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diff --git a/25565-h/25565-h.htm b/25565-h/25565-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fda7e51 --- /dev/null +++ b/25565-h/25565-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6380 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856-1911: +The New York Idea, by Langdon Mitchell. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +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: ISO-8859-1 + +*** 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 + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>THE NEW YORK IDEA</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="figcenter" style="width: 432px;"> +<img src="images/image001.jpg" width="432" height="580" alt="Langdon Mitchell" title="Langdon Mitchell" /> +<span class="caption">Langdon Mitchell</span> +</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<h2><a name="LANGDON_MITCHELL" id="LANGDON_MITCHELL"></a>LANGDON MITCHELL</h2> + +<p class="center">(Born Philadelphia, Pa., February 17, 1862)</p> + + +<p>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, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600">[Pg 600]</a></span>1915, at the Playhouse, New York, the <i>Times</i> 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."</p> + +<p>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 <i>Cynthia +Karslake</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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'.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601">[Pg 601]</a></span>indicate this aspect of the thing.</p> + +<p>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, <i>Vida</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>society</i> 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 <i>Jack</i> and <i>Cynthia</i> were both completely self-made, or the +son and daughter of powerful, self-made people, their tone could +not be the same.</p> + +<p>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 name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> Our relations with Germany at the time +were strained on account of 'certain happenings', but, notwithstanding, +the play was extraordinarily well received.</p></div> + +<p>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 <i>Tribune</i> of May 27, 1907. This critique follows the +present foreword, as its use in the early edition represents Mr. +Mitchell's choice.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602">[Pg 602]</a></span> +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 François," 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.</p> + + +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap"><b>Mr. William Archer's Notice of<br /> +"The New York Idea."</b></span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>... 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-Siècle."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Like all the plays, from Sardou's "Divorçons" 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603">[Pg 603]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Nor has he thereby falsified his problem, for his characters +belong to that class of society in which, as Mr. Dooley points out,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604">[Pg 604]</a></span> +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. <i>John</i> and <i>Cynthia Karslake</i> 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 <i>John</i> 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 <i>Cynthia</i> 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 <i>William Sudley's</i> +remark as to <i>John Karslake</i>: "Oh, yes, he comes of a very +respectable family, though I remember his father served a term +in the Senate."</p> + +<p>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 <i>Cynthia Karslake</i> 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."<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></p></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> At the Kammerspiel Theatre, Berlin, under the direction of Max Reinhardt, +October 7, 1916. There are translations in Danish, Swedish and Hungarian.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> <i>The Editor takes the occasion to express his thanks to Mr. William Archer for his +kind permission to quote this analysis of the play.</i></p></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605">[Pg 605]</a></span> +</p> +<h2>LYRIC THEATRE<br /></h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="lyric"> +<tr><td align='left'>REGINALD DeKOVEN,</td><td align='right'>Proprietor</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SAM S. and LEE SHUBERT (Inc.),</td><td align='right'>Lessees and Managers</td></tr> +</table></div> +<p class="center">NINTH AND LAST WEEK.<br /><br /> +BEGINNING MONDAY EVENING. JANUARY 14, 1907.<br /><br /> +Matinee Saturday.<br /> +</p> + +<h5>Under the Direction of HARRISON GREY FISKE<br /></h5> + +<h3>MRS. FISKE<br /></h3> + +<h5>—AND—<br /></h5> + +<h4>THE MANHATTAN COMPANY<br /></h4> + +<h6>Presenting a Play in Four Acts, Entitled<br /></h6> + +<h3>THE NEW YORK IDEA<br /></h3> + +<h4>BY LANGDON MITCHELL<br /><br /></h4> + +<p class="center">Cast of Characters.<br /></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="cast"> +<tr><td align='left'>Philip Phillimore</td><td align='right'>Charles Harbury</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Phillimore, his mother</td><td align='right'>Ida Vernon</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Reverend Mathew Phillimore, his brother</td><td align='right'>Dudley Clinton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Grace Phillimore, his sister</td><td align='right'>Emily Stevens</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Miss Heneage, his aunt</td><td align='right'>Blanche Weaver</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>William Sudley, his cousin</td><td align='right'>Dudley Digges</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Vida Phillimore, his divorced wife</td><td align='right'>Marion Lea</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Brooks, her footman</td><td align='right'>Frederick Kerby</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Benson, her maid</td><td align='right'>Belle Bohn</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</td><td align='right'>George Arliss</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>John Karslake</td><td align='right'>John Mason</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Cynthia Karslake, his divorced wife</td><td align='right'>Mrs. Fiske</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nogam, his valet</td><td align='right'>James Morley</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tim Fiddler</td><td align='right'>Robert V. Ferguson</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thomas, the Phillimore's family servant</td><td align='right'>Richard Clarke</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ACT_I">ACT I</a>—Drawing-Room in the Phillimore house. Washington Square.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Wednesday afternoon, at five o'clock.</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ACT_II">ACT II</a>—Mrs. Vida Phillimore's Boudoir. Fifth Avenue.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Thursday morning at eleven.</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ACT_III">ACT III</a>—Same as Act I.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Thursday evening, at ten.</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ACT_IV">ACT IV</a>—John Karslake's House. Madison Avenue.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>Thursday, at midnight.</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Scene—New York</td><td align='right'> Time—The Present.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="center">The production staged by Mr. and Mrs. Fiske.<br /> +</p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607">[Pg 607]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE NEW YORK IDEA</h2> + +<h3><i>A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS</i></h3> + +<h2>By <span class="smcap">Langdon Mitchell</span></h2> + +<h6>COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY LANGDON MITCHELL</h6> + + +<p><small>[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.]</small></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608">[Pg 608]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE PEOPLE.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="people"> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span>, <i>a Judge on the bench, age 50</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Grace Phillimore</span>, <i>his sister, age 20</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>his mother, age 70</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <i>his aunt, age 60</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Matthew Phillimore</span>, <i>his brother—a bishop, age 45</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">William Sudley</span>, <i>his cousin, age 50</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Vida Phillimore</span>, <i>his divorced wife, age 35</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">John Karslake</span>, <i>lawyer, politician and racing-man, age 35</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Cynthia Karslake</span>, <i>his divorced wife, age 25</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Brooks, Mrs. Phillimore's</span> <i>footman</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Tim Fiddler, Mr. Karslake's</span> <i>trainer</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Nogam</span>, <i>his valet</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>the family servant of the</i> <span class="smcap">Phillimores</span>, <i>age 45</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Benson, Mrs. Vida Phillimore's</span> <i>maid, age 20</i>.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_609" id="Page_609">[Pg 609]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><b>The following is the Cast for the evening performance at the<br /> +Lyric Theatre, New York, Monday, November 19, 1906.</b></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="castnov"> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Charles Harbury.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>his mother</i></td><td align='left'>Ida Vernon.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Reverend Matthew Phillimore</span>, <i>his brother</i></td><td align='left'>Dudley Clinton.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Grace Phillimore</span>, <i>his sister</i></td><td align='left'>Emily Stevens.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <i>his aunt</i></td><td align='left'>Blanche Weaver.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">William Sudley</span>, <i>his cousin</i></td><td align='left'>William B. Mack.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Vida Phillimore</span>, <i>his divorced wife</i></td><td align='left'>Marion Lea.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Brooks</span>, <i>her footman</i></td><td align='left'>George Harcourt.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>her maid</i></td><td align='left'>Belle Bohn.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</span></td><td align='left'>George Arliss.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">John Karslake</span></td><td align='left'>John Mason.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Cynthia Karslake</span>, <i>his divorced wife</i></td><td align='left'>Mrs. Fiske.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Nogam</span>, <i>his valet</i></td><td align='left'>Dudley Digges.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Tim Fiddler</span></td><td align='left'>Robert V. Ferguson.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Thomas, the Phillimore's</span> <i>family servant</i></td><td align='left'>Richard Clarke.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Scene—New York.</td><td align='left'>Time—The Present.</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p class="center"><b>Revived in New York at The Playhouse, Tuesday Evening,<br /> +September 28, 1915, with the following Cast.</b></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="castsep"> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Lumsden Hare.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Grace Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Norah Lamison.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Eugenie Woodward.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span></td><td align='left'>Josephine Lovett.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Matthew Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Albert Reed.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">William Sudley</span></td><td align='left'>John Cromwell.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Vida Phillimore</span></td><td align='left'>Mary Nash.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</span></td><td align='left'>Ernest Lawford.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">John Karslake</span></td><td align='left'>Conway Tearle.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Cynthia Karslake</span></td><td align='left'>Grace George.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Brooks</span></td><td align='left'>Selwyn Joyce.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Tim Fiddler</span></td><td align='left'>Tracy Barrow.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Nogam</span></td><td align='left'>G. Guthrie McClintic.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Thomas</span></td><td align='left'>Richard Clarke.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Benson</span></td><td align='left'>Anita Wood.</td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_611" id="Page_611">[Pg 611]</a></span></p> +<h3><i>To Marion Lea</i></h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_613" id="Page_613">[Pg 613]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE NEW YORK IDEA</h2> + + +<h2><a name="ACT_I" id="ACT_I"></a>ACT I.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span> <i>Living-room in the house of</i> <span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span>. <i>Five</i> +<span class="smcap">P. M.</span> <i>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.</i></p> + +<p><i>Seated in the room are</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>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.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>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.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>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.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>is seated at the tea-table, facing the footlights.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. +Phillimore</span> <i>is seated at the table on the right.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>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.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>both +have cups of tea.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>sits up very straight, and pours +tea for</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>, <i>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.</i></p></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>As she moves to the sofa.</i>] I never in my life walked +so far and found so few people at home. [<i>Pauses. Takes off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_614" id="Page_614">[Pg 614]</a></span> +gloves. Somewhat querulously.</i>] The fact is the nineteenth of +May is ridiculously late to be in town.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Thomas, Mr. Phillimore's sherry?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Indicating the particular table.</i>] The sherry, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Mr. Phillimore's <i>Post</i>?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Pointing to "The Evening Post" on the tea-table.</i>] +The <i>Post</i>, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Indicating cup.</i>] Miss Phillimore.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>takes cup of tea to</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>. <i>Silence. They all sip tea.</i> +<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes back, fills sherry glass, remaining round and about +the tea-table. They all drink tea during their entire conversation.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> The Dudleys were at home. They wished to know +when my brother Philip was to be married, and where and how?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> If the Dudleys were persons of breeding, +they'd not intrude their curiosity upon you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I like Lena Dudley.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Speaking slowly and gently.</i>] Do I know +Miss Dudley?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> She knows Philip. She expects an announcement of +the wedding.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I told the Dudleys Philip's wedding was here, to-morrow.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>picking up a sheet of +paper from the table.</i>] 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. [<i>Taking the sheet of note-paper and giving +it to</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Of course the announcement Philip himself made +was quite out of the question. [<span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>smiles.</i>] However, there is +mine. [<i>She points to the paper.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>gives the list to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. +Phillimore</span> <i>and moves away.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I hope you'll send an announcement to the Dudleys.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Prepared to make the best of things, plaintively +reads.</i>] "Mr. Philip Phillimore and Mrs. Cynthia Dean +Karslake announce their marriage, May twentieth, at three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_615" id="Page_615">[Pg 615]</a></span> +o'clock, Nineteen A, Washington Square, New York." [<i>Replacing +the paper on</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas's</span> <i>salver.</i>] It sounds very nice.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>returns the paper to</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> 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. [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes +out.</i>] 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. +[<i>Returning to her teacup.</i>] The person I shall ask counsel of is +cousin William Sudley. He promised to drop in this afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Oh! We shall hear all about Cairo.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> William is judicious. [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>returns.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With finality.</i>] Cousin William will disapprove +of the match unless a winter in Cairo has altered his moral +tone.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Announcing.</i>] Mr. Sudley.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He ushers in</i> <span class="smcap">William Sudley</span>, <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Rising and greeting</i> +<span class="smcap">Sudley</span>; <i>a little tremulously.</i>] My dear William!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>withdraws.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Shakes hands with</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>soberly glad +to see them.</i>] How d'ye do, Mary? [<i>Greeting</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>.] +A very warm May you're having, Sarah.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Coming forward to welcome him.</i>] Dear Cousin +William!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Wasn't it warm in Cairo when you left?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She will have the strict truth, or nothing; still, on account of</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley's</span> +<i>impeccable respectability, she treats him with more than +usual leniency.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Sitting down.</i>] We left Cairo six weeks ago, Grace, +so I've had no news since you wrote in February that Philip was +engaged. [<i>After a pause.</i>] 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!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_616" id="Page_616">[Pg 616]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Oh, but Philip has succeeded in keeping everything as +quiet as possible.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Acidly.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>With unfeigned interest.</i>] Oh, what did she do?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> 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. [<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>indicates +the presence of</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>and rises.</i>] That was only the beginning. +As soon as she heard of Philip's engagement, she gave a dinner in +honour of it! Only divorcées 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!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Rising and moving to the table.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Irritated and disgusted.</i>] Ah!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>With dismay and pain.</i>] Dear me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Confident of the value of her opinion.</i>] I disapprove +of Mrs. Phillimore.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Taking a cigarette.</i>] Of course you do, but has Philip +taken to Egyptian cigarettes in order to celebrate my winter at +Cairo?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Those are Cynthia's.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Thinking that no one is worth knowing whom he does +not know.</i>] Who is "Cynthia?"</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Mrs. Karslake—She's staying here, Cousin William. +She'll be down in a minute.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Shocked.</i>] You don't mean to tell me—?—!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Suspicious and distrustful.</i>] And may I ask <i>who</i> Mrs. +Karslake is?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With confidence.</i>] She was a Deane.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Walking about the room, sorry to be obliged to concede +good birth to any but his own blood.</i>] Oh, oh—well, the Deanes are +extremely nice people. [<i>Approaching the table.</i>] Was her father +J. William Deane?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_617" id="Page_617">[Pg 617]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Nodding, still more secure.</i>] Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Giving in with difficulty.</i>] The family is an old one. +J. William Deane's daughter? Surely he left a very considerable—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Oh, fifteen or twenty millions.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Determined not to be dazzled.</i>] If I remember rightly +she was brought up abroad.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Always ready to think the worst.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Not at all. Cynthia Karslake divorced her +husband.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Gloomily, since he has less fault to find than he expected.</i>] +She divorced him! Ah!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He seeks the consolation of his tea.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> 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— [<i>Glancing +at</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>] no hostages to Fortune! Ahem!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Still unwilling to be pleased.</i>] Ah! What sort of a +young woman is she?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>With the superiority of one who is not too popular.</i>] +Men admire her.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> She's not conventional.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Showing a faint sense of justice.</i>] I am +bound to say she has behaved discreetly ever since she arrived +in this house.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Yes, Mary—but I sometimes suspect that +she exercises a degree of self-control—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Glad to have something against some one.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Very superciliously.</i>] He owns Cynthia K. She's the +famous mare.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> He's Henry Karslake's son.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Beginning to make the best of fifteen millions-in-law.</i>] +Oh!—Henry!—Very respectable family. Although I remember<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_618" id="Page_618">[Pg 618]</a></span> +his father served a term in the Senate. And so the wedding is +to be to-morrow?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Assenting.</i>] To-morrow.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Rising, his respectability to the front when he thinks of +the ceremony.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>rises.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Whispering to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.] Cynthia's coming.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He doesn't hear.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Sententious and determinately epigrammatic.</i>] The +uncouth modern young woman, eight feet high, with a skin like +a rhinoceros and manners like a cave-dweller—an habitué of the +race-track and the divorce court—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.] Cousin William!