagerly + towards her._ + +JUDGE. Alice! + +MRS. BANKET. Oh! + +HARVEY. No, no-- + + [_These three exclamations are simultaneous._ + +MRS. WESTERN. There it is! She took it! + +JUDGE. Are you sure? + +HARVEY. [_Breathless and urgent._] Alice-- + +MISS FARREN. [_Recovering from her shock and bewilderment._] Mrs. Western, +it isn't-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sternly, still holding the girl by the wrist._] You dare +to pretend-- + +HARVEY. [_Who is now at the back of his wife's chair, looking closely at +the bracelet._] Let me look, let me look.... I say, Alice, you're wrong. +It's not yours at all. The setting's different. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Angrily._] What do you mean, different? You think I don't +know my own bracelet? Are you mad? I say it's mine--and it is! + +JUDGE. [_Stepping forward._] Alice, be careful-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Careful! You're as bad as he! Of course the thing's +mine--I've been wearing it for weeks--and you think I can make a mistake? +She found it, and took it. + +MISS FARREN. [_Very distressed._] No, no, Mrs. Western, really! It isn't +yours! I assure you! + +HARVEY. Alice, I declare to you-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Roughly._] Be quiet and go away. This is no business of +yours. + +HARVEY. [_Eagerly._] But it is! It was I who bought the wretched +thing--well, I am prepared to swear that this isn't the one! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_A little shaken, looking at it again._] You're prepared +to.... [_She lifts her head._] How can you talk such utter nonsense? There +is not the least doubt--not the least! + +JUDGE. [_Stopping_ HARVEY, _who is about to protest violently._] Alice, +mind what you're saying. You'll get yourself into trouble. If Harvey +says-- + +MRS. BANKET. [_Contemptuously._] He's saying it to shield her, that's all. + +HARVEY. [_Indignantly._] I'm not. It's not true. But you mustn't bring +such an accusation. It's monstrous. And I won't allow-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Drawing herself up._] You--won't--allow! The girl takes my +bracelet--and you won't allow! + +Miss FARREN. [_Trying to free herself._] Mrs. Western, I haven't, I +haven't! + +JUDGE. [_Impressively._] Alice, will you listen to me? + +MRS. WESTERN. No, I won't! This doesn't concern you, or any one, but me +and this girl! Look at her--she knows! + +MISS FARREN. Mrs. Western, you're hurting my arm.... + +MRS. WESTERN. Come now--confess! I won't be hard on you if you confess-- + + [_She wrenches off the bracelet, and releases the girl, who + staggers back, nursing her wrist._ + +HARVEY. [_Almost beside himself, stamping his foot._] Alice, Alice, will +you hear-- + +MISS FARREN. Oh, you _have_ hurt me! And you've no right--to say such +things.... + +HARVEY. No, you haven't, you haven't! + +MRS. WESTERN. Besides, a bracelet like that! [_She holds it up. To_ MISS +FARREN.] You won't confess? Very well, then. I'll send for a policeman. + +HARVEY. [_Doggedly._] The bracelet is hers. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Jeeringly._] Turquoise and emeralds! Hers! A coincidence, +perhaps. Very likely. I'll give her in charge at once. + +HARVEY. The bracelet is hers, I tell you. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning furiously on him._] You dare to say that? + +HARVEY. [_Steadily._] Yes. Because I myself--gave it to her. + + [_There is a moment's almost stupefied silence;_ HARVEY _and_ + ALICE _are face to face._ MISS FARREN _to the left of her,_ MRS. + BANKET _is still at the back, the_ JUDGE _by the fire._ MRS. + WESTERN _breaks the silence._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sternly._] You--gave--it--her? + +HARVEY. [_Steadily._] Yes. + +MRS. WESTERN. You ask me to believe that you gave a bracelet to--this +person--my children's governess? + +HARVEY. I did. + +MRS. WESTERN. An exact copy of the one you gave me? + +HARVEY. I've told you--it's not an exact copy--there's a difference in the +setting. + +MRS. BANKET. Nonsense, nonsense, it can't be--he's just saying this-- + +JUDGE. Fanny, don't interfere. + +HARVEY. I'm saying what's true. + +MRS. WESTERN. I refuse to believe it. It's incredible. You've not sunk so +low as that. It's a lie. + +HARVEY. [_Indignantly._] Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. Yes, a lie. A trumped-up story. The girl has taken it-- + +MISS FARREN. I have