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diff --git a/25565.txt b/25565.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be8ac25 --- /dev/null +++ b/25565.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5933 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Representative Plays by American +Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell + +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: Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea + +Author: Langdon Mitchell + +Editor: Montrose J. Moses + +Release Date: May 23, 2008 [EBook #25565] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REPRESENTATIVE PLAYS *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Diane Monico, and The Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +THE NEW YORK IDEA + + + + +[Illustration: LANGDON MITCHELL] + + + + +LANGDON MITCHELL + +(Born Philadelphia, Pa., February 17, 1862) + + +The performance of "The New York Idea" at the Lyric Theatre, New York, +on November 19, 1906, was one of the rare, distinguished events in the +American Theatre. It revealed the fact that at last an American +playwright had written a drama comparable with the very best European +models, scintillating with clear, cold brilliancy, whose dialogue +carried with it an exceptional literary style. It was a play that +showed a vitality which will serve to keep it alive for many +generations, which will make it welcome, however often it is revived; +for there is a universal import to its satire which raises it above +the local, social condition it purports to portray. And though there +is nothing of an ideal character about its situations, though it seems +to be all head, with a minimum of apparent heart, it none the less is +universal in the sense that Restoration comedy is universal. It +presents a type of vulgarity, of sporting spirit, that is common in +every generation, whether in the time of Congreve and Wycherley, +whether in the period of Sheridan or Oscar Wilde. Its wit is not +dependent on local colour, though ostensibly it is written about New +York. On its first presentment, it challenged good writing on the part +of the critics. High Comedy always does that--tickles the brain and +stimulates it, drives it at a pace not usually to be had in the +theatre. Is it comedy or is it farce, the critics queried? Is Mr. +Mitchell sincere, and does he flay the evil he so photographically +portrays? Does he treat the sacred subject of matrimony too +flippantly? And should the play, in order to be effective, have a +moral tag, or should it be, what on the surface it appears to be, a +series of realistic scenes about people whom one cannot admire and +does not want to know intimately? Some of the writers found the +picture not to their liking--that is the effect good satire sometimes +has when it strikes home. Yet when Grace George revived "The New York +Idea" in a spirit so different from Mrs. Fiske's, nine years after, on +September 28, 1915, at the Playhouse, New York, the _Times_ was bound +to make the following confession: "A vast array of American authors +have turned out plays innumerable, but not one of them has quite +matched in sparkling gayety and wit this work of Langdon Mitchell's. +And the passing years have left its satire still pointed. They have +not dimmed its polish nor so much as scratched its smart veneer." + +The play was written expressly for Mrs. Fiske. Its hard, sharp +interplay of humour was knowingly cut to suit her hard, sharp method +of acting. Her interpretation was a triumph of head over heart. Grace +George tried to read into _Cynthia Karslake_ an element of romance +which is suggested in the text, but which was somewhat +over-sentimentalized by her soft portrayal. There is some element of +relationship between "The New York Idea" and Henry Arthur Jones' "Mary +Goes First;" there is the same free air of sporting life, so +graphically set forth in "Lord and Lady Algy." But the American play +is greater than these because of its impersonal strain. + +In a letter to the present Editor, Mr. Mitchell has broken silence +regarding the writing of "The New York Idea." Never before has he +tried to analyze its evolution. He says: + + The play was written for Mrs. Fiske. The choice of subject + was mine. I demanded complete freedom in the treatment, and + my most wise manager, Mr. Harrison Grey Fiske, accorded this. + The play was produced and played as written, with the + exception of one or two short scenes, which were not + acceptable to Mrs. Fiske; that is, she felt, or would have + felt, somewhat strained or unnatural in these scenes. + Accordingly, I cut them out, or rather rewrote them. The + temperament of the race-horse has to be considered--much + more, that of the 'star'. + + When I was writing the play, I had really no idea of + satirizing divorce or a law or anything specially + temperamental or local. What I wanted to satirize was a + certain extreme frivolity in the American spirit and in our + American life--frivolity in the deep sense--not just a girl's + frivolity, but that profound, sterile, amazing frivolity + which one observes and meets in our churches, in political + life, in literature, in music; in short, in every department + of American thought, feeling and action. The old-fashioned, + high-bred family in "The New York Idea" are solemnly + frivolous, and the fast, light-minded, highly intelligent + hero and heroine are frivolous in their own delightful + way--frivolity, of course, to be used for tragedy or comedy. + Our frivolity is, I feel, on the edge of the tragic. Indeed, + I think it entirely tragic, and there are lines, comedy + lines, in "The New York Idea," that indicate this aspect of + the thing. + + Of course, there is more than merely satire or frivolity in + the play: there is the Englishman who appears to Americans to + be stupid on account of his manner, but who is frightfully + intelligent; and there are also the energy and life and vigor + of the two men characters. There is, too, throughout the + play, the conscious humour of these two characters, and of + the third woman, _Vida_. The clergyman is really more + frivolous often and far less conscious of his + frivolity--enough, that I rather thought one of the strongest + things about the play was the consciousness of their own + humour, of the three important characters. + + The characters were selected from that especial class, or + set, in our Society, whose ancestors and traditions go back + to colonial times. They are not merely _society_ characters, + for, of course, people in society may lack all traditions. I + mention this merely because my selection of characters from + such a set of people gives the play a certain mellowness and + a certain air which it otherwise would not have. If _Jack_ + and _Cynthia_ were both completely self-made, or the son and + daughter of powerful, self-made people, their tone could not + be the same. + + The piece was played in England as a farce; and it was given + without the permission of the author or American manager. It + was given for a considerable number of performances in + Berlin, after the Great War began. In the German translation + it was called "Jonathan's Daughter."[A] Our relations with + Germany at the time were strained on account of 'certain + happenings', but, notwithstanding, the play was + extraordinarily well received. + +When "The New York Idea" was first published by the Walter Baker Co., +of Boston, it carried as an introduction a notice of the play written +by William Archer, and originally published in the London _Tribune_ of +May 27, 1907. This critique follows the present foreword, as its use +in the early edition represents Mr. Mitchell's choice. + +The writing of "The New York Idea" was not Mr. Mitchell's first +dramatic work for Mrs. Fiske. At the New York Fifth Avenue Theatre, on +September 12, 1899, she appeared in "Becky Sharp," his successful +version of Thackeray's "Vanity Fair," which held the stage for some +time, and was later revived with considerable renewal of its former +interest. Two years after, rival versions were presented in London, +one by David Balsillie (Theatre Royal, Croydon, June 24, 1901) and the +other by Robert Hichens and Cosmo Gordon Lennox (Prince of Wales's +Theatre, August 27, 1901)--the latter play used during the existence +of the New Theatre (New York). Most of Mr. Mitchell's attempts in +play-writing have been in dramatization, first of his father's "The +Adventures of Francois," and later of Thackeray's "Pendennis," +Atlantic City, October 11, 1916. He was born February 17, 1862, at +Philadelphia, the son of Silas Weir Mitchell, and received his +education largely abroad. He studied law at Harvard and Columbia, and +was admitted to the bar in 1882. He was married, in 1892, to Marion +Lea, of London, whose name was connected with the early introduction +of Ibsen to the English public; she was in the initial cast of "The +New York Idea," and to her the play is dedicated. + + +MR. WILLIAM ARCHER'S NOTICE OF +"THE NEW YORK IDEA." + + ... This play, too, I was unable to see, but I have read it + with extraordinary interest. It is a social satire so largely + conceived and so vigorously executed that it might take an + honourable place in any dramatic literature. We have nothing + quite like it on the latter-day English stage. In tone and + treatment it reminds one of Mr. Carton; but it is far broader + in conception and richer in detail than "Lord and Lady Algy" + or "Lady Huntworth's Experiment." In France, it might perhaps + be compared to "La Famille Benoiton" or "Le Monde ou l'on + s'ennuie," or better, perhaps, to a more recent, but now + almost forgotten satire of the 'nineties, "Paris + Fin-de-Siecle." + + I find it very hard to classify "The New York Idea" under any + of the established rubrics. It is rather too extravagant to + rank as a comedy; it is much too serious in its purport, too + searching in its character-delineation and too thoughtful in + its wit, to be treated as a mere farce. Its title--not, + perhaps, a very happy one--is explained in this saying of one + of the characters: "Marry for whim and leave the rest to the + divorce court--that's the New York idea of marriage." And + again: "The modern American marriage is like a wire + fence--the woman's the wire--the posts are the husbands. + One--two--three! And if you cast your eye over the future, + you can count them, post after post, up hill, down dale, all + the way to Dakota." + + Like all the plays, from Sardou's "Divorcons" onward, which + deal with a too facile system of divorce, this one shows a + discontented woman, who has broken up her home for a caprice, + suffering agonies of jealousy when her ex-husband proposes + to make use of the freedom she has given him, and returning + to him at last with the admission that their divorce was at + least "premature." In this central conception there is + nothing particularly original. It is the wealth of humourous + invention displayed in the details both of character and + situation that renders the play remarkable. + + It is interesting to note, by the way, a return on Mr. + Mitchell's part to that convenient assumption of the + Restoration and eighteenth century comedy writers that any + one in holy orders could solemnize a legal marriage at any + time or place, without the slightest formality of banns, + witnesses, registration or anything of the sort. One gathers + that in New York the entrance to and the exit from the holy + estate of matrimony are equally prompt and easy; or that, as + one of the characters puts it, "the church is a regular + quick-marriage counter." + + I presume there is some exaggeration in this, and that a + marriage cannot actually be celebrated at midnight, over a + champagne-and-lobster supper, by a clergyman who happened to + drop in. But there can be no doubt that whatever the social + merits or demerits of the system, facility of divorce and + remarriage is an immense boon to the dramatist. It places + within his reach an inexhaustible store of situations and + complications which are barred to the English playwright, to + whom divorce always means an ugly and painful scandal. The + moralist may insist that this ought always to be the case; + and indeed that is the implication which Mr. Mitchell, as a + moralist, conveys to us. + + He sacrifices the system of divorce for every trivial flaw of + temper which prevails in the society he depicts; but he no + doubt realizes that his doctrine as a satirist is hostile to + his interest as a dramatist. Restrict the facilities of + divorce and you at once restrict the possibilities of + matrimonial comedy. Marriage becomes no longer a comic, but a + tragic institution. + + In order to keep his theme entirely on the comic plane, Mr. + Mitchell has given no children to either of the two couples + whom he puts through such a fantastic quadrille. Law or no + law, the separation of its parents is always a tragedy to the + child; which is not to say, of course, that their remaining + together may not in some cases be the more tragic of the two + alternatives. Be this as it may, Mr. Mitchell has eluded the + issue. + + Nor has he thereby falsified his problem, for his characters + belong to that class of society in which, as Mr. Dooley + points out, the multiplication of automobiles is preferred + to that of progeny. But he has not omitted to hint at the + problem of the children, and, as it were, confess his + deliberate avoidance of it. He does so in a touch of + exquisite irony. _John_ and _Cynthia Karslake_ are a couple + devoted, not to automobiles, but to horses. Even their common + passion for racing cannot keep them together; but their + divorce is so "premature," and leaves _John_ so restless and + dissatisfied, that he actually neglects the cares of the + stable. His favourite mare, Cynthia K, falls ill, and when + his trainer brings him the news he receives it with shocking + callousness. Then the trainer meets _Cynthia_ and complains + to her of her ex-husband's indifference. "Ah, ma'am," he + says, "when husband and wife splits, it's the horses that + suffers." I know not where to look for a speech of profounder + ironic implication. More superficial, but still a good + specimen of Mr. Mitchell's wit, is _William Sudley's_ remark + as to _John Karslake_: "Oh, yes, he comes of a very + respectable family, though I remember his father served a + term in the Senate." + + Altogether "The New York Idea" is, from the intellectual + point of view, the most remarkable piece of work I have + encountered in America. It is probably too true to the + details of American life to have much success in England; but + the situation at the end of the third act could not fail to + bring down the house even here. It would take too long to + describe it in detail. Suffice it to say that just at the + point where _Cynthia Karslake_ dismisses her second + bridegroom, to return to her first, the choir assembled for + the marriage ceremony, mistaking a signal, bursts forth with + irresistibly ludicrous effect into "The Voice That Breathed + O'er Eden."[B] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote A: At the Kammerspiel Theatre, Berlin, under the direction +of Max Reinhardt, October 7, 1916. There are translations in Danish, +Swedish and Hungarian.] + +[Footnote B: _The Editor takes the occasion to express his thanks to +Mr. William Archer for his kind permission to quote this analysis of +the play._] + + + + +LYRIC THEATRE + +REGINALD DeKOVEN, Proprietor +SAM S. and LEE SHUBERT (Inc.), Lessees and Managers + + +NINTH AND LAST WEEK. +BEGINNING MONDAY EVENING. JANUARY 14, 1907. +Matinee Saturday. + + +Under the Direction of HARRISON GREY FISKE + +MRS. FISKE + +--AND-- + +THE MANHATTAN COMPANY + +Presenting a Play in Four Acts, Entitled + +THE NEW YORK IDEA + +BY LANGDON MITCHELL + + +Cast of Characters. + +Philip Phillimore Charles Harbury +Mrs. Phillimore, his mother Ida Vernon +The Reverend Mathew Phillimore, his brother Dudley Clinton +Grace Phillimore, his sister Emily Stevens +Miss Heneage, his aunt Blanche Weaver +William Sudley, his cousin Dudley Digges +Mrs. Vida Phillimore, his divorced wife Marion Lea +Brooks, her footman Frederick Kerby +Benson, her maid Belle Bohn +Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby George Arliss +John Karslake John Mason +Mrs. Cynthia Karslake, his divorced wife Mrs. Fiske +Nogam, his valet James Morley +Tim Fiddler Robert V. Ferguson +Thomas, the Phillimore's family servant Richard Clarke + + +ACT I--Drawing-Room in the Phillimore house. Washington Square. + _Wednesday afternoon, at five o'clock._ + +ACT II--Mrs. Vida Phillimore's Boudoir. Fifth Avenue. + _Thursday morning at eleven._ + +ACT III--Same as Act I. + _Thursday evening, at ten._ + +ACT IV--John Karslake's House. Madison Avenue. + _Thursday, at midnight._ + +Scene--New York Time--The Present. + + +The production staged by Mr. and Mrs. Fiske. + + + + +THE NEW YORK IDEA + +_A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS_ + +By LANGDON MITCHELL + +COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY LANGDON MITCHELL + + +[This play, copyrighted in 1907, 1908, and published originally by +Walter H. Baker and Co., of Boston, Mass., is fully protected and the +right of representation is reserved. Application for the right of +performing this play may be made to Alice Kauser, 1402 Broadway, New +York, N. Y. The Editor takes this opportunity of thanking Mr. Langdon +Mitchell for his great interest in the compilation of this Collection, +and for his permission to have "The New York Idea" used in it. The +complete revision of the stage directions, especially for this volume, +makes it possible to regard the play, here printed, as the only +authentic version.] + + + + +THE PEOPLE. + + +PHILIP PHILLIMORE, _a Judge on the bench, age 50_. +GRACE PHILLIMORE, _his sister, age 20_. +MRS. PHILLIMORE, _his mother, age 70_. +MISS HENEAGE, _his aunt, age 60_. +MATTHEW PHILLIMORE, _his brother--a bishop, age 45_. +WILLIAM SUDLEY, _his cousin, age 50_. +MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE, _his divorced wife, age 35_. +SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY. +JOHN KARSLAKE, _lawyer, politician and racing-man, age 35_. +MRS. CYNTHIA KARSLAKE, _his divorced wife, age 25_. +BROOKS, MRS. PHILLIMORE'S _footman_. +TIM FIDDLER, MR. KARSLAKE'S _trainer_. +NOGAM, _his valet_. +THOMAS, _the family servant of the_ PHILLIMORES, _age 45_. +BENSON, MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE'S _maid, age 20_. + + +The following is the Cast for the evening performance at the Lyric +Theatre, New York, Monday, November 19, 1906. + +PHILIP PHILLIMORE Charles Harbury. +MRS. PHILLIMORE, _his mother_ Ida Vernon. +THE REVEREND MATTHEW PHILLIMORE, _his brother_ Dudley Clinton. +GRACE PHILLIMORE, _his sister_ Emily Stevens. +MISS HENEAGE, _his aunt_ Blanche Weaver. +WILLIAM SUDLEY, _his cousin_ William B. Mack. +MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE, _his divorced wife_ Marion Lea. +BROOKS, _her footman_ George Harcourt. +BENSON, _her maid_ Belle Bohn. +SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY George Arliss. +JOHN KARSLAKE John Mason. +MRS. CYNTHIA KARSLAKE, _his divorced wife_ Mrs. Fiske. +NOGAM, _his valet_ Dudley Digges. +TIM FIDDLER Robert V. Ferguson. +THOMAS, THE PHILLIMORE'S _family servant_ Richard Clarke. + +Scene--New York. Time--The Present. + + +Revived in New York at The Playhouse, Tuesday Evening, September 28, +1915, with the following Cast. + +PHILIP PHILLIMORE Lumsden Hare. +GRACE PHILLIMORE Norah Lamison. +MRS. PHILLIMORE Eugenie Woodward. +MISS HENEAGE Josephine Lovett. +MATTHEW PHILLIMORE Albert Reed. +WILLIAM SUDLEY John Cromwell. +MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE Mary Nash. +SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY Ernest Lawford. +JOHN KARSLAKE Conway Tearle. +MRS. CYNTHIA KARSLAKE Grace George. +BROOKS Selwyn Joyce. +TIM FIDDLER Tracy Barrow. +NOGAM G. Guthrie McClintic. +THOMAS Richard Clarke. +BENSON Anita Wood. + + +_To Marion Lea_ + + + + +THE NEW YORK IDEA + + +ACT I. + + + SCENE. _Living-room in the house of_ PHILIP PHILLIMORE. + _Five_ P. M. _of an afternoon of May. The general air and + appearance of the room is that of an old-fashioned, decorous, + comfortable interior. There are no electric lights and no + electric bells. Two bell ropes as in old-fashioned houses. + The room is in dark tones inclining to sombre and of + old-fashioned elegance._ + + _Seated in the room are_ MISS HENEAGE, MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ + THOMAS. MISS HENEAGE _is a solidly built, narrow-minded woman + in her sixties. She makes no effort to look younger than she + is, and is expensively but quietly dressed, with heavy + elegance. She commands her household and her family + connection, and on the strength of a large and steady income + feels that her opinion has its value._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _is a + semi-professional invalid, refined and unintelligent. Her + movements are weak and fatigued. Her voice is habitually + plaintive and she is entirely a lady without a trace of being + a woman of fashion._ THOMAS _is an easy-mannered, but + respectful family servant, un-English both in style and + appearance. He has no deportment worthy of being so called, + and takes an evident interest in the affairs of the family he + serves._ + + MISS HENEAGE _is seated at the tea-table, facing the + footlights._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _is seated at the table on the + right._ THOMAS _stands near by. Tea things on table. Decanter + of sherry in coaster. Bread and butter on plate. Vase with + flowers. Silver match-box. Large old-fashioned tea urn. Guard + for flame. "The Evening Post" on tea-table._ MISS HENEAGE + _and_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _both have cups of tea._ MISS HENEAGE + _sits up very straight, and pours tea for_ GRACE, _who enters + from door. She is a pretty and fashionably dressed girl of + twenty. She speaks superciliously, coolly, and not too fast. + She sits on the sofa gracefully and without lounging. She + wears a gown suitable for spring visiting, hat, parasol, and + gloves._ + + +GRACE. [_As she moves to the sofa._] I never in my life walked so far +and found so few people at home. [_Pauses. Takes off gloves. Somewhat +querulously._] The fact is the nineteenth of May is ridiculously late +to be in town. + +MISS HENEAGE. Thomas, Mr. Phillimore's sherry? + +THOMAS. [_Indicating the particular table._] The sherry, ma'am. + +MISS HENEAGE. Mr. Phillimore's _Post_? + +THOMAS. [_Pointing to "The Evening Post" on the tea-table._] The +_Post_, ma'am. + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Indicating cup._] Miss Phillimore. + +THOMAS _takes cup of tea to_ GRACE. _Silence. They all sip tea._ +THOMAS _goes back, fills sherry glass, remaining round and about the +tea-table. They all drink tea during their entire conversation._ + +GRACE. The Dudleys were at home. They wished to know when my brother +Philip was to be married, and where and how? + +MISS HENEAGE. If the Dudleys were persons of breeding, they'd not +intrude their curiosity upon you. + +GRACE. I like Lena Dudley. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Speaking slowly and gently._] Do I know Miss +Dudley? + +GRACE. She knows Philip. She expects an announcement of the wedding. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. I trust you told her that my son, my sister and +myself are all of the opinion that those who have been divorced should +remarry with modesty and without parade. + +GRACE. I told the Dudleys Philip's wedding was here, to-morrow. + +MISS HENEAGE. [_To_ MRS. PHILLIMORE, _picking up a sheet of paper from +the table._] I have spent the afternoon, Mary, in arranging and +listing the wedding gifts, and in writing out the announcements of the +wedding. I think I have attained a proper form of announcement. +[_Taking the sheet of note-paper and giving it to_ THOMAS.] Of course +the announcement Philip himself made was quite out of the question. +[GRACE _smiles._] However, there is mine. [_She points to the paper._ +THOMAS _gives the list to_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _and moves away._ + +GRACE. I hope you'll send an announcement to the Dudleys. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Prepared to make the best of things, plaintively +reads._] "Mr. Philip Phillimore and Mrs. Cynthia Dean Karslake +announce their marriage, May twentieth, at three o'clock, Nineteen A, +Washington Square, New York." [_Replacing the paper on_ THOMAS'S +_salver._] It sounds very nice. + + [THOMAS _returns the paper to_ MISS HENEAGE. + +MISS HENEAGE. In my opinion it barely escapes sounding nasty. However, +it is correct. The only remaining question is--to whom the +announcement should not be sent. [THOMAS _goes out._] I consider an +announcement of the wedding of two divorced persons to be in the +nature of an intimate communication. It not only announces the +wedding--it also announces the divorce. [_Returning to her teacup._] +The person I shall ask counsel of is cousin William Sudley. He +promised to drop in this afternoon. + +GRACE. Oh! We shall hear all about Cairo. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. William is judicious. [THOMAS _returns._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_With finality._] Cousin William will disapprove of the +match unless a winter in Cairo has altered his moral tone. + +THOMAS. [_Announcing._] Mr. Sudley. + + _He ushers in_ WILLIAM SUDLEY, _a little oldish gentleman. He + is and appears thoroughly insignificant. But his opinion of + the place he occupies in the world is enormous. His manners, + voice, presence, are all those of a man of breeding and + self-importance._ + +MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ MISS HENEAGE. [_Rising and greeting_ SUDLEY; _a +little tremulously._] My dear William! + + [THOMAS _withdraws._ + +SUDLEY. [_Shakes hands with_ MRS. PHILLIMORE, _soberly glad to see +them._] How d'ye do, Mary? [_Greeting_ MISS HENEAGE.] A very warm May +you're having, Sarah. + +GRACE. [_Coming forward to welcome him._] Dear Cousin William! + +MISS HENEAGE. Wasn't it warm in Cairo when you left? + + _She will have the strict truth, or nothing; still, on + account of_ SUDLEY'S _impeccable respectability, she treats + him with more than usual leniency._ + +SUDLEY. [_Sitting down._] We left Cairo six weeks ago, Grace, so I've +had no news since you wrote in February that Philip was engaged. +[_After a pause._] I need not to say I consider Philip's engagement +excessively regrettable. He is a judge upon the Supreme Court bench +with a divorced wife--and such a divorced wife! + +GRACE. Oh, but Philip has succeeded in keeping everything as quiet as +possible. + +SUDLEY. [_Acidly._] No, my dear! He has not succeeded in keeping his +former wife as quiet as possible. We had not been in Cairo a week when +who should turn up but Vida Phillimore. She went everywhere and did +everything no woman should! + +GRACE. [_With unfeigned interest._] Oh, what did she do? + +SUDLEY. She "did" Cleopatra at the tableaux at Lord Errington's! She +"did" Cleopatra, and she did it robed only in some diaphanous material +of a nature so transparent that--in fact she appeared to be draped in +moonshine. [MISS HENEAGE _indicates the presence of_ GRACE _and +rises._] That was only the beginning. As soon as she heard of Philip's +engagement, she gave a dinner in honour of it! Only divorcees were +asked! And she had a dummy--yes, my dear, a dummy!