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> Eh, oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Reading her newspaper, advances into the room, +immersed, excited, trembling. She lowers paper to catch the light.</i>] +"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!" [<i>Speaking with the enthusiasm of a sport.</i>] +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?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Going over to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Bowing without cordiality.</i>] Mrs. Karslake.</p> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>pauses, feeling he should say something. As he says +nothing, she speaks again.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I hope Cairo was delightful? Did you have a +smooth voyage?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_619" id="Page_619">[Pg 619]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Pompously.</i>] You must permit me, Mrs. Karslake—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With good temper, somewhat embarrassed, and +talking herself into ease.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> My dear Mrs. Karslake, I think it might be wiser—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Still with cordial good temper.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Very sententious.</i>] I am afraid—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Gay and still covering her embarrassment.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>After a self-important pause.</i>] I will come, Mrs. +Karslake. [<i>Pausing.</i>] Good-afternoon. [<i>In a tone of sorrow and +light compassion.</i>] Good-bye, Mary. Good-afternoon, Sarah. +[<i>Sighing.</i>] Grace, dear. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>.] At what hour did +you say the alimony commences?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Quickly and commandingly to cover his slip.</i>] +The ceremony is at three <span class="smcap">P. M.</span>, William.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>walks toward the door.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>With fatigued voice and manner as she +rises.</i>] I am going to my room to rest awhile.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She trails slowly from the room.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.] Oh, William, one moment—I +entirely forgot! I've a most important social question to ask +you! [<i>She accompanies him slowly to the door.</i>] in regard to the +announcements of the wedding—who they shall be sent to and +who not. For instance—the Dudleys— [<i>Deep in their talk</i>, +<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>pass out together.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>From the sofa.</i>] So that's Cousin William?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>From the tea-table.</i>] Don't you like him?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Calmly sarcastic.</i>] Like him? I love him. He's so +generous. He couldn't have received me with more warmth if +I'd been a mulatto.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in, preceded by</i> <span class="smcap">Phillimore</span>. <span class="smcap">Philip Phillimore</span> +<i>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_620" id="Page_620">[Pg 620]</a></span> +from the bench, and it is practically impossible for him to believe +that he can make a mistake.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Outraged.</i>] Really you know— [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> +<i>moves to the table.</i>] Philip!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>nods to</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>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</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>on the forehead. +Goes to his chair, which</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>has moved to suit him. He +sits, and sighs with satisfaction.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>As if exhausted by brain work.</i>] Ah, Grace! [<span class="smcap">Grace</span> +<i>immediately sails out of the room.</i>] Well, my dear, I thought I +should never extricate myself from the court-room. You look +very debonnair!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The tea's making. You'll have your glass of sherry?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>The strain of the day evidently having been severe.</i>] +Thanks! [<i>Taking it from</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>and sighing.</i>] Ah!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can see it's been a tiring day with you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>His great tussle with the world leaving him unworsted +but utterly spent.</i>] H'm! [<i>He gratefully sips his tea.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Were the lawyers very long-winded?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Almost too tired for speech.</i>] 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! [<i>A little suddenly, awaking to the fact that his orders +have not been carried out to the letter.</i>] Thomas! My <i>Post</i> is not +in its usual place!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> It's here, Philip. [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>gets it.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Thanks, my dear. [<i>Opening "The Post."</i>] Ah! This +hour with you—is—is really the—the— [<i>Absently.</i>] the one vivid +moment of the day. [<i>Reading.</i>] 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. +[<i>After a pause, he reads.</i>] H'm! His English is lacking in idiom, +his spelling in conservatism, his mind in balance, and his character +in repose.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Amiable but not very sympathetic.</i>] You seem more +fatigued than usual. Another glass of sherry, Philip?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Oh, I ought not to—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I think you seem a little more tired than usual.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_621" id="Page_621">[Pg 621]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Perhaps I am. [<i>She pours out sherry.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>takes +glass but does not sip.</i>] Ah, this hour is truly a grateful form of +restful excitement. [<i>After an inspired interval.</i>] You, too, find +it—eh? [<i>He looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With veiled sarcasm.</i>] Decidedly.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Decidedly what, my dear?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her sarcasm still veiled.</i>] Restful.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> H'm! Perhaps I need the calm more than you do. +Over the case to-day I actually—eh— [<i>Sipping his tea.</i>] slumbered. +I heard myself do it. That's how I know. A dressmaker +sued on seven counts. [<i>Reading his newspaper.</i>] 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—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Sweeping a descriptive motion with his hand, he gives the paper to</i> +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>then moves his glass, reads, and sips.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The lamp, Thomas.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>blows out the alcohol lamp on the tea-table with difficulty. +Blows twice. Movement of</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>each time. Blows again.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Irritably.</i>] Confound it, Thomas! What are you +puffing and blowing at—?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> It's out, ma'am—yes, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You're excessively noisy, Thomas!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>In a fluster.</i>] Yes, sir—I am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Soothing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas's</span> <i>wounded feelings.</i>] We don't +need you, Thomas.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Puffing and blowing and shaking and quaking like an +automobile in an ecstasy! [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>meekly withdraws.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Not unsympathetically.</i>] Too bad, Philip! I hope +my presence isn't too agitating?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Admitting that married life is a blank, begins to look +through paper.</i>] Yes, I feel as if we were married already.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Not recognizing her tone.</i>] Ah! It's the calm, you +see.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Without warmth.</i>] The calm? Yes—yes, it's—it's +the calm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_622" id="Page_622">[Pg 622]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Sighs.</i>] Yes, the calm—the Halcyon calm of—of +second choice. H'm! [<i>He reads and turns over the leaves of the +paper.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>reads. There is a silence.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Embarrassed.</i>] Oh, eh—well—I—eh—I'm just +running over the sporting news.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Oh! [<i>He looks thoughtful.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Beginning to forget</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>and to remember more +interesting matters.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Still interested in his newspaper.</i>] 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 [<i>Turning a +page.</i>], here's the report of my opinion in that dressmaker's case—Haggerty +<i>vs.</i> Phillimore.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Puzzled.</i>] Was the case brought against you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Oh—no. The suit was brought by Haggerty, Miss +Haggerty, a dressmaker, against the—in fact, my dear, against +the former Mrs. Phillimore. [<i>After a pause, he returns to his +reading.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Curious about the matter.</i>] How did you decide it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I was obliged to decide in Mrs. Phillimore's favour. +Haggerty's plea was preposterous.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Did you—did you meet the—the—former—?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> No.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I often see her at afternoon teas.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> How did you recognize—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why— [<i>Opening the paper.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Slowly, considering.</i>] No,—would you find it so +impossible to meet Mr.—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Much excited and aroused.</i>] Philip! Don't speak of +him. He's nothing. He's a thing of the past. I never think of +him. I forget him!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Somewhat sarcastic.</i>] That's extraordinarily original +of you to forget him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_623" id="Page_623">[Pg 623]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Gently, and wishing to drop the subject.</i>] We each of +us have something to forget, Philip—and John Karslake is to +me—Well, he's dead!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> As a matter of fact, my dear, he <i>is</i> dead, or the next +thing to it—for he's bankrupt.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After a pause.</i>] Bankrupt? [<i>Excited and moved.</i>] +Let's not speak of him. I mean never to see him or think about +him or even hear of him! [<i>He assents. She reads her paper. He +sips his tea and reads his paper. She turns a page, starts and cries +out.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> God bless me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> It's a picture of—of—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> John Karslake?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Picture of him, and one of me, and in the middle +between us "Cynthia K!"</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> "Cynthia K!"</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excited.</i>] My pet riding mare! The best horse he +has! She's an angel even in a photograph! Oh! [<i>Reading.</i>] +"John Karslake drops a fortune at Saratoga." [<i>Rises and walks +up and down excitedly.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>takes the paper and reads.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Unconcerned, as the matter hardly touches him.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Sensitive and much disturbed.</i>] Don't! Don't, +Philip, please don't!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> My dear Cynthia—take another paper—here's my +<i>Post</i>! You'll find nothing disagreeable in <i>The Post</i>.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>takes paper.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After reading, near the table.</i>] It's much worse in +<i>The Post</i>. "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. [<i>Puts paper on the table.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Really, my dear, Mr. Karslake is bound to appear +occasionally in print—or even you may have to meet him.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[Thomas <i>comes in.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Determined and distressed.</i>] I won't meet him! I +won't meet him. Every time I hear his name or "Cynthia K's" +I'm so depressed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_624" id="Page_624">[Pg 624]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Announcing with something like reluctance.</i>] Sir, Mr. +Fiddler. Mr. Karslake's trainer.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excited and disturbed.</i>] Fiddler? Tim Fiddler? +His coming is outrageous!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> A note for you, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Impulsively.</i>] Oh, Fiddler—is that you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes'm!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>In a half whisper, still speaking on impulse.</i>] How +is she! Cynthia K? How's Planet II and the colt and Golden +Rod? How's the whole stable? Are they well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> No'm—we're all on the bum. [<i>Aside.</i>] Ever since +you kicked us over!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Reproving him, though pleased.</i>] Fiddler!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> The horses is just simply gone to Egypt since you +left, and so's the guv'nor.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Putting an end to</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>.] That will do, Fiddler.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> I'm waiting for an answer, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What is it, Philip?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Uncomfortable.</i>] A mere matter of business. [<i>Aside +to</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>.] The answer is, Mr. Karslake can come. The—the +coast will be clear. [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>goes out.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Amazed; rising.</i>] You're not going to see him?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> 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.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>walks the length of the room in excited dejection.</i></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Most amiably.</i>] Ah, my dear brother!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Greeting him.</i>] Matthew.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Nodding to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Good afternoon, my dear +Cynthia. How charming you look! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>sits down at the</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_625" id="Page_625">[Pg 625]</a></span> +<i>tea-table. To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Ah, why weren't you in your pew +yesterday? I preached a most original sermon.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He lays his hat and cane on the divan.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Sir, Mrs. Vida Phillimore's maid +called you up on the telephone, and you're to expect Mrs. Phillimore +on a matter of business.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Astonished and disgusted.</i>] Here, impossible! [<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Excuse me, my dear! [<span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>much embarrassed, +goes out, followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Approaching</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia's</span> <i>chair, happily and +pleasantly self-important.</i>] 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? [<i>Gently.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Indulgently, in spite of his folly, because he is kind.</i>] +You're such a dear, delightful Pagan! Here's your tea!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Taking the tea.</i>] Why, my dear—you have a very +sad expression!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>A little bitterly.</i>] Why not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>With sentimental sweetness.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Impulsively.</i>] Yes, I have!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Eh?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I committed the unpardonable sin—whe—when I +married for love!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> One must not marry for anything else, my dear!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why am I marrying your brother?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> I often wonder why? I wonder why you didn't +choose to remain a free woman.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Going over the ground she has often argued with herself.</i>] +I meant to; but a divorcée 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Setting down his teacup.</i>] Yes—yes!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_626" id="Page_626">[Pg 626]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Growing more and more excited and moved as she +speaks.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Amiable and reminiscent.</i>] Ah—ah—in my +youth—I,—I too!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Coming back to her manner of every day.</i>] And besides—the +day Philip asked me I was in the dumps! And now—how +about marrying only for love? [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>comes back.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Ah, my dear, love is not the only thing in the +world!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Half aside.</i>] I got there too late, she'd hung up.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Who, Philip?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Eh—a lady—eh—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>flurried, comes in with a card on a salver.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> A card for you, sir. Ahem—ahem—Mrs. Phillimore—that +was, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Eh?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> She's on the stairs, sir. [<i>He nods backward, only to +find</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>at his side. He announces her as being the best way of +meeting the difficulty.</i>] Mrs. Vida Phillimore!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>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.</i> +<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>withdraws.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> How do you do, Philip. [<i>After a pause.</i>] 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. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>condescendingly, the +clergy being a class of unfortunates debarred by profession from the +pleasures of the world.</i>] How do you do? [<i>Pause. She then goes +to the real reason of her visit.</i>] Do be polite and present me to +your wife-to-be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_627" id="Page_627">[Pg 627]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Awkwardly.</i>] Cynthia—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Cheerfully, with dash, putting the table between</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> +<i>and herself.</i>] 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? [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>sits near the little table.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] 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! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who moves to the tea-table.</i>] My dear, I'm +paying you compliments. Five lumps and quantities of cream. +I find single life very thinning. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>calm and ready to be +agreeable to any man.</i>] And how well you're looking! It must be +the absence of matrimonial cares—or is it a new angel in the +house?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Outraged at</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>intrusion, but polite though delicately +sarcastic.</i>] 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. [<i>Rises.</i>] Do you know it +would be in much better taste if you would take the place you're +accustomed to?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>As calm as before.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I assure you—</p> + +<p>Vida. [<i>Unable to resist a thrust.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Feels that this is no place for his future wife. Rises +quickly. To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Cynthia, I would prefer that you left us.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>moves to the sofa and sits down.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Determined not to leave the field first, remains seated.</i>] +Certainly, Philip!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I expect another visitor who—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With flattering insistence, to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Taking it with apparent calm, but pointing her remarks.</i>] +Naturally. If people in our position couldn't meet, New +York society would soon come to an end. [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_628" id="Page_628">[Pg 628]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm, but getting her knife in too.</i>] Precisely. Society's +no bigger than a band-box. Why, it's only a moment ago I saw +Mr. Karslake walking—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Ah!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Announcing clearly. Everyone changes place, in consternation, +amusement or surprise.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves to leave the +room, but stops for fear of attracting</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake's</span> <i>attention.</i>] Mr. +John Karslake!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake</span>. <i>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.</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake</span> <i>sees first</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>and then</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>. +<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> How do you do?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Very gay and no respecter of persons.</i>] Good-afternoon, +Mr. Phillimore. Hello—here's the church! [<i>Crossing to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> +<i>and shaking hands. He slaps him on the back.</i>] 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? [<i>Sees</i> +<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and bows, very politely.</i>] Galatians 4:2, "The more the +merrier," or "Who next?" [<i>Smiles.</i>] As the whale said after +Jonah! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>makes a sudden movement, upsetting her tea-cup.</i> +<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>faces about quickly and they face each other.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>gives a +frank start. A pause holds them.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Astounded, in a low voice.</i>] Mrs. Karslake— [<i>Bowing.</i>] +I was not aware of the pleasure in store for me. I understood +you were in the country. [<i>Recovering and moving to her chair.</i>] +Perhaps you'll be good enough to make me a cup of tea?—that is +if the teapot wasn't lost in the scrimmage. [<i>There is another +pause.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>determined to equal him in coolness, returns to +the tea-tray.</i>] Mr. Phillimore, I came to get your signature in +that matter of Cox <i>vs.</i> Keely.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I shall be at your service, but pray be seated.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He indicates a chair by the tea-table.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Sitting beyond but not far from the tea-table.</i>] And I also +understood you to say you wanted a saddle-horse.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You have a mare called—eh—"Cynthia K?"</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Promptly.</i>] Yes—she's not for sale.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Oh, but she's just the mare I had set my mind on.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_629" id="Page_629">[Pg 629]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With a touch of humour.</i>] You want her for +yourself?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>A little flustered.</i>] I—eh—I sometimes ride.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Now sure of himself.