not! + +MRS. WESTERN. You can tell that to the magistrate--[_She turns to_ HARVEY] +and you too, if you like. [_She moves to the bell._ + +JUDGE. [_Putting out a hand to stop her._] Alice-- + +MRS. WESTERN. Leave me alone, Tom. I know what I'm doing. I'll send for a +policeman. + +HARVEY. [_Imploringly._] Alice, Alice-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Pausing, with her hand on the bell._] I'll let the girl +off, if you'll tell me the truth. + +HARVEY. I _have_ told you the truth. + +MRS. WESTERN. You persist in this silly falsehood? + +HARVEY. It isn't--I tell you it isn't! + +MRS. WESTERN. Very well, then. + + [_She presses the bell. At that moment the door bursts open, and_ + MARTIN _comes in triumphantly, with the bracelet on a salver._ + SMITHERS _and_ WILLIAM _are behind him, but do not pass beyond + the threshold._ + +MARTIN. [_Eagerly._] Ma'am, ma'am, we've found the-- + + [MRS. WESTERN _has turned towards him, still holding the other + bracelet in her hand._ MARTIN _catches sight of it, and stops dead + short, staring bewilderedly at it._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly._] Where did you find it? + + [_She takes the bracelet off the salver and lays it on the + table._ + +MARTIN. [_With a great effort._] It had fallen into the pocket of the +car--there was a hole in the pocket--it had worked its way right down into +the body. + +MRS. WESTERN. Very well. Thank you. + + [MARTIN _goes; the other servants have already slunk off. There + is a moment's silence._ MRS. WESTERN _suddenly flings the + bracelet she has in her hand in_ MISS FARREN'S _direction._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Contemptuously._] Here. I return you your property. And +now pack up your things and leave the house. + +HARVEY. [_Who has stepped forward and picked up the bracelet, standing +between_ MRS. WESTERN _and_ MISS FARREN.] No. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Staring at him._] What? + +HARVEY. [_Violently._] I say, No! + +MRS. WESTERN. I have told the girl to leave my house. + +HARVEY. _My_ house--mine! And she shall stay in it! Or, at least, when she +goes, it shall be without the slightest stain or suspicion-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Scornfully._] I am not accusing her of theft. + +HARVEY. But you are insinuating--I declare solemnly before you all-- + +JUDGE. [_Interposing._] Harvey, one moment.... I am sure that Miss Farren +would rather go to her room.... + +MISS FARREN. Yes. + +HARVEY. By all means. Here, take your bracelet. [_He gives it to her._] +But you don't leave this house--you understand that? _I_ am master here. + + [MISS FARREN _goes quietly._ + +JUDGE. Now just listen to me, both of you. Be calm--all this excitement +won't help. Harvey, you too. You and Alice will have your explanation-- + +MRS. WESTERN. If the girl doesn't go to-night-- + +HARVEY. I tell you again she shall not! And there's no need. I was a fool +to give her that bracelet--she didn't want to take it-- + +MRS. BANKET. Why _did_ you? + +HARVEY. I had given Alice one on her birthday. + +MRS. WESTERN. Well? + +HARVEY. And so I got _her_ one. + +MRS. WESTERN. Why? + +HARVEY. Because--[_He stops, very embarrassed._] + +MRS. WESTERN. Well? + +HARVEY. Because--oh, because--well, she admired it--and _she_ liked pretty +things too.... + +MRS. WESTERN. I don't think you need say anything more. + +MRS. BANKET. No. He needn't. It's clear enough! + +HARVEY. [_Eagerly._] Look here, on my honour--I _am_ fond of her, of +course, in a way--but I'm old enough to be her father--and I swear to you +all--I've seen her about, of course, a good deal--and I gave her that +thing--but beyond that, nothing, nothing! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Sitting, and with a shrug of the shoulder._] A ridiculous +fairy tale! + +JUDGE. My dear Alice, take my advice, and believe your husband. + +MRS. WESTERN. You too! + +MRS. BANKET. All alike, when there's a pretty face! + +JUDGE. Let her find another situation, by all means.... But to turn a girl +out, at a moment's notice! You couldn't. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning to the_ JUDGE.] You are really suggesting that I +should sleep under the same roof with-- + +JUDGE. [_Almost sternly._] You are condemning, without the slightest +evidence. And condemning, remember, an utterly defenceless creature. This +girl has a claim on you: were your suspicions justified, she-would _still_ +have a claim. + +MRS. WESTERN. Indeed! + +MRS. BANKET. The nonsense he talks! It's really too silly! + +JUDGE. You are extraordinary, you women! You exact such rigid morality +from the governess and the housemaid! You're full of excuses when it's one +of yourselves! + +MRS. BANKET. [_Indignantly._] Tom! + +JUDGE. Well, that's true--we all know it! And here--I believe every word +Harvey has said. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Scarcely believing her ears._] You do! + +JUDGE. Because he is a man of honour, and men of honour have their code. +Their children's governess ... is safe. You will do well to believe it, +too. Now, Fanny, we'll go. Be sensible, Alice--I tell you again, Harvey's +right; the girl must not be--summarily dismissed: it would be an act of +cruel injustice. Good-bye. [_He offers to kiss her--she turns away._] As +you like. Good-bye, Harvey, old man. + +HARVEY. Good-bye, Tom. [_They shake hands._] And thank you. + +MRS. BANKET. [_Kissing_ MRS. WESTERN.] My poor, dear Alice! + +MRS. WESTERN. Good-bye, Fanny. I'm sorry that our party to-night-- + +MRS. BANKET. Oh, that doesn't matter! Poor thing! I promise you that Tom +shall have a good talking to! + + [_She is too angry with_ HARVEY _to say good-bye to him: she and + the_ JUDGE _go. The moment the door closes,_ HARVEY _begins, + feverishly and passionately._ + +HARVEY. Now just listen. I'm going to speak to you--I'm going to say +things--things that have been in my heart, in my life, for years. I'm not +going to spare you, I'm going to tell you the truth, and the truth, and +the truth! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly, looking ironically at him._] If it's the same kind +of truth you've been giving us to-night-- + +HARVEY. We've been married ten years. Oh, I know, we were neither of us +very young. But anyhow the last five have been nothing but misery for me. +Misery--do you hear that? You sitting there, calm and collected--not +caring one damn for me-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Quietly._] That's not true. + +HARVEY. It is, and you know it. The mother of my children! Satisfied with +that. Never a word of kindness, or sympathy. And as for--affection! + +MRS. WESTERN. We're not sweethearts--we're middle-aged people. + +HARVEY. Well, I need something more. And, look here, I'll tell you. This +girl has made life worth living. That's all. I'd come home at night +dog-tired, all day in the City--sick of it, Stock Exchange, office, and +the mud and the grime and the worry--there were you, with a nod, ah, +Harvey, good evening--and you'd scarcely look up from your Committee +Report or your Blue-book, or damned pamphlet or other-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Contemptuously._] You are one of the men who want their +wife to be a mere sort of doll. + +HARVEY. [_More and more vehemently._] I want my wife to care for me! I +want her to smile when I come in, and be glad--I want her to love me! You +don't! By the Lord, I've sneaked upstairs, gone in and had a peep at the +children--well, they'd be asleep. I tell you I've been hungry, hungry, for +a word, for a look! And there, in the schoolroom, was this girl. I've +played it low down, I know--she's fond of me. But I couldn't help it--I +was lonely--that's what it was. I've gone up there night after night. +_You_ didn't know where I was--and you didn't care. In my study, you +thought--the cold, chilly box that you call my study--glad to have me out +of the way. Well, there I was, with this girl. It was something to look +forward to, in the cab, coming home. It was something to catch hold of, +when things went wrong, in that dreary grind of money-making. Her eyes lit +up when they saw me. She'd ask me about things--if I coughed, she'd fuss +me--she had pretty ways, and was pleased, oh, pleased beyond words, if I +brought her home something-- + +MRS. WESTERN. So this isn't the first time! + +HARVEY. [_With a snarl._] No, of course not! She admired that bracelet of +yours--by Jove, I said to myself, I'll get her one like it! Whatever I +brought home to _you_ you'd scarcely say thank you--and usually it went +into the drawer--I'd such shocking bad taste! _She'd_ beam! Well, as +ill-luck would have it, you took a fancy to this one. I told her she +mustn't wear hers-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly and cuttingly._] Conspiring behind my back. + +HARVEY. [_Raging._] Oh, if you knew what has