--at the head of the +table. He stood for Philip--that is he sat for Philip! + + [_Rising and moving to the table._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Irritated and disgusted._] Ah! + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_With dismay and pain._] Dear me! + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Confident of the value of her opinion._] I disapprove +of Mrs. Phillimore. + +SUDLEY. [_Taking a cigarette._] Of course you do, but has Philip taken +to Egyptian cigarettes in order to celebrate my winter at Cairo? + +GRACE. Those are Cynthia's. + +SUDLEY. [_Thinking that no one is worth knowing whom he does not +know._] Who is "Cynthia?" + +GRACE. Mrs. Karslake--She's staying here, Cousin William. She'll be +down in a minute. + +SUDLEY. [_Shocked._] You don't mean to tell me--?--! + +MISS HENEAGE. Yes, William, Cynthia is Mrs. Karslake--Mrs. Karslake +has no New York house. I disliked the publicity of a hotel in the +circumstances, and, accordingly, when she became engaged to Philip, I +invited her here. + +SUDLEY. [_Suspicious and distrustful._] And may I ask _who_ Mrs. +Karslake is? + +MISS HENEAGE. [_With confidence._] She was a Deane. + +SUDLEY. [_Walking about the room, sorry to be obliged to concede good +birth to any but his own blood._] Oh, oh--well, the Deanes are +extremely nice people. [_Approaching the table._] Was her father J. +William Deane? + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Nodding, still more secure._] Yes. + +SUDLEY. [_Giving in with difficulty._] The family is an old one. J. +William Deane's daughter? Surely he left a very considerable-- + +MISS HENEAGE. Oh, fifteen or twenty millions. + +SUDLEY. [_Determined not to be dazzled._] If I remember rightly she +was brought up abroad. + +MISS HENEAGE. In France and England--and I fancy brought up with a +very gay set in very gay places. In fact she is what is called a +"sporty" woman. + +SUDLEY. [_Always ready to think the worst._] We might put up with +that. But you don't mean to tell me Philip has the--the--assurance to +marry a woman who has been divorced by-- + +MISS HENEAGE. Not at all. Cynthia Karslake divorced her husband. + +SUDLEY. [_Gloomily, since he has less fault to find than he +expected._] She divorced him! Ah! + + [_He seeks the consolation of his tea._ + +MISS HENEAGE. The suit went by default. And, my dear William, there +are many palliating circumstances. Cynthia was married to Karslake +only seven months. There are no-- [_Glancing at_ GRACE] no hostages to +Fortune! Ahem! + +SUDLEY. [_Still unwilling to be pleased._] Ah! What sort of a young +woman is she? + +GRACE. [_With the superiority of one who is not too popular._] Men +admire her. + +MISS HENEAGE. She's not conventional. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Showing a faint sense of justice._] I am bound to +say she has behaved discreetly ever since she arrived in this house. + +MISS HENEAGE. Yes, Mary--but I sometimes suspect that she exercises a +degree of self-control-- + +SUDLEY. [_Glad to have something against some one._] She claps on the +lid, eh? And you think that perhaps some day she'll boil over? Well, +of course fifteen or twenty millions--but who's Karslake? + +GRACE. [_Very superciliously._] He owns Cynthia K. She's the famous +mare. + +MISS HENEAGE. He's Henry Karslake's son. + +SUDLEY. [_Beginning to make the best of fifteen millions-in-law._] +Oh!--Henry!--Very respectable family. Although I remember his father +served a term in the Senate. And so the wedding is to be to-morrow? + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Assenting._] To-morrow. + +SUDLEY. [_Rising, his respectability to the front when he thinks of +the ceremony._ GRACE _rises._] To-morrow. Well, my dear Sarah, a +respectable family with some means. We must accept her. But on the +whole, I think it will be best for me not to see the young woman. My +disapprobation would make itself apparent. + +GRACE. [_Whispering to_ SUDLEY.] Cynthia's coming. + + [_He doesn't hear._ + + CYNTHIA _comes in, absorbed in reading a newspaper. She is a + young creature in her twenties, small and high-bred, full of + the love of excitement and sport. Her manner is wide-awake + and keen, and she is evidently in no fear of the opinion of + others. Her dress is exceedingly elegant, but with the + elegance of a woman whose chief interests lie in life out of + doors. There is nothing hard or masculine in her style, and + her expression is youthful and ingenuous._ + +SUDLEY. [_Sententious and determinately epigrammatic._] The uncouth +modern young woman, eight feet high, with a skin like a rhinoceros and +manners like a cave-dweller--an habitue of the race-track and the +divorce court-- + +GRACE. [_Aside to_ SUDLEY.] Cousin William! + +SUDLEY. Eh, oh! + +CYNTHIA. [_Reading her newspaper, advances into the room, immersed, +excited, trembling. She lowers paper to catch the light._] "Belmont +favourite--six to one--Rockaway--Rosebud, and Flying Cloud. Slow +track--raw wind--h'm, h'm, h'm--At the half, Rockaway forged ahead, +when Rosebud under the lash made a bold bid for victory--neck by +neck--for a quarter--when Flying Cloud slipped by the pair and won on +the post by a nose in one forty nine!" [_Speaking with the enthusiasm +of a sport._] Oh, I wish I'd seen the dear thing do it. Oh, it's Mr. +Sudley! You must think me very rude. How do you do, Mr. Sudley? + + [_Going over to_ SUDLEY. + +SUDLEY. [_Bowing without cordiality._] Mrs. Karslake. + +[CYNTHIA _pauses, feeling he should say something. As he says nothing, +she speaks again._ + +CYNTHIA. I hope Cairo was delightful? Did you have a smooth voyage? + +SUDLEY. [_Pompously._] You must permit me, Mrs. Karslake-- + +CYNTHIA. [_With good temper, somewhat embarrassed, and talking herself +into ease._] Oh, please don't welcome me to the family. All that +formal part is over, if you don't mind. I'm one of the tribe now! +You're coming to our wedding to-morrow? + +SUDLEY. My dear Mrs. Karslake, I think it might be wiser-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Still with cordial good temper._] Oh, but you must come! I +mean to be a perfect wife to Philip and all his relations! That sounds +rather miscellaneous, but you know what I mean. + +SUDLEY. [_Very sententious._] I am afraid-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Gay and still covering her embarrassment._] If you don't +come, it'll look as if you were not standing by Philip when he's in +trouble! You'll come, won't you--but of course you will. + +SUDLEY. [_After a self-important pause._] I will come, Mrs. Karslake. +[_Pausing._] Good-afternoon. [_In a tone of sorrow and light +compassion._] Good-bye, Mary. Good-afternoon, Sarah. [_Sighing._] +Grace, dear. [_To_ MISS HENEAGE.] At what hour did you say the alimony +commences? + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Quickly and commandingly to cover his slip._] The +ceremony is at three P. M., William. + + [SUDLEY _walks toward the door._ + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_With fatigued voice and manner as she rises._] I am +going to my room to rest awhile. + + [_She trails slowly from the room._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_To_ SUDLEY.] Oh, William, one moment--I entirely +forgot! I've a most important social question to ask you! [_She +accompanies him slowly to the door._] in regard to the announcements +of the wedding--who they shall be sent to and who not. For +instance--the Dudleys-- [_Deep in their talk_, SUDLEY _and_ MISS +HENEAGE _pass out together._ + +CYNTHIA. [_From the sofa._] So that's Cousin William? + +GRACE. [_From the tea-table._] Don't you like him? + +CYNTHIA. [_Calmly sarcastic._] Like him? I love him. He's so generous. +He couldn't have received me with more warmth if I'd been a mulatto. + + THOMAS _comes in, preceded by_ PHILLIMORE. PHILIP PHILLIMORE + _is a self-centered, short-tempered, imperious member of the + respectable fashionables of New York. He is well and solidly + dressed, and in manner and speech evidently a man of family. + He is accustomed to being listened to in his home circle and + from the bench, and it is practically impossible for him to + believe that he can make a mistake._ + +GRACE. [_Outraged._] Really you know-- [CYNTHIA _moves to the table._] +Philip! + + PHILIP _nods to_ GRACE _absent-mindedly. He is in his working + suit and looks tired. He walks into the room silently; goes + over to the tea-table, bends over and kisses_ CYNTHIA _on the + forehead. Goes to his chair, which_ THOMAS _has moved to suit + him. He sits, and sighs with satisfaction._ + +PHILIP. [_As if exhausted by brain work._] Ah, Grace! [GRACE +_immediately sails out of the room._] Well, my dear, I thought I +should never extricate myself from the court-room. You look very +debonnair! + +CYNTHIA. The tea's making. You'll have your glass of sherry? + +PHILIP. [_The strain of the day evidently having been severe._] +Thanks! [_Taking it from_ THOMAS _and sighing._] Ah! + +CYNTHIA. I can see it's been a tiring day with you. + +PHILIP. [_His great tussle with the world leaving him unworsted but +utterly spent._] H'm! [_He gratefully sips his tea._ + +CYNTHIA. Were the lawyers very long-winded? + +PHILIP. [_Almost too tired for speech._] Prolix to the point of +somnolence. It might be affirmed without inexactitude that the +prolixity of counsel is the somnolence of the judiciary. I am +fatigued, ah! [_A little suddenly, awaking to the fact that his orders +have not been carried out to the letter._] Thomas! My _Post_ is not in +its usual place! + +CYNTHIA. It's here, Philip. [THOMAS _gets it._ + +PHILIP. Thanks, my dear. [_Opening "The Post."_] Ah! This hour with +you--is--is really the--the-- [_Absently._] the one vivid moment of the +day. [_Reading._] H'm--shocking attack by the President on vested +interests. H'm--too bad--but it's to be expected. The people insisted +on electing a desperado to the presidential office--they must take the +hold-up that follows. [_After a pause, he reads._] H'm! His English is +lacking in idiom, his spelling in conservatism, his mind in balance, +and his character in repose. + +CYNTHIA. [_Amiable but not very sympathetic._] You seem more fatigued +than usual. Another glass of sherry, Philip? + +PHILIP. Oh, I ought not to-- + +CYNTHIA. I think you seem a little more tired than usual. + +PHILIP. Perhaps I am. [_She pours out sherry._ PHILIP _takes glass but +does not sip._] Ah, this hour is truly a grateful form of restful +excitement. [_After an inspired interval._] You, too, find it--eh? +[_He looks at_ CYNTHIA. + +CYNTHIA. [_With veiled sarcasm._] Decidedly. + +PHILIP. Decidedly what, my dear? + +CYNTHIA. [_Her sarcasm still veiled._] Restful. + +PHILIP. H'm! Perhaps I need the calm more than you do. Over the case +to-day I actually--eh-- [_Sipping his tea._] slumbered. I heard myself +do it. That's how I know. A dressmaker sued on seven counts. [_Reading +his newspaper._] Really, the insanity of the United States Senate--you +seem restless, my dear. Ah--um--have you seen the evening paper? I see +there has been a lightning change in the style or size of hats which +ladies-- + + [_Sweeping a descriptive motion with his hand, he gives the + paper to_ CYNTHIA, _then moves his glass, reads, and sips._ + +CYNTHIA. The lamp, Thomas. + + THOMAS _blows out the alcohol lamp on the tea-table with + difficulty. Blows twice. Movement of_ PHILIP _each time. + Blows again._ + +PHILIP. [_Irritably._] Confound it, Thomas! What are you puffing and +blowing at--? + +THOMAS. It's out, ma'am--yes, sir. + +PHILIP. You're excessively noisy, Thomas! + +THOMAS. [_In a fluster._] Yes, sir--I am. + +CYNTHIA. [_Soothing_ THOMAS'S _wounded feelings._] We don't need you, +Thomas. + +THOMAS. Yes, ma'am. + +PHILIP. Puffing and blowing and shaking and quaking like an automobile +in an ecstasy! [THOMAS _meekly withdraws._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Not unsympathetically._] Too bad, Philip! I hope my +presence isn't too agitating? + +PHILIP. Ah--it's just because I value this hour with you, +Cynthia--this hour of tea and toast and tranquillity. It's quite as if +we were married--happily married--already. + +CYNTHIA. [_Admitting that married life is a blank, begins to look +through paper._] Yes, I feel as if we were married already. + +PHILIP. [_Not recognizing her tone._] Ah! It's the calm, you see. + +CYNTHIA. [_Without warmth._] The calm? Yes--yes, it's--it's the calm. + +PHILIP. [_Sighs._] Yes, the calm--the Halcyon calm of--of second +choice. H'm! [_He reads and turns over the leaves of the paper._ +CYNTHIA _reads. There is a silence._] After all, my dear--the feeling +which I have for you--is--is--eh--the market is in a shocking +condition of plethora! H'm--h'm--and what are you reading? + +CYNTHIA. [_Embarrassed._] Oh, eh--well--I--eh--I'm just running over +the sporting news. + +PHILIP. Oh! [_He looks thoughtful._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Beginning to forget_ PHILIP _and to remember more +interesting matters._] I fancied Hermes would come in an easy winner. +He came in nowhere. Nonpareil was ridden by Henslow--he's a rotten bad +rider. He gets nervous. + +PHILIP. [_Still interested in his newspaper._] Does he? H'm! I suppose +you do retain an interest in horses and races. H'm--I trust some day +the--ah--law will attract--Oh [_Turning a page._], here's the report +of my opinion in that dressmaker's case--Haggerty _vs._ Phillimore. + +CYNTHIA. [_Puzzled._] Was the case brought against you? + +PHILIP. Oh--no. The suit was brought by Haggerty, Miss Haggerty, a +dressmaker, against the--in fact, my dear, against the former Mrs. +Phillimore. [_After a pause, he returns to his reading._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Curious about the matter._] How did you decide it? + +PHILIP. I was obliged to decide in Mrs. Phillimore's favour. +Haggerty's plea was preposterous. + +CYNTHIA. Did you--did you meet the--the--former--? + +PHILIP. No. + +CYNTHIA. I often see her at afternoon teas. + +PHILIP. How did you recognize-- + +CYNTHIA. Why-- [_Opening the paper._] because Mrs. Vida Phillimore's +picture appears in every other issue of most of the evening papers. +And I must confess I was curious. But, I'm sure you find it very +painful to meet her again. + +PHILIP. [_Slowly, considering._] No,--would you find it so impossible +to meet Mr.-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Much excited and aroused._] Philip! Don't speak of him. +He's nothing. He's a thing of the past. I never think of him. I forget +him! + +PHILIP. [_Somewhat sarcastic._] That's extraordinarily original of you +to forget him. + +CYNTHIA. [_Gently, and wishing to drop the subject._] We each of us +have something to forget, Philip--and John Karslake is to me--Well, +he's dead! + +PHILIP. As a matter of fact, my dear, he _is_ dead, or the next thing +to it--for he's bankrupt. + +CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] Bankrupt? [_Excited and moved._] Let's not +speak of him. I mean never to see him or think about him or even hear +of him! [_He assents. She reads her paper. He sips his tea and reads +his paper. She turns a page, starts and cries out._ + +PHILIP. God bless me! + +CYNTHIA. It's a picture of--of-- + +PHILIP. John Karslake? + +CYNTHIA. Picture of him, and one of me, and in the middle between us +"Cynthia K!" + +PHILIP. "Cynthia K!" + +CYNTHIA. [_Excited._] My pet riding mare! The best horse he has! She's +an angel even in a photograph! Oh! [_Reading._] "John Karslake drops a +fortune at Saratoga." [_Rises and walks up and down excitedly._ PHILIP +_takes the paper and reads._ + +PHILIP. [_Unconcerned, as the matter hardly touches him._] +Hem--ah--Advertises country place for sale--stables, famous mare +"Cynthia K"--favourite riding-mare of former Mrs. Karslake, who is +once again to enter the arena of matrimony with the well-known and +highly respected judge of-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Sensitive and much disturbed._] Don't! Don't, Philip, +please don't! + +PHILIP. My dear Cynthia--take another paper--here's my _Post_! You'll +find nothing disagreeable in _The Post_. + + [CYNTHIA _takes paper._ + +CYNTHIA. [_After reading, near the table._] It's much worse in _The +Post_. "John Karslake sells the former Mrs. Karslake's jewels--the +famous necklace now at Tiffany's, and the sporty ex-husband sells his +wife's portrait by Sargent!" Philip, I can't stand this. [_Puts paper +on the table._ + +PHILIP. Really, my dear, Mr. Karslake is bound to appear occasionally +in print--or even you may have to meet him. + + [Thomas _comes in._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Determined and distressed._] I won't meet him! I won't meet +him. Every time I hear his name or "Cynthia K's" I'm so depressed. + +THOMAS. [_Announcing with something like reluctance._] Sir, Mr. +Fiddler. Mr. Karslake's trainer. + + FIDDLER _walks in. He is an English horse trainer, a + wide-awake, stocky, well-groomed little cockney. He knows his + own mind and sees life altogether through a stable door. + Well-dressed for his station, and not too young._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Excited and disturbed._] Fiddler? Tim Fiddler? His coming +is outrageous! + +FIDDLER. A note for you, sir. + +CYNTHIA. [_Impulsively._] Oh, Fiddler--is that you? + +FIDDLER. Yes'm! + +CYNTHIA. [_In a half whisper, still speaking on impulse._] How is she! +Cynthia K? How's Planet II and the colt and Golden Rod? How's the +whole stable? Are they well? + +FIDDLER. No'm--we're all on the bum. [_Aside._] Ever since you kicked +us over! + +CYNTHIA. [_Reproving him, though pleased._] Fiddler! + +FIDDLER. The horses is just simply gone to Egypt since you left, and +so's the guv'nor. + +CYNTHIA. [_Putting an end to_ FIDDLER.] That will do, Fiddler. + +FIDDLER. I'm waiting for an answer, sir. + +CYNTHIA. What is it, Philip? + +PHILIP. [_Uncomfortable._] A mere matter of business. [_Aside to_ +FIDDLER.] The answer is, Mr. Karslake can come. The--the coast will be +clear. [FIDDLER _goes out._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Amazed; rising._] You're not going to see him? + +PHILIP. But Karslake, my dear, is an old acquaintance of mine. He +argues cases before me. I will see that you do not have to meet him. + + [CYNTHIA _walks the length of the room in excited dejection._ + + MATTHEW _comes in. He is a High-church clergyman to a highly + fashionable congregation. His success is partly due to his + social position and partly to his elegance of speech, but + chiefly to his inherent amiability, which leaves the sinner + in happy peace and smiles on the just and unjust alike._ + +MATTHEW. [_Most amiably._] Ah, my dear brother! + +PHILIP. [_Greeting him._] Matthew. + +MATTHEW. [_Nodding to_ PHILIP.] Good afternoon, my dear Cynthia. How +charming you look! [CYNTHIA _sits down at the tea-table. To_ +CYNTHIA.] Ah, why weren't you in your pew yesterday? I preached a most +original sermon. + + [_He lays his hat and cane on the divan._ + +THOMAS. [_Aside to_ PHILIP.] Sir, Mrs. Vida Phillimore's maid called +you up on the telephone, and you're to expect Mrs. Phillimore on a +matter of business. + +PHILIP. [_Astonished and disgusted._] Here, impossible! [_To_ +CYNTHIA.] Excuse me, my dear! [PHILIP, _much embarrassed, goes out, +followed by_ THOMAS. + +MATTHEW. [_Approaching_ CYNTHIA'S _chair, happily and pleasantly +self-important._] No, really, it was a wonderful sermon, my dear. My +text was from Paul--"It is better to marry than to burn." It was a +strictly logical sermon. I argued--that, as the grass withereth, and +the flower fadeth,--there is nothing final in Nature; not even Death! +And, as there is nothing final in Nature, not even Death;--so then if +Death is not final--why should marriage be final? [_Gently._] And so +the necessity of--eh--divorce! You see? It was an exquisite sermon! +All New York was there! And all New York went away happy! Even the +sinners--if there were any! I don't often meet sinners--do you? + +CYNTHIA. [_Indulgently, in spite of his folly, because he is kind._] +You're such a dear, delightful Pagan! Here's your tea! + +MATTHEW. [_Taking the tea._] Why, my dear--you have a very sad +expression! + +CYNTHIA. [_A little bitterly._] Why not? + +MATTHEW. [_With sentimental sweetness._] I feel as if I were of no use +in the world when I see sadness on a young face. Only sinners should +feel sad. You have committed no sin! + +CYNTHIA. [_Impulsively._] Yes, I have! + +MATTHEW. Eh? + +CYNTHIA. I committed the unpardonable sin--whe--when I married for +love! + +MATTHEW. One must not marry for anything else, my dear! + +CYNTHIA. Why am I marrying your brother? + +MATTHEW. I often wonder why? I wonder why you didn't choose to remain +a free woman. + +CYNTHIA. [_Going over the ground she has often argued with herself._] +I meant to; but a divorcee has no place in society. I felt horridly +lonely! I wanted a friend. Philip was ideal as a friend--for months. +Isn't it nice to bind a friend to you? + +MATTHEW. [_Setting down his teacup._] Yes--yes! + +CYNTHIA. [_Growing more and more excited and moved as she speaks._] To +marry a friend--to marry on prudent, sensible grounds--a man--like +Philip? That's what I should have done first, instead of rushing into +marriage--because I had a wild, mad, sensitive, sympathetic--passion +and pain and fury--of, I don't know what--that almost strangled me +with happiness! + +MATTHEW. [_Amiable and reminiscent._] Ah--ah--in my youth--I,--I too! + +CYNTHIA. [_Coming back to her manner of every day._] And besides--the +day Philip asked me I was in the dumps! And now--how about marrying +only for love? [PHILIP _comes back._ + +MATTHEW. Ah, my dear, love is not the only thing in the world! + +PHILIP. [_Half aside._] I got there too late, she'd hung up. + +CYNTHIA. Who, Philip? + +PHILIP. Eh--a lady--eh-- + + [THOMAS, _flurried, comes in with a card on a salver._ + +THOMAS. A card for you, sir. Ahem--ahem--Mrs. Phillimore--that was, +sir. + +PHILIP. Eh? + +THOMAS. She's on the stairs, sir. [_He nods backward, only to find_ +VIDA _at his side. He announces her as being the best way of meeting +the difficulty._] Mrs. Vida Phillimore! + + VIDA _comes in slowly, with the air of a spoiled beauty. She + stops just inside the door and speaks in a very casual + manner. Her voice is languorous and caressing. She is dressed + in the excess of the French fashion and carries a daring + parasol. She smiles and comes in, undulating, to the middle + of the room. Tableau._ THOMAS _withdraws._ + +VIDA. How do you do, Philip. [_After a pause._] Don't tell me I'm a +surprise! I had you called up on the 'phone and I sent up my +card--and, besides, Philip dear, when you have the--the--habit of the +house, as unfortunately I have, you can't treat yourself like a +stranger in a strange land. At least, I can't--so here I am. My reason +for coming was to ask you about that B. & O. stock we hold in common. +[_To_ MATTHEW, _condescendingly, the clergy being a class of +unfortunates debarred by profession from the pleasures of the world._] +How do you do? [_Pause. She then goes to the real reason of her +visit._] Do be polite and present me to your wife-to-be. + +PHILIP. [_Awkwardly._] Cynthia-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Cheerfully, with dash, putting the table between_ VIDA _and +herself._] We're delighted to see you, Mrs. Phillimore. I needn't ask +you to make yourself at home, but will you have a cup of tea? [MATTHEW +_sits near the little table._ + +VIDA. [_To_ PHILIP.] My dear, she's not in the least what I expected. +I heard she was a dove! She's a very dashing kind of a dove! [_To_ +CYNTHIA, _who moves to the tea-table._] My dear, I'm paying you +compliments. Five lumps and quantities of cream. I find single life +very thinning. [_To_ PHILIP, _calm and ready to be agreeable to any +man._] And how well you're looking! It must be the absence of +matrimonial cares--or is it a new angel in the house? + +CYNTHIA. [_Outraged at_ VIDA'S _intrusion, but polite though +delicately sarcastic._] It's most amusing to sit in your place. And +how at home you must feel here in this house where you have made so +much trouble--I mean tea. [_Rises._] Do you know it would be in much +better taste if you would take the place you're accustomed to? + +VIDA. [_As calm as before._] My dear, I'm an intruder only for a +moment; I sha'n't give you a chance to score off me again! But I must +thank you, dear Philip, for rendering that decision in my favour-- + +PHILIP. I assure you-- + +Vida. [_Unable to resist a thrust._] Of course, you would like to have +rendered it against me. It was your wonderful sense of justice, and +that's why I'm so grateful--if not to you, to your Maker! + +PHILIP. [_Feels that this is no place for his future wife. Rises +quickly. To_ CYNTHIA.] Cynthia, I would prefer that you left us. + + [MATTHEW _moves to the sofa and sits down._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Determined not to leave the field first, remains seated._] +Certainly, Philip! + +PHILIP. I expect another visitor who-- + +VIDA. [_With flattering insistence, to_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, my dear--don't +go! The truth is--I came to see you! I feel most cordially towards +you--and really, you know, people in our position should meet on +cordial terms. + +CYNTHIA. [_Taking it with apparent calm, but pointing her remarks._] +Naturally. If people in our position couldn't meet, New York society +would soon come to an end. [THOMAS _comes in._ + +VIDA. [_Calm, but getting her knife in too._] Precisely. Society's no +bigger than a band-box. Why, it's only a moment ago I saw Mr. Karslake +walking-- + +CYNTHIA. Ah! + +THOMAS. [_Announcing clearly. Everyone changes place, in +consternation, amusement or surprise._ CYNTHIA _moves to leave the +room, but stops for fear of attracting_ KARSLAKE'S _attention._] Mr. +John Karslake! + + _Enter_ KARSLAKE. _He is a powerful, generous personality, a + man of affairs, breezy, gay and careless. He gives the + impression of being game for any fate in store for him. His + clothes indicate sporting propensities and his taste in + waistcoats and ties is brilliant._ KARSLAKE _sees first_ + PHILIP _and then_ MATTHEW. THOMAS _goes out._ + +PHILIP. How do you do? + +JOHN. [_Very gay and no respecter of persons._] Good-afternoon, Mr. +Phillimore. Hello--here's the church! [_Crossing to_ MATTHEW _and +shaking hands. He slaps him on the back._] I hadn't the least +idea--how are you? By George, your reverence, that was a racy sermon +of yours on Divorce! What was your text? [_Sees_ VIDA _and bows, very +politely._] Galatians 4:2, "The more the merrier," or "Who next?" +[_Smiles._] As the whale said after Jonah! [CYNTHIA _makes a sudden +movement, upsetting her tea-cup._ JOHN _faces about quickly and they +face each other._ JOHN _gives a frank start. A pause holds them._ + +JOHN. [_Astounded, in a low voice._] Mrs. Karslake-- [_Bowing._] I was +not aware of the pleasure in store for me. I understood you were in +the country. [_Recovering and moving to her chair._] Perhaps you'll be +good enough to make me a cup of tea?