</i>] She's rather lively for you, +Judge. Mrs. Karslake used to ride her.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You don't care to sell her to me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Eagerly but in a low voice.</i>] Leave her in mine, Mr. +Karslake!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>After a slight pause.</i>] Mrs. Karslake knows all about +a horse, but— [<i>Turning to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Cynthia K's got rather +tricky of late.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Haughtily.</i>] You mean to say you think she'd +chuck me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With polite solicitude and still humourous. To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] +I'd hate to have a mare of mine deprive you of a wife, Judge. +[<i>Rises.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shows anger.</i>] She goes to Saratoga next +week, C. W.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Who has been sitting and talking to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>for lack +of a better man, comes to talk to</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake</span>.] C. W.?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Rising as she rises.</i>] Creditors willing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Changing her seat for one near the tea-table.</i>] I'm sure +your creditors are willing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, they're a breezy lot, my creditors. They're giving +me a dinner this evening.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>More than usually anxious to please.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> At what hour, Mrs. Phillimore?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Say eleven? And you, too, might have a leading in my +direction—771 Fifth Avenue.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>bows.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>hears and notes this.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Your cup of tea, Mr. Karslake.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Thanks. [<i>Taking his tea and sipping it.</i>] I beg your +pardon—you have forgotten, Mrs. Karslake—very naturally, it +has slipped your memory, but I don't take sugar. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, +<i>furious with him and herself. He hands the cup back. She makes +a second cup.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Cheerfully; in a rage.</i>] Sorry!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_630" id="Page_630">[Pg 630]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Also apparently cheerful.</i>] Yes, gout. It gives me a +twinge even to sit in the shadow of a sugar-maple! First you riot, +and then you diet!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm and amused; aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] My dear +Matthew, he's a darling! But I feel as if we were all taking tea +on the slope of a volcano! [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>sits down.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> It occurred to me, Mr. Karslake, you might be glad to +find a purchaser for your portrait by Sargent?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> It's not <i>my</i> 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.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is wounded by this.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> H'm!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>hands a second cup to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With careful politeness.</i>] Your cup of tea, Mr. +Karslake.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Rising and taking the tea with courteous indifference.</i>] +Thanks—sorry to trouble you.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He drinks the cup of tea standing by the tea-table.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>To make conversation.</i>] You're selling your country +place?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> If I was long of hair—I'd sell that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excited. Taken out of herself by the news.</i>] You're +not really selling your stable?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Finishes his tea, places the empty cup on the tea-table, +and reseats himself.</i>] Every gelding I've got—seven foals and a +donkey! I don't mean the owner.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Still interested and forgetting the discomfort of the +situation.</i>] How did you ever manage to come such a cropper?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Streak of blue luck!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Quickly.</i>] I don't see how it's possible—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You would if you'd been there. You remember the +head man? [<i>Sitting down.</i>] Bloke?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Of course!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Horrified.</i>] Sold a race?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> About ten races, I guess.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Incredulous.</i>] Just because he'd beaten his wife?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No. Because she divorced him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_631" id="Page_631">[Pg 631]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Well, I can't see why that should prey on his mind!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Suddenly remembers.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Throws this remark in.</i>] I never had faith in that +horse.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Crazy! Crazy!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Ready to take the opposite view.</i>] I don't see it. With +her record she ought to have romped it an easy winner.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her sporting instinct asserting itself.</i>] She hasn't +the stamina! Look at her barrel!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, anyhow, Geranium finished me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You didn't lay odds on Geranium!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why not? She's my own mare—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Streak o' bad luck—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Plainly anxious to say "I told you so."</i>] 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 [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>rises.</i>] on the other side, and I remember +you were hot just because I said you showed poor judgment? +[<i>She laughs at the memory. A general movement of disapproval. +She remembers the situation.</i>] I beg your pardon.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Rises to meet</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>. <i>Hastily.</i>] It seems to me +that horses are like the fourth gospel. Any conversation about +them becomes animated almost beyond the limits of the urbane! +[<span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>disgusted by such plainness of speech, rises and goes to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> +<i>who waves her to a chair.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Formally.</i>] I regret that you have endured such +reverses, Mr. Karslake. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>quietly bows.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Concealing her interest and speaking casually.</i>] You +haven't mentioned your new English horse—Pantomime. What +did he do at St. Louis?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Sitting down.</i>] Fell away and ran fifth.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Too bad. Was he fully acclimated? Ah, well—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> We always differed—you remember—on the time +needed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_632" id="Page_632">[Pg 632]</a></span>—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Coming over to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>and speaking to carry off +the situation as well as to get a tip.</i>] Isn't there a—eh—a race to-morrow +at Belmont Park?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Yes. I'm going down in my auto.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Evidently wishing she might be going too.</i>] Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> And what animal shall you prefer?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Covering his personal interest with amiable altruism.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I'm backing Carmencita.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With a gesture of despair.</i>] Carmencita! Carmencita!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>returns to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>side.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You may remember we always differed on Carmencita.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Disgusted at</i> <span class="smcap">John's</span> <i>dunderheadedness.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Never forgetting the situation.</i>] Sorry I'm not flush +enough to take you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Impetuously.</i>] Philip, dear, you lend John enough +for the wager.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>As nearly horrified as so soft a soul can be.</i>] Ahem! +Really—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> It's a sporty idea, Mrs. Karslake, but perhaps in the +circumstances—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her mind on her wager.</i>] In what circumstances?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>With a nervous laugh.</i>] It does seem to me there is a +certain impropriety—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Remembering the conventions, which, for a moment, +had actually escaped her.</i>] Oh, I forgot. When horses are in the +air—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Pouring oil on troubled waters. Moving, he speaks +to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>from the back of her armchair.</i>] It's the fourth gospel, you +see. [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in with a letter on a salver, which he hands to</i> +<span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Meekly.</i>] You are quite right, Philip. [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> +<i>goes up.</i>] The fact is, seeing Mr. Karslake again [<i>Laying on her +indifference with a trowel.</i>] he seems to me as much a stranger as +if I were meeting him for the first time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_633" id="Page_633">[Pg 633]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] We are indeed taking tea on the +slope of a volcano.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>About to go, but thinking she will have a last word with</i> +<span class="smcap">John</span>.] I'm sorry your fortunes are so depressed, Mr. Karslake.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Looking at the card that</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>has just brought in.</i>] +Who in the world is Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>There is a general stir.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh—eh—Cates-Darby? [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>opens the letter which</i> +<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>has brought with the card.</i>] That's the English chap I +bought Pantomime of.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Show Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby in.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out. The prospect of an Englishman with a handle +to his name changes</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>plans and, instead of leaving the +house, she goes to sofa, and poses there.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> He's a good fellow, Judge. Place near Epsom. Breeder. +Over here to take a shy at our races.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Opening the door and announcing.</i>] Sir Wilfrid +Cates-Darby.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby</span>. <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>and referring to the letter of introduction +in his hand.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Delicately mopping his forehead.</i>] Ah, well—ah—warm, +no—hot, yes! Deuced extraordinary climate yours, +you know, Mr. Phillimore.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Conventionally.</i>] Permit me to present you to— [<i>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</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>first.</i>] Mrs. +Karslake.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>bows, surprised and doubtful.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> How do you do?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> And to Mrs. Phillimore. [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>bows nonchalantly, +but with a view to catching</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid's</span> <i>attention.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_634" id="Page_634">[Pg 634]</a></span></span> +<i>bows, and looks from her to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] My brother—and Mr. +Karslake you know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> How do, my boy. [<i>Half aside, to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] No +idea you had such a charming little wife—What?—Eh? +[<span class="smcap">Karslake</span> <i>moves to speak to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>in the further +room.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You'll have a cup of tea, Sir Wilfrid?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>At the table.</i>] Thanks, awfully. [<i>Very cheerfully.</i>] +I'd no idea old John had a wife! The rascal never told +me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Pouring tea and facing the facts.</i>] I'm not Mr. +Karslake's wife!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh!—Eh?—I see—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He is evidently trying to think this out.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Who has been ready for some time to speak to him.</i>] Sir +Wilfrid, I'm sure no one has asked you how you like our +country?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Going to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and standing by her at the sofa.</i>] +Oh, well, as to climate and horses, I say nothing. But I like your +American humour. I'm acquiring it for home purposes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Getting down to love as the basis of conversation.</i>] Aren't +you going to acquire an American girl for home purposes?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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. [<i>He casts a look at</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>who has gone into +the next room.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Cheerful and unconstrained.</i>] He's not my husband!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Completely confused.</i>] 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. +[<i>Sitting down by her.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Horrified at being suspected of maternity, but speaking +very sweetly.</i>] He's not my husband.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>His good spirits all gone, but determined to clear +things up.</i>] Phew! Awfully hot in here! Who the deuce is +John's wife?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> He hasn't any.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Who's Phillimore's wife?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> He hasn't any.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_635" id="Page_635">[Pg 635]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Thanks, fearfully! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>whom he +approaches; suspecting himself of having lost his wits.</i>] Would you +excuse me, my dear and Reverend Sir—you're a churchman and +all that—would you mind straightening me out?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Most graciously.</i>] Certainly, Sir Wilfrid. Is it a +matter of doctrine?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, damme—beg your pardon,—no, it's not +words, it's women.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Ready to be outraged.</i>] Women!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> It's divorce. Now, the lady on the +sofa—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> <i>Was</i> my brother's wife; he divorced her—incompatibility—Rhode +Island. The lady at the tea-table <i>was</i> Mr. +Karslake's wife; she divorced him—desertion—Sioux Falls. +One moment—she is about to marry my brother.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Cheerful again.</i>] I'm out! Thought I never +would be! Thanks! [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>laughs.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Not a whit discountenanced and ready to please.</i>] Have +you got me straightened out yet?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Straight as a die! I say, you had lots of fun, +didn't you? [<i>Returning to his position by the sofa.</i>] And so <i>she's</i> +Mrs. John Karslake?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm, but secretly disappointed.</i>] Do you like her?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> My word!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Fully expecting personal flattery.</i>] Eh?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> She's a box o' ginger!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> You haven't seen many American women!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, haven't I?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I'm there—what!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Seven hundred and seventy-one Fifth Avenue.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Seven seventy-one Fifth Avenue—at twelve.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> At twelve.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Thanks! [<i>Indicating</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] She's a +thoroughbred—you can see that with one eye shut. Twelve. +[<i>Shaking hands.</i>] Awfully good of you to ask me. [<i>He joins</i> +<span class="smcap">John</span>.] I say, my boy, your former's an absolute certainty. +[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] I hear you're about to marry Mr. Phillimore, +Mrs. Karslake?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_636" id="Page_636">[Pg 636]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Karslake</span> <i>crosses to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and together they move to the sofa and +sit down.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> To-morrow, 3 <span class="smcap">P. M.</span>, Sir Wilfrid.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Much taken with</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Afraid I've run +into a sort of family party, eh? [<i>Indicating</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Do you like your tea strong?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Middlin'.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sugar?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> One!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Lemon?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Just torture a lemon over it. [<i>He makes a gesture +as of twisting a lemon peel. She hands him his tea.</i>] Thanks! +So you do it to-morrow at three?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> At three, Sir Wilfrid.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Sorry!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why are you sorry?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Hate to see a pretty woman married. Might +marry her myself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, but I'm sure you don't admire American +women.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Admire you, Mrs. Karslake—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Not enough to marry me, I hope.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Marry you in a minute! Say the word. Marry +you now—here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You don't think you ought to know me a little +before—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Know you? Do know you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Covering her hair with her handkerchief.</i>] What +colour is my hair?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Pshaw!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Few months of moonshine! Never was a friend +to a woman—thank God, in all my life.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh—oh, oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Might as well talk about being a friend to a +whiskey-and-soda.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_637" id="Page_637">[Pg 637]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> A woman has a soul, Sir Wilfrid.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Well, good whiskey is spirits—dozens o' +souls!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You are so gross!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Changing his seat for one at the tea-table.</i>] 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— [<i>Getting closer to her.</i>] +You make me feel awfully poetical, you know— [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> +<i>comes toward them, glances nervously at</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, +<i>and walks away again.</i>] What's the matter? But, I say—poetry +aside—do you, eh—— [<i>Looking around to place</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Does +he—y'know—is he—does he go to the head?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sir Wilfrid, Mr. Phillimore is my sober second +choice.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Amused and excusing his audacity as a foreigner's +eccentricity.</i>] Really!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Well, I don't offer myself—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Not this instant—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Ah!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> But let me drop in to-morrow at ten.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What country and state of affairs do you think you +have landed in?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I believe you think they throw one in with an ice-cream +soda!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Rising.</i>] Damme, my dear lady, a marriage in +your country is no more than a—eh—eh—what do you call 'em?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_638" id="Page_638">[Pg 638]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You're an odd fish! What? I believe I like you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 'Course you do! You'll see me when I call to-morrow—at +ten? We'll run down to Belmont Park, eh?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Don't be absurd!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Has finished her talk with</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>and breaks in on</i> <span class="smcap">Sir +Wilfrid</span>, <i>who has hung about</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>too long to suit her.</i>] To-morrow +at twelve, Sir Wilfrid!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Twelve!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Shaking hands with</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Don't forget, Mr. Karslake—eleven +o'clock to-morrow.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Bowing assent.</i>] I won't!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Coming over to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Distantly and careless of offending.</i>] Thanks, no—that +is, is "Cynthia K" really to be there at eleven? I'd give a +gold mine to see her again.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Do come!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> If Mr. Karslake will accommodate me by his +absence.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Dear Mr. Karslake, you'll have to change your +hour.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Sorry, I'm not able to.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can't come later for I'm to be married.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Any hour but eleven, dear.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Perfectly regardless of</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>and ready to vex</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>if possible.</i>] Mrs. Phillimore, I shall call on you at eleven—to +see Cynthia K. I thank you for the invitation. Good-afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>crossing to speak quietly to him.</i>] It's +mere bravado; she won't come.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You don't know her.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>There is a pause and general embarrassment.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>uses +his eye-glass.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>angry.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>triumphant.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> +<i>embarrassed.</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>irritated.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>puzzled. Everybody is at +odds.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_639" id="Page_639">[Pg 639]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>For the first time a witness to the pretty complications +of divorce. To</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] Do you have it as warm as this +ordinarily?