gone on behind your back! +Not when I was with her--when I was alone! The things I've said about +you--to myself! When I thought of this miserable life that had to be +dragged on here, thought of your superior smile, your damnable cruelty-- + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Genuinely surprised._] Cruelty! Why? + +HARVEY. What else? I'd go up to you timidly--bah, why talk of it? To you +I've been the machine that made money--money to pay for the house, and the +car, and the dressmakers' bills--a machine that had to be fed--and when +you'd done that, you'd done all. Well, there was this girl-- + +MRS. WESTERN. You had your children. + +HARVEY. A boy of seven and a girl of five--in bed when I came home--and +_your_ children much more than mine--I'm a stranger to them! And anyhow, I +wanted something more--something human, alive--that only a woman can give. +And she gave it. Nothing between us, I swear--but just that. As Tom says, +I've not been such a cur--and _you_ ought to know me well enough, after +all these years!... But there is the truth--she's fond of me: she is, it's +a fact. And I _needed_ that fondness--it has kept me going. And now--do +you think I'll let her be thrust out into the street? + + [_As he says these last words he drops into a chair, facing her, + and looks fiercely and doggedly at her._ + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Calmly._] Stop now, and listen to me. I've let you rattle +on. Will you hear me for one moment? + +HARVEY. Go on. + +MRS. WESTERN. All those things you've said about me--[_With a shrug._] +Well, what's the use? I suppose we're like most married people when they +come to our age. I've interests of my own, that don't appeal to you-- + +HARVEY. Blue-books and Committees! + +MRS. WESTERN. I do useful work--oh yes, you may sneer--you always have +sneered! If a woman tries to do something sensible with her life, instead +of cuddling and kissing you all day, she's cold and cruel. We've drifted +apart--well, your fault as much as mine. More, perhaps--but it's no good +going into that--no good making reproaches. That's how things are--we must +make the best of them. Wait, let me finish. About this girl. Granted that +what you say is true--and I'm inclined to believe it-- + +HARVEY. [_Genuinely grateful._] At least thank you for that! + +MRS. WESTERN. Or at any rate it's better policy to believe it, for every +one's sake-- + +HARVEY. [_Bitterly._] That's right--that's more like you! + +MRS. WESTERN. We gain nothing by abusing each other. And I didn't +interrupt _you._ Let's look facts in the face. Here we are, we two--tied. + +HARVEY. [_With a groan._] Yes. + +MRS. WESTERN. With our two children. If it weren't for them.... Well, +we've _got_ to remain together. Now there's this girl. It's quite evident, +after what you've said, that she can't stop here-- + +HARVEY. [_Jumping to his feet._] She shall! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Fretfully._] Oh, do be a man, and drop this mawkish +sentiment! You say she's fond of you--you've _made_ her fond of you. Was +this a very pretty thing--for a man of your age to do? + +HARVEY. [_Sullenly, as he drops back into his chair._] Never mind my age. + +MRS. WESTERN. Very well then--for a married man? + +HARVEY. An unhappy man. + +MRS. WESTERN. Even granting that--though if you're unhappy it's your own +fault--I've always been urging you to go on the County Council--What's +to become of the girl, if she stops here? + +HARVEY. [_Desperately._] I don't know--but I can't let her go--I tell you +I can't! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Scarcely able to conceal her disgust._] Oh, if you knew +how painful it is to hear you whining like this! It's pitiable, really! In +the girl's own interest--how can she stop? + +HARVEY. She must. I can't let her be turned out. It would break her heart. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Turning right round, and staring at him._] What? + +HARVEY. [_Doggedly._] Yes--it would. She's very fond of me, that's the +truth. I know that I've been to blame--but it's too late for that now. +She's romantic, of course--what you'd call sentimental. I dare say I've +played on her feelings--she saw I was lonely. She has a side that you've +never suspected--a tender, sensitive side--she has ideals.... Well, do you +realise what it would mean, with a girl like that? No one knows her as I +do. I'm quite startled sometimes, to find how fond she is of me. Oh, have +some sympathy! It's difficult, I know--it's terribly difficult. But she +loves me--that's the truth--and a young girl's love--why, she might throw +herself into the river! Oh yes, you smile--but she might! What do _you_ +know of life, with your Blue-books? Anyhow, I daren't risk it. +By-and-by--there's no hurry, is there? And I put it to you--be merciful! +You're not the ordinary woman--you have a brain--you're not conventional. +Don't act like the others. Don't drive this girl out of the house. It +would end in tragedy. Believe it! + +MRS. WESTERN. You can't really expect me to keep a girl here, as governess +to my children, who, as you say, is in love with you. + +HARVEY. [_Pleading._] I expect you--I'm asking you--to help her--and me. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Shaking her head._] That's too much. We won't turn her out +to-night--I'll give her a reference, and all that-- + +HARVEY. [_Springing to his feet again._] Alice, I can't let her go! + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Conciliatorily._] Ask Tom, ask any one-- + +HARVEY. [_More and more passionately._] I tell you, I can't let her go! + +MRS. WESTERN. Be sensible, Harvey--you must realise yourself there's no +alternative-- + +HARVEY. [_With a violent and uncontrollable outburst._] I vow and declare +to you--if she goes, I go too! And the consequences will be on your head! + + [MRS. WESTERN _has also risen--they stand face to face, looking + at each other--and for a moment there is silence. The door opens, + and_ MISS FARREN _comes in, dressed as before. She walks straight + to_ MRS. WESTERN. + +MISS FARREN. Mrs. Western, my things are packed, and on the cab-- + +HARVEY. [_Wildly._] My poor child, you're _not_ to go--I told you. + +MISS FARREN. [_With a demure glance at him, stopping him as he is moving +towards her._] Of course I must--I can't stay here--that's not possible. +My sister will take me in for to-night. + +MRS. WESTERN. Miss Farren, my husband has explained to me--I withdraw +all-- + +MISS FARREN. [_Carelessly._] Oh, that's all right--though thank you all +the same. And it really doesn't matter much. I was going to give notice +to-morrow anyway-- + +HARVEY. [_Starting violently._] What! + +MISS FARREN. Well, I put it off as long as I could, Mr. Western, because +... But the fact is I'm going on the stage--musical comedy-- + +HARVEY. [_Breathless, staggering back._] You--are--going-- + +MISS FARREN. I've accepted an engagement--oh, I'm only to be a show-girl +at first--but they believe I'll do well. They've been wanting me some +time. And my _fiance_ has persuaded me. + +HARVEY. [_Collapsing utterly, dropping into the chair by the fire._] +Your-- + +MISS FARREN. [_Gravely._] My _fiance_--yes. He's one of the comic men +there. + +MRS. WESTERN. [_Who has been watching them both with an unmoved face._] +I'll write a cheque for your salary, Miss Farren. + + [_She goes to the desk at back._ + +MISS FARREN. [_Coquettishly, to_ HARVEY.] I ought to have told you, I +know, Mr. Western. But it _was_ so dull here--and you've been most awfully +good to me. I can never be sufficiently grateful. + +HARVEY. [_With difficulty, his face turned away._] Don't mention it. And I +hope you'll be happy. + +MISS FARREN. [_Lightly._] Thank you. I mean to try! + + [MRS. WESTERN _returns with a cheque which she hands to_ MISS + FARREN. + +MRS. WESTERN. Here, Miss Farren. + +MISS FARREN. [_Putting it into her bag._] Thank you so much. Good-bye. + +MRS. WESTERN. If you should ever need a reference, don't be afraid to-- + +MISS FARREN. Oh, thanks, no more governessing for me. Good-bye! + + [_She trips out, without another glance at_ HARVEY, _who sits + huddled by the fire._ MRS. WESTERN _moves slowly to the door. At + the threshold she pauses, turns, and looks at_ HARVEY. + +MRS. WESTERN. I'll take care that the next governess--shall be quite as +pretty as this one, Harvey. + + [_She opens the door and goes._ HARVEY _doesn't stir._ + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Little Plays, by Alfred Sutro + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIVE LITTLE PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 14519.txt or 14519.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/5/1/14519/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Diane Monico and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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