--that is if the teapot wasn't +lost in the scrimmage. [_There is another pause._ CYNTHIA, _determined +to equal him in coolness, returns to the tea-tray._] Mr. Phillimore, I +came to get your signature in that matter of Cox _vs._ Keely. + +PHILIP. I shall be at your service, but pray be seated. + + [_He indicates a chair by the tea-table._ + +JOHN. [_Sitting beyond but not far from the tea-table._] And I also +understood you to say you wanted a saddle-horse. + +PHILIP. You have a mare called--eh--"Cynthia K?" + +JOHN. [_Promptly._] Yes--she's not for sale. + +PHILIP. Oh, but she's just the mare I had set my mind on. + +JOHN. [_With a touch of humour._] You want her for yourself? + +PHILIP. [_A little flustered._] I--eh--I sometimes ride. + +JOHN. [_Now sure of himself._] She's rather lively for you, Judge. +Mrs. Karslake used to ride her. + +PHILIP. You don't care to sell her to me? + +JOHN. She's a dangerous mare, Judge, and she's as delicate and +changeable as a girl. I'd hate to leave her in your charge! + +CYNTHIA. [_Eagerly but in a low voice._] Leave her in mine, Mr. +Karslake! + +JOHN. [_After a slight pause._] Mrs. Karslake knows all about a horse, +but-- [_Turning to_ CYNTHIA.] Cynthia K's got rather tricky of late. + +CYNTHIA. [_Haughtily._] You mean to say you think she'd chuck me? + +JOHN. [_With polite solicitude and still humourous. To_ PHILIP.] I'd +hate to have a mare of mine deprive you of a wife, Judge. [_Rises._ +CYNTHIA _shows anger._] She goes to Saratoga next week, C. W. + +VIDA. [_Who has been sitting and talking to_ MATTHEW _for lack of a +better man, comes to talk to_ KARSLAKE.] C. W.? + +JOHN. [_Rising as she rises._] Creditors willing. + +VIDA. [_Changing her seat for one near the tea-table._] I'm sure your +creditors are willing. + +JOHN. Oh, they're a breezy lot, my creditors. They're giving me a +dinner this evening. + +VIDA. [_More than usually anxious to please._] I regret I'm not a +breezy creditor, but I do think you owe it to me to let me see your +Cynthia K! Can't you lead her around to my house? + +JOHN. At what hour, Mrs. Phillimore? + +VIDA. Say eleven? And you, too, might have a leading in my +direction--771 Fifth Avenue. + + [JOHN _bows._ CYNTHIA _hears and notes this._ + +CYNTHIA. Your cup of tea, Mr. Karslake. + +JOHN. Thanks. [_Taking his tea and sipping it._] I beg your +pardon--you have forgotten, Mrs. Karslake--very naturally, it has +slipped your memory, but I don't take sugar. [CYNTHIA, _furious with +him and herself. He hands the cup back. She makes a second cup._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Cheerfully; in a rage._] Sorry! + +JOHN. [_Also apparently cheerful._] Yes, gout. It gives me a twinge +even to sit in the shadow of a sugar-maple! First you riot, and then +you diet! + +VIDA. [_Calm and amused; aside to_ MATTHEW.] My dear Matthew, he's a +darling! But I feel as if we were all taking tea on the slope of a +volcano! [MATTHEW _sits down._ + +PHILIP. It occurred to me, Mr. Karslake, you might be glad to find a +purchaser for your portrait by Sargent? + +JOHN. It's not _my_ portrait. It's a portrait of Mrs. Karslake, and to +tell you the truth--Sargent's a good fellow--I've made up my mind to +keep it--to remember the artist by. + + [CYNTHIA _is wounded by this._ + +PHILIP. H'm! + + [CYNTHIA _hands a second cup to_ JOHN. + +CYNTHIA. [_With careful politeness._] Your cup of tea, Mr. Karslake. + +JOHN. [_Rising and taking the tea with courteous indifference._] +Thanks--sorry to trouble you. + + [_He drinks the cup of tea standing by the tea-table._ + +PHILIP. [_To make conversation._] You're selling your country place? + +JOHN. If I was long of hair--I'd sell that. + +CYNTHIA. [_Excited. Taken out of herself by the news._] You're not +really selling your stable? + +JOHN. [_Finishes his tea, places the empty cup on the tea-table, and +reseats himself._] Every gelding I've got--seven foals and a donkey! I +don't mean the owner. + +CYNTHIA. [_Still interested and forgetting the discomfort of the +situation._] How did you ever manage to come such a cropper? + +JOHN. Streak of blue luck! + +CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] I don't see how it's possible-- + +JOHN. You would if you'd been there. You remember the head man? +[_Sitting down._] Bloke? + +CYNTHIA. Of course! + +JOHN. Well, his wife divorced him for beating her over the head with a +bottle of Fowler's Solution, and it seemed to prey on his mind. He +sold me-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Horrified._] Sold a race? + +JOHN. About ten races, I guess. + +CYNTHIA. [_Incredulous._] Just because he'd beaten his wife? + +JOHN. No. Because she divorced him. + +CYNTHIA. Well, I can't see why that should prey on his mind! + + [_Suddenly remembers._ + +JOHN. Well, I have known men that it stroked the wrong way. But he +cost me eighty thousand. And then Urbanity ran third in the +thousand-dollar stakes for two-year-olds at Belmont. + +CYNTHIA. [_Throws this remark in._] I never had faith in that horse. + +JOHN. And, of course, it never rains monkeys but it pours gorillas! So +when I was down at St. Louis on the fifth, I laid seven to three on +Fraternity-- + +CYNTHIA. Crazy! Crazy! + +JOHN. [_Ready to take the opposite view._] I don't see it. With her +record she ought to have romped it an easy winner. + +CYNTHIA. [_Her sporting instinct asserting itself._] She hasn't the +stamina! Look at her barrel! + +JOHN. Well, anyhow, Geranium finished me! + +CYNTHIA. You didn't lay odds on Geranium! + +JOHN. Why not? She's my own mare-- + +CYNTHIA. Oh! + +JOHN. Streak o' bad luck-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Plainly anxious to say "I told you so."_] Streak of poor +judgment! Do you remember the day you rode Billy at a six-foot stone +wall, and he stopped and you didn't, and there was a hornet's nest +[MATTHEW _rises._] on the other side, and I remember you were hot just +because I said you showed poor judgment? [_She laughs at the memory. A +general movement of disapproval. She remembers the situation._] I beg +your pardon. + +MATTHEW. [_Rises to meet_ VIDA. _Hastily._] It seems to me that horses +are like the fourth gospel. Any conversation about them becomes +animated almost beyond the limits of the urbane! [VIDA, _disgusted by +such plainness of speech, rises and goes to_ PHILIP _who waves her to +a chair._ + +PHILIP. [_Formally._] I regret that you have endured such reverses, +Mr. Karslake. [JOHN _quietly bows._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Concealing her interest and speaking casually._] You +haven't mentioned your new English horse--Pantomime. What did he do at +St. Louis? + +JOHN. [_Sitting down._] Fell away and ran fifth. + +CYNTHIA. Too bad. Was he fully acclimated? Ah, well-- + +JOHN. We always differed--you remember--on the time needed-- + +MATTHEW. [_Coming over to_ CYNTHIA, _and speaking to carry off the +situation as well as to get a tip._] Isn't there a--eh--a race +to-morrow at Belmont Park? + +JOHN. Yes. I'm going down in my auto. + +CYNTHIA. [_Evidently wishing she might be going too._] Oh! + +MATTHEW. And what animal shall you prefer? + + [_Covering his personal interest with amiable altruism._ + +JOHN. I'm backing Carmencita. + +CYNTHIA. [_With a gesture of despair._] Carmencita! Carmencita! + + [MATTHEW _returns to_ VIDA'S _side._ + +JOHN. You may remember we always differed on Carmencita. + +CYNTHIA. [_Disgusted at_ JOHN'S _dunderheadedness._] But there's no +room for difference. She's a wild, headstrong, dissatisfied, foolish +little filly. The deuce couldn't ride her--she'd shy at her own +shadow--"Carmencita." Oh, very well then, I'll wager you--and I'll +give you odds too--"Decorum" will come in first, and I'll lay three to +one he'll beat Carmencita by five lengths! How's that for fair? + +JOHN. [_Never forgetting the situation._] Sorry I'm not flush enough +to take you. + +CYNTHIA. [_Impetuously._] Philip, dear, you lend John enough for the +wager. + +MATTHEW. [_As nearly horrified as so soft a soul can be._] Ahem! +Really-- + +JOHN. It's a sporty idea, Mrs. Karslake, but perhaps in the +circumstances-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Her mind on her wager._] In what circumstances? + +PHILIP. [_With a nervous laugh._] It does seem to me there is a +certain impropriety-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Remembering the conventions, which, for a moment, had +actually escaped her._] Oh, I forgot. When horses are in the air-- + +MATTHEW. [_Pouring oil on troubled waters. Moving, he speaks to_ VIDA +_from the back of her armchair._] It's the fourth gospel, you see. +[THOMAS _comes in with a letter on a salver, which he hands to_ +PHILIP. + +CYNTHIA. [_Meekly._] You are quite right, Philip. [PHILIP _goes up._] +The fact is, seeing Mr. Karslake again [_Laying on her indifference +with a trowel._] he seems to me as much a stranger as if I were +meeting him for the first time. + +MATTHEW. [_Aside to_ VIDA.] We are indeed taking tea on the slope of a +volcano. + +VIDA. [_About to go, but thinking she will have a last word with_ +JOHN.] I'm sorry your fortunes are so depressed, Mr. Karslake. + +PHILIP. [_Looking at the card that_ THOMAS _has just brought in._] Who +in the world is Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby? + + [_There is a general stir._ + +JOHN. Oh--eh--Cates-Darby? [PHILIP _opens the letter which_ THOMAS +_has brought with the card._] That's the English chap I bought +Pantomime of. + +PHILIP. [_To_ THOMAS.] Show Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby in. + + THOMAS _goes out. The prospect of an Englishman with a handle + to his name changes_ VIDA'S _plans and, instead of leaving + the house, she goes to sofa, and poses there._ + +JOHN. He's a good fellow, Judge. Place near Epsom. Breeder. Over here +to take a shy at our races. + +THOMAS. [_Opening the door and announcing._] Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby. + + _Enter_ SIR WILFRID CATES-DARBY. _He is a high-bred, sporting + Englishman. His manner, his dress and his diction are the + perfection of English elegance. His movements are quick and + graceful. He talks lightly and with ease. He is full of life + and unsmiling good temper._ + +PHILIP. [_To_ SIR WILFRID _and referring to the letter of introduction +in his hand._] I am Mr. Phillimore. I am grateful to Stanhope for +giving me the opportunity of knowing you, Sir Wilfrid. I fear you find +it warm? + +SIR WILFRID. [_Delicately mopping his forehead._] Ah, well--ah--warm, +no--hot, yes! Deuced extraordinary climate yours, you know, Mr. +Phillimore. + +PHILIP. [_Conventionally._] Permit me to present you to-- [_The +unconventional situation pulls him up short. It takes him a moment to +decide how to meet it. He makes up his mind to pretend that everything +is as usual, and presents_ CYNTHIA _first._] Mrs. Karslake. + + [SIR WILFRID _bows, surprised and doubtful._ + +CYNTHIA. How do you do? + +PHILIP. And to Mrs. Phillimore. [VIDA _bows nonchalantly, but with a +view to catching_ SIR WILFRID'S _attention._ SIR WILFRID _bows, and +looks from her to_ PHILIP.] My brother--and Mr. Karslake you know. + +SIR WILFRID. How do, my boy. [_Half aside, to_ JOHN.] No idea you had +such a charming little wife--What?--Eh? [KARSLAKE _moves to speak to_ +MATTHEW _and_ PHILIP _in the further room._ + +CYNTHIA. You'll have a cup of tea, Sir Wilfrid? + +SIR WILFRID. [_At the table._] Thanks, awfully. [_Very cheerfully._] +I'd no idea old John had a wife! The rascal never told me! + +CYNTHIA. [_Pouring tea and facing the facts._] I'm not Mr. Karslake's +wife! + +SIR WILFRID. Oh!--Eh?--I see-- + + [_He is evidently trying to think this out._ + +VIDA. [_Who has been ready for some time to speak to him._] Sir +Wilfrid, I'm sure no one has asked you how you like our country? + +SIR WILFRID. [_Going to_ VIDA _and standing by her at the sofa._] Oh, +well, as to climate and horses, I say nothing. But I like your +American humour. I'm acquiring it for home purposes. + +VIDA. [_Getting down to love as the basis of conversation._] Aren't +you going to acquire an American girl for home purposes? + +SIR WILFRID. The more narrowly I look the agreeable project in the +face, the more I like it. Oughtn't to say that in the presence of your +husband. [_He casts a look at_ PHILIP, _who has gone into the next +room._ + +VIDA. [_Cheerful and unconstrained._] He's not my husband! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Completely confused._] Oh--eh?--my brain must be +boiled. You are--Mrs.--eh--ah--of course, now I see! I got the wrong +names! I thought you were Mrs. Phillimore. [_Sitting down by her._] +And that nice girl, Mrs. Karslake! You're deucedly lucky to be Mrs. +Karslake. John's a prime sort. I say, have you and he got any kids? +How many? + +VIDA. [_Horrified at being suspected of maternity, but speaking very +sweetly._] He's not my husband. + +SIR WILFRID. [_His good spirits all gone, but determined to clear +things up._] Phew! Awfully hot in here! Who the deuce is John's wife? + +VIDA. He hasn't any. + +SIR WILFRID. Who's Phillimore's wife? + +VIDA. He hasn't any. + +SIR WILFRID. Thanks, fearfully! [_To_ MATTHEW, _whom he approaches; +suspecting himself of having lost his wits._] Would you excuse me, my +dear and Reverend Sir--you're a churchman and all that--would you mind +straightening me out? + +MATTHEW. [_Most graciously._] Certainly, Sir Wilfrid. Is it a matter +of doctrine? + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, damme--beg your pardon,--no, it's not words, it's +women. + +MATTHEW. [_Ready to be outraged._] Women! + +SIR WILFRID. It's divorce. Now, the lady on the sofa-- + +MATTHEW. _Was_ my brother's wife; he divorced +her--incompatibility--Rhode Island. The lady at the tea-table _was_ +Mr. Karslake's wife; she divorced him--desertion--Sioux Falls. One +moment--she is about to marry my brother. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Cheerful again._] I'm out! Thought I never would be! +Thanks! [VIDA _laughs._ + +VIDA. [_Not a whit discountenanced and ready to please._] Have you got +me straightened out yet? + +SIR WILFRID. Straight as a die! I say, you had lots of fun, didn't +you? [_Returning to his position by the sofa._] And so _she's_ Mrs. +John Karslake? + +VIDA. [_Calm, but secretly disappointed._] Do you like her? + +SIR WILFRID. My word! + +VIDA. [_Fully expecting personal flattery._] Eh? + +SIR WILFRID. She's a box o' ginger! + +VIDA. You haven't seen many American women! + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, haven't I? + +VIDA. If you'll pay me a visit to-morrow--at twelve, you shall meet a +most charming young woman, who has seen you once, and who admires +you--ah! + +SIR WILFRID. I'm there--what! + +VIDA. Seven hundred and seventy-one Fifth Avenue. + +SIR WILFRID. Seven seventy-one Fifth Avenue--at twelve. + +VIDA. At twelve. + +SIR WILFRID. Thanks! [_Indicating_ CYNTHIA.] She's a thoroughbred--you +can see that with one eye shut. Twelve. [_Shaking hands._] Awfully +good of you to ask me. [_He joins_ JOHN.] I say, my boy, your former's +an absolute certainty. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] I hear you're about to marry +Mr. Phillimore, Mrs. Karslake? + + KARSLAKE _crosses to_ VIDA _and together they move to the + sofa and sit down._ + +CYNTHIA. To-morrow, 3 P. M., Sir Wilfrid. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Much taken with_ CYNTHIA.] Afraid I've run into a sort +of family party, eh? [_Indicating_ VIDA.] The Past and the +Future--awfully chic way you Americans have of asking your divorced +husbands and wives to drop in, you know--celebrate a christenin', or +the new bride, or-- + +CYNTHIA. Do you like your tea strong? + +SIR WILFRID. Middlin'. + +CYNTHIA. Sugar? + +SIR WILFRID. One! + +CYNTHIA. Lemon? + +SIR WILFRID. Just torture a lemon over it. [_He makes a gesture as of +twisting a lemon peel. She hands him his tea._] Thanks! So you do it +to-morrow at three? + +CYNTHIA. At three, Sir Wilfrid. + +SIR WILFRID. Sorry! + +CYNTHIA. Why are you sorry? + +SIR WILFRID. Hate to see a pretty woman married. Might marry her +myself. + +CYNTHIA. Oh, but I'm sure you don't admire American women. + +SIR WILFRID. Admire you, Mrs. Karslake-- + +CYNTHIA. Not enough to marry me, I hope. + +SIR WILFRID. Marry you in a minute! Say the word. Marry you now--here. + +CYNTHIA. You don't think you ought to know me a little before-- + +SIR WILFRID. Know you? Do know you. + +CYNTHIA. [_Covering her hair with her handkerchief._] What colour is +my hair? + +SIR WILFRID. Pshaw! + +CYNTHIA. You see! You don't know whether I'm a chestnut or a +strawberry roan! In the States we think a few months of friendship is +quite necessary. + +SIR WILFRID. Few months of moonshine! Never was a friend to a +woman--thank God, in all my life. + +CYNTHIA. Oh--oh, oh! + +SIR WILFRID. Might as well talk about being a friend to a +whiskey-and-soda. + +CYNTHIA. A woman has a soul, Sir Wilfrid. + +SIR WILFRID. Well, good whiskey is spirits--dozens o' souls! + +CYNTHIA. You are so gross! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Changing his seat for one at the tea-table._] Gross? +Not a bit! Friendship between the sexes is all fudge! I'm no friend to +a rose in my garden. I don't call it friendship--eh--eh--a warm, +starry night, moonbeams and ilex trees, "and a spirit who knows how" +and all that--eh-- [_Getting closer to her._] You make me feel awfully +poetical, you know-- [PHILIP _comes toward them, glances nervously at_ +CYNTHIA _and_ SIR WILFRID, _and walks away again._] What's the matter? +But, I say--poetry aside--do you, eh---- [_Looking around to place_ +PHILIP.] Does he--y'know--is he--does he go to the head? + +CYNTHIA. Sir Wilfrid, Mr. Phillimore is my sober second choice. + +SIR WILFRID. Did you ever kiss him? I'll bet he fined you for contempt +of court. Look here, Mrs. Karslake, if you're marryin' a man you don't +care about-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Amused and excusing his audacity as a foreigner's +eccentricity._] Really! + +SIR WILFRID. Well, I don't offer myself-- + +CYNTHIA. Oh! + +SIR WILFRID. Not this instant-- + +CYNTHIA. Ah! + +SIR WILFRID. But let me drop in to-morrow at ten. + +CYNTHIA. What country and state of affairs do you think you have +landed in? + +SIR WILFRID. New York, by Jove! Been to school, too. New York is +bounded on the North, South, East and West by the state of Divorce! +Come, come, Mrs. Karslake, I like your country. You've no fear and no +respect--no cant and lots of can. Here you all are, you see--your +former husband, and your new husband's former wife--sounds like +Ollendoff! Eh? So there you are, you see! But, jokin' apart--why do +you marry him? Oh, well, marry him if you must! You can run around the +corner and get a divorce afterwards-- + +CYNTHIA. I believe you think they throw one in with an ice-cream soda! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Rising._] Damme, my dear lady, a marriage in your +country is no more than a--eh--eh--what do you call 'em? A thank you, +ma'am. That's what an American marriage is--a thank you, ma'am. +Bump--bump--you're over it and on to the next. + +CYNTHIA. You're an odd fish! What? I believe I like you! + +SIR WILFRID. 'Course you do! You'll see me when I call to-morrow--at +ten? We'll run down to Belmont Park, eh? + +CYNTHIA. Don't be absurd! + +VIDA. [_Has finished her talk with_ JOHN, _and breaks in on_ SIR +WILFRID, _who has hung about_ CYNTHIA _too long to suit her._] +To-morrow at twelve, Sir Wilfrid! + +SIR WILFRID. Twelve! + +VIDA. [_Shaking hands with_ JOHN.] Don't forget, Mr. Karslake--eleven +o'clock to-morrow. + +JOHN. [_Bowing assent._] I won't! + +VIDA. [_Coming over to_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, Mrs. Karslake, I've ordered +Tiffany to send you something. It's a sugar-bowl to sweeten the +matrimonial lot! I suppose nothing would induce you to call? + +CYNTHIA. [_Distantly and careless of offending._] Thanks, no--that is, +is "Cynthia K" really to be there at eleven? I'd give a gold mine to +see her again. + +VIDA. Do come! + +CYNTHIA. If Mr. Karslake will accommodate me by his absence. + +VIDA. Dear Mr. Karslake, you'll have to change your hour. + +JOHN. Sorry, I'm not able to. + +CYNTHIA. I can't come later for I'm to be married. + +JOHN. It's not as bad as that with me, but I am to be sold +up--Sheriff, you know. Can't come later than eleven. + +VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Any hour but eleven, dear. + +CYNTHIA. [_Perfectly regardless of_ VIDA, _and ready to vex_ JOHN _if +possible._] Mrs. Phillimore, I shall call on you at eleven--to see +Cynthia K. I thank you for the invitation. Good-afternoon. + +VIDA. [_Aside to_ JOHN, _crossing to speak quietly to him._] It's mere +bravado; she won't come. + +JOHN. You don't know her. + + _There is a pause and general embarrassment._ SIR WILFRID + _uses his eye-glass._ JOHN _angry._ CYNTHIA _triumphant._ + MATTHEW _embarrassed._ VIDA _irritated._ PHILIP _puzzled. + Everybody is at odds._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_For the first time a witness to the pretty +complications of divorce. To_ MATTHEW.] Do you have it as warm as this +ordinarily? + +MATTHEW. [_For whom these moments are more than usually painful, and +wiping his brow._] It's not so much the heat as the humidity. + +JOHN. [_Looks at watch and, relieved, glad to be off._] I shall be +late for my creditors' dinner. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Interested and walking toward_ JOHN.] Creditors' +dinner. + +JOHN. [_Reading the note._] Fifteen of my sporting creditors have +arranged to give me a blow-out at Sherry's, and I'm expected right +away or sooner. And, by the way, I was to bring my friends--if I had +any. So now's the time to stand by me! Mrs. Phillimore? + +VIDA. Of course! + +JOHN. [_Ready to embarrass_ CYNTHIA, _if possible, and speaking as if +he had quite forgotten their former relations._] Mrs. Karslake--I beg +your pardon. Judge? [PHILIP _declines._] No? Sir Wilfrid? + +SIR WILFRID. I'm with you! + +JOHN. [_To_ MATTHEW.] Your Grace? + +MATTHEW. I regret-- + +SIR WILFRID. Is it the custom for creditors-- + +JOHN. Come on, Sir Wilfrid! [THOMAS _opens door._] Good-night, +Judge--Your Grace-- + +SIR WILFRID. Is it the custom-- + +JOHN. Hang the custom! Come on--I'll show you a gang of creditors +worth having! + + SIR WILFRID _and_ JOHN _go out, arm in arm, preceded by_ + VIDA. MATTHEW _crosses the room, smiling, as if pleased, in a + Christian way, with this display of generous gaiety. He stops + short suddenly and looks at his watch._ + +MATTHEW. Good gracious! I had no idea the hour was so late. I've been +asked to a meeting with Maryland and Iowa, to talk over the divorce +situation. [_He leaves the room quickly and his voice is heard in the +hall._] Good-afternoon! Good-afternoon! + + CYNTHIA _is evidently much excited. The outer door slams._ + PHILIP _comes down slowly._ CYNTHIA _stands, her eyes wide, + her breathing visible, until_ PHILIP _speaks, when she seems + suddenly to realize her position. There is a long pause._ + +PHILIP. [_With a superior air._] I have seldom witnessed a more +amazing cataclysm of jocundity! Of course, my dear, this has all been +most disagreeable for you. + +CYNTHIA. [_Excitedly._] Yes, yes, yes! + +PHILIP. I saw how much it shocked your delicacy. + +CYNTHIA. [_Distressed and moved._] Outrageous. + + [PHILIP _sits down._ + +PHILIP. Do be seated, Cynthia. [_Taking up the paper. Quietly._] Very +odd sort of an Englishman--that Cates-Darby! + +CYNTHIA. Sir Wilfrid?--Oh, yes! [PHILIP _settles down to the paper. To +herself._] Outrageous! I've a great mind to go at eleven--just as I +said I would! + +PHILIP. Do sit down, Cynthia! + +CYNTHIA. What? What? + +PHILIP. You make me so nervous-- + +CYNTHIA. Sorry--sorry. [_She sits down and, seeing the paper, takes +it, looking at the picture of_ JOHN KARSLAKE. + +PHILIP. [_Sighing with content._] Ah! now that I see him, I don't +wonder you couldn't stand him. There's a kind of--ah--spontaneous +inebriety about him. He is incomprehensible! If I might with reverence +cross-question the Creator, I would say to him: "Sir, to what end or +purpose did you create Mr. John Karslake?" I believe I should obtain +no adequate answer! However, [_Sighs._] at last we have peace--and +_The Post_! [PHILIP, _settling himself, reads his paper;_ CYNTHIA, +_glancing at her paper, occasionally looks across at_ PHILIP.] Forget +the dust of the arena--the prolixity of counsel--the involuntary +fatuity of things in general. [_After a pause, he goes on with his +reading._] Compose yourself! + + MISS HENEAGE, MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ GRACE _come in._ CYNTHIA + _sighs without letting her sigh be heard. She tries to + compose herself. She glances at the paper and then, hearing_ + MISS HENEAGE, _starts slightly._ MISS HENEAGE _and_ MRS. + PHILLIMORE _stop at the table._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Carrying a sheet of paper._] There, my dear Mary, is +the announcement as I have now reworded it. I took William's +suggestion. [MRS. PHILLIMORE _takes and casually reads it._] I also +put the case to him, and he was of the opinion that the announcement +should be sent _only_ to those people who are really _in_ society. +[_She sits near the table._ CYNTHIA _braces herself to bear the_ +PHILLIMORE _conversation._ + +GRACE. I wish you'd make an exception of the Dudleys. + + [CYNTHIA _rises and moves to the chair by the table._ + +MISS HENEAGE. And, of course, that excludes the Oppenheims--the +Vance-Browns. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. It's just as well to be exclusive. + +GRACE. I do wish you'd make an exception of Lena Dudley. + +MISS HENEAGE. We might, of course, include those new Girardos, and +possibly--possibly the Paddingtons. + +GRACE. I do wish you would take in Lena Dudley. + + [_They are now sitting._ + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. The mother Dudley is as common as a charwoman, and +not nearly as clean. + +PHILIP. [_Sighing, his own feelings, as usual, to the fore._] Ah! I +certainly am fatigued! + + CYNTHIA _begins to slowly crush the newspaper she has been + reading with both hands, as if the effort of self-repression + were too much for her._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Making the best of a gloomy future._] We shall have to +ask the Dudleys sooner or later to dine, Mary--because of the elder +girl's marriage to that dissolute French Marquis. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Plaintively._] I don't like common people any more +than I like common cats, and of course in my time-- + +MISS HENEAGE. I think I shall include the Dudleys. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. You think you'll include the Dudleys? + +MISS HENEAGE. Yes, I think I will include the Dudleys! + + _Here_ CYNTHIA'S _control breaks down. Driven desperate by + their chatter, she has slowly rolled her newspaper into a + ball, and at this point tosses it violently to the floor and + bursts into hysterical laughter._ + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. Why, my dear Cynthia--Compose yourself. + +PHILIP. [_Hastily._] What is the matter, Cynthia? + + [_They speak together._ + +MISS HENEAGE. Why, Mrs. Karslake, what is the matter? + +GRACE. [_Coming quickly forward._] Mrs. Karslake! + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II. + + SCENE. MRS. VIDA PHILLIMORE'S _boudoir. The room is furnished + to please an empty-headed, pleasure-loving and fashionable + woman. The furniture, the ornaments, what pictures there are, + all witness to taste up-to-date. Two French windows open on + to a balcony, from which the trees of Central Park can be + seen. There is a table between them; a mirror, a scent + bottle, &c., upon it. On the right, up stage, is a door; on + the right, down stage, another door. A lady's writing-table + stands between the two, nearer centre of stage. There is + another door up stage; below it, an open fireplace, filled + with potted plants, andirons, &c., not in use. Over it is a + tall mirror; on the mantel-piece are a French clock, + candelabra, vases, &c. On a line with the fireplace is a + lounge, gay with silk pillows. A florist's box, large and + long, filled with American Beauty roses, rests on a low table + near the head of the lounge. Small tables and light chairs + where needed._ + + BENSON, _alone in the room, is looking critically about her. + She is a neat and pretty little English lady's maid in black + silk and a thin apron. Still surveying the room, she moves + here and there, and, her eyes lighting on the box of flowers, + she goes to the door of_ VIDA'S _room and speaks to her._ + +BENSON. Yes, ma'am, the flowers have come. + + _She holds open the door through which_ VIDA, _in a morning + gown, comes in slowly. She is smoking a cigarette in as + aesthetic a manner as she can, and is evidently turned out in + her best style for conquest._ + +VIDA. [_Faces the balcony as she speaks, and is, as always, even and +civil, but a bit disdainful toward her servant._] Terribly garish +light, Benson. Pull down the-- [BENSON, _obeying, partly pulls down +the shade._] Lower still--that will do. [_As she speaks she goes about +the room, giving the tables a push here and the chairs a jerk there, +and generally arranging the vases and ornaments._] Men hate a clutter +of chairs and tables. [_Stopping and taking up a hand mirror from the +table, she faces the windows._] I really think I'm too pale for this +light. + +BENSON. [_Quickly, understanding what is implied._] Yes, ma'am. +[BENSON _goes out for the rouge, and_ VIDA _seats herself at the +table. There is a knock at the door._] Come! [BROOKS _comes in._ + +BROOKS. [_An ultra-English footman, in plush and calves._] Any +horders, m'lady? + +VIDA. [_Incapable of remembering the last man, or of considering the +new one._] Oh,--of course! You're the new-- + +BROOKS. Footman, m'lady. + +VIDA. [_As a matter of form._] Your name? + +BROOKS. Brooks, m'lady. [BENSON _returns with the rouge._ + +VIDA. [_Carefully giving instructions while she keeps her eyes on the +glass and is rouged by_ BENSON.] Brooks, I am at home to Mr. Karslake +at eleven; not to any one else till twelve, when I expect Sir Wilfrid +Cates-Darby. + + [BROOKS, _watching_ BENSON, _is inattentive._ + +BROOKS. Yes, m'lady. + +VIDA. [_Calm, but wearied by the ignorance of the lower classes._] And +I regret to inform you, Brooks, that in America there are no ladies, +except salesladies! + +BROOKS. [_Without a trace of comprehension._] Yes, m'lady. + +VIDA. I am at home to no one but the two names I have mentioned. +[BROOKS _bows and exits. She dabs on rouge while_ BENSON _holds +glass._] Is the men's club-room in order? + +BENSON. Perfectly, ma'am. + +VIDA. Whiskey and soda? + +BENSON. Yes, ma'am, and the ticker's been mended. The British sporting +papers arrived this morning. + +VIDA. [_Looking at her watch which lies on the dressing-table._] My +watch has stopped. + +BENSON. [_Glancing at the French clock on the chimney-piece._] Five to +eleven, ma'am. + +VIDA. [_Getting promptly to work._] H'm, h'm, I shall be caught. +[_Rising._] The box of roses, Benson! [BENSON _brings the box of +roses, uncovers the flowers and places them at_ VIDA'S _side._] My +gloves--the clippers, and the vase! [_Each of these things_ BENSON +_places in turn within_ VIDA'S _range where she sits on the sofa. She +has the long box of roses at her side on a small table, a vase of +water on the floor by her side. She cuts the stems and places the +roses in the vase. When she feels that she has reached a picturesque +position, in which any onlooker would see in her a creature filled +with the love of flowers and of her fellow man, she says:_] There! +[_The door opens and_ BROOKS _comes in;_ VIDA _nods to_ BENSON. + +BROOKS. [_Announcing stolidly._] Sir John Karslake. + + JOHN, _dressed in very nobby riding togs, comes in gaily and + forcibly._ BENSON _withdraws as he enters, and is followed + by_ BROOKS. VIDA, _from this moment on, is busied with her + roses._ + +VIDA. [_Languorously, but with a faint suggestion of humour._] Is that +really you, Sir John? + +JOHN. [_Lively and far from being impressed by_ VIDA.] I see now where +we Americans are going to get our titles. Good-morning! You look as +fresh as paint. [_He lays his gloves and riding crop on the table, and +takes a chair._ + +VIDA. [_Facing the insinuation with gentle pain._] I hope you don't +mean that? I never flattered myself for a moment you'd come. You're +riding Cynthia K? + +JOHN. Fiddler's going to lead her round here in ten minutes! + +VIDA. Cigars and cigarettes! Scotch? + + [_Indicating a small table._ + +JOHN. Scotch! [_Goes up quickly to table and helps himself to Scotch +and seltzer._ + +VIDA. And now _do_ tell me all about _her_! [_Putting in her last +roses; she keeps one rosebud in her hand, of a size suitable for a +man's buttonhole._ + +JOHN. [_As he drinks._] Oh, she's an adorable creature--delicate, +high-bred, sweet-tempered-- + +VIDA. [_Showing her claws for a moment._] Sweet-tempered? Oh, you're +describing the horse! By "her," I meant-- + +JOHN. [_Irritated by the remembrance of his wife._] Cynthia Karslake? +I'd rather talk about the last Tornado. + + [_He drops moodily into a chair._ + +VIDA. [_With artful soothing._] There is only one thing I want to talk +about, and that is, _you_! Why were you unhappy? + +JOHN. [_Still cross._] Why does a dollar last such a short time? + +VIDA. [_Curious._] Why did you part? + +JOHN. Did you ever see a schooner towed by a tug? Well, I parted from +Cynthia for the same reason that the hawser parts from the tug--I +couldn't stand the tug. + +VIDA. [_Sympathizing._] Ah! + +JOHN. [_After a pause, and still cross._] Awful cheerful morning chat. + +VIDA. [_Excusing her curiosity and coming back to love as the only +subject for serious conversation._] I must hear the story, for I'm +anxious to know why I've taken such a fancy to you! + +JOHN. [_Very nonchalantly._] Why do _I_ like you? + +VIDA. [_Doing her best to charm._] I won't tell you--it would flatter +you too much. + +JOHN. [_Not a bit impressed by_ VIDA, _but humanly ready to flirt._] +Tell me! + +VIDA. There's a rose for you. + + [_Giving him the one she has in her hand._ + +JOHN. [_Saying what is plainly expected of him._] I want more than a +rose-- + +VIDA. [_Passing over this insinuation._] You refuse to tell me--? + +JOHN. [_Once more reminded of_ CYNTHIA, _speaks with sudden feeling._] +There's nothing to tell. We met, we loved, we married, we parted; or +at least we wrangled and jangled. [_Sighs._] Ha! Why weren't we happy? +Don't ask me, why! It may have been _partly_ my fault! + +VIDA. [_With tenderness._] Never! + +JOHN. [_His mind on_ CYNTHIA.] But I believe it's all in the way a +girl's brought up. Our girls are brought up to be ignorant of +life--they're ignorant of life. Life is a joke, and marriage is a +picnic, and a man is a shawl-strap--'Pon my soul, Cynthia Deane--no, +I can't tell you! [_In great irritation, he rises abruptly, and +strides up and down the room._ + +VIDA. [_Gently._] Please tell me! + +JOHN. Well, she was an heiress, an American heiress--and she'd been +taught to think marriage meant burnt almonds and moonshine and a yacht +and three automobiles, and she thought--I don't know what she thought, +but I tell you, Mrs. Phillimore, marriage is three parts love and +seven parts forgiveness of sins. [_He continues restlessly to pace the +floor as he speaks of_ CYNTHIA. + +VIDA. [_Flattering him as a matter of second nature._] She never loved +you. + +JOHN. [_On whom she has made no impression at all._] Yes, she did. For +six or seven months there was not a shadow between us. It was perfect, +and then one day she went off like a pistol-shot! I had a piece of law +work and couldn't take her to see Flashlight race the Maryland mare. +The case meant a big fee, big Kudos, and in sails Cynthia, +Flashlight-mad! And will I put on my hat and take her? No--and bang +she goes off like a stick o' dynamite--what did I marry her for?--and +words--pretty high words, until she got mad, when she threw over a +chair, and said, oh, well,--marriage was a failure, or it was with +me, so I said she'd better try somebody else. She said she would, and +marched out of the room. + +VIDA. [_Gently sarcastic._] But she came back! + +JOHN. She came back, but not as you mean. She stood at the door and +said, "Jack, I shall divorce you." Then she came over to my +study-table, dropped her wedding ring on my law papers, and went out. +The door shut, I laughed; the front door slammed, I damned. [_After a +silence, moving abruptly to the window._] She never came back. [_He +turns away and then, recovering, moves toward_ VIDA, _who catches his +hands._ + +VIDA. [_Hoping for a contradiction._] She's broken your heart. + +JOHN. [_Taking a chair by the lounge._] Oh, no! + +VIDA. [_Encouraged, begins to play the game again._] You'll never love +again! + +JOHN. [_Speaking to her from the foot of the sofa._] Try me! Try me! +Ah, no, Mrs. Phillimore, I shall laugh, live, love and make money +again! And let me tell you one thing--I'm going to rap her one over +the knuckles. She had a stick of a Connecticut lawyer, and he--well, +to cut a legal story short, since Mrs. Karslake's been in Europe, I +have been quietly testing the validity of the decree of divorce. +Perhaps you don't understand? + +VIDA. [_Displaying her innate shrewdness._] Oh, about a divorce, +everything! + +JOHN. I shall hear by this evening whether the divorce will stand or +not. + +VIDA. But it's to-day at three she marries--you won't let her commit +bigamy? + +JOHN. [_Shaking his head._] I don't suppose I'd go as far as that. It +may be the divorce will hold, but anyway I hope never to see her +again. + + [_He sits down beside her so that their faces are now + directly opposite. Taking advantage of the close range, her + eyes, without loss of time, open a direct fire._ + +VIDA. Ah, my poor boy, she has broken your heart. [_Believing that +this is her psychological moment, she lays her hand on his arm, but +draws it back as soon as he attempts to take it._] Now don't make love +to me. + +JOHN. [_Bold and amused, but never taken in._] Why not? + +VIDA. [_With immense gentleness._] Because I like you too much! [_More +gaily._] I might give in, and take a notion to like you still more! + +JOHN. Please do! + +VIDA. [_With gush, and determined to be womanly at all hazards._] +Jack, I believe you'd be a lovely lover! + +JOHN. [_Immensely diverted._] Try me! + +VIDA. [_Not hoping much from his tone._] You charming, tempting, +delightful fellow, I could love you without the least effort in the +world,--but, no! + +JOHN. [_Playing the game._] Ah, well, now _seriously!_ Between two +people who have _suffered_ and made their own mistakes-- + +VIDA. [_Playing the game too, but not playing it well._] But you see, +you don't _really_ love me! + +JOHN. [_Still ready to say what is expected._] Cynthia--Vida, no man +can sit beside you and look into your eyes without feeling-- + +VIDA. [_Speaking the truth as she sees it, seeing that her methods +don't succeed._] Oh! That's not love! That's simply--well, my dear +Jack, it's beginning at the wrong end. And the truth is you hate +Cynthia Karslake with such a whole-hearted hate, that you haven't a +moment to think of any other woman. + +JOHN. [_With sudden anger._] I hate her! + +VIDA. [_Very softly and most sweetly._] Jack--Jack, I could be as +foolish about you as--oh, as foolish as anything, my dear! And perhaps +some day--perhaps some day you'll come to me and say, Vida, I am +totally indifferent to Cynthia--and then-- + +JOHN. And then? + +VIDA. [_The ideal woman in mind._] Then, perhaps, you and I may join +hands and stroll together into the Garden of Eden. It takes two to +find the Garden of Eden, you know--and once we're on the inside, we'll +lock the gate. + +JOHN. [_Gaily, and seeing straight through her veneer._] And lose the +key under a rose-bush! + +VIDA. [_Agreeing very softly._] Under a rose-bush! [_There is a very +soft knock at which_ JOHN _starts up quickly._] Come! [BROOKS _comes +in, with_ BENSON _close at his heels._ + +BROOKS. [_Stolid, announces._] My lady--Sir Wilf-- [BENSON _stops him +with a sharp movement and turns toward_ VIDA. + +BENSON. [_With intention._] Your dressmaker, ma'am. [BENSON _waves_ +BROOKS _to go and_ BROOKS _very haughtily complies._ + +VIDA. [_Wonderingly._] My dressmaker, Benson? [_With quick +intelligence._] Oh, of course, show her up. Mr. Karslake, you won't +mind for a few minutes using my men's club-room? Benson will show +you! You'll find cigars and the ticker, sporting papers, whiskey; and, +if you want anything special, just 'phone down to my "chef." + +JOHN. [_Looking at his watch._] How long? + +VIDA. [_Very anxious to please._] Half a cigar! Benson will call you. + +JOHN. [_Practically-minded._] Don't make it too long. You see, there's +my sheriff's sale on at twelve, and those races this afternoon. +Fiddler will be here in ten minutes, remember! + + [_The door opens._ + +VIDA. [_To_ JOHN.] Run along! [JOHN _leaves and_ VIDA, _instantly +practical, makes a broad gesture to_ BENSON.] Everything just as it +was, Benson! [BENSON _whisks the roses out of the vase and replaces +them in the box. She gives_ VIDA _scissors and empty vases, and, when_ +VIDA _finds herself in precisely the same position which preceded_ +JOHN'S _entrance, she says:_] There! + + [BROOKS _comes in as_ VIDA _takes a rose from basket._ + +BROOKS. [_With characteristic stolidness._] Your ladyship's +dressmaker! M'lady! [_Enter_ SIR WILFRID _in morning suit, +boutonniere, &c._ + +VIDA. [_With tender surprise and busy with the roses._] Is that really +you, Sir Wilfrid! I never flattered myself for an instant that you'd +remember to come. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Moving to the head of the sofa._] Come? 'Course I come! +Keen to come see you. By Jove, you know, you look as pink and white as +a huntin' mornin'. + +VIDA. [_Ready to make any man as happy as possible._] You'll smoke? + +SIR WILFRID. Thanks! [_He watches her as she trims and arranges the +flowers._] Awfully long fingers you have! Wish I was a rose, or a +ring, or a pair of shears! I say, d'you ever notice what a devil of a +fellow I am for originality, what? [_Unlike_ JOHN, _is evidently +impressed by her._] You've got a delicate little den up here! Not so +much low livin' and high thinkin', as low lights and no thinkin' at +all, I hope--eh? + + [_By this time_, VIDA _has filled a vase with roses and rises + to sweep by him and, if possible, make another charming + picture to his eyes._ + +VIDA. [_Gliding gracefully past him._] You don't mind my moving about? + +SIR WILFRID. [_Impressed._] Not if you don't mind my watchin'. +[_Sitting down on the sofa._] And sayin' how wel you do it. + +VIDA. It's most original of you to come here this morning. I don't +quite see why you did. + + _She places the roses here and there, as if to see their + effect, and leaves them on a small table near the door + through which her visitors entered._ + +SIR WILFRID. Admiration. + +VIDA. [_Sauntering slowly toward the mirror as she speaks._] Oh, I saw +that you admired her! And of course, she did say she was coming here +at eleven! But that was only bravado! She won't come, and besides, +I've given orders to admit no one! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Attempting to dam the stream of her talk which flows +gently but steadily on._] May I ask you-- + +VIDA. And, indeed, if she came now, Mr. Karslake has gone, and her +sole object in coming was to make him uncomfortable. [_She moves +toward the table, stopping a half minute at the mirror to see that she +looks as she wishes to look._] Very dangerous symptom, too, that +passionate desire to make one's former husband unhappy! But, I can't +believe that your admiration for Cynthia Karslake is so warm that it +led you to pay me this visit a half hour too early in the hope of +seeing-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_Rising; most civil, but speaking his mind like a +Briton._] I say, would you mind stopping a moment! [_She smiles._] I'm +not an American, you know; I was brought up not to interrupt. But you +Americans, it's different with you! If somebody didn't interrupt you, +you'd go on forever. + +VIDA. [_Passing him to tantalize._] My point is you come to see +Cynthia-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_Believing she means it._] I came hopin' to see-- + +VIDA. [_Provokingly._] Cynthia! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Perfectly single-minded and entirely taken in._] But I +would have come even if I'd known-- + +VIDA. [_Evading him, while he follows._] I don't believe it! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Protesting whole-heartedly._] Give you my word I-- + +VIDA. [_Leading him on._] You're here to see _her_! And of course-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_Determined to be heard because, after all, he's a +man._] May I have the--eh--the floor? [VIDA _sits down in a chair._] I +was jolly well bowled over with Mrs. Karslake, I admit that, and I +hoped to see her here, but-- + +VIDA. [_Talking nonsense and knowing it._] You had another object in +coming. In fact, you came to see Cynthia, and you came to see me! What +I really long to know is, why you wanted to see _me_! For, of course, +Cynthia's to be married at three! And, if she wasn't she wouldn't have +you! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Not intending to wound; merely speaking the flat +truth._] Well, I mean to jolly well ask her. + +VIDA. [_Indignant._] To be your wife? + +SIR WILFRID. Why not? + +VIDA. [_Still indignant._] And you came here, to my house--in order to +ask her-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_Truthful even on a subtle point._] Oh, but that's only +my first reason for coming, you know. + +VIDA. [_Concealing her hopes._] Well, now I _am_ curious--what is the +second? + +SIR WILFRID. [_Simply._] Are you feelin' pretty robust? + +VIDA. I don't know! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Crosses to the buffet._] Will you have something, and +then I'll tell you! + +VIDA. [_Gaily._] Can't I support the news without-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_Trying to explain his state of mind, a feat which he +has never been able to accomplish._] Mrs. Phillimore, you see it's +this way. Whenever you're lucky, you're too lucky. Now, Mrs. Karslake +is a nipper and no mistake, but as I told you, the very same evenin' +and house where I saw her-- + + [_He attempts to take her hand._ + +VIDA. [_Gently rising and affecting a tender surprise._] What! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Rising with her._] That's it!--You're over! [_He +suggests with his right hand the movement of a horse taking a hurdle._ + +VIDA. [_Very sweetly._] You don't really mean-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_Carried away for the moment by so much true +womanliness._] I mean, I stayed awake for an hour last night, thinkin' +about you. + +VIDA. [_Speaking to be contradicted._] But, you've just told me--that +Cynthia-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_Admitting the fact._] Well, she did--she did bowl my +wicket, but so did you-- + +VIDA. [_Taking him very gently to task._] Don't you think there's a +limit to-- [_She sits down._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_Roused by so much loveliness of soul._] Now, see here, +Mrs. Phillimore! You and I are not bottle babies, eh, are we? You've +been married and--I--I've knocked about, and we both know there's a +lot of stuff talked about--eh, eh, well, you know:--the one and +only--that a fellow can't be awfully well smashed by two at the same +time, don't you know! All rubbish! You know it, and the proof of the +puddin's in the eatin', I am! + +VIDA. [_With gentle reproach._] May I ask where I come in? + +SIR WILFRID. Well, now, Mrs. Phillimore, I'll be frank with you, +Cynthia's my favourite, but you're runnin' her a close second in the +popular esteem! + +VIDA. [_Laughing, determined not to take offense._] What a delightful, +original, fantastic person you are! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Frankly happy that he has explained everything so +neatly._] I knew you'd take it that way! + +VIDA. And what next, pray? + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, just the usual,--eh,--thing,--the--eh--the same old +question, don't you know. Will you have me if she don't? + +VIDA. [_A shade piqued, but determined not to risk showing it._] And +you call that the same old usual question? + +SIR WILFRID. Yes, I know, but--but will you? I sail in a week; we can +take the same boat. And--eh--eh--my dear Mrs.--mayn't I say Vida, I'd +like to see you at the head of my table. + +VIDA. [_With velvet irony._] With Cynthia at the foot? + +SIR WILFRID. [_Practical, as before._] Never mind Mrs. Karslake,--I +admire her--she's--but you have your own points! And you're here, and +so'm I!--damme I offer myself, and my affections, and I'm no icicle, +my dear, tell you that for a fact, and,--and in fact what's your +answer!-- [VIDA _sighs and shakes her head._] Make it, yes! I say, you +know, my dear Vida-- + + [_He catches her hands._ + +VIDA. [_Drawing them from his._] Unhand me, dear villain! And sit +further away from your second choice! What can I say? I'd rather have +_you_ for a lover than any man I know! You must be a lovely lover! + +SIR WILFRID. I am! + + [_He makes a second effort to catch her fingers._ + +VIDA. Will you kindly go further away and be good! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Quite forgetting_ CYNTHIA.] Look here, if you say yes, +we'll be married-- + +VIDA. In a month! + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, no--this evening! + +VIDA. [_Incapable of leaving a situation unadorned._] This evening! +And sail in the same boat with _you_? And shall we sail to the Garden +of Eden and stroll into it and lock the gate on the inside and then +lose the key--under a rose-bush? + +SIR WILFRID. [_After a pause and some consideration._] Yes; yes, I +say--that's too clever for me! [_He draws nearer to her to bring the +understanding to a crisis._ + +VIDA. [_Interrupted by a soft knock._] My maid--come! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Swinging out of his chair and moving to the sofa._] Eh? + +BENSON. [_Coming in and approaching_ VIDA.] The new footman, +ma'am--he's made a mistake. He's told the lady you're at home. + +VIDA. What lady? + +BENSON. Mrs. Karslake; and she's on the stairs, ma'am. + +VIDA. Show her in. + + SIR WILFRID _has been turning over the roses. On hearing + this, he faces about with a long stemmed one in his hand. He + subsequently uses it to point his remarks._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_To_ BENSON, _who stops._] One moment! [_To_ VIDA.] I +say, eh--I'd rather not see her! + +VIDA. [_Very innocently._] But you came here to see her. + +SIR WILFRID. [_A little flustered._] I'd rather not. Eh,--I fancied +I'd find you and her together--but her-- [_Coming a step nearer._] +findin' me with you looks so dooced intimate,--no one else, d'ye see, +I believe she'd--draw conclusions-- + +BENSON. Pardon me, ma'am--but I hear Brooks coming! + +SIR WILFRID. [_To_ BENSON.] Hold the door! + +VIDA. So you don't want her to know--? + +SIR WILFRID. [_To_ VIDA.] Be a good girl now--run me off somewhere! + +VIDA. [_To_ BENSON.] Show Sir Wilfrid the men's room. + + [BROOKS _comes in._ + +SIR WILFRID. The men's room! Ah! Oh! Eh! + +VIDA. [_Beckoning him to go at once._] Sir Wil-- [_He hesitates; then +as_ BROOKS _advances, he flings off with_ BENSON. + +BROOKS. Lady Karslake, milady! + +VIDA. Anything more inopportune! I never dreamed she'd come-- [CYNTHIA +_comes in veiled. As she walks quickly into the room_, VIDA _greets +her languorously._] My dear Cynthia, you don't mean to say-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Rather short, and visibly agitated._] Yes, I've come. + +VIDA. [_Polite, but not urgent._] Do take off your veil. + +CYNTHIA. [_Complying._] Is no one here? + +VIDA. [_As before._] Won't you sit down? + +CYNTHIA. [_Agitated and suspicious._] Thanks, no--That is, yes, +thanks. Yes! You haven't answered my question? + + [CYNTHIA _waves her hand through the haze; glances + suspiciously at the smoke, and looks about for the + cigarette._ + +VIDA. [_Playing innocence in the first degree._] My dear, what makes +you imagine that any one's here! + +CYNTHIA. You've been smoking. + +VIDA. Oh, puffing away! [CYNTHIA _sees the glasses._ + +CYNTHIA. And drinking--a pair of drinks? [_Her eyes lighting on_ +JOHN'S _gloves on the table at her elbow._] Do they fit you, dear? +[VIDA _smiles;_ CYNTHIA _picks up the crop and looks at it and reads +her own name._] "Jack, from Cynthia." + +VIDA. [_Without taking the trouble to double for a mere woman._] Yes, +dear; it's Mr. Karslake's crop, but I'm happy to say he left me a few +minutes ago. + +CYNTHIA. He left the house? [VIDA _smiles._] I wanted to see him. + +VIDA. [_With a shade of insolence._] To quarrel? + +CYNTHIA. [_Frank and curt._] I wanted to see him. + +VIDA. [_Determined to put_ CYNTHIA _in the wrong._] And I sent him +away because I didn't want you to repeat the scene of last night in my +house. + +CYNTHIA. [_Looks at crop and is silent._] Well, I can't stay. I'm to +be married at three, and I had to play truant to get here! + + [BENSON _comes in._ + +BENSON. [_To_ VIDA.] There's a person, ma'am, on the sidewalk. + +VIDA. What person, Benson? + +BENSON. A person, ma'am, with a horse. + +CYNTHIA. [_Happily agitated._] It's Fiddler with Cynthia K! + + [_She walks rapidly to the window and looks out._ + +VIDA. [_To_ BENSON.] Tell the man I'll be down in five minutes. + +CYNTHIA. [_Looking down from the balcony with delight._] Oh, there she +is! + +VIDA. [_Aside to_ BENSON.] Go to the club-room, Benson, and say to the +two gentlemen I can't see them at present--I'll send for them when-- + +BENSON. [_Listening._] I hear some one coming. + +VIDA. Quick! [BENSON _leaves the door which opens and_ JOHN _comes in +slowly, carelessly._ VIDA _whispers to_ BENSON. + +BENSON. [_Moving close to_ JOHN _and whispering._] Beg par-- + +VIDA. [_Under her breath._] Go back! + +JOHN. [_Not understanding._] I beg pardon! + +VIDA. [_Scarcely above a whisper._] Go back! + +JOHN. [_Dense._] Can't! I've a date! With the sheriff! + +VIDA. [_A little cross._] Please use your eyes. + +JOHN. [_Laughing and flattering_ VIDA.] I am using my eyes. + +VIDA. [_Fretted._] Don't you see there's a lovely creature in the +room? + +JOHN. [_Not knowing what it is all about, but taking a wicked delight +in seeing her customary calm ruffled._] Of course there is. + +VIDA. Hush! + +JOHN. [_Teasingly._] But what I want to know is-- + +VIDA. Hush! + +JOHN. [_Enjoying his fun._] --is when we're to stroll in the Garden of +Eden-- + +VIDA. Hush! + +JOHN. --and lose the key. [_To put a stop to this, she lightly tosses +her handkerchief into his face._] By George, talk about attar of +roses! + +CYNTHIA. [_At window, excited and moved at seeing her mare once +more._] Oh, she's a darling! [_Turning._] A perfect darling! [JOHN +_starts up; he sees_ CYNTHIA _at the same instant that she sees him._] +Oh! I didn't know you were here. [_After a pause, with +"take-it-or-leave-it" frankness._] I came to see _you_! [JOHN _looks +extremely dark and angry;_ VIDA _rises._ + +VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA, _most gently, and seeing there's nothing to be +gained of_ JOHN.] Oh, pray feel at home, Cynthia, dear! [_Stopping by +the door to her bedroom; to_ JOHN.] When I've a nice street frock on, +I'll ask you to present me to Cynthia K. [VIDA _opens the door and +goes out._ CYNTHIA _and_ JOHN _involuntarily exchange glances._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Agitated and frank._] Of course, I told you yesterday I was +coming here. + +JOHN. [_Irritated._] And I was to deny myself the privilege of being +here? + +CYNTHIA. [_Curt and agitated._] Yes. + +JOHN. [_Ready to fight._] And you guessed I would do that? + +CYNTHIA. No. + +JOHN. What? + +CYNTHIA. [_Speaks with agitation, frankness and good will._] Jack--I +mean, Mr. Karslake,--no, I mean, Jack! I came because--well, you see, +it's my wedding day!--and--and--I--I--was rude to you last evening. +I'd like to apologize and make peace with you before I go-- + +JOHN. [_Determined to be disagreeable._] Before you go to your last, +long home! + +CYNTHIA. I came to apologize. + +JOHN. But you'll remain to quarrel! + +CYNTHIA. [_Still frank and kind._] I will not quarrel. No!--and I'm +only here for a moment. I'm to be married at three, and just look at +the clock! Besides, I told Philip I was going to Louise's shop, and I +did--on the way here; but, you see, if I stay too long he'll telephone +Louise and find I'm not there, and he might guess I was here. So you +see I'm risking a scandal. And now, Jack, see here, I lay my hand on +the table, I'm here on the square, and,--what I want to say is, +why--Jack, even if we have made a mess of our married life, let's put +by anger and pride. It's all over now and can't be helped. So let's be +human, let's be reasonable, and let's be kind to each other! Won't you +give me your hand? [JOHN _refuses._] I wish you every happiness! + +JOHN. [_Turning away, the past rankling._] I had a client once, a +murderer; he told me he murdered the man, and he told me, too, that he +never felt so kindly to anybody as he did to that man after he'd +killed him! + +CYNTHIA. Jack! + +JOHN. [_Unforgiving._] You murdered my happiness! + +CYNTHIA. I won't recriminate! + +JOHN. And now I must put by anger and pride! I do! But not +self-respect, not a just indignation--not the facts and my clear +memory of them! + +CYNTHIA. Jack! + +JOHN. No! + +CYNTHIA. [_With growing emotion, and holding out her hand._] I give +you one more chance! Yes, I'm determined to be generous. I forgive +everything you ever did to me. I'm ready to be friends. I wish you +every happiness and every--every--horse in the world! I can't do more +than that! [_She offers it again._] You refuse? + +JOHN. [_Moved but surly._] I like wildcats and I like Christians, but +I don't like Christian wildcats! Now I'm close hauled, trot out your +tornado! Let the Tiger loose! It's the tamer, the man in the cage that +has to look lively and use the red hot crowbar! But, by Jove, I'm out +of the cage! I'm a mere spectator of the married circus! [_He puffs +vigorously._ + +CYNTHIA. Be a game sport then! Our marriage was a wager; you wagered +you could live with me. You lost; you paid with a divorce; and now is +the time to show your sporting blood. Come on, shake hands and part +friends. + +JOHN. Not in this world! Friends with you, no! I have a proper pride. +I don't propose to put my pride in my pocket. + +CYNTHIA. [_Jealous and plain spoken._] Oh, I wouldn't ask you to put +your pride in your pocket while Vida's handkerchief is there. [JOHN +_looks angered._] Pretty little bijou of a handkerchief! [_Pulling out +the handkerchief._] And she is charming, and divorced, and reasonably +well made up. + +JOHN. Oh, well, Vida is a woman. [_Toying with the handkerchief._] I'm +a man, a handkerchief is a handkerchief, and, as some old Aristotle or +other said, whatever concerns a woman, concerns me! + +CYNTHIA. [_Not oblivious of him, but in a low voice._] Insufferable! +Well, yes. [_She sits down. She is too much wounded to make any +further appeal._] You're perfectly right. There's no possible harmony +between divorced people! I withdraw my hand and all good feeling. No +wonder I couldn't stand you. Eh? However, that's pleasantly past! But +at least, my dear Karslake, let us have some sort of beauty behaviour! +If we cannot be decent, let us endeavour to be graceful. If we can't +be moral, at least we can avoid being vulgar. + +JOHN. Well-- + +CYNTHIA. If there's to be no more marriage in the world-- + +JOHN. [_Cynically._] Oh, but that's not it; there's to be more and +more and more! + +CYNTHIA. [_With a touch of bitterness._] Very well! I repeat then, if +there's to be nothing but marriage and divorce, and re-marriage, and +re-divorce, at least, at least, those who _are_ divorced can avoid the +vulgarity of meeting each other here, there, and everywhere! + +JOHN. Oh, that's where you come out! + +CYNTHIA. I thought so yesterday, and to-day I know it. It's an +insufferable thing to a woman of any delicacy of feeling to find her +husband-- + +JOHN. Ahem--former! + +CYNTHIA. _Once_ a husband always-- + +JOHN. [_In the same cynical tone._] Oh, no! Oh, dear, no. + +CYNTHIA. To find her--to find the man she has once lived with--in the +house of--making love to--to find you here! [JOHN _smiles and rises._] +You smile,--but I say, it should be a social axiom, no woman should +have to meet her former husband. + +JOHN. [_Cynical and cutting._] Oh, I don't know; after I've served my +term I don't mind meeting my jailor. + +CYNTHIA. [_As_ JOHN _takes chair near her._] It's indecent--at the +horse-show, the opera, at races and balls, to meet the man who +once--It's not civilized! It's fantastic! It's half baked! Oh, I never +should have come here! [_He sympathizes, and she grows irrational and +furious._] But it's entirely your fault! + +JOHN. My fault? + +CYNTHIA. [_Working herself into a rage._] Of course. What business +have you to be about--to be at large. To be at all! + +JOHN. Gosh! + +CYNTHIA. [_Her rage increasing._] To be where I am! Yes, it's just as +horrible for you to turn up in my life as it would be for a dead +person to insist on coming back to life and dinner and bridge! + +JOHN. Horrid idea! + +CYNTHIA. Yes, but it's _you_ who behave just as if you were not dead, +just as if I'd not spent a fortune on your funeral. You do; you +prepare to bob up at afternoon teas,--and dinners--and embarrass me to +death with your extinct personality! + +JOHN. Well, of course we _were_ married, but it didn't quite kill me. + +CYNTHIA. [_Angry and plain spoken._] You killed yourself for me--I +divorced you. I buried you out of my life. If any human soul was ever +dead, you are! And there's nothing I so hate as a gibbering ghost. + +JOHN. Oh, I say! + +CYNTHIA. [_With hot anger._] Go gibber and squeak where gibbering and +squeaking are the fashion! + +JOHN. [_Laughing and pretending to a coldness he does not feel._] And +so, my dear child, I'm to abate myself as a nuisance! Well, as far as +seeing you is concerned, for my part it's just like seeing a horse +who's chucked you once. The bruises are O. K., and you see him with a +sort of easy curiosity. Of course, you know, he'll jolly well chuck +the next man!--Permit me! [JOHN _picks up her gloves, handkerchief and +parasol, and gives her these as she drops them one by one in her +agitation._] There's pleasure in the thought. + +CYNTHIA. Oh! + +JOHN. And now, may I ask you a very simple question? Mere curiosity on +my part, but, why did you come here this morning? + +CYNTHIA. I have already explained that to you. + +JOHN. Not your real motive. Permit me! + +CYNTHIA. Oh! + +JOHN. But I believe I have guessed your real--permit me--your real +motive! + +CYNTHIA. Oh! + +JOHN. [_With mock sympathy._] Cynthia, I am sorry for you. + +CYNTHIA. H'm? + +JOHN. Of course we had a pretty lively case of the fever--the mutual +attraction fever, and we _were_ married a very short time. And I +conclude that's what's the matter with _you_! You see, my dear, seven +months of married life is too short a time to cure a bad case of the +fancies. + +CYNTHIA. [_In angry surprise._] What? + +JOHN. [_Calm and triumphant._] That's my diagnosis. + +CYNTHIA. [_Slowly and gathering herself together._] I don't think I +understand. + +JOHN. Oh, yes, you do; yes, you do. + +CYNTHIA. [_With blazing eyes._] What do you mean? + +JOHN. Would you mind not breaking my crop! Thank you! I mean [_With +polite impertinence._] that ours was a case of premature divorce, and, +ahem, you're in love with me still. + + _He pauses._ CYNTHIA _has one moment of fury, then she + realizes at what a disadvantage this places her. She makes an + immense effort, recovers her calm, thinks hard for a moment + more, and then, has suddenly an inspiration._ + +CYNTHIA. Jack, some day you'll get the blind staggers from conceit. +No, I'm not in love with you, Mr. Karslake, but I shouldn't be at all +surprised if she were. She's just your sort, you know. She's a +man-eating shark, and you'll be a toothsome mouthful. Oh, come now, +Jack, what a silly you are! Oh, yes, you are, to get off a joke like +that; me--in love with-- + + [_She looks at him._ + +JOHN. Why are you here? [_She laughs and begins to play her game._] +Why are you here? + +CYNTHIA. Guess! [_She laughs._ + +JOHN. Why are you-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] Why am I here! I'll tell you. I'm going to be +married. I had a longing, an irresistible longing to see you make an +ass of yourself just once more! It happened! + +JOHN. [_Uncertain and discomfited._] I know better! + +CYNTHIA. But I came for a serious purpose, too. I came, my dear +fellow, to make an experiment on myself. I've been with you thirty +minutes; and-- [_She sighs with content._] It's all right! + +JOHN. What's all right? + +CYNTHIA. [_Calm and apparently at peace with the world._] I'm immune. + +JOHN. Immune? + +CYNTHIA. You're not catching any more! Yes, you see, I said to myself, +if I fly into a temper-- + +JOHN. You did! + +CYNTHIA. If I fly into a temper when I see him, well, that shows I'm +not yet so entirely convalescent that I can afford to have Jack +Karslake at my house. If I remain calm I shall ask him to dinner. + +JOHN. [_Routed._] Ask me if you dare! [_He rises._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Getting the whip hand for good._] Ask you to dinner? Oh, my +dear fellow. [JOHN _rises._] I'm going to do much more than that. +[_She rises._] We must be friends, old man! We must meet, we must meet +often, we must show New York the way the thing should be done, and, to +show you I mean it--I want you to be my best man, and give me away +when I'm married this afternoon. + +JOHN. [_Incredulous and impatient._] You don't mean that! + + [_He pushes back his chair._ + +CYNTHIA. There you are! Always suspicious! + +JOHN. You don't mean that! + +CYNTHIA. [_Hiding her emotion under a sportswoman's manner._] Don't I? +I ask you, come! And come as you are! And I'll lay my wedding gown to +Cynthia K that you won't be there! If you're there, you get the gown, +and if you're not, I get Cynthia K!-- + +JOHN. [_Determined not to be worsted._] I take it! + +CYNTHIA. Done! Now, then, we'll see which of us two is the real +sporting goods! Shake! [_They shake hands on it._] Would you mind +letting me have a plain soda? [JOHN _goes to the table, and, as he is +rattled and does not regard what he is about, he fills the glass +three-fourths full with whiskey. He gives this to_ CYNTHIA _who looks +him in the eye with an air of triumph._] Thanks. [_Maliciously, as_ +VIDA _enters._] Your hand is a bit shaky. I think _you_ need a little +King William. [JOHN _shrugs his shoulders, and, as_ VIDA _immediately +speaks,_ CYNTHIA _defers drinking._ + +VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] My dear, I'm sorry to tell you your husband--I +mean, my husband--I mean Philip--he's asking for you over the 'phone. +You must have said you were coming here. Of course, I told him you +were not here, and hung up. + +BENSON. [_Entering hurriedly and at once moving to_ VIDA.] Ma'am, the +new footman's been talking with Mr. Phillimore on the wire. [VIDA, +_gesture of regret._] He told Mr. Phillimore that his lady was here, +and, if I can believe my ears, ma'am, he's got Sir Wilfrid on the +'phone now! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Making his appearance, perplexed and annoyed._] I say, +y' know--extraordinary country; that old chap, Phillimore, he's been +damned impertinent over the wire! Says I've run off with Mrs. +Karslake--talks about "Louise!" Now, who the dooce is Louise? He's +comin' round here, too--I said Mrs. Karslake wasn't here-- [_Seeing_ +CYNTHIA.] Hello! Good job! What a liar I am! + +BENSON. [_Coming to the door. To_ VIDA.] Mr. Fiddler, ma'am, says the +mare is gettin' very restive. + + [JOHN _hears this and moves at once_. BENSON _withdraws._ + +JOHN. [_To_ VIDA.] If that mare's restive, she'll break out in a rash. + +VIDA. [_To_ JOHN.] Will you take me? + +JOHN. Of course. [_They go to the door._ + +CYNTHIA. [_To_ JOHN.] Tata, old man! Meet you at the altar! If I +don't, the mare's mine! + + [SIR WILFRID _looks at her amazed._ + +VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Do the honours, dear, in my absence! + +JOHN. Come along, come along, never mind them! A horse is a horse! + + JOHN _and_ VIDA _go out gaily and in haste. At the same + moment_ CYNTHIA _drinks what she supposes to be her glass of + plain soda. As it is whiskey straight, she is seized with + astonishment and a fit of coughing._ SIR WILFRID _relieves + her of the glass._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_Indicating the contents of the glass._] I say, do you +ordinarily take it as high up--as seven fingers and two thumbs. + +CYNTHIA. [_Coughing._] Jack poured it out. Just shows how groggy he +was! And now, Sir Wilfrid-- + + [_She gets her things to go._ + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, you can't go! + + [BROOKS _appears at the door._ + +CYNTHIA. I am to be married at three. + +SIR WILFRID. Let him wait. [_Aside to_ BROOKS, _whom he meets near the +door._] If Mr. Phillimore comes, bring his card up. + +BROOKS. [_Going._] Yes, Sir Wilfrid. + +SIR WILFRID. To me! [_Tipping him._ + +BROOKS. [_Bowing._] To you, Sir Wilfrid. [BROOKS _goes._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_Returning to_ CYNTHIA.] I've got to have my innings, y' +know! [_Looking at her more closely._] I say, you've been crying!-- + +CYNTHIA. King William! + +SIR WILFRID. You _are_ crying! Poor little gal! + +CYNTHIA. [_Tears in her eyes._] I feel all shaken and cold. + + [BROOKS _returns with a card._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_Astonished and sympathetic._] Poor little gal. + +CYNTHIA. [_Her eyes wet._] I didn't sleep a wink last night. [_With +disgust._] Oh, what is the matter with me? + +SIR WILFRID. Why, it's as plain as a pikestaff! You-- [BROOKS _has +carried in the card to_ SIR WILFRED, _who picks it up and says aside, +to_ BROOKS:] Phillimore? [BROOKS _assents. Aloud to_ CYNTHIA, _calmly +deceitful._] Who's Waldorf Smith? [CYNTHIA _shakes her head. To_ +BROOKS, _returning card to salver._] Tell the gentleman Mrs. Karslake +is not here! [BROOKS _leaves the room._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Aware that she has no business where she is._] I thought it +was Philip! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Telling the truth as if it were a lie._] So did I! +[_With cheerful confidence._] And now, Mrs. Karslake, I'll tell you +why you're cryin'. [_Sitting down beside her._] You're marryin' the +wrong man! I'm sorry for you, but you're such a goose. Here you are, +marryin' this legal luminary. What for? You don't know! He don't know! +But I do! You pretend you're marryin' him because it's the sensible +thing; not a bit of it. You're marryin' Mr. Phillimore because of all +the other men you ever saw he's the least like Jack Karslake. + +CYNTHIA. That's a very good reason. + +SIR WILFRID. There's only one good reason for marrying, and that is +because you'll die if you don't! + +CYNTHIA. Oh, I've tried that! + +SIR WILFRID. The Scripture says: "Try! try! again!" I tell you, +there's nothing like a w'im! + +CYNTHIA. What's that? W'im? Oh, you mean a _whim_! Do please try and +say W_h_im! + +SIR WILFRID. [_For the first time emphasizing his H in the word._] +W_h_im. You must have a w'im--w'im for the chappie you marry. + +CYNTHIA. I had--for Jack. + +SIR WILFRID. Your w'im wasn't wimmy enough, my dear! If you'd had more +of it, and tougher, it would ha' stood, y'know! Now, I'm not +proposin'! + +CYNTHIA. [_Diverted at last from her own distress._] I hope not! + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, I will later! It's not time yet! As I was saying-- + +CYNTHIA. And pray, Sir Wilfrid, when will it be time? + +SIR WILFRID. As soon as I see you have a w'im for me! [_Rising, looks +at his watch._] And now, I'll tell you what we'll do! We've got just +an hour to get there in, my motor's on the corner, and in fifty +minutes we'll be at Belmont Park. + +CYNTHIA. [_Her sporting blood fired._] Belmont Park! + +SIR WILFRID. We'll do the races, and dine at Martin's-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Tempted._] Oh, if I only could! I can't! I've got to be +married! You're awfully nice; I've almost got a "w'im" for you +already. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Delighted._] There you are! I'll send a telegram! [_She +shakes her head. He sits and writes at the table._ + +CYNTHIA. No, no, no! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Reading what he has written._] "Off with Cates-Darby to +Races. Please postpone ceremony till seven-thirty." + +CYNTHIA. Oh, no, it's impossible! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Accustomed to have things go his way._] No more than +breathin'! You can't get a w'im for me, you know, unless we're +together, so together we'll be! [JOHN KARSLAKE _opens the door, and, +unnoticed, walks into the room._] And to-morrow you'll wake up with a +jolly little w'im--, [_Reading._] "Postpone ceremony till +seven-thirty." There. [_He puts on her cloak and turning, sees_ JOHN.] +Hello! + +JOHN. [_Surly._] Hello! Sorry to disturb you. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Cheerful as possible._] Just the man! [_Giving him the +telegraph form._] Just step round and send it, my boy. Thanks! [JOHN +_reads it._ + +CYNTHIA. No, no, I can't go! + +SIR WILFRID. Cockety-coo-coo-can't. I say, you must! + +CYNTHIA. [_Positively._] _No!_ + +JOHN. [_Astounded._] Do you mean you're going-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_Very gay._] Off to the races, my boy! + +JOHN. [_Angry and outraged._] Mrs. Karslake can't go with you there! + + CYNTHIA _starts, amazed at his assumption of marital + authority, and delighted that she will have an opportunity of + outraging his sensibilities._ + +SIR WILFRID. Oho! + +JOHN. An hour before her wedding! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Gay and not angry._] May I know if it's the custom-- + +JOHN. [_Jealous and disgusted._] It's worse than eloping-- + +SIR WILFRID. Custom, y' know, for the husband, that was, to dictate-- + +JOHN. [_Thoroughly vexed._] By George, there's a limit! + +CYNTHIA. What? What? What? [_Gathering up her things._] What did I +hear you say? + +SIR WILFRID. Ah! + +JOHN. [_Angry._] I say there's a limit-- + +CYNTHIA. [_More and more determined to arouse and excite_ JOHN.] Oh, +there's a limit, is there? + +JOHN. There is! I bar the way! It means reputation--it means-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Enjoying her opportunity._] We shall see what it means! + +SIR WILFRID. Aha! + +JOHN. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] I'm here to protect your reputation-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] We've got to make haste, you know. + +CYNTHIA. Now, I'm ready-- + +JOHN. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Be sensible. You're breaking off the match-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Excitedly._] What's that to you? + +SIR WILFRID. It's boots and saddles! + +JOHN. [_Taking his stand between them and the door._] No thoroughfare! + +SIR WILFRID. Look here, my boy--! + +CYNTHIA. [_Catching at the opportunity of putting_ JOHN _in an +impossible position._] Wait a moment, Sir Wilfrid! Give me the wire! +[_Facing him._] Thanks! [_Taking the telegraph form from him and +tearing it up._] There! Too rude to chuck him by wire! But you, Jack, +you've taken on yourself to look after my interests, so I'll just ask +you, old man, to run down to the Supreme Court and tell +Philip--nicely, you know--I'm off with Sir Wilfrid and where! Say I'll +be back by seven, if I'm not later! And make it clear, Jack, I'll +marry him by eight-thirty or nine at the latest! And mind _you're_ +there, dear! And now, Sir Wilfrid, we're off. + +JOHN. [_Staggered and furious, giving way as they pass him._] I'm not +the man to--to carry-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Quick and dashing._] Oh, yes, you are. + +JOHN. --a message from you. + +CYNTHIA. [_Triumphant._] Oh, yes, you are; you're just exactly the +man! [CYNTHIA _and_ SIR WILFRID _whirl out._ + +JOHN. Great miracles of Moses! + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III. + + + SCENE. _The same as that of Act I, but the room has been + cleared of superfluous furniture, and arranged for a wedding + ceremony._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _is reclining on the sofa at the + right of the table,_ MISS HENEAGE _at its left._ SUDLEY _is + seated at the right of the table._ GRACE _is seated on the + sofa. There is a wedding-bell of roses, an arch of orange + blossoms, and, girdled by a ribbon of white, an altar of + calla lilies. There are cushions of flowers, alcoves of + flowers, vases of flowers--in short, flowers everywhere and + in profusion and variety. Before the altar are two cushions + for the couple to kneel on and, on pedestals, at each side of + the arch, are twin candelabra. The hangings are pink and + white._ + + _The room, first of all, and its emblems, holds the undivided + attention; then slowly engaging it, and in contrast to their + gay surroundings, the occupants. About each and everyone of + them, hangs a deadly atmosphere of suppressed irritation._ + + +SUDLEY. [_Impatiently._] All very well, my dear Sarah. But you see the +hour. Twenty to ten! We have been here since half-past two. + +MISS HENEAGE. You had dinner? + +SUDLEY. I did not come here at two to have dinner at eight, and be +kept waiting until ten! And, my dear Sarah, when I ask where the bride +is-- + +MISS HENEAGE. [_With forced composure._] I have told you all I know. +Mr. John Karslake came to the house at lunch time, spoke to Philip, +and they left the house together. + +GRACE. Where is Philip? + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Feebly, irritated._] I don't wish to be censorious +or to express an actual opinion, but I must say it's a bold bride who +keeps her future mother-in-law waiting for eight hours. However, I +will not venture to-- [MRS. PHILLIMORE _reclines again and fades away +into silence._ + +GRACE. [_Sharply and decisively._] I do! I'm sorry I went to the +expense of a silver ice-pitcher. + + MRS. PHILLIMORE _sighs._ MISS HENEAGE _keeps her temper with + an effort which is obvious._ THOMAS _opens the door._ + +SUDLEY. [_To_ MRS. PHILLIMORE.] For my part, I don't believe Mrs. +Karslake means to return here or to marry Philip at all! + +THOMAS. [_Coming in, and approaching_ MISS HENEAGE.] Two telegrams for +you, ma'am! The choir boys have had their supper. [_A slight movement +ripples the ominous calm of all._ THOMAS _steps back._ + +SUDLEY. [_Rising._] At last we shall know! + +MISS HENEAGE. From the lady! Probably! + + MISS HENEAGE _opens the first telegram and reads it at a + glance, laying it on the salver again with a look at_ SUDLEY. + THOMAS _passes the salver to_ SUDLEY, _who takes the + telegram._ + +GRACE. There's a toot now. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Feebly, confused._] I don't wish to intrude, but +really I cannot imagine Philip marrying at midnight. [_As_ SUDLEY +_reads_, MISS HENEAGE _opens the second telegram, but does not read +it._ + +SUDLEY. [_Reading._] "Accident, auto struck"--something! +"Gasoline"--did something--illegible, ah! [_Reads._] "Home by nine +forty-five! Hold the church!" + + [_A general movement sets in._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Profoundly shocked._] "Hold the church!" William, she +still means to marry Philip! and to-night, too! + +SUDLEY. It's from Belmont Park. + +GRACE. [_Making a great discovery._] She went to the races! + +MISS HENEAGE. This is from Philip! [_Reading the second telegram._] "I +arrive at ten o'clock. Have dinner ready." [MISS HENEAGE _motions to_ +Thomas, _who, obeying, retires. Looking at her watch._] They are both +due now. [_Movement._] What's to be done? [_She rises and_ SUDLEY +_shrugs his shoulders._ + +SUDLEY. [_Rising._] After a young woman has spent her wedding day at +the races? Why, I consider that she has broken the engagement,--and +when she comes, tell her so. + +MISS HENEAGE. I'll telephone Matthew. The choir boys can go home--her +maid can pack her belongings--and when the lady arrives-- + + _Impudently, the very distant toot of an auto-horn breaks in + upon her words, producing, in proportion to its growing + nearness, an increasing pitch of excitement and indignation._ + GRACE _flies to the door and looks out._ MRS. PHILLIMORE, + _helpless, does not know what to do or where to go or what to + say._ SUDLEY _moves about excitedly._ MISS HENEAGE _stands + ready to make herself disagreeable._ + +GRACE. [_Speaking rapidly and with excitement._] I hear a man's voice. +Cates-Darby and brother Matthew. + + _A loud and brazenly insistent toot outrages afresh. Laughter + and voices outside are heard faintly._ GRACE _looks out of + the door, and, as quickly withdraws._ + +MISS HENEAGE. Outrageous! + +SUDLEY. Disgraceful! + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. Shocking! [_Partly rising as the voices and horn are +heard._] I shall not take any part at all, in the--eh-- + + [_She fades away._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Interrupting her._] Don't trouble yourself. + + _Through the growing noise of voices and laughter,_ CYNTHIA'S + _voice is heard._ SIR WILFRID _is seen in the outer hall. He + is burdened with wraps, not to mention a newspaper and + parasol, which in no wise check his flow of gay remarks to_ + CYNTHIA, _who is still outside._ CYNTHIA'S _voice, and now_ + MATTHEW'S, _reach those inside, and, at last, both join_ SIR + WILFRID, _who has turned at the door to wait for them. As she + reaches the door_, CYNTHIA _turns and speaks to_ MATTHEW, + _who immediately follows her. She is in automobile attire, + wearing goggles, a veil, and an exquisite duster of latest + Paris style. They come in with a subdued bustle and noise. As + their eyes light on_ CYNTHIA, SUDLEY _and_ MISS HENEAGE + _exclaim, and there is a general movement._ + +SUDLEY. 'Pon my word! + +GRACE. Hah! + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Bristling up to her feet, her sensibilities +outraged._] Shocking! + + GRACE _remains standing above sofa._ SUDLEY _moves toward + her_, MISS HENEAGE _sitting down again._ MRS. PHILLIMORE + _reclines on sofa._ CYNTHIA _begins to speak as soon as she + appears and speaks fluently to the end._ + +CYNTHIA. No! I never was so surprised in my life, as when I strolled +into the paddock and they gave me a rousing reception--old Jimmy +Withers, Debt Gollup, Jack Deal, Monty Spiffles, the Governor and +Buckeye. All of my old admirers! They simply fell on my neck, and, +dear Matthew, what do you think I did? I turned on the water main! +[_There are movements and murmurs of disapprobation from the family._ +MATTHEW _indicates a desire to go._] Oh, but you can't go! + +MATTHEW. I'll return in no time! + +CYNTHIA. I'm all ready to be married. Are they ready? [MATTHEW _waves +a pious, polite gesture of recognition to the family._] I beg +everybody's pardon! [_Taking off her wrap and putting it on the back +of a chair._] My goggles are so dusty, I can't see who's who! [_To_ +SIR WILFRID.] Thanks! You _have_ carried it well! [_She takes the +parasol from_ SIR WILFRID. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Aside to_ CYNTHIA.] When may I--? + +CYNTHIA. See you next Goodwood! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Imperturbably._] Oh, I'm coming back! + +CYNTHIA. [_Advancing a bit toward the family._] Not a bit of use in +coming back! I shall be married before you get here! Ta! Ta! Goodwood! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Not in the least affected._] I'm coming back. [_He goes +out quickly. There are more murmurs of disapprobation from the family. +There is a slight pause._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Beginning to take off her goggles, and moving nearer "the +family."_] I do awfully apologize for being so late! + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Importantly._] Mrs. Karslake-- + +SUDLEY. [_Importantly._] Ahem! [CYNTHIA _lays down goggles, and sees +their severity._ + +CYNTHIA. Dear me! [_Surveying the flowers and for a moment +speechless._] Oh, good heavens! Why, it looks like a smart funeral! + + MISS HENEAGE _moves; then speaks in a perfectly ordinary + natural tone, but her expression is severe._ CYNTHIA + _immediately realizes the state of affairs in its fullness._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] After what has occurred, Mrs. Karslake-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Glances quietly toward the table, and then sits down at it, +composed and good-tempered._] I see you got my wire--so you know where +I have been. + +MISS HENEAGE. To the race-course! + +SUDLEY. With a rowdy Englishman. [CYNTHIA _glances at_ SUDLEY, +_uncertain whether he means to be disagreeable, or whether he is only +naturally so._ + +MISS HENEAGE. We concluded you desired to break the engagement! + +CYNTHIA. [_Indifferently._] No! No! Oh! No! + +MISS HENEAGE. Do you intend, despite of our opinion of you-- + +CYNTHIA. The only opinion that would have any weight with me would be +Mrs. Phillimore's. + + [_She turns expectantly to_ MRS. PHILLIMORE. + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. I am generally asleep at this hour, and, accordingly, +I will not venture to express any--eh--any--actual opinion. [_She +fades away._ CYNTHIA _smiles._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Coldly._] You smile. We simply inform you that as +regards _us_, the alliance is not grateful. + +CYNTHIA. [_Affecting gaiety and unconcern._] And all this because the +gasoline gave out. + +SUDLEY. My patience has given out! + +GRACE. So has mine. I'm going. + + [_She makes good her word._ + +SUDLEY. [_Vexed beyond civility. To_ CYNTHIA.] My dear young lady: You +come here, to this sacred--eh--eh--spot--altar!-- [_Gesture._] +odoriferous of the paddock!--speaking of Spiffles and Buckeye,--having +practically eloped!--having created a scandal, and disgraced our +family! + +CYNTHIA. [_Affecting surprise at this attitude._] How does it disgrace +you? Because I like to see a high-bred, clean, nervy, sweet little +four-legged gee play the antelope over a hurdle! + +MISS HENEAGE. Sister, it is high time that you-- + + [_She turns to_ CYNTHIA _with a gesture._ + +CYNTHIA. [_With quiet irony._] Mrs. Phillimore is generally asleep at +this hour, and accordingly she will not venture to express-- + +SUDLEY. [_Spluttering with irritation._] Enough, madam--I _venture_ +to--to--to--to say, you are leading a fast life. + +CYNTHIA. [_With powerful intention._] Not in this house! For six heavy +weeks have I been laid away in the grave, and I've found it very slow +indeed trying to keep pace with the dead! + +SUDLEY. [_Despairingly._] This comes of horses! + +CYNTHIA. [_Indignant._] Of what? + +SUDLEY. C-c-caring for horses! + +MISS HENEAGE. [_With sublime morality._] What Mrs. Karslake cares for +is--men. + +CYNTHIA. [_Angry and gay._] What would you have me care for? The +Ornithorhyncus Paradoxus? or Pithacanthropus Erectus? Oh, I refuse to +take you seriously. [SUDLEY _begins to prepare to leave; he buttons +himself into respectability and his coat._ + +SUDLEY. My dear madam, I take myself seriously--and madam, I--I +retract what I have brought with me [_Feeling in his waistcoat +pocket._] as a graceful gift,--an Egyptian scarab--a--a--sacred +beetle, which once ornamented the person of a--eh--mummy. + +CYNTHIA. [_Scoring in return._] It should never be absent from your +pocket, Mr. Sudley! [SUDLEY _walks away in a rage._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Rising, to_ SUDLEY.] I've a vast mind to withdraw my-- +[CYNTHIA _moves._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Interrupts; maliciously._] Your wedding present? The little +bronze cat! + +MISS HENEAGE. [_Moves, angrily._] Oh! [_Even_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _comes +momentarily to life, and expresses silent indignation._ + +SUDLEY. [_Loftily._] Sarah, I'm going. + + GRACE, _who has met_ PHILIP, _takes occasion to accompany him + into the room._ PHILIP _looks dusty and grim. As they come + in_, GRACE _speaks to him, and_ PHILIP _shakes his head. They + pause near the door._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Emotionally._] I shall go to my room! However, all I ask is +that you repeat to Philip-- [_As she moves toward the door, she comes +suddenly upon_ PHILIP, _and speaks to him in a low voice._ + +SUDLEY. [_To_ MISS HENEAGE, _determined to win._] As I go out, I shall +do myself the pleasure of calling a hansom for Mrs. Karslake-- [PHILIP +_moves slightly from the door._ + +PHILIP. As you go out, Sudley, have a hansom called, and when it +comes, get into it. + +SUDLEY. [_Furious._] Eh,--eh,--my dear sir, I leave you to your fate. +[PHILIP _angrily points him the door and_ SUDLEY _leaves in great +haste._ + +MISS HENEAGE. [_With weight._] Philip, you've not heard-- + +PHILIP. [_Interrupting._] Everything--from Grace! My sister has +repeated your words to me--and her own! I've told her what I think of +_her_. [PHILIP _looks witheringly at_ GRACE. + +GRACE. I shan't wait to hear any more. + + [_She flounces out of the room._ + +PHILIP. Don't make it necessary for me to tell you what I think of +you. [PHILIP _moves to the right, toward his mother, to whom he gives +his arm._ MISS HENEAGE _immediately seeks the opposite side._] Mother, +with your permission, I desire to be alone. I expect both you and +Grace, Sarah, to be dressed and ready for the ceremony a half hour +from now. [_As_ PHILIP _and_ MRS. PHILLIMORE _are about to go out_, +MISS HENEAGE _speaks._ + +MISS HENEAGE. I shall come or not as I see fit. And let me add, my +dear brother, that a fool at forty is a fool indeed. [MISS HENEAGE, +_high and mighty, goes out, much pleased with her quotation._ + +MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Stupid and weary as usual, to_ PHILIP, _as he leads +her to the door._] My dear son--I won't venture to express-- [CYNTHIA, +_in irritation, moves to the table._ + +PHILIP. [_Soothing a silly mother._] No, mother, don't! But I shall +expect you, of course, at the ceremony. [MRS. PHILLIMORE _languidly +retires._ PHILIP _strides to the centre of the room, taking the tone, +and assuming the attitude of, the injured husband._] It is proper for +me to tell you that I followed you to Belmont. I am aware--I know with +whom--in fact, _I know all_! [_He punctuates his words with pauses, +and indicates the whole censorious universe._] And now let me assure +you--I am the last man in the world to be jilted on the very eve +of--of--everything with you. I won't be jilted. [CYNTHIA _is silent._] +You understand? I propose to marry you. I won't be made ridiculous. + +CYNTHIA. [_Glancing at_ PHILIP.] Philip, I didn't mean to make you-- + +PHILIP. Why, then, did you run off to Belmont Park with that fellow? + +CYNTHIA. Philip, I--eh-- + +PHILIP. [_Sitting down at the table._] What motive? What reason? On +our wedding day? Why did you do it? + +CYNTHIA. I'll tell you the truth. I was bored. + +PHILIP. [_Staggered._] Bored? In my company? + +CYNTHIA. I was bored, and then--and besides, Sir Wilfrid asked me to +go. + +PHILIP. Exactly, and that was why you went. Cynthia, when you promised +to marry me, you told me you had forever done with love. You agreed +that marriage was the rational coming together of two people. + +CYNTHIA. I know, I know! + +PHILIP. Do you believe that now? + +CYNTHIA. I don't know what I believe. My brain is in a whirl! But, +Philip, I am beginning to be--I'm afraid--yes, I am afraid that one +can't just select a great and good man [_Indicating him._] and say: I +will be happy with him. + +PHILIP. [_With complacent dignity._] I don't see why not. You must +assuredly do one or the other: You must either let your heart choose +or your head select. + +CYNTHIA. [_Gravely._] No, there's a third scheme: Sir Wilfrid +explained the theory to me. A woman should marry whenever she has a +whim for the man, and then leave the rest to the man. Do you see? + +PHILIP. [_Furious._] Do I see? Have I ever seen any thing else? Marry +for whim! That's the New York idea of marriage. + +CYNTHIA. [_Observing cynically._] New York ought to know. + +PHILIP. Marry for whim and leave the rest to the divorce court! Marry +for whim and leave the rest to the man. That was the former Mrs. +Phillimore's idea. Only she spelled "whim" differently; she omitted +the "w." [_He rises in his anger._] And now you--_you_ take up with +this preposterous-- [CYNTHIA _moves uneasily._] But, nonsense! It's +impossible! A woman of your mental calibre--No. Some obscure, +primitive, female _feeling_ is at work corrupting your better +judgment! What is it you _feel_? + +CYNTHIA. Philip, you never felt like a fool, did you? + +PHILIP. No, never. + +CYNTHIA. [_Politely._] I thought not. + +PHILIP. No, but whatever your feelings, I conclude you are ready to +marry me. + +CYNTHIA. [_Uneasy._] Of course, I came back. I am here, am I not? + +PHILIP. You are ready to marry me? + +CYNTHIA. [_Twisting in the coils._] But you haven't had your dinner. + +PHILIP. Do I understand you refuse? + +CYNTHIA. Couldn't we defer--? + +PHILIP. You refuse? + +CYNTHIA. [_Desperately thinking of an escape from her promise, and +finding none._] No, I said I'd marry you. I'm a woman of my word. I +will. + +PHILIP. [_Triumphant._] Ah! Very good, then. Run to your room. +[CYNTHIA _turns to_ PHILIP.] Throw something over you. In a half hour +I'll expect you here! And Cynthia, my dear, remember! I cannot +cuculate like a wood-pigeon, but--I esteem you! + +CYNTHIA. [_Hopelessly._] I think I'll go, Philip. + +PHILIP. I may not be fitted to play the love-bird, but-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Spiritlessly._] I think I'll go, Philip. + +PHILIP. I'll expect you,--in half an hour. + +CYNTHIA. [_With leaden despair._] Yes. + +PHILIP. And, Cynthia, don't think any more about that fellow, +Cates-Darby. + +CYNTHIA. [_Amazed and disgusted by his misapprehension._] No. [_As_ +CYNTHIA _leaves_, THOMAS _comes in from the opposite door._ + +PHILIP. [_Not seeing_ THOMAS, _and clumsily defiant._] And if I had +that fellow, Cates-Darby, in the dock--! + +THOMAS. Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby. + +PHILIP. Sir what--what--wh-who? [SIR WILFRID _enters in evening +dress._ PHILIP _looks_ SIR WILFRID _in the face and speaks to_ +THOMAS.] Tell Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby I am not at home to him. [THOMAS +_is embarrassed._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_Undaunted._] My dear Lord Eldon-- + +PHILIP. [_Again addressing_ THOMAS.] Show the gentleman the door. +[_There is a pause._ SIR WILFRID, _with a significant gesture, glances +at the door._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_Moving to the door, he examines it and returns to_ +PHILIP.] Eh,--I admire the door, my boy! Fine, old carved mahogany +panel; but don't ask me to leave by it, for Mrs. Karslake made me +promise I'd come, and that's why I'm here. + + [THOMAS _does not wait for further orders._ + +PHILIP. Sir, you are--impudent--! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Interrupting._] Ah, you put it all in a nutshell, don't +you? + +PHILIP. To show your face here, after practically eloping with my +wife! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Affecting ignorance._] When were you married? + +PHILIP. We are as good as married. + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, pooh, pooh! You can't tell me that grace before soup +is as good as a dinner! [_He takes out his cigar-case and, in the +absence of a match, enjoys a smokeless smoke._ + +PHILIP. Sir--I--demand-- + +SIR WILFRID. [_Calmly carrying the situation._] Mrs. Karslake is _not_ +married. _That's_ why I'm here. I am here for the same purpose _you_ +are; to ask Mrs. Karslake to be my wife. + +PHILIP. Are you in your senses? + +SIR WILFRID. [_Pricking his American cousin's pet vanity._] Come, +come, Judge--you Americans have no sense of humour. [_Taking a small +jewel-case from his pocket._] There's my regards for the lady--and +[_Reasonably._], if I must go, I will. Of course, I would like to see +her, but--if it isn't your American custom-- + +THOMAS. [_Opens the door and announces._] Mr. Karslake. + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, well, I say; if he can come, I can! + + JOHN KARSLAKE, _in evening dress, comes in quickly, carrying + a large and very smart bride's bouquet, which he hands to_ + PHILIP, _who stands transfixed. Because it never occurs to + him to refuse it or chuck it away_, PHILIP _accepts the + bouquet gingerly, but frees himself of it at the first + available moment._ JOHN _walks to the centre of the room. + Deep down he is feeling wounded and unhappy. But, as he knows + his coming to the ceremony on whatever pretext is a social + outrage, he carries it off by assuming an air of its being + the most natural thing in the world. He controls the + expression of his deeper emotion, but the pressure of this + keeps his face grave, and he speaks with effort._ + +JOHN. My compliments to the bride, Judge. + +PHILIP. [_Angry._] And you, too, have the effrontery? + +SIR WILFRID. There you are! + +JOHN. [_Pretending ease._] Oh, call it friendship-- + + [THOMAS _leaves._ + +PHILIP. [_Puts bouquet on table. Ironically._] I suppose Mrs. +Karslake-- + +JOHN. She wagered me I wouldn't give her away, and of course-- + + _Throughout his stay_ JOHN _hides the emotions he will not + show behind a daring irony. Under its effects_, PHILIP, _on + his right, walks about in a fury._ SIR WILFRID, _sitting down + on the edge of the table, is gay and undisturbed._ + +PHILIP. [_Taking a step toward_ JOHN.] You will oblige me--both of +you--by immediately leaving-- + +JOHN. [_Smiling and going to_ PHILIP.] Oh, come, come, Judge--suppose +I _am_ here? Who has a better right to attend his wife's obsequies! +Certainly, I come as a mourner--for _you_! + +SIR WILFRID. I say, is it the custom? + +JOHN. No, no--of course it's not the custom, no. But we'll make it the +custom. After all,--what's a divorced wife among friends? + +PHILIP. Sir, your humour is strained! + +JOHN. Humour,--Judge? + +PHILIP. It is, sir, and I'll not be bantered! Your both being here +is--it is--gentlemen, there is a decorum which the stars in their +courses do not violate. + +JOHN. Now, Judge, never you mind what the stars do in their divorces! +Get down to earth of the present day. Rufus Choate and Daniel Webster +are dead. You must be modern. You must let peroration and poetry +alone! Come along now. Why shouldn't I give the lady away? + +SIR WILFRID. Hear! Hear! Oh, I beg your pardon! + +JOHN. And why shouldn't we both be here? American marriage is a new +thing. We've got to strike the pace, and the only trouble is, Judge, +that the judiciary have so messed the thing up that a man can't be +sure he _is_ married until he's divorced. It's a sort of +marry-go-round, to be sure! But let it go at that! Here we all are, +and we're ready to marry my wife to you, and start her on her way to +him! + +PHILIP. [_Brought to a standstill._] Good Lord! Sir, you cannot trifle +with monogamy! + +JOHN. Now, now, Judge, monogamy is just as extinct as knee-breeches. +The new woman has a new idea, and the new idea is--well, it's just the +opposite of the old Mormon one. Their idea is one man, ten wives and a +hundred children. Our idea is one woman, a hundred husbands and one +child. + +PHILIP. Sir, this is polyandry. + +JOHN. Polyandry? A hundred to one it's polyandry; and that's it, +Judge! Uncle Sam has established consecutive polyandry,--but there's +got to be an interval between husbands! The fact is, Judge, the modern +American marriage is like a wire fence. The woman's the wire--the +posts are the husbands. [_He indicates himself, and then_ SIR WILFRID +_and_ PHILIP.] One--two--three! And if you cast your eye over the +future you can count them, post after post, up hill, down dale, all +the way to Dakota! + +PHILIP. All very amusing, sir, but the fact remains-- + +JOHN. [_Going to_ PHILIP _who at once moves away._] Now, now, Judge, I +like you. But you're asleep; you're living in the dark ages. You want +to call up Central. "Hello, Central! Give me the present time, 1906, +New York!" + +SIR WILFRID. Of course you do, and--there you are! + +PHILIP. [_Heavily._] There I am not, sir! And-- [_To_ JOHN.] as for Mr. +Karslake's ill-timed jocosity,--sir, in the future-- + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, hang the future! + +PHILIP. I begin to hope, Sir Wilfrid, that in the future I shall have +the pleasure of hanging you! [_To_ JOHN.] And as to you, sir, your +insensate idea of giving away your own--your former--my--your--oh! +Good Lord! This is a nightmare! [_He turns to go in despair._ MATTHEW, +_coming in, meets him, and stops him at the door._ + +MATTHEW. [_To_ PHILIP.] My dear brother, Aunt Sarah Heneage refuses to +give Mrs. Karslake away, unless you yourself,--eh-- + +PHILIP. [_As he goes out._] No more! I'll attend to the matter! [_The_ +CHOIR BOYS _are heard practising in the next room._ + +MATTHEW. [_Mopping his brow._] How do you both do? My aunt has made me +very warm. [_Ringing the bell._] You hear our choir practising--sweet +angel boys! H'm! H'm! Some of the family will not be present. I am +very fond of you, Mr. Karslake, and I think it admirably Christian of +you to have waived your--eh--your--eh--that is, now that I look at it +more narrowly, let me say, that in the excitement of pleasurable +anticipation, I forgot, Karslake, that your presence might occasion +remark-- [THOMAS _responds to his ring._] Thomas! I left, in the hall, +a small hand-bag or satchel containing my surplice. + +THOMAS. Yes, sir. Ahem! + +MATTHEW. You must really find the hand-bag at once. + + [THOMAS _turns to go, when he stops startled._ + +THOMAS. Yes, sir. [_Announcing in consternation._] Mrs. Vida +Phillimore. [VIDA PHILLIMORE, _in full evening dress, steps gently up +to_ MATTHEW. + +MATTHEW. [_Always piously serene._] Ah, my dear child! Now this is +just as it should be! That is, eh-- [_He walks to the centre of the +room with her_, VIDA, _the while, pointedly disregarding_ SIR +WILFRID.] That is, when I come to think of it--your presence might be +deemed inauspicious. + +VIDA. But, my dear Matthew,--I had to come. [_Aside to him._] I have a +reason for being here. + + [THOMAS, _who has left the room, again appears._ + +MATTHEW. [_With a helpless gesture._] But, my dear child-- + +THOMAS. [_With sympathetic intention._] Sir, Mr. Phillimore wishes to +have your assistance, sir--with Miss Heneage _immediately_! + +MATTHEW. Ah! [_To_ VIDA.] One moment! I'll return. [_To_ THOMAS.] Have +you found the bag with my surplice? + + _He goes out with_ THOMAS, _speaking._ SIR WILFRID _moves at + once to_ VIDA. JOHN, _moving to a better position, watches + the door._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_To_ VIDA.] You're just the person I most want to see! + +VIDA. [_With affected iciness._] Oh, no, Sir Wilfrid, Cynthia isn't +here yet! [_She moves to the table, and_ JOHN, _his eyes on the door, +coming toward her, she speaks to him with obvious sweetness._] Jack, +dear, I never was so ravished to see any one. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Taken aback._] By Jove! + +VIDA. [_Very sweet._] I knew I should find you here! + +JOHN. [_Annoyed but civil._] Now don't do that! + +VIDA. [_Sweeter than ever._] Jack! [_They sit down._ + +JOHN. [_Civil but plain spoken._] Don't do it! + +VIDA. [_In a voice dripping with honey._] Do what, Jack? + +JOHN. Touch me with your voice! I have troubles enough of my own. [_He +sits not far from her; the table between them._ + +VIDA. And I know who your troubles are! Cynthia! + + [_From this moment_ VIDA _abandons_ JOHN _as an object of the + chase and works him into her other game._ + +JOHN. I hate her. I don't know why I came. + +VIDA. You came, dear, because you couldn't stay away--you're in love +with her. + +JOHN. All right, Vida, what I feel may be _love_--but all I can say +is, if I could get even with Cynthia Karslake-- + +VIDA. You can, dear--it's as easy as powdering one's face; all you +have to do is to be too nice to me! + +JOHN. [_Looking at her inquiringly._] Eh! + +VIDA. Don't you realize she's jealous of you? Why did she come to my +house this morning? She's jealous--and all you have to do-- + +JOHN. If I can make her wince, I'll make love to you till the Heavenly +cows come home! + +VIDA. Well, you see, my dear, if you make love to me it will +[_Delicately indicating_ SIR WILFRID.] cut both ways at once! + +JOHN. Eh,--what! Not Cates-Darby? [_Starting._] Is that Cynthia? + +VIDA. Now don't get rattled and forget to make love to me. + +JOHN. I've got the jumps. [_Trying to follow her instructions._] Vida, +I adore you. + +VIDA. Oh, you must be more convincing; that won't do at all. + +JOHN. [_Listening._] Is that she now? + + [MATTHEW _comes in and passes to the inner room._ + +VIDA. It's Matthew. And, Jack, dear, you'd best get the hang of it +before Cynthia comes. You might tell me all about your divorce. That's +a sympathetic subject. Were you able to undermine it? + +JOHN. No. I've got a wire from my lawyer this morning. The divorce +holds. She's a free woman. She can marry whom she likes. [_The organ +is heard, very softly played._] Is that Cynthia? [_He rises quickly._ + +VIDA. It's the organ! + +JOHN. [_Overwhelmingly excited._] By George! I should never have come! +I think I'll go. + + [_He makes a movement toward the door._ + +VIDA. [_Rises and follows him remonstratingly._] When I need you? + +JOHN. I can't stand it. + +VIDA. Oh, but, Jack-- + +JOHN. Good-night! + +VIDA. I feel quite ill. [_Seeing that she must play her last card to +keep him, pretends to faintness; sways and falls into his arms._] Oh! + +JOHN. [_In a rage, but beaten._] I believe you're putting up a fake. + + _The organ swells as_ CYNTHIA _enters sweepingly, dressed in + full evening dress for the wedding ceremony._ JOHN, _not + knowing what to do, keeps his arms about_ VIDA _as a horrid + necessity._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Speaking as she comes in, to_ MATTHEW.] Here I am. +Ridiculous to make it a conventional thing, you know. Come in on the +swell of the music, and all that, just as if I'd never been married +before. Where's Philip? [_She looks for_ PHILIP _and sees_ JOHN _with_ +VIDA _in his arms. She stops short._ + +JOHN. [_Uneasy and embarrassed._] A glass of water! I beg your pardon, +Mrs. Karslake-- [_The organ plays on._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Ironical and calm._] Vida! + +JOHN. She has fainted. + +CYNTHIA. [_Cynically._] Fainted? [_Without pausing._] Dear, dear, +dear, terrible! So she has. [SIR WILFRID _takes the flowers from a +vase and prepares to sprinkle_ VIDA'S _forehead with the water it +contains._] No, no, not her forehead, Sir Wilfrid, her frock! Sprinkle +her best Paquin! If it's a real faint, she will not come to! + +VIDA. [_Coming quickly to her senses as her Paris importation is about +to suffer._] I almost fainted. + +CYNTHIA. Almost! + +VIDA. [_Using the stock phrase as a matter of course, and reviving +rapidly._] Where am I? [JOHN _glances at_ CYNTHIA _sharply._] Oh, the +bride! I beg every one's pardon. Cynthia, at a crisis like this, I +simply couldn't stay away from Philip! + +CYNTHIA. Stay away from Philip? [JOHN _and_ CYNTHIA _exchange +glances._ + +VIDA. Your arm, Jack; and lead me where there is air. + + JOHN _and_ VIDA _go into the further room. The organ stops._ + SIR WILFRID _and_ CYNTHIA _are practically alone in the + room._ JOHN _and_ VIDA _are barely within sight. He is first + seen to take her fan and give her air; then to pick up a book + and read to her._ + +SIR WILFRID. I've come back. + +CYNTHIA. [_To_ SIR WILFRID.] Asks for air and goes to the greenhouse. +[CYNTHIA _crosses the room and_ SIR WILFRID _offers her a seat._] I +know why you are here. It's that intoxicating little whim you suppose +me to have for you. My regrets! But the whim's gone flat! Yes, yes, my +gasoline days are over. I'm going to be garaged for good. However, I'm +glad you're here; you take the edge off-- + +SIR WILFRID. Mr. Phillimore? + +CYNTHIA. [_Sharply._] No, Karslake. I'm just waiting to say the words +[THOMAS _comes in unnoticed._] "love, honour and obey" to +Phillimore-- [_Looking back._] and _at_ Karslake! [_Seeing_ THOMAS.] +What is it? Mr. Phillimore? + +THOMAS. Mr. Phillimore will be down in a few minutes, ma'am. He's very +sorry, ma'am [_Lowering his voice and coming nearer to_ CYNTHIA, +_mindful of the respectabilities_], but there's a button off his +waistcoat. + +CYNTHIA. [_Rising. With irony._] Button off his waistcoat! + + [THOMAS _goes out._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_Delightedly._] Ah! So much the better for me. [CYNTHIA +_looks into the other room._] Now, then, never mind those two! +[CYNTHIA _moves restlessly._] Sit down. + +CYNTHIA. I can't. + +SIR WILFRID. You're as nervous as-- + +CYNTHIA. Nervous! Of course I'm nervous! So would you be nervous if +you'd had a runaway and smash up, and you were going to try it again. +[_She is unable to take her eyes from_ VIDA _and_ JOHN, _and_ SIR +WILFRID, _noting this, grows uneasy._] And if some one doesn't do away +with those calla lilies--the odor makes me faint! [SIR WILFRID +_moves._] No, it's not the lilies! It's the orange blossoms! + +SIR WILFRID. Orange blossoms. + +CYNTHIA. The flowers that grow on the tree that hangs over the abyss! +[SIR WILFRID _promptly confiscates the vase of orange blossoms._] They +smell of six o'clock in the evening. When Philip's fallen asleep, and +little boys are crying the winners outside, and I'm crying inside, and +dying inside and outside and everywhere. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Returning to her side._] Sorry to disappoint you. +They're artificial. [CYNTHIA _shrugs her shoulders._] That's it! +They're emblematic of artificial domesticity! And I'm here to help you +balk it. [_He sits down and_ CYNTHIA _half rises and looks toward_ +JOHN _and_ VIDA.] Keep still now, I've a lot to say to you. Stop +looking-- + +CYNTHIA. Do you think I can listen to you make love to me when the man +who--who--whom I most despise in all the world, is reading poetry to +the woman who--who got me into the fix I'm in! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Leaning over her chair._] What do you want to look at +'em for? [CYNTHIA _moves._] Let 'em be and listen to me! Sit down; for +damme, I'm determined. + +CYNTHIA. [_Now at the table and half to herself._] I won't look at +them! I won't think of them. Beasts! [SIR WILFRID _interposes between +her and her view of_ JOHN. THOMAS _opens the door and walks in._ + +SIR WILFRID. Now, then-- [_He sits down._ + +CYNTHIA. Those two _here_! It's just as if Adam and Eve should invite +the snake to their golden wedding. [_Seeing_ THOMAS.] What is it, +what's the matter? + +THOMAS. Mr. Phillimore's excuses, ma'am. In a very short time-- +[THOMAS _goes out._ + +SIR WILFRID. I'm on to you! You hoped for more buttons! + +CYNTHIA. I'm dying of the heat; fan me. + + [SIR WILFRID _fans_ CYNTHIA. + +SIR WILFRID. Heat! No! You're dying because you're ignorin' nature. +Certainly you are! You're marryin' Phillimore! [CYNTHIA _appears +faint._] Can't ignore nature, Mrs. Karslake. Yes, you are; you're +forcin' your feelin's. [CYNTHIA _glances at him._] And what you want +to do is to let yourself go a bit--up anchor and sit tight! I'm no +seaman, but that's the idea! [CYNTHIA _moves and shakes her head._] So +just throw the reins on nature's neck, jump this fellow Phillimore and +marry me! + + [_He leans toward_ CYNTHIA. + +CYNTHIA. [_Naturally, but with irritation._] You propose to me here, +at a moment like this? When I'm on the last lap--just in sight of the +goal--the gallows--the halter--the altar, I don't know what its name +is! No, I won't have you! [_Looking toward_ KARSLAKE _and_ VIDA.] And +I won't have you stand near me! I won't have you talking to me in a +low tone! [_Her eyes glued on_ JOHN _and_ VIDA.] Stand over +there--stand where you are. + +SIR WILFRID. I say-- + +CYNTHIA. I can hear you--I'm listening! + +SIR WILFRID. Well, don't look so hurried and worried. You've got +buttons and buttons of time. And now my offer. You haven't yet said +you would-- + +CYNTHIA. Marry you? I don't even know you! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Feeling sure of being accepted._] Oh,--tell you all +about myself. I'm no duke in a pickle o' debts, d'ye see? I can marry +where I like. Some o' my countrymen are rotters, ye know. They'd marry +a monkey, if poppa-up-the-tree had a corner in cocoanuts! And they do +marry some queer ones, y' know. [CYNTHIA _looks beyond him, exclaims +and turns._ SIR WILFRID _turns._ + +CYNTHIA. Do they? + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, rather. That's what's giving your heiresses such a +bad name lately. If a fellah's in debt he can't pick and choose, and +then he swears that American gals are awfully fine lookers, but +they're no good when it comes to continuin' the race! Fair dolls in +the drawin'-room, but no good in the nursery. + +CYNTHIA. [_Thinking of_ JOHN _and_ VIDA _and nothing else._] I can see +Vida in the nursery. + +SIR WILFRID. You understand when you want a brood mare, you don't +choose a Kentucky mule. + +CYNTHIA. I think I see one. + +SIR WILFRID. Well, that's what they're saying over there. They say +your gals run to talk [_He plainly remembers_ VIDA'S _volubility._] +and I have seen gals here that would chat life into a wooden Indian! +That's what you Americans call being clever.--All brains and no +stuffin'! In fact, some of your American gals are the nicest boys I +ever met. + +CYNTHIA. So that's what you think? + +SIR WILFRID. Not a bit what _I_ think--what my countrymen think! + +CYNTHIA. Why are you telling me? + +SIR WILFRID. Oh, just explaining my character. I'm the sort that can +pick and choose--and what I want is heart. + +CYNTHIA. [VIDA _and_ JOHN _ever in mind._] No more heart than a +dragon-fly! [_The organ begins to play softly._ + +SIR WILFRID. That's it, dragon-fly. Cold as stone and never stops +buzzing about and showin' off her colours. It's that American +dragon-fly girl that I'm afraid of, because, d'ye see, I don't know +what an American expects when he marries; yes, but you're not +listening! + +CYNTHIA. I am listening. I am! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Speaking directly to her._] An Englishman, ye see, when +he marries expects three things: love, obedience, and five children. + +CYNTHIA. Three things! I make it seven! + +SIR WILFRID. Yes, my dear, but the point is, will you be mistress of +Traynham? + +CYNTHIA. [_Who has only half listened to him._] No, Sir Wilfrid, thank +you, I won't. [_She turns to see_ JOHN _walk across the drawing-room +with_ VIDA, _and apparently absorbed in what she is saying._] It's +outrageous! + +SIR WILFRID. Eh? Why you're cryin'? + +CYNTHIA. [_Almost sobbing._] I am not. + +SIR WILFRID. You're not crying because you're in love with me? + +CYNTHIA. I'm not crying--or if I am, I'm crying because I love my +country. It's a disgrace to America--cast-off husbands and wives +getting together in a parlour and playing tag under a palm-tree. +[JOHN, _with intention and determined to stab_ CYNTHIA, _kisses_ +VIDA'S _hand._ + +SIR WILFRID. Eh! Oh! I'm damned! [_To_ CYNTHIA.] What do you think +that means? + +CYNTHIA. I don't doubt it means a wedding here, at once--after mine! +[VIDA _and_ JOHN _leave the drawing-room and walk slowly toward +them._ + +VIDA. [_Affecting an impossible intimacy to wound_ CYNTHIA _and +tantalize_ SIR WILFRID.] Hush, Jack--I'd much rather no one should +know anything about it until it's all over! + +CYNTHIA. [_Starting and looking at_ SIR WILFRID.] What did I tell you? + +VIDA. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Oh, my dear, he's asked me to champagne and +lobster at _your_ house--his house! Matthew is coming! [CYNTHIA +_starts, but controls herself._] And you're to come, Sir Wilfrid. +[_Intending to convey the idea of a sudden marriage ceremony._] Of +course, my dear, I would like to wait for your wedding, but something +rather--rather important to me is to take place, and I know you'll +excuse me. [_The organ stops._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_Piqued at being forgotten._] All very neat, but you +haven't given me a chance, even. + +VIDA. Chance? You're not serious? + +SIR WILFRID. I am! + +VIDA. [_Striking while the iron is hot._] I'll give you a minute to +offer yourself. + +SIR WILFRID. Eh? + +VIDA. Sixty seconds from now. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Uncertain._] There's such a thing as bein' silly. + +VIDA. [_Calm and determined._] Fifty seconds left. + +SIR WILFRID. I take you--count fair. [_He hands her his watch and goes +to where_ CYNTHIA _stands._] I say, Mrs. Karslake-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Overwhelmed with grief and emotion._] They're engaged; +they're going to be married to-night, over champagne and lobster at my +house! + +SIR WILFRID. Will you consider your-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Hastily, to get rid of him._] No, no, no, no! Thank you, +Sir Wilfrid, I will not. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Calm, and not to be laid low._] Thanks awfully. +[CYNTHIA _walks away. Returning to_ VIDA.] Mrs. Phillimore-- + +VIDA. [_Returning his watch._] Too late! [_To_ KARSLAKE.] Jack, dear, +we must be off. + +SIR WILFRID. [_Standing and making a general appeal for information._] +I say, is it the custom for American girls--that sixty seconds or too +late? Look here! Not a bit too late. I'll take you around to Jack +Karslake's, and I'm going to ask you the same old question again, you +know. [_To_ VIDA.] By Jove, you know in your country it's the pace +that kills. + + [SIR WILFRID _follows_ VIDA _out the door._ + +JOHN. [_Gravely to_ CYNTHIA, _who has walked away._] Good-night, Mrs. +Karslake, I'm going; I'm sorry I came. + +CYNTHIA. Sorry? Why are you sorry? [JOHN _looks at her; she winces a +little._] You've got what you wanted. [_After a pause._] I wouldn't +mind your marrying Vida-- + +JOHN. [_Gravely._] Oh, wouldn't you? + +CYNTHIA. But I don't think you showed good taste in engaging +yourselves _here_. + +JOHN. Of course, I should have preferred a garden of roses and plenty +of twilight. + +CYNTHIA. [_Rushing into speech._] I'll tell you what you _have_ +done--you've thrown yourself away! A woman like that! No head, no +heart! All languor and loose--loose frocks--she's the typical, worst +thing America can do! She's the regular American marriage worm! + +JOHN. I have known others-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] Not me. I'm not a patch on that woman. Do you +know anything about her life? Do you know the things she did to +Philip? Kept him up every night of his life--forty days out of every +thirty--and then, without his knowing it, put brandy in his coffee to +make him lively at breakfast. + +JOHN. [_Banteringly._] I begin to think she is just the woman-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Unable to quiet her jealousy._] She is _not_ the woman for +_you_! A man with your bad temper--your airs of authority--your +assumption of--of--everything. What you need is a good, old-fashioned, +bread-poultice woman! + + [CYNTHIA _comes to a full stop and faces him._ + +JOHN. [_Sharply._] Can't say I've had any experience of the good +old-fashioned bread-poultice. + +CYNTHIA. I don't care what you say! If you marry Vida Phillimore--you +sha'n't do it. [_Tears of rage choking her._] No, I liked your father +and, for _his_ sake, I'll see that his son doesn't make a donkey of +himself a second time. + +JOHN. [_Too angry to be amused._] Oh, I thought I was divorced. I +begin to feel as if I had you on my hands still. + +CYNTHIA. You have! You shall have! If you attempt to marry her, I'll +follow you--and I'll find her--I'll tell Vida-- [_He turns to her._] I +will. I'll tell Vida just what sort of a dance you led me. + +JOHN. [_Quickly on her last word but speaking gravely._] Indeed! Will +you? And why do you care what happens to me? + +CYNTHIA. [_Startled by his tone._] I--I--ah-- + +JOHN. [_Insistently and with a faint hope._] _Why_ do you _care_? + +CYNTHIA. I don't. Not in your sense-- + +JOHN. How dare you then pretend-- + +CYNTHIA. I don't pretend. + +JOHN. [_Interrupting her; proud, serious and strong._] How dare you +look me in the face with the eyes that I once kissed, and pretend the +least regard for me? [CYNTHIA _recoils and looks away. Her own +feelings are revealed to her clearly for the first time._] I begin to +understand our American women now. Fire-flies--and the fire they gleam +with is so cold that a midge couldn't warm his heart at it, let alone +a man. You're not of the same race as a man! You married me for +nothing, divorced me for nothing, because you _are_ nothing! + +CYNTHIA. [_Wounded to the heart._] Jack! What are you saying? + +JOHN. [_With unrestrained emotion._] What,--you feigning an interest +in me, feigning a lie--and in five minutes-- [_With a gesture, +indicating the altar._] Oh, you've taught me the trick of your +sex--you're the woman who's not a woman! + +CYNTHIA. [_Weakly._] You're saying terrible things to me. + +JOHN. [_Low and with intensity._] You haven't been divorced from me +long enough to forget--what you should be ashamed to remember. + +CYNTHIA. [_Unable to face him and pretending not to understand him._] +I don't know what you mean? + +JOHN. [_More forcibly and with manly emotion._] You're not able to +forget me! You know you're not able to forget me; ask yourself if you +are able to forget me, and when your heart, such as it is, answers +"no," then-- [_The organ is plainly heard._] Well, then, prance gaily +up to the altar and marry that, if you can! + + _He abruptly quits the room and_ CYNTHIA, _moving to an + armchair, sinks into it, trembling._ MATTHEW _comes in and is + joined by_ MISS HENEAGE _and_ PHILIP. _They do not see_ + CYNTHIA _buried deeply in her chair. Accordingly_, MISS + HENEAGE _moves over to the sofa and waits. They are all + dressed for an evening reception and_ PHILIP _is in the + traditional bridegroom's rig._ + +MATTHEW. [_As he enters._] I am sure you will do your part, Sarah--in +a spirit of Christian decorum. [_To_ PHILIP.] It was impossible to +find my surplice, Philip, but the more informal the better. + +PHILIP. [_With pompous responsibility._] Where's Cynthia? + + [MATTHEW _gives a glance around the room._ + +MATTHEW. Ah, here's the choir! [_He moves forward to meet it._ CHOIR +BOYS _come in very orderly; divide and take their places, an even +number on each side of the altar of flowers._ MATTHEW _vaguely +superintends._ PHILIP _gets in the way of the bell and moves out of +the way._ THOMAS _comes in._] Thomas, I directed you--One moment, if +you please. [_He indicates the tables and chairs which_ THOMAS +_hastens to push against the wall._ + +PHILIP. [_Walking forward and looking around him._] Where's Cynthia? +[CYNTHIA _rises, and, at the movement_, PHILIP _sees her and moves +toward her. The organ grows suddenly silent._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Faintly._] Here I am. + + [MATTHEW _comes down. Organ plays softly._ + +MATTHEW. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Ah, my very dear Cynthia, I knew there was +something. Let me tell you the words of the hymn I have chosen: + + "Enduring love; sweet end of strife! + Oh, bless this happy man and wife!" + +I'm afraid you feel--eh--eh! + +CYNTHIA. [_Desperately calm._] I feel awfully queer--I think I need a +scotch. + + _Organ stops._ PHILIP _remains uneasily at a little + distance._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ GRACE _enter back slowly, as + cheerfully as if they were going to hear the funeral service + read. They remain near the doorway._ + +MATTHEW. Really, my dear, in the pomp and vanity--I mean--ceremony of +this--this unique occasion, there should be sufficient exhilaration. + +CYNTHIA. [_With extraordinary control._] But there isn't! + + [_Feeling weak, she sits down._ + +MATTHEW. I don't think my Bishop would approve of--eh--anything +_before_! + +CYNTHIA. [_Too agitated to know how much she is moved._] I feel very +queer. + +MATTHEW. [_Piously sure that everything is for the best._] My dear +child-- + +CYNTHIA. However, I suppose there's nothing for it--now--but--to--to-- + +MATTHEW. Courage! + +CYNTHIA. [_Desperate and with a sudden explosion._] Oh, don't speak to +me. I feel as if I'd been eating gunpowder, and the very first word of +the wedding service would set it off! + +MATTHEW. My dear, your indisposition is the voice of nature. [CYNTHIA +_speaks more rapidly and with growing excitement._ MATTHEW _makes a +movement toward the_ CHOIR BOYS. + +CYNTHIA. Ah,--that's it--nature! [MATTHEW _shakes his head._] I've a +great mind to throw the reins on nature's neck. + +PHILIP. Matthew! [_He moves to take his stand for the ceremony._ + +MATTHEW. [_Looks at_ PHILIP. _To_ CYNTHIA.] Philip is ready. [PHILIP +_comes forward and the organ plays the wedding march._ + +CYNTHIA. [_To herself, as if at bay._] Ready? Ready? Ready? + +MATTHEW. Cynthia, you will take Miss Heneage's arm. [MISS HENEAGE +_moves stiffly nearer to the table._] Sarah! [_He waves_ MISS HENEAGE +_in the direction of_ CYNTHIA, _at which she advances a joyless step +or two._ MATTHEW _goes over to give the choir a low direction._] Now +please don't forget, my boys. When I raise my hands so, you begin, +"Enduring love, sweet end of strife," etc. [CYNTHIA _has risen. On the +table by which she stands is her long lace cloak._ MATTHEW _assumes +sacerdotal importance and takes his position inside the altar of +flowers._] Ahem! Philip! [_He signs to_ PHILIP _to take his +position._] Sarah! [CYNTHIA _breathes fast, and supports herself +against the table._ MISS HENEAGE, _with the silent air of a martyr, +goes toward her and stands for a moment looking at her._] The ceremony +will now begin. + + _The organ plays Mendelssohn's wedding march._ CYNTHIA _turns + and faces_ MISS HENEAGE. MISS HENEAGE _slowly reaches_ + CYNTHIA _and extends her hand in her readiness to lead the + bride to the altar._ + +MISS HENEAGE. Mrs. Karslake! + +PHILIP. Ahem! [MATTHEW _walks forward two or three steps._ CYNTHIA +_stands as if turned to stone._ + +MATTHEW. My dear Cynthia. I request you--to take your place. [CYNTHIA +_moves one or two steps as if to go up to the altar. She takes_ MISS +HENEAGE'S _hand and slowly they walk toward_ MATTHEW.] Your husband to +be--is ready, the ring is in my pocket. I have only to ask you +the--eh--necessary questions,--and--eh--all will be blissfully over in +a moment. + + [_The organ grows louder._ + +CYNTHIA. [_At this moment, just as she reaches_ PHILIP, _stops, faces +round, looks him_, MATTHEW, _and the rest in the face, and cries out +in despair._] Thomas! Call a hansom! [THOMAS _goes out, leaving the +door open._ MISS HENEAGE _crosses the room quickly_; MRS. PHILLIMORE, +_shocked into action, rises._ CYNTHIA _catches up her cloak from the +table._ PHILIP _turns and_ CYNTHIA _comes forward and stops._] I +can't, Philip--I can't. [_Whistle of hansom is heard off; the organ +stops._] It is simply a case of throwing the reins on nature's +neck--up anchor--and sit tight! [MATTHEW _moves to_ CYNTHIA.] Matthew, +don't come near me! Yes, yes, I distrust you. It's your business, and +you'd marry me if you could. + +PHILIP. [_Watching her in dismay as she throws on her cloak._] Where +are you going? + +CYNTHIA. I'm going to Jack. + +PHILIP. What for? + +CYNTHIA. To stop his marrying Vida. I'm blowing a hurricane inside, a +horrible, happy hurricane! I know myself--I know what's the matter +with me. If I married you and Miss Heneage--what's the use of talking +about it--he mustn't marry that woman. He sha'n't. [CYNTHIA _has now +all her wraps on and walks toward the door rapidly. To_ PHILIP.] +Sorry! So long! Good-night and see you later. + + _Reaching the door, she goes out in blind haste and without + further ceremony._ MATTHEW, _in absolute amazement, throws up + his arms._ PHILIP _is rigid._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _sinks into a + chair._ MISS HENEAGE _stands supercilious and unmoved._ + GRACE, _the same. The choir, at MATTHEW'S gesture, mistakes + it for the concerted signal, and bursts lustily into the + Epithalamis:_ + + "Enduring love--sweet end of strife! + Oh, bless this happy man and wife!" + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT IV. + + + SCENE. _The scene is laid in_ JOHN KARSLAKE'S _study and + smoking-room. There is a bay window on the left. A door on + the left leads to stairs and the front of the house, while a + door at the back leads to the dining-room. A fireplace and a + mantel are on the right. A bookcase contains law and sporting + books. On the wall is a full-length portrait of_ CYNTHIA. + _Nothing of this portrait is seen by audience except the gilt + frame and a space of canvas. A large table with writing + materials is littered over with law books, sporting books, + papers, pipes, crops, a pair of spurs, &c. A wedding ring + lies on it. There are three very low easy-chairs. The general + appearance of the room is extremely gay and garish in colour. + It has the easy confusion of a man's room. There is a small + table on which, lying open, is a woman's sewing-basket, and, + beside it, a piece of rich fancy work, as if a lady had just + risen from sewing. Laid on the further end of it are a lady's + gloves. On a chair-back is a lady's hat. It is a half hour + later than the close of Act III. Curtains are drawn over the + window. A lamp on the table is lighted, as are, too, the + various electric lights. One chair is conspicuously standing + on its head._ + + NOGAM _is busy at the larger table. The door into the + dining-room is half open._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_Coming in from the dining-room._] Eh--what did you say +your name was? + +NOGAM. Nogam, sir. + +SIR WILFRID. Nogam? I've been here thirty minutes. Where are the +cigars? [NOGAM _motions to a small table near the entrance door._] +Thank you. Nogam, Mr. Karslake was to have followed us here, +immediately. [_He lights a cigar._ + +NOGAM. Mr. Karslake just now 'phoned from his club [SIR WILFRID _walks +toward the front of the room._], and he's on his way home, sir. + +SIR WILFRID. Nogam, why is that chair upside down? + +NOGAM. Our orders, sir. + +VIDA. [_Speaking as she comes in._] Oh, Wilfrid! [SIR WILFRID _turns._ +VIDA _coming slowly toward him._] I can't be left longer alone with +the lobster! He reminds me too much of Phillimore! + +SIR WILFRID. Karslake's coming; stopped at his club on the way! [_To_ +NOGAM.] You haven't heard anything of Mrs. Karslake--? + +NOGAM. [_Surprised._] No, sir! + +SIR WILFRID. [_In an aside to_ VIDA, _as they move right to appear to +be out of_ NOGAM'S _hearing._] Deucedly odd, ye know--for the Reverend +Matthew declared she left Phillimore's house before _he_ did,--and she +told them she was coming here! + + [NOGAM _evidently takes this in._ + +VIDA. Oh, she'll turn up. + +SIR WILFRID. Yes, but I don't see how the Reverend Phillimore had the +time to get here and make us man and wife, don't y' know-- + +VIDA. Oh, Matthew had a fast horse and Cynthia a slow one--or she's a +woman and changed her mind! Perhaps she's gone back and married +Phillimore. And besides, dear, Matthew wasn't in the house four +minutes and a half; only just long enough to hoop the hoop. [_She +twirls her new wedding ring gently about her finger._] Wasn't it lucky +he had a ring in his pocket? + +SIR WILFRID. Rather. + +VIDA. And are you aware, dear, that Phillimore bought and intended it +for Cynthia? Do come [_Going toward the door through which she has +just entered._], I'm desperately hungry! Whenever I'm married that's +the effect it has! [VIDA _goes out and_ SIR WILFRID, _following, stops +to talk to_ NOGAM. + +SIR WILFRID. We'll give Mr. Karslake ten minutes, Nogam. If he does +not come then, you might serve supper. + + [_He joins_ VIDA. + +NOGAM. [_To_ SIR WILFRID.] Yes, sir. [_The outside door opens and_ +FIDDLER _walks in._ + +FIDDLER. [_Easy and business-like._] Hello, Nogam, where's the +guv'nor? That mare's off her oats, and I've got to see him. + +NOGAM. He'll soon be here. + +FIDDLER. Who was the parson I met leaving the house? + +NOGAM. [_Whispering._] Sir Wilfrid and Mrs. Phillimore have a date +with the guv'nor in the dining-room, and the reverend gentleman-- [_He +makes a gesture as of giving an ecclesiastical blessing._ + +FIDDLER. [_Amazed._] He hasn't spliced them? [NOGAM _assents._] He +has? They're married? Never saw a parson could resist it! + +NOGAM. Yes, but I've got another piece of news for you. Who do you +think the Rev. Phillimore expected to find _here_? + +FIDDLER. [_Proud of having the knowledge._] Mrs. Karslake? I saw her +headed this way in a hansom with a balky horse only a minute ago. If +she hoped to be in at the finish-- + + [Fiddler _is about to set the chair on its legs._ + +NOGAM. [_Quickly._] Mr. Fiddler, sir, please to let it alone. + +FIDDLER. [_Putting the chair down in surprise._] Does it live on its +blooming head? + +NOGAM. Don't you remember? _She_ threw it on its head when she left +here, and he won't have it up. Ah, that's it--hat, sewing-basket and +all,--the whole rig is to remain as it was when she handed him his +knock-out. [_A bell rings outside._ + +FIDDLER. There's the guv'nor--I hear him! + +NOGAM. I'll serve the supper. [_Taking a letter from his pocket and +putting it on the mantel._] Mr. Fiddler, would you mind giving this to +the guv'nor? It's from his lawyer--his lawyer couldn't find him and +left it with me. He said it was very important. [_The bell rings +again. Speaking from the door to_ SIR WILFRID.] I'm coming, sir! + + NOGAM _goes out, shutting the door._ JOHN KARSLAKE _comes in. + His hat is pushed over his eyes; his hands are buried in his + pockets, and his appearance generally is one of weariness and + utter discouragement. He walks into the room slowly and + heavily. He sees_ FIDDLER, _who salutes, forgetting the + letter._ JOHN _slowly sinks into the arm-chair near his study + table._ + +JOHN. [_As he walks to his chair._] Hello, Fiddler! [_After a pause,_ +JOHN _throws himself into a chair, keeping his hat on. He throws down +his gloves, sighing._ + +FIDDLER. Came in to see you, sir, about Cynthia K. + +JOHN. [_Drearily._] Damn Cynthia K!