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>For whom these moments are more than usually +painful, and wiping his brow.</i>] It's not so much the heat as the +humidity.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Looks at watch and, relieved, glad to be off.</i>] I shall be +late for my creditors' dinner.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Interested and walking toward</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Creditors' +dinner.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Reading the note.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Of course!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Ready to embarrass</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>if possible, and speaking +as if he had quite forgotten their former relations.</i>] Mrs. Karslake—I +beg your pardon. Judge? [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>declines.</i>] No? Sir Wilfrid?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I'm with you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] Your Grace?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> I regret—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Is it the custom for creditors—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Come on, Sir Wilfrid! [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>opens door.</i>] Good-night, +Judge—Your Grace—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Is it the custom—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Hang the custom! Come on—I'll show you a gang of +creditors worth having!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>go out, arm in arm, preceded by</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>. +<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> 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. [<i>He leaves the room quickly and +his voice is heard in the hall.</i>] Good-afternoon! Good-afternoon!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is evidently much excited. The outer door slams.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> +<i>comes down slowly.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>stands, her eyes wide, her +breathing visible, until</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>speaks, when she seems suddenly +to realize her position. There is a long pause.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_640" id="Page_640">[Pg 640]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>With a superior air.</i>] I have seldom witnessed a more +amazing cataclysm of jocundity! Of course, my dear, this has +all been most disagreeable for you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excitedly.</i>] Yes, yes, yes!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I saw how much it shocked your delicacy.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Distressed and moved.</i>] Outrageous.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>sits down.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Do be seated, Cynthia. [<i>Taking up the paper. +Quietly.</i>] Very odd sort of an Englishman—that Cates-Darby!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sir Wilfrid?—Oh, yes! [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>settles down to the +paper. To herself.</i>] Outrageous! I've a great mind to go at +eleven—just as I said I would!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Do sit down, Cynthia!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What? What?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You make me so nervous—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sorry—sorry. [<i>She sits down and, seeing the paper, +takes it, looking at the picture of</i> <span class="smcap">John Karslake</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Sighing with content.</i>] 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, +[<i>Sighs.</i>] at last we have peace—and <i>The Post</i>! [<span class="smcap">Philip</span>, +<i>settling himself, reads his paper;</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>glancing at her paper, +occasionally looks across at</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Forget the dust of the arena—the +prolixity of counsel—the involuntary fatuity of things in +general. [<i>After a pause, he goes on with his reading.</i>] Compose +yourself!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>come in.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> +<i>sighs without letting her sigh be heard. She tries to compose +herself. She glances at the paper and then, hearing</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, +<i>starts slightly.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> +<i>stop at the table.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Carrying a sheet of paper.</i>] There, my dear +Mary, is the announcement as I have now reworded it. I took +William's suggestion. [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>takes and casually +reads it.</i>] I also put the case to him, and he was of the opinion +that the announcement should be sent <i>only</i> to those people who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_641" id="Page_641">[Pg 641]</a></span> +are really <i>in</i> society. [<i>She sits near the table.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>braces herself +to bear the</i> <span class="smcap">Phillimore</span> <i>conversation.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I wish you'd make an exception of the Dudleys.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>rises and moves to the chair by the table.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> And, of course, that excludes the Oppenheims—the +Vance-Browns.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> It's just as well to be exclusive.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I do wish you'd make an exception of Lena +Dudley.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> We might, of course, include those new +Girardos, and possibly—possibly the Paddingtons.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I do wish you would take in Lena Dudley.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>They are now sitting.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> The mother Dudley is as common as a +charwoman, and not nearly as clean.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Sighing, his own feelings, as usual, to the fore.</i>] Ah! +I certainly am fatigued!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Making the best of a gloomy future.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Plaintively.</i>] I don't like common people +any more than I like common cats, and of course in my time—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> I think I shall include the Dudleys.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> You think you'll include the Dudleys?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Yes, I think I will include the Dudleys!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Here</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia's</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> Why, my dear Cynthia—Compose yourself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Hastily.</i>] What is the matter, Cynthia?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>They speak together.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Why, Mrs. Karslake, what is the matter?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Coming quickly forward.</i>] Mrs. Karslake!</p> + + +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap">Curtain.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_642" id="Page_642">[Pg 642]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACT_II" id="ACT_II"></a>ACT II.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Vida Phillimore's</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>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</i> +<span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>room and speaks to her.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Yes, ma'am, the flowers have come.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She holds open the door through which</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>in a morning gown, +comes in slowly. She is smoking a cigarette in as æsthetic a +manner as she can, and is evidently turned out in her best style +for conquest.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Faces the balcony as she speaks, and is, as always, +even and civil, but a bit disdainful toward her servant.</i>] Terribly +garish light, Benson. Pull down the— [<span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>obeying, partly +pulls down the shade.</i>] Lower still—that will do. [<i>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.</i>] Men +hate a clutter of chairs and tables. [<i>Stopping and taking up a +hand mirror from the table, she faces the windows.</i>] I really think +I'm too pale for this light.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Quickly, understanding what is implied.</i>] Yes, +ma'am. [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>goes out for the rouge, and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>seats herself at +the table. There is a knock at the door.</i>] Come! [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>comes +in.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_643" id="Page_643">[Pg 643]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>An ultra-English footman, in plush and calves.</i>] Any +horders, m'lady?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Incapable of remembering the last man, or of considering +the new one.</i>] Oh,—of course! You're the new—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> Footman, m'lady.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>As a matter of form.</i>] Your name?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> Brooks, m'lady. [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>returns with the +rouge.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Carefully giving instructions while she keeps her eyes on +the glass and is rouged by</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Brooks, I am at home to Mr. +Karslake at eleven; not to any one else till twelve, when I expect +Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span>, <i>watching</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>is inattentive.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> Yes, m'lady.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm, but wearied by the ignorance of the lower classes.</i>] +And I regret to inform you, Brooks, that in America there are no +ladies, except salesladies!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Without a trace of comprehension.</i>] Yes, m'lady.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> I am at home to no one but the two names I have mentioned. +[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>bows and exits. She dabs on rouge while</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span> +<i>holds glass.</i>] Is the men's club-room in order?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Perfectly, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Whiskey and soda?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Yes, ma'am, and the ticker's been mended. The +British sporting papers arrived this morning.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Looking at her watch which lies on the dressing-table.</i>] +My watch has stopped.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Glancing at the French clock on the chimney-piece.</i>] +Five to eleven, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Getting promptly to work.</i>] H'm, h'm, I shall be caught. +[<i>Rising.</i>] The box of roses, Benson! [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>brings the box of +roses, uncovers the flowers and places them at</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>side.</i>] My +gloves—the clippers, and the vase! [<i>Each of these things</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span> +<i>places in turn within</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>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:</i>] There! [<i>The door opens +and</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>comes in;</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>nods to</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Announcing stolidly.</i>] Sir John Karslake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_644" id="Page_644">[Pg 644]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>dressed in very nobby riding togs, comes in gaily and forcibly.</i> +<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>withdraws as he enters, and is followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span>. +<span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>from this moment on, is busied with her roses.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Languorously, but with a faint suggestion of humour.</i>] +Is that really you, Sir John?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Lively and far from being impressed by</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] I see now +where we Americans are going to get our titles. Good-morning! +You look as fresh as paint. [<i>He lays his gloves and riding crop on +the table, and takes a chair.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Facing the insinuation with gentle pain.</i>] I hope you +don't mean that? I never flattered myself for a moment you'd +come. You're riding Cynthia K?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Fiddler's going to lead her round here in ten minutes!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Cigars and cigarettes! Scotch?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Indicating a small table.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Scotch! [<i>Goes up quickly to table and helps himself to +Scotch and seltzer.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And now <i>do</i> tell me all about <i>her</i>! [<i>Putting in her last +roses; she keeps one rosebud in her hand, of a size suitable for a +man's buttonhole.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>As he drinks.</i>] Oh, she's an adorable creature—delicate, +high-bred, sweet-tempered—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Showing her claws for a moment.</i>] Sweet-tempered? +Oh, you're describing the horse! By "her," I meant—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Irritated by the remembrance of his wife.</i>] Cynthia +Karslake? I'd rather talk about the last Tornado.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He drops moodily into a chair.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With artful soothing.</i>] There is only one thing I want +to talk about, and that is, <i>you</i>! Why were you unhappy?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Still cross.</i>] Why does a dollar last such a short +time?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Curious.</i>] Why did you part?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Sympathizing.</i>] Ah!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>After a pause, and still cross.</i>] Awful cheerful morning +chat.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Excusing her curiosity and coming back to love as the +only subject for serious conversation.</i>] I must hear the story, for +I'm anxious to know why I've taken such a fancy to you!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_645" id="Page_645">[Pg 645]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Very nonchalantly.</i>] Why do <i>I</i> like you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Doing her best to charm.</i>] I won't tell you—it would +flatter you too much.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Not a bit impressed by</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>but humanly ready to +flirt.</i>] Tell me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> There's a rose for you.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Giving him the one she has in her hand.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Saying what is plainly expected of him.</i>] I want more +than a rose—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Passing over this insinuation.</i>] You refuse to tell +me—?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Once more reminded of</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>speaks with sudden +feeling.</i>] There's nothing to tell. We met, we loved, we married, +we parted; or at least we wrangled and jangled. [<i>Sighs.</i>] Ha! +Why weren't we happy? Don't ask me, why! It may have been +<i>partly</i> my fault!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With tenderness.</i>] Never!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>His mind on</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] 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! [<i>In great irritation, he rises abruptly, +and strides up and down the room.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gently.</i>] Please tell me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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. +[<i>He continues restlessly to pace the floor as he speaks of</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Flattering him as a matter of second nature.</i>] She never +loved you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>On whom she has made no impression at all.</i>] 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_646" id="Page_646">[Pg 646]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gently sarcastic.</i>] But she came back!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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. [<i>After a silence, moving abruptly to the window.</i>] She +never came back. [<i>He turns away and then, recovering, moves +toward</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>who catches his hands.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Hoping for a contradiction.</i>] She's broken your heart.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Taking a chair by the lounge.</i>] Oh, no!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Encouraged, begins to play the game again.</i>] You'll +never love again!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Speaking to her from the foot of the sofa.</i>] 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Displaying her innate shrewdness.</i>] Oh, about a divorce, +everything!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I shall hear by this evening whether the divorce will +stand or not.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> But it's to-day at three she marries—you won't let her +commit bigamy?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Shaking his head.</i>] 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.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Ah, my poor boy, she has broken your heart. [<i>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.</i>] Now don't make +love to me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Bold and amused, but never taken in.</i>] Why not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With immense gentleness.</i>] Because I like you too +much! [<i>More gaily.</i>] I might give in, and take a notion to like +you still more!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_647" id="Page_647">[Pg 647]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Please do!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With gush, and determined to be womanly at all hazards.</i>] +Jack, I believe you'd be a lovely lover!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Immensely diverted.</i>] Try me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Not hoping much from his tone.</i>] You charming, +tempting, delightful fellow, I could love you without the least +effort in the world,—but, no!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Playing the game.</i>] Ah, well, now <i>seriously!</i> Between +two people who have <i>suffered</i> and made their own mistakes—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Playing the game too, but not playing it well.</i>] But you +see, you don't <i>really</i> love me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Still ready to say what is expected.</i>] Cynthia—Vida, +no man can sit beside you and look into your eyes without +feeling—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Speaking the truth as she sees it, seeing that her methods +don't succeed.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With sudden anger.</i>] I hate her!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very softly and most sweetly.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> And then?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>The ideal woman in mind.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Gaily, and seeing straight through her veneer.</i>] And lose +the key under a rose-bush!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Agreeing very softly.</i>] Under a rose-bush! [<i>There is a +very soft knock at which</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>starts up quickly.</i>] Come! [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> +<i>comes in, with</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>close at his heels.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Stolid, announces.</i>] My lady—Sir Wilf— [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> +<i>stops him with a sharp movement and turns toward</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>With intention.</i>] Your dressmaker, ma'am. [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> +<i>waves</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>to go and</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>very haughtily complies.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Wonderingly.</i>] My dressmaker, Benson? [<i>With quick +intelligence.</i>] Oh, of course, show her up. Mr. Karslake, you +won't mind for a few minutes using my men's club-room? Benson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_648" id="Page_648">[Pg 648]</a></span> +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."</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Looking at his watch.</i>] How long?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very anxious to please.</i>] Half a cigar! Benson will +call you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Practically-minded.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>The door opens.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Run along! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>leaves and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, +<i>instantly practical, makes a broad gesture to</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Everything +just as it was, Benson! [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>whisks the roses out of the vase and +replaces them in the box. She gives</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>scissors and empty vases, +and, when</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>finds herself in precisely the same position which +preceded</i> <span class="smcap">John's</span> <i>entrance, she says:</i>] There!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>comes in as</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>takes a rose from basket.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>With characteristic stolidness.</i>] Your ladyship's +dressmaker! M'lady! [<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>in morning suit, +boutonnière, &c.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With tender surprise and busy with the roses.</i>] Is that +really you, Sir Wilfrid! I never flattered myself for an instant +that you'd remember to come.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Moving to the head of the sofa.</i>] Come? 'Course +I come! Keen to come see you. By Jove, you know, you look +as pink and white as a huntin' mornin'.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Ready to make any man as happy as possible.</i>] You'll +smoke?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Thanks! [<i>He watches her as she trims and arranges +the flowers.</i>] 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? [<i>Unlike</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>is +evidently impressed by her.</i>] 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?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>By this time</i>, <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>has filled a vase with roses and rises to sweep +by him and, if possible, make another charming picture to his eyes.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gliding gracefully past him.</i>] You don't mind my +moving about?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Impressed.</i>] Not if you don't mind my +watchin'. [<i>Sitting down on the sofa.</i>] And sayin' how wel you do it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_649" id="Page_649">[Pg 649]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> It's most original of you to come here this morning. I +don't quite see why you did.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Admiration.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Sauntering slowly toward the mirror as she speaks.</i>] +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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Attempting to dam the stream of her talk which +flows gently but steadily on.</i>] May I ask you—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And, indeed, if she came now, Mr. Karslake has gone, +and her sole object in coming was to make him uncomfortable. +[<i>She moves toward the table, stopping a half minute at the mirror +to see that she looks as she wishes to look.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Rising; most civil, but speaking his mind like a +Briton.</i>] I say, would you mind stopping a moment! [<i>She +smiles.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Passing him to tantalize.</i>] My point is you come to +see Cynthia—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Believing she means it.</i>] I came hopin' to see—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Provokingly.</i>] Cynthia!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Perfectly single-minded and entirely taken in.</i>] +But I would have come even if I'd known—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Evading him, while he follows.</i>] I don't believe it!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Protesting whole-heartedly.</i>] Give you my word +I—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Leading him on.</i>] You're here to see <i>her</i>! And of +course—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Determined to be heard because, after all, he's a +man.</i>] May I have the—eh—the floor? [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>sits down in a +chair.</i>] I was jolly well bowled over with Mrs. Karslake, I admit +that, and I hoped to see her here, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_650" id="Page_650">[Pg 650]</a></span>—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Talking nonsense and knowing it.</i>] 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 <i>me</i>! For, of course, Cynthia's to be married at three! +And, if she wasn't she wouldn't have you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Not intending to wound; merely speaking the +flat truth.</i>] Well, I mean to jolly well ask her.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Indignant.</i>] To be your wife?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Why not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Still indignant.</i>] And you came here, to my house—in +order to ask her—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Truthful even on a subtle point.</i>] Oh, but that's +only my first reason for coming, you know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Concealing her hopes.</i>] Well, now I <i>am</i> curious—what +is the second?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Simply.</i>] Are you feelin' pretty robust?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> I don't know!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Crosses to the buffet.</i>] Will you have something, +and then I'll tell you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gaily.</i>] Can't I support the news without—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Trying to explain his state of mind, a feat which +he has never been able to accomplish.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He attempts to take her hand.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Gently rising and affecting a tender surprise.</i>] What!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Rising with her.</i>] That's it!—You're over! [<i>He +suggests with his right hand the movement of a horse taking a hurdle.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very sweetly.</i>] You don't really mean—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Carried away for the moment by so much true +womanliness.</i>] I mean, I stayed awake for an hour last night, +thinkin' about you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Speaking to be contradicted.</i>] But, you've just told me—that +Cynthia—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Admitting the fact.</i>] Well, she did—she did +bowl my wicket, but so did you—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Taking him very gently to task.</i>] Don't you think there's +a limit to— [<i>She sits down.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Roused by so much loveliness of soul.</i>] Now, see +here, Mrs. Phillimore! You and I are not bottle babies, eh, are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_651" id="Page_651">[Pg 651]</a></span> +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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With gentle reproach.</i>] May I ask where I come in?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Laughing, determined not to take offense.</i>] What a +delightful, original, fantastic person you are!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Frankly happy that he has explained everything so +neatly.</i>] I knew you'd take it that way!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And what next, pray?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, just the usual,—eh,—thing,—the—eh—the +same old question, don't you know. Will you have me if she don't?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>A shade piqued, but determined not to risk showing it.</i>] +And you call that the same old usual question?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With velvet irony.</i>] With Cynthia at the foot?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Practical, as before.</i>] 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!— [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>sighs and shakes her +head.</i>] Make it, yes! I say, you know, my dear Vida—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He catches her hands.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Drawing them from his.</i>] Unhand me, dear villain! +And sit further away from your second choice! What can I say? +I'd rather have <i>you</i> for a lover than any man I know! You must +be a lovely lover!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I am!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He makes a second effort to catch her fingers.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Will you kindly go further away and be good!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Quite forgetting</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span>] Look here, if you +say yes, we'll be married—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> In a month!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, no—this evening!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_652" id="Page_652">[Pg 652]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Incapable of leaving a situation unadorned.</i>] This +evening! And sail in the same boat with <i>you</i>? 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>After a pause and some consideration.</i>] Yes; +yes, I say—that's too clever for me! [<i>He draws nearer to her to +bring the understanding to a crisis.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Interrupted by a soft knock.</i>] My maid—come!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Swinging out of his chair and moving to the sofa.</i>] Eh?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Coming in and approaching</i> <span class="smcap">Vida.</span>] The new footman, +ma'am—he's made a mistake. He's told the lady you're at +home.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> What lady?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Mrs. Karslake; and she's on the stairs, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Show her in.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>, <i>who stops.</i>] One moment! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida.</span>] I say, eh—I'd rather not see her!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very innocently.</i>] But you came here to see her.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>A little flustered.</i>] I'd rather not. Eh,—I +fancied I'd find you and her together—but her— [<i>Coming a step +nearer.</i>] findin' me with you looks so dooced intimate,—no one +else, d'ye see, I believe she'd—draw conclusions—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> Pardon me, ma'am—but I hear Brooks coming!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Hold the door!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> So you don't want her to know—?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Be a good girl now—run me off +somewhere!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Show Sir Wilfrid the men's room.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>comes in.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> The men's room! Ah! Oh! Eh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Beckoning him to go at once.</i>] Sir Wil— [<i>He hesitates; +then as</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>advances, he flings off with</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> Lady Karslake, milady!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Anything more inopportune! I never dreamed she'd +come— [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>comes in veiled. As she walks quickly into +the room</i>, <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>greets her languorously.</i>] My dear Cynthia, you +don't mean to say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_653" id="Page_653">[Pg 653]</a></span>—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Rather short, and visibly agitated.</i>] Yes, I've come.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Polite, but not urgent.</i>] Do take off your veil.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Complying.</i>] Is no one here?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>As before.</i>] Won't you sit down?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Agitated and suspicious.</i>] Thanks, no—That is, +yes, thanks. Yes! You haven't answered my question?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>waves her hand through the haze; glances suspiciously +at the smoke, and looks about for the cigarette.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Playing innocence in the first degree.</i>] My dear, what +makes you imagine that any one's here!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You've been smoking.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, puffing away! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>sees the glasses.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> And drinking—a pair of drinks? [<i>Her eyes lighting +on</i> <span class="smcap">John's</span> <i>gloves on the table at her elbow.</i>] Do they fit you, dear? +[<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>smiles;</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>picks up the crop and looks at it and reads +her own name.</i>] "Jack, from Cynthia."</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Without taking the trouble to double for a mere woman.</i>] +Yes, dear; it's Mr. Karslake's crop, but I'm happy to say he left +me a few minutes ago.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> He left the house? [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>smiles.</i>] I wanted to see +him.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With a shade of insolence.</i>] To quarrel?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Frank and curt.</i>] I wanted to see him.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Determined to put</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>in the wrong.</i>] And I sent +him away because I didn't want you to repeat the scene of last +night in my house.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Looks at crop and is silent.</i>] Well, I can't stay. I'm +to be married at three, and I had to play truant to get here!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>comes in.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] There's a person, ma'am, on the sidewalk.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> What person, Benson?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> A person, ma'am, with a horse.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Happily agitated.</i>] It's Fiddler with Cynthia K!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She walks rapidly to the window and looks out.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] Tell the man I'll be down in five minutes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Looking down from the balcony with delight.</i>] Oh, +there she is!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.] 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_654" id="Page_654">[Pg 654]</a></span>—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Listening.</i>] I hear some one coming.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Quick! [<span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>leaves the door which opens and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes in slowly, carelessly.</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>whispers to</i> <span class="smcap">Benson</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Moving close to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and whispering.</i>] Beg par—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Under her breath.</i>] Go back!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Not understanding.</i>] I beg pardon!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Scarcely above a whisper.</i>] Go back!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Dense.</i>] Can't! I've a date! With the sheriff!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>A little cross.</i>] Please use your eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing and flattering</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] I am using my eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Fretted.</i>] Don't you see there's a lovely creature in +the room?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Not knowing what it is all about, but taking a wicked +delight in seeing her customary calm ruffled.</i>] Of course there is.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Hush!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Teasingly.</i>] But what I want to know is—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Hush!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Enjoying his fun.</i>] —is when we're to stroll in the +Garden of Eden—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Hush!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> —and lose the key. [<i>To put a stop to this, she lightly +tosses her handkerchief into his face.</i>] By George, talk about attar +of roses!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>At window, excited and moved at seeing her mare once +more.</i>] Oh, she's a darling! [<i>Turning.</i>] A perfect darling! +[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>starts up; he sees</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>at the same instant that she sees +him.</i>] Oh! I didn't know you were here. [<i>After a pause, with +"take-it-or-leave-it" frankness.</i>] I came to see <i>you</i>! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>looks +extremely dark and angry;</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>rises.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>most gently, and seeing there's nothing to +be gained of</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Oh, pray feel at home, Cynthia, dear! +[<i>Stopping by the door to her bedroom; to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] When I've a nice +street frock on, I'll ask you to present me to Cynthia K. [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> +<i>opens the door and goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>involuntarily +exchange glances.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Agitated and frank.</i>] Of course, I told you yesterday +I was coming here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Irritated.</i>] And I was to deny myself the privilege of +being here?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Curt and agitated.</i>] Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Ready to fight.</i>] And you guessed I would do that?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_655" id="Page_655">[Pg 655]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> What?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Speaks with agitation, frankness and good will.</i>] +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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Determined to be disagreeable.</i>] Before you go to your +last, long home!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I came to apologize.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> But you'll remain to quarrel!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Still frank and kind.</i>] 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? [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>refuses.</i>] I wish you every happiness!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Turning away, the past rankling.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Unforgiving.</i>] You murdered my happiness!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I won't recriminate!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With growing emotion, and holding out her hand.</i>] +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! [<i>She offers it again.</i>] You +refuse?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_656" id="Page_656">[Pg 656]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Moved but surly.</i>] 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! [<i>He puffs vigorously.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Not in this world! Friends with you, no! I have a +proper pride. I don't propose to put my pride in my +pocket.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Jealous and plain spoken.</i>] Oh, I wouldn't ask you +to put your pride in your pocket while Vida's handkerchief is +there. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>looks angered.</i>] Pretty little bijou of a handkerchief! +[<i>Pulling out the handkerchief.</i>] And she is charming, and +divorced, and reasonably well made up.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, well, Vida is a woman. [<i>Toying with the handkerchief.</i>] +I'm a man, a handkerchief is a handkerchief, and, as some +old Aristotle or other said, whatever concerns a woman, concerns +me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Not oblivious of him, but in a low voice.</i>] Insufferable! +Well, yes. [<i>She sits down. She is too much wounded to make +any further appeal.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> If there's to be no more marriage in the world—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Cynically.</i>] Oh, but that's not it; there's to be more +and more and more!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With a touch of bitterness.</i>] 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 <i>are</i> divorced +can avoid the vulgarity of meeting each other here, there, and +everywhere!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, that's where you come out!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_657" id="Page_657">[Pg 657]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Ahem—former!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> <i>Once</i> a husband always—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>In the same cynical tone.</i>] Oh, no! Oh, dear, no.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> To find her—to find the man she has once lived with—in +the house of—making love to—to find you here! [<span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>smiles and rises.</i>] You smile,—but I say, it should be a social +axiom, no woman should have to meet her former husband.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Cynical and cutting.</i>] Oh, I don't know; after I've +served my term I don't mind meeting my jailor.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>takes chair near her.</i>] 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! [<i>He sympathizes, +and she grows irrational and furious.</i>] But it's entirely your +fault!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> My fault?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Working herself into a rage.</i>] Of course. What +business have you to be about—to be at large. To be at all!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Gosh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her rage increasing.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Horrid idea!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Yes, but it's <i>you</i> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, of course we <i>were</i> married, but it didn't quite +kill me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Angry and plain spoken.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, I say!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With hot anger.</i>] Go gibber and squeak where +gibbering and squeaking are the fashion!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing and pretending to a coldness he does not feel.</i>] +And so, my dear child, I'm to abate myself as a nuisance! Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_658" id="Page_658">[Pg 658]</a></span> +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! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>picks up her +gloves, handkerchief and parasol, and gives her these as she drops +them one by one in her agitation.</i>] There's pleasure in the +thought.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> And now, may I ask you a very simple question? Mere +curiosity on my part, but, why did you come here this +morning?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I have already explained that to you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Not your real motive. Permit me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> But I believe I have guessed your real—permit me—your +real motive!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With mock sympathy.</i>] Cynthia, I am sorry for you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> H'm?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Of course we had a pretty lively case of the fever—the +mutual attraction fever, and we <i>were</i> married a very short time. +And I conclude that's what's the matter with <i>you</i>! You see, my +dear, seven months of married life is too short a time to cure a +bad case of the fancies.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>In angry surprise.</i>] What?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Calm and triumphant.</i>] That's my diagnosis.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Slowly and gathering herself together.</i>] I don't think +I understand.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, yes, you do; yes, you do.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With blazing eyes.</i>] What do you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Would you mind not breaking my crop! Thank you! +I mean [<i>With polite impertinence.</i>] that ours was a case of premature +divorce, and, ahem, you're in love with me still.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He pauses.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_659" id="Page_659">[Pg 659]</a></span> +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—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She looks at him.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why are you here? [<i>She laughs and begins to play her +game.</i>] Why are you here?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Guess! [<i>She laughs.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why are you—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Quickly.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Uncertain and discomfited.</i>] I know better!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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— [<i>She sighs with content.</i>] It's all +right!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> What's all right?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Calm and apparently at peace with the world.</i>] I'm +immune.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Immune?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You're not catching any more! Yes, you see, I said +to myself, if I fly into a temper—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You did!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Routed.</i>] Ask me if you dare! [<i>He rises.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Getting the whip hand for good.</i>] Ask you to dinner? +Oh, my dear fellow. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>rises.</i>] I'm going to do much more +than that. [<i>She rises.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Incredulous and impatient.</i>] You don't mean that!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He pushes back his chair.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> There you are! Always suspicious!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You don't mean that!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Hiding her emotion under a sportswoman's manner.</i>] +Don't I? I ask you, come! And come as you are! And I'll lay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_660" id="Page_660">[Pg 660]</a></span> +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!—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Determined not to be worsted.</i>] I take it!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Done! Now, then, we'll see which of us two is the +real sporting goods! Shake! [<i>They shake hands on it.</i>] Would +you mind letting me have a plain soda? [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>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</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>who +looks him in the eye with an air of triumph.</i>] Thanks. [<i>Maliciously, +as</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>enters.</i>] Your hand is a bit shaky. I think <i>you</i> need a +little King William. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>shrugs his shoulders, and, as</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> +<i>immediately speaks,</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>defers drinking.