-- + +FIDDLER. Couldn't have a word with you? + +JOHN. [_Grumpy._] No! + +FIDDLER. Yes, sir. + +JOHN. Fiddler. + +FIDDLER. Yes, sir. + +JOHN. Mrs. Karslake-- [FIDDLER _nods._] You used to say she was our +mascot? + +FIDDLER. Yes, sir. + +JOHN. Well, she's just married herself to a--a sort of a man-- + +FIDDLER. Sorry to hear it, sir. + +JOHN. Well, Fiddler, between you and me, we're a pair of idiots. + +FIDDLER. Yes, sir! + +JOHN. And now it's too late! + +FIDDLER. Yes, sir--oh, beg your pardon, sir--your lawyer left a +letter. [JOHN _takes letter; opens it and reads it, indifferently at +first._ + +JOHN. [_As he opens the letter._] What's he got to say, more than what +his wire said?--Eh-- [_Dumbfounded as he reads._] what?--Will +explain.--Error in wording of telegram.--Call me up.-- [_Turning +quickly to the telephone._] The man can't mean that she's +still--Hello! Hello! [JOHN _listens._ + +FIDDLER. Would like to have a word with you, sir-- + +JOHN. Hello, Central! + +FIDDLER. That mare-- + +JOHN. [_Consulting the letter, and speaking into the 'phone._] 33246a +38! Did you get it? + +FIDDLER. That mare, sir, she's got a touch of malaria-- + +JOHN. [_At the 'phone._] Hello, Central--33246a--38!--Clayton +Osgood--yes, yes, and say, Central--get a move on you! + +FIDDLER. If you think well of it, sir, I'll give her a tonic-- + +JOHN. [_Still at the 'phone._] Hello! Yes--yes--Jack Karslake. Is that +you, Clayton? Yes--yes--well-- + +FIDDLER. Or if you like, sir, I'll give her-- + +JOHN. [_Turning on_ FIDDLER.] Shut up! [_To 'phone._] What was that? +Not you--not you--a technical error? You mean to say that Mrs. +Karslake is still--my--Hold the wire, Central--get off the wire! Get +off the wire! Is that you, Clayton? Yes, yes--she and I are still--I +got it! Good-bye! [_He hangs up the receiver; falls back into a chair. +For a moment he is overcome. He takes up telephone book._ + +FIDDLER. All very well, Mr. Karslake, but I must know if I'm to give +her-- + +JOHN. [_Turning over the leaves of the telephone book in hot haste._] +What's Phillimore's number? + +FIDDLER. If you've no objections, I think I'll give her a-- + +JOHN. L--M--N--O--P--It's too late! She's married by this! +Married!--and--my God--I--I am the cause. Phillimore-- + +FIDDLER. I'll give her-- + +JOHN. Give her wheatina!--give her grape-nuts--give her away! +[FIDDLER, _biding his time, walks toward the window._] Only be quiet! +Phillimore! + + [SIR WILFRID _comes in._ + +SIR WILFRID. Hello! We'd almost given you up! + +JOHN. [_In his agitation unable to find_ Phillimore's _number._] Just +a moment! I'm trying to get Phillimore on the 'phone to--to tell Mrs. +Karslake-- + +SIR WILFRID. No good, my boy--she's on her way here! [JOHN _drops the +book and looks up dumbfounded._] The Reverend Matthew was here, y' +see--and he said-- + +JOHN. [_Rising, turns._] Mrs. Karslake is coming here? [SIR WILFRID +_nods._] To this house? Here? + +SIR WILFRID. That's right. + +JOHN. Coming here? You're sure? [SIR WILFRID _nods assent._] Fiddler, +I want you to stay here, and if Mrs. Karslake comes, don't fail to let +me know! Now then, for heaven's sake, what did Matthew say to you? + +SIR WILFRID. Come along in and I'll tell you. + +JOHN. On your life now, Fiddler, don't fail to let me-- + + [SIR WILFRID _carries_ JOHN _off with him._ + +VIDA. [_From the dining-room._] Ah, here you are! + +FIDDLER. Phew! + + _A moment's pause, and_ CYNTHIA _opens the front door, and + comes in very quietly, almost shyly, as if she were uncertain + of her welcome._ + +CYNTHIA. Fiddler! Where is he? Has he come? Is he here? Has he gone? + +FIDDLER. [_Rattled._] Nobody's gone, ma'am, except the Reverend +Matthew Phillimore. + +CYNTHIA. Matthew? He's been here and gone? [FIDDLER _nods assent._] +You don't mean I'm too late? He's married them already? + +FIDDLER. Nogam says he married them! + +CYNTHIA. He's married them! Married! Married before I could get here! +[_Sinking into an armchair._] Married in less time than it takes to +pray for rain! Oh, well, the church--the church is a regular quick +marriage counter. [VIDA _and_ JOHN _are heard in light-hearted +laughter._] Oh! + +FIDDLER. I'll tell Mr. Karslake-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Rising and going to the dining-room door, turns the key in +the lock and takes it out._] No--I wouldn't see him for the world! +[_Moving to the work-table with the key._] If I'm too late, I'm too +late! and that's the end of it! [_Laying the key on the table, she +remains standing near it._] I've come, and now I'll go! [_There is a +long pause during which_ CYNTHIA _looks slowly about the room, then +sighs and changes her tone._] Well, Fiddler, it's all a good deal as +it used to be in my day. + +FIDDLER. No, ma'am--everything changed, even the horses. + +CYNTHIA. [_Absent-mindedly._] Horses--how are the horses? + + [_Throughout her talk with_ Fiddler _she gives the idea that + she is saying good-bye to her life with_ JOHN. + +FIDDLER. Ah, when husband and wife splits, ma'am, it's the horses that +suffer. Oh, yes, ma'am, we're all changed since you give us the +go-by,--even the guv'nor. + +CYNTHIA. How's he changed? + +FIDDLER. Lost his sharp for horses, and ladies, ma'am--gives 'em both +the boiled eye. + +CYNTHIA. I can't say I see any change; there's my portrait--I suppose +he sits and pulls faces at me. + +FIDDLER. Yes, ma'am, I think I'd better tell him of your bein' here. + +CYNTHIA. [_Gently but decidedly._] No, Fiddler, no! [_Again looking +about her._] The room's in a terrible state of disorder. However, your +new mistress will attend to that. [_Pause._] Why, that's not her hat! + +FIDDLER. Yours, ma'am. + +CYNTHIA. Mine? [_Walking to the table to look at it._] Is that my +work-basket? [_After a pause._] My gloves? [FIDDLER _assents._] And I +suppose-- [_Hurriedly going to the writing-table._] My--yes, there it +is: my wedding ring!--just where I dropped it! Oh, oh, oh, he keeps it +like this--hat, gloves, basket and ring, everything just as it was +that crazy, mad day when I-- [_She glances at_ FIDDLER _and breaks +off._] But for heaven's sake, Fiddler, set that chair on its feet! + +FIDDLER. Against orders, ma'am. + +CYNTHIA. Against orders? + +FIDDLER. You kicked it over, ma'am, the day you left us. + +CYNTHIA. No wonder he hates me with the chair in that state! He nurses +his wrath to keep it warm. So, after all, Fiddler, everything _is_ +changed, and that chair is the proof of it. I suppose Cynthia K is +the only thing in the world that cares a whinney whether I'm alive or +dead. [_She breaks down and sobs._] How is she, Fiddler? + +FIDDLER. Off her oats, ma'am, this evening. + +CYNTHIA. Off her oats! Well, she loves me, so I suppose she will die, +or change, or--or something. Oh, she'll die, there's no doubt about +that--she'll die. [FIDDLER, _who has been watching his chance, takes +the key off the table while she is sobbing, tiptoes up stage, unlocks +the door and goes out. After he has done so_, CYNTHIA _rises and dries +her eyes._] There--I'm a fool--I must go--before--before--he-- + + [_As she speaks her last word_, JOHN _comes in swiftly._ + +JOHN. Mrs. Karslake! + +CYNTHIA. [_Confused._] I--I--I just heard Cynthia K was ill-- [JOHN +_assents._ CYNTHIA _tries to put on a cheerful and indifferent +manner._] I--I ran round--I--and--and-- [_Pausing, she turns and takes +a few steps._] Well, I understand it's all over. + +JOHN. [_Cheerfully._] Yes, it's all over. + +CYNTHIA. How is the bride? + +JOHN. Oh, she's a wonder. + +CYNTHIA. Indeed! Did she paw the ground like the war-horse in the +Bible? I'm sure when Vida sees a wedding ring she smells the battle +afar off. As for you, my dear Karslake, I should have thought once +bitten, twice shy! But, you know best. + + VIDA, _unable to keep her finger long out of a pie, saunters + in._ + +VIDA. Oh, Cynthia, I've just been through it again, and I feel as if I +were eighteen. There's no use talking about it, my dear, with a woman +it's never the second time! And how nice you were, Jack,--he never +even laughed at us! [SIR WILFRID _follows her with hat and cane._ VIDA +_kisses_ JOHN.] That's the wages of virtue! + +SIR WILFRID. [_In time to see her kiss_ JOHN.] I say, is it the +custom? Every time she does that, my boy, you owe me a thousand +pounds. [_Seeing_ CYNTHIA, _who approaches them, he looks at her and_ +JOHN _in turn._] Mrs. Karslake. [_To_ JOHN.] And then you say it's not +an extraordinary country! + + [CYNTHIA _is more and more puzzled._ + +VIDA. [_To_ JOHN.] See you next Derby, Jack! [_Walking to the door. +To_ SIR WILFRID.] Come along, Wilfrid! We really ought to be going. +[_To_ CYNTHIA.] I hope, dear, you haven't married him! Phillimore's a +tomb! Good-bye, Cynthia--I'm so happy! [_As she goes._] Just think of +the silly people, dear, that only have this sensation once in a +lifetime! + + [JOHN _follows_ VIDA _out the door._ + +SIR WILFRID. [_To_ CYNTHIA.] Good-bye, Mrs. Karslake. And I say, ye +know, if you have married that dull old Phillimore fellah, why, when +you've divorced him, come over and stay at Traynham! I mean, of +course, ye know, bring your new husband. There'll be lots o' horses to +show you, and a whole covey of jolly little Cates-Darbys. Mind you +come! [_With real delicacy of feeling and forgetting his wife._] Never +liked a woman as much in my life as I did you! + +VIDA. [_Outside; calling him._] Wilfrid, dear! + +SIR WILFRID. [_Loyal to the woman who has caught him._] --except the +one that's calling me! + + JOHN _returns, and_ SIR WILFRID, _nodding to him, goes out._ + JOHN _shuts the door and crosses the room. There is a pause._ + +CYNTHIA. So you're not married? + +JOHN. No. But I know that you imagined I was. + +CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] I suppose you think a woman has no right +to divorce a man--and still continue to feel a keen interest in his +affairs? + +JOHN. Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I don't quite see how-- + +CYNTHIA. A woman can be divorced--and still-- [JOHN _assents; she hides +her embarrassment._] Well, my dear Karslake, you've a long life before +you, in which to learn how such a state of mind is possible! So I +won't stop to explain. Will you be kind enough to get me a cab? [_She +moves to the door._ + +JOHN. Certainly. I was going to say I am not surprised at your feeling +an interest in me. I'm only astonished that, having actually married +Phillimore, you come here-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Indignantly._] I'm not married to him! + +JOHN. [_Silent for a moment._] I left you on the brink--made me feel a +little uncertain. + +CYNTHIA. [_In a matter of course tone._] I changed my mind--that's +all. + +JOHN. [_Taking his tone from her._] Of course. [_After an interval._] +Are you going to marry him? + +CYNTHIA. I don't know. + +JOHN. Does he know you-- + +CYNTHIA. I told him I was coming here. + +JOHN. Oh! He'll turn up here, then--eh? [CYNTHIA _is silent._] And +you'll go back with him, I suppose? + +CYNTHIA. [_Talking at random._] Oh--yes--I suppose so. I--I haven't +thought much about it. + +JOHN. [_Changing his tone._] Well, sit down; do. Till he comes--talk +it over. [_He places the armchair more comfortably for her._] This is +a more comfortable chair! + +CYNTHIA. [_Shamefacedly._] You never liked me to sit in that one! + +JOHN. Oh, well--it's different now. [CYNTHIA _moves and sits down, +near the upset chair. There is a long pause, during which_ JOHN +_thoughtfully paces the room._] You don't mind if I smoke? + +CYNTHIA. [_Shaking her head._] No. + +JOHN. [_Lighting his pipe and sitting down on the arm of a chair._] Of +course, if you find my presence painful, I'll--skiddoo. + + _He indicates the door._ CYNTHIA _shakes her head._ JOHN + _smokes his pipe and remains seated._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Suddenly and quickly._] It's just simply a fact, Karslake, +and that's all there is to it--if a woman has once been married--that +is, the first man she marries--then--she may quarrel, she may hate +him--she may despise him--but she'll always be jealous of him with +other women. Always! [JOHN _takes this as if he were simply glad to +have the information._ + +JOHN. Oh--H'm! ah--yes--yes. + +CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] You probably felt jealous of Phillimore. + +JOHN. [_Reasonably, sweetly, and in doubt._] N-o! [_Apologetically._] +I felt simply: Let him take his medicine. + +CYNTHIA. Oh! + +JOHN. I beg your pardon--I meant-- + +CYNTHIA. You meant what you said! + +JOHN. [_Moving a step toward her._] Mrs. Karslake; I apologize--I +won't do it again. But it's too late for you to be out alone--Philip +will be here in a moment--and of course, then-- + +CYNTHIA. It isn't what you _say_--it's--it's--it's everything. It's +the entire situation. Suppose by any chance I don't marry Phillimore! +And suppose I were seen at two or three in the morning leaving my +former husband's house! It's all wrong. I have no business to be here! +I'm going! You're perfectly horrid to me, you know--and--the whole +place--it's so familiar, and so--so associated with--with-- + +JOHN. Discord and misery--I know-- + +CYNTHIA. Not at all with discord and misery! With harmony and +happiness--with--with first love, and infinite hope--and--and--Jack +Karslake,--if you don't set that chair on its legs, I think I'll +explode. [JOHN _crosses the room rapidly, and sets the chair on its +legs. His tone changes._ + +JOHN. [_While setting chair on its legs._] There! I beg your pardon. + +CYNTHIA. [_Nervously._] I believe I hear Philip. [_She rises._ + +JOHN. [_Going up to the window._] N-o! That's the policeman trying the +front door! And now, see here, Mrs. Karslake,--you're only here for a +short minute, because you can't help yourself, but I want you to +understand that I'm not trying to be disagreeable--I don't want to +revive all the old unhappy-- + +CYNTHIA. Very well, if you don't--give me my hat. [JOHN _does so._] +And my sewing! And my gloves, please! [_She indicates the several +articles which lie on the small table._] Thanks! [CYNTHIA _throws the +lot into the fireplace, and returns to the place she has left near +table._] There! I feel better! And now--all I ask is-- + +JOHN. [_Laughing._] My stars, what a pleasure it is! + +CYNTHIA. What is? + +JOHN. Seeing you in a whirlwind! + +CYNTHIA. [_Wounded by his seeming indifference._] Oh! + +JOHN. No, but I mean, a real pleasure! Why not? Time's passed since +you and I were together--and--eh-- + +CYNTHIA. And you've forgotten what a vile temper I had! + +JOHN. [_Reflectively._] Well, you did kick the stuffing out of the +matrimonial buggy-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Pointedly but with good temper._] It wasn't a buggy; it was +a break cart-- [_She stands back of the arm-chair._] It's all very well +to blame me! But when you married me, I'd never had a bit in my mouth! + +JOHN. Well, I guess I had a pretty hard hand. Do you remember the time +you threw both your slippers out of the window? + +CYNTHIA. Yes, and do you remember the time you took my fan from me by +force? + +JOHN. After you slapped my face with it! + +CYNTHIA. Oh, oh! I hardly touched your face! And do you remember the +day you held my wrists? + +JOHN. You were going to bite me! + +CYNTHIA. Jack! I never! I showed my teeth at you! And I _said_ I would +bite you! + +JOHN. Cynthia, I never knew you to break your word! [_He laughs. +Casually._] And anyhow--they were awfully pretty teeth! [CYNTHIA, +_though bolt upright, has ceased to seem pained._] And I say--do you +remember, Cyn-- + + [_He leans over her armchair to talk._ + +CYNTHIA. [_After a pause._] You oughtn't to call me "Cyn"--it's not +nice of you. It's sort of cruel. I'm not--Cyn to you now. + +JOHN. Awfully sorry; didn't mean to be beastly, Cyn. [CYNTHIA _turns +quickly._ JOHN _stamps his foot._] Cynthia! Sorry. I'll make it a +commandment: thou shalt not Cyn!! + + [CYNTHIA _laughs and wipes her eyes._ + +CYNTHIA. How can you, Jack? How can you? + +JOHN. Well, hang it, my dear child, I--I'm sorry, but you know I +always got foolish with you. Your laugh'd make a horse laugh. Why, +don't you remember that morning in the park before breakfast--when you +laughed so hard your horse ran away with you! + +CYNTHIA. I do, I do! [_Both laugh. The door opens and_ NOGAM _comes +in, unnoticed by either._] But what was it started me laughing? +[_Laughing, she sits down and laughs again._] That morning. Wasn't it +somebody we met? [_Laughing afresh._] Wasn't it a man on a horse? [_As +her memory pieces the picture, she again goes off into laughter._ + +JOHN. [_Laughing too._] Of course! You didn't know him in those days! +But I did! And he looked a sight in the saddle! + + [NOGAM, _trying to catch their attention, moves toward the + table._ + +CYNTHIA. Who was it? + +JOHN. Phillimore! + +CYNTHIA. He's no laughing matter now. [_Seeing_ NOGAM.] Jack, he's +here! + +JOHN. Eh? Oh, Nogam? + +NOGAM. Mr. Phillimore, sir-- + +JOHN. In the house? + +NOGAM. On the street in a hansom, sir--and he requests Mrs. +Karslake-- + +JOHN. That'll do, Nogam. [NOGAM _goes out and there is a pause._ JOHN, +_on his way to the window, looks at_ CYNTHIA, _who has slowly risen +and turned her back to him._] Well, Cynthia? + + [_He speaks almost gravely and with finality._] + +CYNTHIA. [_Trembling._] Well? + +JOHN. It's the hour of decision; are you going to marry him? +[_Pause._] Speak up! + +CYNTHIA. Jack,--I--I-- + +JOHN. There he is--you can join him. [_He points to the street._ + +CYNTHIA. Join Phillimore--and go home--with him--to his house, and +Miss Heneage and-- + +JOHN. The door's open. [_He points to the door._ + +CYNTHIA. No, no! It's mean of you to suggest it! + +JOHN. You won't marry-- + +CYNTHIA. Phillimore--no; never. [_Running to the window._] No; never, +never, Jack. + +JOHN. [_Opening the window and calling out._] It's all right, Judge. +You needn't wait. + + _There is a pause._ JOHN _leaves the window and bursts into + laughter. He moves toward the door and closes it._ CYNTHIA + _looks dazed._ + +CYNTHIA. Jack! [JOHN _laughs._] Yes, but I'm here, Jack. + +JOHN. Why not? + +CYNTHIA. You'll have to take me round to the Holland House! + +JOHN. Of course, I will! But, I say, Cynthia, there's no hurry. + +CYNTHIA. Why, I--I--can't stay here. + +JOHN. No, of course you can't stay here. But you can have a bite, +though. [CYNTHIA _shakes her head._ JOHN _places the small chair, +which was upset, next to the table, and the armchair close by._] Oh, I +insist. Just look at yourself--you're as pale as a sheet and--here, +here. Sit right down. I insist! By George, you must do it! [CYNTHIA +_moves to the chair drawn up to the table, and sits down._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Faintly._] I _am_ hungry. + +JOHN. Just wait a moment. + + [JOHN _rushes out, leaving the door open._ + +CYNTHIA. I don't want more than a nibble! [_After a pause._] I am +sorry to give you so much trouble. + +JOHN. No trouble at all. [_From the dining-room comes the cheerful +noise of glasses and silver._] A hansom, of course, to take you round +to your hotel? [_Speaking as he returns with a tray._ + +CYNTHIA. [_To herself._] I wonder how I ever dreamed I could marry +that man. + +JOHN. [_Now by the table._] Can't imagine! There! + +CYNTHIA. I am hungry. Don't forget the hansom. + + [_She eats; he waits on her, setting this and that before + her._ + +JOHN. [_Goes to the door, opens it and calls._] Nogam, a hansom at +once. + +NOGAM. [_From without._] Yes, sir. + +JOHN. [_Again at the table, shows, and from now on continues to show, +his true feelings for her._] How does it go? + +CYNTHIA. [_Faintly._] It goes all right. Thanks! + + [_Hardly eating at all._ + +JOHN. You always used to like anchovy. [CYNTHIA _nods and eats._] +Claret? [CYNTHIA _shakes her head._] Oh, but you must! + +CYNTHIA. [_Tremulously._] Ever so little. [_He fills her glass and +then his._] Thanks! + +JOHN. Here's to old times! [_Raising his glass._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Very tremulous._] Please not! + +JOHN. Well, here's to your next husband. + +CYNTHIA. [_Very tenderly._] Don't! + +JOHN. Oh, well, then, what shall the toast be? + +CYNTHIA. I'll tell you-- [_After a pause._] you can drink to the +relation I am to you! + +JOHN. [_Laughing._] Well--what relation are you? + +CYNTHIA. I'm your first wife once removed! + +JOHN. [_Laughing, drinks._] I say, you're feeling better. + +CYNTHIA. Lots. + +JOHN. [_Reminiscent._] It's a good deal like those mornings after the +races--isn't it? + +CYNTHIA. [_Nods._] Yes. [_Half-rising._] Is that the hansom? + +JOHN. [_Going up to the window._] No. + +CYNTHIA. [_Sitting down again._] What is that sound? + +JOHN. Don't you remember? + +CYNTHIA. No. + +JOHN. That's the rumbling of the early milk wagons. + +CYNTHIA. Oh, Jack. + +JOHN. Do you recognize it now? + +CYNTHIA. Do I? We used to hear that--just at the hour, didn't we--when +we came back from awfully jolly late suppers and things! + +JOHN. H'm! + +CYNTHIA. It must be fearfully late. I must go. + + _She rises and moves to the chair where she has left her + cloak. She sees that_ JOHN _will not help her and puts it on + herself._ + +JOHN. Oh, don't go--why go? + +CYNTHIA. [_Embarrassed and agitated._] All good things come to an end, +you know. + +JOHN. They don't need to. + +CYNTHIA. Oh, you don't mean that! And, you know, Jack, if I were +caught--seen at this hour, leaving this house, you know--it's the most +scandalous thing any one ever did, my being here at all. Good-bye, +Jack! [_After a pause and almost in tears._] I'd like to say, +I--I--I--well, I sha'n't be bitter about you hereafter, +and-- [_Halting._] Thank you awfully, old man, for the fodder and all +that! [_She turns to go out._ + +JOHN. Mrs. Karslake--wait-- + +CYNTHIA. [_Stopping to hear._] Well? + +JOHN. [_Serious._] I've rather an ugly bit of news for you. + +CYNTHIA. Yes? + +JOHN. I don't believe you know that I have been testing the validity +of the decree of divorce which you procured. + +CYNTHIA. Oh, have you? + +JOHN. Yes; you know I felt pretty warmly about it. + +CYNTHIA. Well? + +JOHN. Well, I've been successful. [_After a pause._] The decree's been +declared invalid. Understand? + +CYNTHIA. [_Looking at him for a moment; then speaking._] +Not--precisely. + +JOHN. [_After a moment's silence._] I'm awfully sorry--I'm awfully +sorry, Cynthia, but, you're my wife still. + + [_There is a pause._ + +CYNTHIA. [_With rapture._] Honour bright? + + [_She sinks into the armchair._ + +JOHN. [_Nods. Half laughingly._] Crazy country, isn't it? + +CYNTHIA. [_Nods. After an interval._] Well, Jack--what's to be done? + +JOHN. [_Gently._] Whatever you say. + + [_He moves a few steps toward her._ + +NOGAM. [_Quietly coming in._] Hansom, sir. + + [_He goes out and_ CYNTHIA _rises._ + +JOHN. Why don't you finish your supper? + + [CYNTHIA _hesitates._ + +CYNTHIA. The--the--hansom-- + +JOHN. Why go to the Holland? After all--you know, Cyn, you're at home +here. + +CYNTHIA. No, Jack, I'm not--I'm not at home here--unless--unless-- + +JOHN. Out with it! + +CYNTHIA. [_Bursting into tears._] Unless I--unless I'm at home in your +heart, Jack! + +JOHN. What do you think? + +CYNTHIA. I don't believe you want me to stay. + +JOHN. Don't you? + +CYNTHIA. No, no, you hate me still. You never can forgive me. I know +you can't. For I can never forgive myself. Never, Jack, never, never! + + [_She sobs and he takes her in his arms._ + +JOHN. [_Very tenderly._] Cyn! I love you! [_Strongly._] And you've got +to stay! And hereafter you can chuck chairs around till all's blue! +Not a word now. + + [_He draws her gently to a chair._ + +CYNTHIA. [_Wiping her tears._] Oh, Jack! Jack! + +JOHN. I'm as hungry as a shark. We'll nibble together. + +CYNTHIA. Well, all I can say is, I feel that of all the improprieties +I ever committed this--this-- + +JOHN. This takes the claret, eh? Oh, Lord, how happy I am! + +CYNTHIA. Now don't say that! You'll make me cry more. + + _She wipes her eyes._ JOHN _takes out the wedding ring from + his pocket; he lifts a wine-glass, drops the ring into it and + offers her the glass._ + +JOHN. Cynthia! + +CYNTHIA. [_Looking at it and wiping her eyes._] What is it? + +JOHN. Benedictine! + +CYNTHIA. Why, you know I never take it. + +JOHN. Take this one for my sake. + +CYNTHIA. That's not benedictine. [_With gentle curiosity._] What is +it? + +JOHN. [_Slides the ring out of the glass and puts his arm about_ +CYNTHIA. _He slips the ring on to her finger and, as he kisses her +hand, says_:] Your wedding ring! + + + CURTAIN. + + + + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes + +Page 614: Phillmore changed to Phillimore. (MISS HENEAGE. Thomas, Mr. +Phillmore's sherry?) (THOMAS _gives the list to_ MRS. PHILLMORE _and +moves away._) + +Page 654: entremely changed to extremely. ([JOHN _looks entremely dark +and angry;_) + +Page 679: nad changed to and. (WILFRID _nad_ CYNTHIA _are practically +alone_) + +Page 685: tradional changed to traditional. (in the tradional +bridegroom's rig.) + +Page 691: couldn'. changed to couldn't (his lawyer couldn'. find him) + +Page 691: importantt changed to important. (He said it was very +importantt) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Representative Plays by American +Dramatists: 1856-1911: The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REPRESENTATIVE PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 25565.txt or 25565.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/5/6/25565/ + +Produced by David Starner, Diane Monico, and The Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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