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Entering hurriedly and at once moving to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] +Ma'am, the new footman's been talking with Mr. Phillimore on +the wire. [<span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>gesture of regret.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Making his appearance, perplexed and annoyed.</i>] +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— [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Hello! Good job! +What a liar I am!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Benson.</span> [<i>Coming to the door. To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Mr. Fiddler, ma'am, +says the mare is gettin' very restive.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>hears this and moves at once</i>. <span class="smcap">Benson</span> <i>withdraws.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] If that mare's restive, she'll break out in a +rash.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Will you take me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Of course. [<i>They go to the door.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Tata, old man! Meet you at the altar! +If I don't, the mare's mine!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>looks at her amazed.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Do the honours, dear, in my +absence!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_661" id="Page_661">[Pg 661]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Come along, come along, never mind them! A horse +is a horse!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>go out gaily and in haste. At the same moment</i> +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>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.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>relieves her of the glass.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Indicating the contents of the glass.</i>] I say, do +you ordinarily take it as high up—as seven fingers and two +thumbs.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Coughing.</i>] Jack poured it out. Just shows how +groggy he was! And now, Sir Wilfrid—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She gets her things to go.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, you can't go!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>appears at the door.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I am to be married at three.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Let him wait. [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span>, <i>whom he meets +near the door.</i>] If Mr. Phillimore comes, bring his card up.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Going.</i>] Yes, Sir Wilfrid.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> To me! [<i>Tipping him.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brooks.</span> [<i>Bowing.</i>] To you, Sir Wilfrid. [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>goes.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Returning to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] I've got to have my +innings, y' know! [<i>Looking at her more closely.</i>] I say, you've +been crying!—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> King William!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> You <i>are</i> crying! Poor little gal!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Tears in her eyes.</i>] I feel all shaken and cold.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>returns with a card.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Astonished and sympathetic.</i>] Poor little gal.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her eyes wet.</i>] I didn't sleep a wink last night. +[<i>With disgust.</i>] Oh, what is the matter with me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Why, it's as plain as a pikestaff! You— +[<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>has carried in the card to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfred</span>, <i>who picks it up and +says aside, to</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span>:] Phillimore? [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>assents. Aloud to</i> +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>calmly deceitful.</i>] Who's Waldorf Smith? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> +<i>shakes her head. To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooks</span>, <i>returning card to salver.</i>] Tell the +gentleman Mrs. Karslake is not here! [<span class="smcap">Brooks</span> <i>leaves the room.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Aware that she has no business where she is.</i>] I +thought it was Philip!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Telling the truth as if it were a lie.</i>] So did I! +[<i>With cheerful confidence.</i>] And now, Mrs. Karslake, I'll tell you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_662" id="Page_662">[Pg 662]</a></span> +why you're cryin'. [<i>Sitting down beside her.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> That's a very good reason.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> There's only one good reason for marrying, and +that is because you'll die if you don't!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, I've tried that!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> The Scripture says: "Try! try! again!" I tell +you, there's nothing like a w'im!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What's that? W'im? Oh, you mean a <i>whim</i>! Do +please try and say W<i>h</i>im!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>For the first time emphasizing his H in the word.</i>] +W<i>h</i>im. You must have a w'im—w'im for the chappie you +marry.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I had—for Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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'!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Diverted at last from her own distress.</i>] I hope not!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, I will later! It's not time yet! As I was +saying—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> And pray, Sir Wilfrid, when will it be time?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> As soon as I see you have a w'im for me! +[<i>Rising, looks at his watch.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Her sporting blood fired.</i>] Belmont Park!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> We'll do the races, and dine at Martin's—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Tempted.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Delighted.</i>] There you are! I'll send a telegram! +[<i>She shakes her head. He sits and writes at the table.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No, no, no!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Reading what he has written.</i>] "Off with Cates-Darby +to Races. Please postpone ceremony till seven-thirty."</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, no, it's impossible!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_663" id="Page_663">[Pg 663]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Accustomed to have things go his way.</i>] No more +than breathin'! You can't get a w'im for me, you know, unless +we're together, so together we'll be! [<span class="smcap">John Karslake</span> <i>opens the +door, and, unnoticed, walks into the room.</i>] And to-morrow you'll +wake up with a jolly little w'im—, [<i>Reading.</i>] "Postpone +ceremony till seven-thirty." There. [<i>He puts on her cloak and +turning, sees</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] Hello!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Surly.</i>] Hello! Sorry to disturb you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Cheerful as possible.</i>] Just the man! [<i>Giving +him the telegraph form.</i>] Just step round and send it, my boy. +Thanks! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>reads it.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No, no, I can't go!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Cockety-coo-coo-can't. I say, you must!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Positively.</i>] <i>No!</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Astounded.</i>] Do you mean you're going—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Very gay.</i>] Off to the races, my boy!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Angry and outraged.</i>] Mrs. Karslake can't go with +you there!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>starts, amazed at his assumption of marital authority, +and delighted that she will have an opportunity of outraging his +sensibilities.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oho!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> An hour before her wedding!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Gay and not angry.</i>] May I know if it's the custom—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Jealous and disgusted.</i>] It's worse than eloping—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Custom, y' know, for the husband, that was, to +dictate—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Thoroughly vexed.</i>] By George, there's a limit!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What? What? What? [<i>Gathering up her things.</i>] +What did I hear you say?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Ah!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Angry.</i>] I say there's a limit—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>More and more determined to arouse and excite</i> +<span class="smcap">John</span>.] Oh, there's a limit, is there?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> There is! I bar the way! It means reputation—it +means—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Enjoying her opportunity.</i>] We shall see what it +means!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Aha!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_664" id="Page_664">[Pg 664]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] I'm here to protect your reputation—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] We've got to make haste, you +know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Now, I'm ready—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Be sensible. You're breaking off the +match—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Excitedly.</i>] What's that to you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> It's boots and saddles!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Taking his stand between them and the door.</i>] No +thoroughfare!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Look here, my boy—!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Catching at the opportunity of putting</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>in an +impossible position.</i>] Wait a moment, Sir Wilfrid! Give me the +wire! [<i>Facing him.</i>] Thanks! [<i>Taking the telegraph form from +him and tearing it up.</i>] 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 <i>you're</i> there, dear! And now, Sir Wilfrid, +we're off.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Staggered and furious, giving way as they pass him.</i>] +I'm not the man to—to carry—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Quick and dashing.</i>] Oh, yes, you are.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> —a message from you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Triumphant.</i>] Oh, yes, you are; you're just +exactly the man! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>whirl out.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Great miracles of Moses!</p> + + +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap">Curtain.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACT_III" id="ACT_III"></a>ACT III.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span> <i>The same as that of Act I, but the room has been cleared of +superfluous furniture, and arranged for a wedding ceremony.</i> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>is reclining on the sofa at the right of the table,</i> +<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>at its left.</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>is seated at the right of the +table.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>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,</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_665" id="Page_665">[Pg 665]</a></span> +<i>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.</i></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>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.</i></p></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Impatiently.</i>] All very well, my dear Sarah. But +you see the hour. Twenty to ten! We have been here since half-past +two.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> You had dinner?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With forced composure.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Where is Philip?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Feebly, irritated.</i>] 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— [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> +<i>reclines again and fades away into silence.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Sharply and decisively.</i>] I do! I'm sorry I went to +the expense of a silver ice-pitcher.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>sighs.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>keeps her temper with +an effort which is obvious.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>opens the door.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>.] For my part, I don't believe +Mrs. Karslake means to return here or to marry Philip at all!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Coming in, and approaching</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>.] Two +telegrams for you, ma'am! The choir boys have had their supper. +[<i>A slight movement ripples the ominous calm of all.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> +<i>steps back.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Rising.</i>] At last we shall know!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> From the lady! Probably!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>opens the first telegram and reads it at a glance, +laying it on the salver again with a look at</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>. <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> +<i>passes the salver to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>, <i>who takes the telegram.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_666" id="Page_666">[Pg 666]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> There's a toot now.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Feebly, confused.</i>] I don't wish to intrude, +but really I cannot imagine Philip marrying at midnight. [<i>As</i> +<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>reads</i>, <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>opens the second telegram, but does +not read it.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Reading.</i>] "Accident, auto struck"—something! +"Gasoline"—did something—illegible, ah! [<i>Reads.</i>] "Home by +nine forty-five! Hold the church!"</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>A general movement sets in.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Profoundly shocked.</i>] "Hold the church!" +William, she still means to marry Philip! and to-night, too!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> It's from Belmont Park.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Making a great discovery.</i>] She went to the +races!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> This is from Philip! [<i>Reading the second telegram.</i>] +"I arrive at ten o'clock. Have dinner ready." [<span class="smcap">Miss +Heneage</span> <i>motions to</i> Thomas, <i>who, obeying, retires. Looking at +her watch.</i>] They are both due now. [<i>Movement.</i>] What's to be +done? [<i>She rises and</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>shrugs his shoulders.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Rising.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> I'll telephone Matthew. The choir boys can +go home—her maid can pack her belongings—and when the lady +arrives—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>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.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>flies to +the door and looks out.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>helpless, does not +know what to do or where to go or what to say.</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>moves +about excitedly.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>stands ready to make herself +disagreeable.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> [<i>Speaking rapidly and with excitement.</i>] I hear a man's +voice. Cates-Darby and brother Matthew.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>A loud and brazenly insistent toot outrages afresh. Laughter and +voices outside are heard faintly.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>looks out of the door, and, +as quickly withdraws.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Outrageous!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> Disgraceful!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_667" id="Page_667">[Pg 667]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> Shocking! [<i>Partly rising as the voices and +horn are heard.</i>] I shall not take any part at all, in the—eh—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She fades away.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Interrupting her.</i>] Don't trouble yourself.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Through the growing noise of voices and laughter,</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia's</span> <i>voice +is heard.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>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</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who is still +outside.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia's</span> <i>voice, and now</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew's</span>, <i>reach those +inside, and, at last, both join</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>who has turned at the +door to wait for them. As she reaches the door</i>, <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>turns +and speaks to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>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</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss +Heneage</span> <i>exclaim, and there is a general movement.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> 'Pon my word!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> Hah!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Bristling up to her feet, her sensibilities outraged.</i>] +Shocking!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>remains standing above sofa.</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>moves toward her</i>, +<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>sitting down again.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>reclines +on sofa.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>begins to speak as soon as she appears and +speaks fluently to the end.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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! [<i>There are movements and murmurs of +disapprobation from the family.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>indicates a desire to go.</i>] +Oh, but you can't go!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> I'll return in no time!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'm all ready to be married. Are they ready? +[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>waves a pious, polite gesture of recognition to the family.</i>] +I beg everybody's pardon! [<i>Taking off her wrap and putting +it on the back of a chair.</i>] My goggles are so dusty, I can't see +who's who! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Thanks! You <i>have</i> carried it +well! [<i>She takes the parasol from</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_668" id="Page_668">[Pg 668]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] When may I—?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> See you next Goodwood!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Imperturbably.</i>] Oh, I'm coming back!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Advancing a bit toward the family.</i>] Not a bit of use +in coming back! I shall be married before you get here! Ta! +Ta! Goodwood!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Not in the least affected.</i>] I'm coming back. +[<i>He goes out quickly. There are more murmurs of disapprobation +from the family. There is a slight pause.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Beginning to take off her goggles, and moving nearer +"the family."</i>] I do awfully apologize for being so late!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Importantly.</i>] Mrs. Karslake—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Importantly.</i>] Ahem! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>lays down goggles, +and sees their severity.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Dear me! [<i>Surveying the flowers and for a moment +speechless.</i>] Oh, good heavens! Why, it looks like a smart +funeral!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>moves; then speaks in a perfectly ordinary natural +tone, but her expression is severe.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>immediately realizes +the state of affairs in its fullness.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] After what has occurred, +Mrs. Karslake—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Glances quietly toward the table, and then sits down +at it, composed and good-tempered.</i>] I see you got my wire—so you +know where I have been.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> To the race-course!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> With a rowdy Englishman. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>glances at</i> +<span class="smcap">Sudley</span>, <i>uncertain whether he means to be disagreeable, or whether +he is only naturally so.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> We concluded you desired to break the +engagement!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Indifferently.</i>] No! No! Oh! No!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Do you intend, despite of our opinion of +you—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The only opinion that would have any weight with +me would be Mrs. Phillimore's.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She turns expectantly to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> I am generally asleep at this hour, and, +accordingly, I will not venture to express any—eh—any—actual +opinion. [<i>She fades away.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>smiles.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_669" id="Page_669">[Pg 669]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Coldly.</i>] You smile. We simply inform you +that as regards <i>us</i>, the alliance is not grateful.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Affecting gaiety and unconcern.</i>] And all this +because the gasoline gave out.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> My patience has given out!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> So has mine. I'm going.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She makes good her word.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Vexed beyond civility. To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] My dear +young lady: You come here, to this sacred—eh—eh—spot—altar!— [<i>Gesture.</i>] +odoriferous of the paddock!—speaking of +Spiffles and Buckeye,—having practically eloped!—having +created a scandal, and disgraced our family!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Affecting surprise at this attitude.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Sister, it is high time that you— +</p> +<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>with a gesture.</i></span> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With quiet irony.</i>] Mrs. Phillimore is generally +asleep at this hour, and accordingly she will not venture to +express—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Spluttering with irritation.</i>] Enough, madam—I +<i>venture</i> to—to—to—to say, you are leading a fast life.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With powerful intention.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Despairingly.</i>] This comes of horses!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Indignant.</i>] Of what?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> C-c-caring for horses!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With sublime morality.</i>] What Mrs. Karslake +cares for is—men.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Angry and gay.</i>] What would you have me care +for? The Ornithorhyncus Paradoxus? or Pithacanthropus +Erectus? Oh, I refuse to take you seriously. [<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>begins to +prepare to leave; he buttons himself into respectability and his coat.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> My dear madam, I take myself seriously—and +madam, I—I retract what I have brought with me [<i>Feeling in his +waistcoat pocket.</i>] as a graceful gift,—an Egyptian scarab—a—a—sacred +beetle, which once ornamented the person of a—eh—mummy.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Scoring in return.</i>] It should never be absent from +your pocket, Mr. Sudley! [<span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>walks away in a rage.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_670" id="Page_670">[Pg 670]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Rising, to</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span>.] I've a vast mind to +withdraw my— [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Interrupts; maliciously.</i>] Your wedding present? +The little bronze cat!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>Moves, angrily.</i>] Oh! [<i>Even</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> +<i>comes momentarily to life, and expresses silent indignation.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Loftily.</i>] Sarah, I'm going.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Grace</span>, <i>who has met</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>takes occasion to accompany him into +the room.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>looks dusty and grim. As they come in</i>, +<span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>speaks to him, and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>shakes his head. They pause +near the door.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Emotionally.</i>] I shall go to my room! However, +all I ask is that you repeat to Philip— [<i>As she moves toward the +door, she comes suddenly upon</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>and speaks to him in a low +voice.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, <i>determined to win.</i>] As I go out, +I shall do myself the pleasure of calling a hansom for Mrs. +Karslake— [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>moves slightly from the door.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> As you go out, Sudley, have a hansom called, and +when it comes, get into it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sudley.</span> [<i>Furious.</i>] Eh,—eh,—my dear sir, I leave you to +your fate. [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>angrily points him the door and</i> <span class="smcap">Sudley</span> <i>leaves in great haste.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> [<i>With weight.</i>] Philip, you've not heard—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Everything—from Grace! My sister +has repeated your words to me—and her own! I've told her +what I think of <i>her</i>. [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>looks witheringly at</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Grace.</span> I shan't wait to hear any more.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She flounces out of the room.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Don't make it necessary for me to tell you what I +think of you. [<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>moves to the right, toward his mother, to whom +he gives his arm.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>immediately seeks the opposite +side.</i>] 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. [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> +<i>are about to go out</i>, <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>speaks.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> 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. [<span class="smcap">Miss +Heneage</span>, <i>high and mighty, goes out, much pleased with her quotation.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_671" id="Page_671">[Pg 671]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore.</span> [<i>Stupid and weary as usual, to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>as +he leads her to the door.</i>] My dear son—I won't venture to +express— [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>in irritation, moves to the table.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Soothing a silly mother.</i>] No, mother, don't! But I +shall expect you, of course, at the ceremony. [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> +<i>languidly retires.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>strides to the centre of the room, taking the +tone, and assuming the attitude of, the injured husband.</i>] It is +proper for me to tell you that I followed you to Belmont. I am +aware—I know with whom—in fact, <i>I know all</i>! [<i>He punctuates +his words with pauses, and indicates the whole censorious universe.</i>] +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. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is silent.</i>] You understand? I propose to +marry you. I won't be made ridiculous.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Glancing at</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Philip, I didn't mean to +make you—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Why, then, did you run off to Belmont Park with +that fellow?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Philip, I—eh—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Sitting down at the table.</i>] What motive? What +reason? On our wedding day? Why did you do it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'll tell you the truth. I was bored.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Staggered.</i>] Bored? In my company?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I was bored, and then—and besides, Sir Wilfrid +asked me to go.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I know, I know!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Do you believe that now?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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 [<i>Indicating +him.</i>] and say: I will be happy with him.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>With complacent dignity.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Gravely.</i>] No, there's a third scheme: Sir Wilfrid +explained the theory to me. A woman should marry whenever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_672" id="Page_672">[Pg 672]</a></span> +she has a whim for the man, and then leave the rest to the man. +Do you see?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Furious.</i>] Do I see? Have I ever seen any thing else? +Marry for whim! That's the New York idea of marriage.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Observing cynically.</i>] New York ought to +know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> 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." [<i>He rises in his anger.</i>] And +now you—<i>you</i> take up with this preposterous— [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> +<i>moves uneasily.</i>] But, nonsense! It's impossible! A woman of +your mental calibre—No. Some obscure, primitive, female +<i>feeling</i> is at work corrupting your better judgment! What is it +you <i>feel</i>?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Philip, you never felt like a fool, did you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> No, never.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Politely.</i>] I thought not.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> No, but whatever your feelings, I conclude you are +ready to marry me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Uneasy.</i>] Of course, I came back. I am here, am +I not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You are ready to marry me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Twisting in the coils.</i>] But you haven't had your +dinner.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Do I understand you refuse?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Couldn't we defer—?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> You refuse?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Desperately thinking of an escape from her promise, +and finding none.</i>] No, I said I'd marry you. I'm a woman of my +word. I will.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Triumphant.</i>] Ah! Very good, then. Run to your +room. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Hopelessly.</i>] I think I'll go, Philip.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I may not be fitted to play the love-bird, but—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Spiritlessly.</i>] I think I'll go, Philip.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I'll expect you,—in half an hour.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With leaden despair.</i>] Yes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_673" id="Page_673">[Pg 673]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> And, Cynthia, don't think any more about that fellow, +Cates-Darby.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Amazed and disgusted by his misapprehension.</i>] +No. [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>leaves</i>, <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in from the opposite door.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Not seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>and clumsily defiant.</i>] And if I +had that fellow, Cates-Darby, in the dock—!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir what—what—wh-who? [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>enters in +evening dress.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>looks</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>in the face and speaks to</i> +<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Tell Sir Wilfrid Cates-Darby I am not at home to +him. [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>is embarrassed.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Undaunted.</i>] My dear Lord Eldon—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Again addressing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Show the gentleman the +door. [<i>There is a pause.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>with a significant gesture, +glances at the door.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Moving to the door, he examines it and returns to</i> +<span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] 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.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>does not wait for further orders.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir, you are—impudent—!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Ah, you put it all in a nutshell, +don't you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> To show your face here, after practically eloping with +my wife!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Affecting ignorance.</i>] When were you married?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> We are as good as married.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, pooh, pooh! You can't tell me that grace +before soup is as good as a dinner! [<i>He takes out his cigar-case +and, in the absence of a match, enjoys a smokeless smoke.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir—I—demand—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Calmly carrying the situation.</i>] Mrs. Karslake +is <i>not</i> married. <i>That's</i> why I'm here. I am here for the same +purpose <i>you</i> are; to ask Mrs. Karslake to be my wife.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Are you in your senses?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Pricking his American cousin's pet vanity.</i>] +Come, come, Judge—you Americans have no sense of humour. +[<i>Taking a small jewel-case from his pocket.</i>] There's my regards for +the lady—and [<i>Reasonably.</i>], if I must go, I will. Of course, I +would like to see her, but—if it isn't your American custom—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>Opens the door and announces.</i>] Mr. Karslake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_674" id="Page_674">[Pg 674]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, well, I say; if he can come, I can!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John Karslake</span>, <i>in evening dress, comes in quickly, carrying a +large and very smart bride's bouquet, which he hands to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, +<i>who stands transfixed. Because it never occurs to him to refuse it +or chuck it away</i>, <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>accepts the bouquet gingerly, but frees +himself of it at the first available moment.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> My compliments to the bride, Judge.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Angry.</i>] And you, too, have the effrontery?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> There you are!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Pretending ease.</i>] Oh, call it friendship—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>leaves.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Puts bouquet on table. Ironically.</i>] I suppose Mrs. +Karslake—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> She wagered me I wouldn't give her away, and of +course—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Throughout his stay</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>hides the emotions he will not show behind +a daring irony. Under its effects</i>, <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>on his right, walks about +in a fury.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>sitting down on the edge of the table, is +gay and undisturbed.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Taking a step toward</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] You will oblige me—both +of you—by immediately leaving—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Smiling and going to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Oh, come, come, Judge—suppose +I <i>am</i> here? Who has a better right to attend his wife's +obsequies! Certainly, I come as a mourner—for <i>you</i>!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I say, is it the custom?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir, your humour is strained!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Humour,—Judge?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_675" id="Page_675">[Pg 675]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Hear! Hear! Oh, I beg your pardon!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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 <i>is</i> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Brought to a standstill.</i>] Good Lord! Sir, you cannot +trifle with monogamy!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Sir, this is polyandry.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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. [<i>He indicates +himself, and then</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> All very amusing, sir, but the fact remains—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Going to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>who at once moves away.</i>] 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!"</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Of course you do, and—there you are!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Heavily.</i>] There I am not, sir! And— [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] as +for Mr. Karslake's ill-timed jocosity,—sir, in the future—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, hang the future!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> I begin to hope, Sir Wilfrid, that in the future I shall +have the pleasure of hanging you! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] And as to you, +sir, your insensate idea of giving away your own—your former—my—your—oh!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_676" id="Page_676">[Pg 676]</a></span> +Good Lord! This is a nightmare! [<i>He turns to +go in despair.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>coming in, meets him, and stops him at +the door.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] My dear brother, Aunt Sarah +Heneage refuses to give Mrs. Karslake away, unless you yourself,—eh—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>As he goes out.</i>] No more! I'll attend to the matter! +[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Choir Boys</span> <i>are heard practising in the next room.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Mopping his brow.</i>] How do you both do? My +aunt has made me very warm. [<i>Ringing the bell.</i>] 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— [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> +<i>responds to his ring.</i>] Thomas! I left, in the hall, a +small hand-bag or satchel containing my surplice.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Yes, sir. Ahem!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> You must really find the hand-bag at once.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>turns to go, when he stops startled.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Yes, sir. [<i>Announcing in consternation.</i>] Mrs. Vida +Phillimore. [<span class="smcap">Vida Phillimore</span>, <i>in full evening dress, steps gently +up to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Always piously serene.</i>] Ah, my dear child! Now +this is just as it should be! That is, eh— [<i>He walks to the centre +of the room with her</i>, <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>the while, pointedly disregarding</i> <span class="smcap">Sir +Wilfrid</span>.] That is, when I come to think of it—your presence +might be deemed inauspicious.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> But, my dear Matthew,—I had to come. [<i>Aside to him.</i>] +I have a reason for being here.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>who has left the room, again appears.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>With a helpless gesture.</i>] But, my dear child—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> [<i>With sympathetic intention.</i>] Sir, Mr. Phillimore +wishes to have your assistance, sir—with Miss Heneage <i>immediately</i>!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Ah! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] One moment! I'll return. [<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] Have you found the bag with my surplice?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He goes out with</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>speaking.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>moves at +once to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida. John</span>, <i>moving to a better position, watches +the door.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_677" id="Page_677">[Pg 677]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] You're just the person I most want +to see!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>With affected iciness.</i>] Oh, no, Sir Wilfrid, Cynthia +isn't here yet! [<i>She moves to the table, and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>his eyes on the +door, coming toward her, she speaks to him with obvious sweetness.</i>] +Jack, dear, I never was so ravished to see any one.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Taken aback.</i>] By Jove!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Very sweet.</i>] I knew I should find you here!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Annoyed but civil.</i>] Now don't do that!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Sweeter than ever.</i>] Jack! [<i>They sit down.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Civil but plain spoken.</i>] Don't do it!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>In a voice dripping with honey.</i>] Do what, Jack?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Touch me with your voice! I have troubles enough of +my own. [<i>He sits not far from her; the table between them.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And I know who your troubles are! Cynthia!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>From this moment</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>abandons</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>as an object of the chase +and works him into her other game.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I hate her. I don't know why I came.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> You came, dear, because you couldn't stay away—you're +in love with her.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> All right, Vida, what I feel may be <i>love</i>—but all I can +say is, if I could get even with Cynthia Karslake—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> You can, dear—it's as easy as powdering one's face; +all you have to do is to be too nice to me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Looking at her inquiringly.</i>] Eh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> If I can make her wince, I'll make love to you till the +Heavenly cows come home!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Well, you see, my dear, if you make love to me it will +[<i>Delicately indicating</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] cut both ways at once!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Eh,—what! Not Cates-Darby? [<i>Starting.</i>] Is that +Cynthia?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Now don't get rattled and forget to make love to me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I've got the jumps. [<i>Trying to follow her instructions.</i>] +Vida, I adore you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, you must be more convincing; that won't do at all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Listening.</i>] Is that she now?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>comes in and passes to the inner room.</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_678" id="Page_678">[Pg 678]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> 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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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. [<i>The organ is heard, very softly played.</i>] Is that +Cynthia? [<i>He rises quickly.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> It's the organ!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Overwhelmingly excited.</i>] By George! I should never +have come! I think I'll go.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He makes a movement toward the door.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Rises and follows him remonstratingly.</i>] When I need +you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I can't stand it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, but, Jack—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Good-night!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> I feel quite ill. [<i>Seeing that she must play her last card +to keep him, pretends to faintness; sways and falls into his arms.</i>] +Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>In a rage, but beaten.</i>] I believe you're putting up a +fake.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The organ swells as</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>enters sweepingly, dressed in full +evening dress for the wedding ceremony.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>not knowing what +to do, keeps his arms about</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>as a horrid necessity.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Speaking as she comes in, to</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] 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? [<i>She looks for</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>and +sees</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>in his arms. She stops short.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Uneasy and embarrassed.</i>] A glass of water! I beg +your pardon, Mrs. Karslake— [<i>The organ plays on.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Ironical and calm.</i>] Vida!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> She has fainted.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Cynically.</i>] Fainted? [<i>Without pausing.</i>] Dear, +dear, dear, terrible! So she has. [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>takes the flowers +from a vase and prepares to sprinkle</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>forehead with the water +it contains.</i>] No, no, not her forehead, Sir Wilfrid, her frock! +Sprinkle her best Paquin! If it's a real faint, she will not +come to!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_679" id="Page_679">[Pg 679]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Coming quickly to her senses as her Paris importation is +about to suffer.</i>] I almost fainted.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Almost!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Using the stock phrase as a matter of course, and reviving +rapidly.</i>] Where am I? [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>glances at</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>sharply.</i>] Oh, +the bride! I beg every one's pardon. Cynthia, at a crisis like this, +I simply couldn't stay away from Philip!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Stay away from Philip? [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>exchange glances.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Your arm, Jack; and lead me where there is air.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>go into the further room. The organ stops.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir +Wilfrid</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>are practically alone in the room.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I've come back.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Asks for air and goes to the +greenhouse. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>crosses the room and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>offers +her a seat.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Mr. Phillimore?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Sharply.</i>] No, Karslake. I'm just waiting to say +the words [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in unnoticed.</i>] "love, honour and obey" +to Phillimore— [<i>Looking back.</i>] and <i>at</i> Karslake! [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] +What is it? Mr. Phillimore?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Mr. Phillimore will be down in a few minutes, ma'am. +He's very sorry, ma'am [<i>Lowering his voice and coming nearer to</i> +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>mindful of the respectabilities</i>], but there's a button off +his waistcoat.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Rising. With irony.</i>] Button off his waistcoat!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Delightedly.</i>] Ah! So much the better for me. +[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>looks into the other room.</i>] Now, then, never mind those +two! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves restlessly.</i>] Sit down.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can't.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> You're as nervous as—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Nervous! Of course I'm nervous! So would you be +nervous if you'd had a runaway and smash up, and you were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_680" id="Page_680">[Pg 680]</a></span> +going to try it again. [<i>She is unable to take her eyes from</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>noting this, grows uneasy.</i>] And if some +one doesn't do away with those calla lilies—the odor makes me +faint! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>moves.</i>] No, it's not the lilies! It's the +orange blossoms!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Orange blossoms.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The flowers that grow on the tree that hangs over +the abyss! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>promptly confiscates the vase of orange +blossoms.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Returning to her side.</i>] Sorry to disappoint you. +They're artificial. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shrugs her shoulders.</i>] That's it! +They're emblematic of artificial domesticity! And I'm here to +help you balk it. [<i>He sits down and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>half rises and looks +toward</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Keep still now, I've a lot to say to you. +Stop looking—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Leaning over her chair.</i>] What do you want to +look at 'em for? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves.</i>] Let 'em be and listen to me! +Sit down; for damme, I'm determined.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Now at the table and half to herself.</i>] I won't look +at them! I won't think of them. Beasts! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>interposes +between her and her view of</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>. <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>opens the door +and walks in.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Now, then— [<i>He sits down.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Those two <i>here</i>! It's just as if Adam and Eve +should invite the snake to their golden wedding. [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>.] +What is it, what's the matter?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas.</span> Mr. Phillimore's excuses, ma'am. In a very short +time— [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I'm on to you! You hoped for more buttons!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'm dying of the heat; fan me.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>fans</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Heat! No! You're dying because you're +ignorin' nature. Certainly you are! You're marryin' Phillimore! +[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>appears faint.</i>] Can't ignore nature, Mrs. Karslake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_681" id="Page_681">[Pg 681]</a></span> +Yes, you are; you're forcin' your feelin's. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>glances at +him.</i>] 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! +[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves and shakes her head.</i>] So just throw the reins on +nature's neck, jump this fellow Phillimore and marry me!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He leans toward</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Naturally, but with irritation.</i>] 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! [<i>Looking toward</i> +<span class="smcap">Karslake</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] And I won't have you stand near me! I +won't have you talking to me in a low tone! [<i>Her eyes glued on</i> +<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Stand over there—stand where you are.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I say—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can hear you—I'm listening!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Marry you? I don't even know you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Feeling sure of being accepted.</i>] 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. +[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>looks beyond him, exclaims and turns.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>turns.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Do they?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Thinking of</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and nothing else.</i>] I can +see Vida in the nursery.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> You understand when you want a brood mare, +you don't choose a Kentucky mule.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I think I see one.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Well, that's what they're saying over there. +They say your gals run to talk [<i>He plainly remembers</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> +<i>volubility.</i>] and I have seen gals here that would chat life into a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_682" id="Page_682">[Pg 682]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> So that's what you think?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Not a bit what <i>I</i> think—what my countrymen +think!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why are you telling me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Oh, just explaining my character. I'm the sort +that can pick and choose—and what I want is heart.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>ever in mind.</i>] No more heart than +a dragon-fly! [<i>The organ begins to play softly.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I am listening. I am!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Speaking directly to her.</i>] An Englishman, ye +see, when he marries expects three things: love, obedience, and +five children.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Three things! I make it seven!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Yes, my dear, but the point is, will you be +mistress of Traynham?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Who has only half listened to him.</i>] No, Sir Wilfrid, +thank you, I won't. [<i>She turns to see</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>walk across the +drawing-room with</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>and apparently absorbed in what she is +saying.</i>] It's outrageous!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Eh? Why you're cryin'?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Almost sobbing.</i>] I am not.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> You're not crying because you're in love with +me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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. [<span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>with intention and determined to stab</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, +<i>kisses</i> <span class="smcap">Vida's</span> <i>hand.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Eh! Oh! I'm damned! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] What +do you think that means?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't doubt it means a wedding here, at once—after +mine! [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>leave the drawing-room and walk +slowly toward them.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_683" id="Page_683">[Pg 683]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Affecting an impossible intimacy to wound</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and +tantalize</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Hush, Jack—I'd much rather no one +should know anything about it until it's all over!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Starting and looking at</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] What did I +tell you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Oh, my dear, he's asked me to champagne +and lobster at <i>your</i> house—his house! Matthew is +coming! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>starts, but controls herself.</i>] And you're to +come, Sir Wilfrid. [<i>Intending to convey the idea of a sudden +marriage ceremony.</i>] 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. [<i>The organ stops.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Piqued at being forgotten.</i>] All very neat, but +you haven't given me a chance, even.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Chance? You're not serious?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I am!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Striking while the iron is hot.</i>] I'll give you a minute +to offer yourself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Eh?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Sixty seconds from now.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Uncertain.</i>] There's such a thing as bein' silly.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Calm and determined.</i>] Fifty seconds left.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> I take you—count fair. [<i>He hands her his watch +and goes to where</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>stands.</i>] I say, Mrs. Karslake—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Overwhelmed with grief and emotion.</i>] They're +engaged; they're going to be married to-night, over champagne +and lobster at my house!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Will you consider your—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Hastily, to get rid of him.</i>] No, no, no, no! Thank +you, Sir Wilfrid, I will not.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Calm, and not to be laid low.</i>] Thanks awfully. +[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>walks away. Returning to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] Mrs. Phillimore—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Returning his watch.</i>] Too late! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Karslake</span>.] +Jack, dear, we must be off.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Standing and making a general appeal for information.</i>] +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. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.] By Jove, you +know in your country it's the pace that kills.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>follows</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>out the door.</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_684" id="Page_684">[Pg 684]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Gravely to</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who has walked away.</i>] Good-night, +Mrs. Karslake, I'm going; I'm sorry I came.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Sorry? Why are you sorry? [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>looks at her; +she winces a little.</i>] You've got what you wanted. [<i>After a +pause.</i>] I wouldn't mind your marrying Vida—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Gravely.</i>] Oh, wouldn't you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> But I don't think you showed good taste in engaging +yourselves <i>here</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Of course, I should have preferred a garden of roses and +plenty of twilight.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Rushing into speech.</i>] I'll tell you what you <i>have</i> +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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I have known others—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Quickly.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Banteringly.</i>] I begin to think she is just the +woman—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Unable to quiet her jealousy.</i>] She is <i>not</i> the woman +for <i>you</i>! 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!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>comes to a full stop and faces him.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Sharply.</i>] Can't say I've had any experience of the +good old-fashioned bread-poultice.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't care what you say! If you marry Vida +Phillimore—you sha'n't do it. [<i>Tears of rage choking her.</i>] No, +I liked your father and, for <i>his</i> sake, I'll see that his son doesn't +make a donkey of himself a second time.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Too angry to be amused.</i>] Oh, I thought I was divorced. +I begin to feel as if I had you on my hands still.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You have! You shall have! If you attempt to +marry her, I'll follow you—and I'll find her—I'll tell Vida— [<i>He +turns to her.</i>] I will. I'll tell Vida just what sort of a dance +you led me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_685" id="Page_685">[Pg 685]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Quickly on her last word but speaking gravely.</i>] Indeed! +Will you? And why do you care what happens to me?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Startled by his tone.</i>] I—I—ah—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Insistently and with a faint hope.</i>] <i>Why</i> do you +<i>care</i>?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't. Not in your sense—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> How dare you then pretend—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't pretend.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Interrupting her; proud, serious and strong.</i>] How dare +you look me in the face with the eyes that I once kissed, and pretend +the least regard for me? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>recoils and looks away. +Her own feelings are revealed to her clearly for the first time.</i>] 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 <i>are</i> nothing!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Wounded to the heart.</i>] Jack! What are you +saying?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>With unrestrained emotion.</i>] What,—you feigning an +interest in me, feigning a lie—and in five minutes— [<i>With a +gesture, indicating the altar.</i>] Oh, you've taught me the trick of +your sex—you're the woman who's not a woman!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Weakly.</i>] You're saying terrible things to me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Low and with intensity.</i>] You haven't been divorced +from me long enough to forget—what you should be ashamed to +remember.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Unable to face him and pretending not to understand +him.</i>] I don't know what you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>More forcibly and with manly emotion.</i>] 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— [<i>The organ is plainly heard.</i>] +Well, then, prance gaily up to the altar and marry that, if you +can!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He abruptly quits the room and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>moving to an armchair, +sinks into it, trembling.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>comes in and is joined by</i> +<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>. <i>They do not see</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>buried +deeply in her chair. Accordingly</i>, <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>moves over to +the sofa and waits. They are all dressed for an evening reception +and</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>is in the traditional bridegroom's rig.</i></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_686" id="Page_686">[Pg 686]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>As he enters.</i>] I am sure you will do your part, +Sarah—in a spirit of Christian decorum. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] It was +impossible to find my surplice, Philip, but the more informal the +better.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>With pompous responsibility.</i>] Where's Cynthia?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>gives a glance around the room.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Ah, here's the choir! [<i>He moves forward to meet it.</i> +<span class="smcap">Choir Boys</span> <i>come in very orderly; divide and take their places, an +even number on each side of the altar of flowers.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>vaguely +superintends.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>gets in the way of the bell and moves out of the +way.</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in.</i>] Thomas, I directed you—One +moment, if you please. [<i>He indicates the tables and chairs which</i> +<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>hastens to push against the wall.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Walking forward and looking around him.</i>] Where's +Cynthia? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>rises, and, at the movement</i>, <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>sees her +and moves toward her. The organ grows suddenly silent.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Faintly.</i>] Here I am.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>comes down. Organ plays softly.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Ah, my very dear Cynthia, I knew +there was something. Let me tell you the words of the hymn I +have chosen:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Enduring love; sweet end of strife!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, bless this happy man and wife!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I'm afraid you feel—eh—eh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Desperately calm.</i>] I feel awfully queer—I think I +need a scotch.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Organ stops.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>remains uneasily at a little distance.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. +Phillimore</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span> <i>enter back slowly, as cheerfully as if +they were going to hear the funeral service read. They remain +near the doorway.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Really, my dear, in the pomp and vanity—I +mean—ceremony of this—this unique occasion, there should be +sufficient exhilaration.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With extraordinary control.</i>] But there isn't!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Feeling weak, she sits down.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> I don't think my Bishop would approve of—eh—anything +<i>before</i>!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Too agitated to know how much she is moved.</i>] I feel very queer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_687" id="Page_687">[Pg 687]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Piously sure that everything is for the best.</i>] My +dear child—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> However, I suppose there's nothing for it—now—but—to—to—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Courage!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Desperate and with a sudden explosion.</i>] 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> My dear, your indisposition is the voice of nature. +[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>speaks more rapidly and with growing excitement.</i> +<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>makes a movement toward the</i> <span class="smcap">Choir Boys</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Ah,—that's it—nature! [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>shakes his +head.</i>] I've a great mind to throw the reins on nature's +neck.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Matthew! [<i>He moves to take his stand for the +ceremony.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> [<i>Looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>. <i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Philip is ready. +[<span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>comes forward and the organ plays the wedding +march.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>To herself, as if at bay.</i>] Ready? Ready? Ready?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> Cynthia, you will take Miss Heneage's arm. +[<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>moves stiffly nearer to the table.</i>] Sarah! [<i>He +waves</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>in the direction of</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>at which she +advances a joyless step or two.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>goes over to give the +choir a low direction.</i>] Now please don't forget, my boys. When +I raise my hands so, you begin, "Enduring love, sweet end of +strife," etc. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>has risen. On the table by which she stands +is her long lace cloak.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>assumes sacerdotal importance +and takes his position inside the altar of flowers.</i>] Ahem! Philip! +[<i>He signs to</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>to take his position.</i>] Sarah! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> +<i>breathes fast, and supports herself against the table.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>, +<i>with the silent air of a martyr, goes toward her and stands for a +moment looking at her.</i>] The ceremony will now begin.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The organ plays Mendelssohn's wedding march.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>turns +and faces</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span>. <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>slowly reaches</i> +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>and extends her hand in her readiness to lead the bride +to the altar.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Mrs. Karslake!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> Ahem! [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>walks forward two or three steps.</i> +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>stands as if turned to stone.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_688" id="Page_688">[Pg 688]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew.</span> My dear Cynthia. I request you—to take your +place. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves one or two steps as if to go up to the altar. +She takes</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage's</span> <i>hand and slowly they walk toward</i> +<span class="smcap">Matthew</span>.] 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.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>The organ grows louder.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>At this moment, just as she reaches</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <i>stops, +faces round, looks him</i>, <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>and the rest in the face, and cries +out in despair.</i>] Thomas! Call a hansom! [<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>goes out, +leaving the door open.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>crosses the room quickly</i>; +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span>, <i>shocked into action, rises.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>catches up +her cloak from the table.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>turns and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>comes forward +and stops.</i>] I can't, Philip—I can't. [<i>Whistle of hansom is heard +off; the organ stops.</i>] It is simply a case of throwing the reins on +nature's neck—up anchor—and sit tight! [<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> <i>moves to</i> +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] Matthew, don't come near me! Yes, yes, I distrust +you. It's your business, and you'd marry me if you could.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> [<i>Watching her in dismay as she throws on her cloak.</i>] +Where are you going?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'm going to Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Philip.</span> What for?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>has now all her wraps on +and walks toward the door rapidly. To</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.] Sorry! So long! +Good-night and see you later.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Reaching the door, she goes out in blind haste and without further +ceremony.</i> <span class="smcap">Matthew</span>, <i>in absolute amazement, throws up his +arms.</i> <span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>is rigid.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillimore</span> <i>sinks into a chair.</i> +<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage</span> <i>stands supercilious and unmoved.</i> <span class="smcap">Grace</span>, <i>the +same. The choir, at <span class="smcap">Matthew's</span> gesture, mistakes it for the concerted +signal, and bursts lustily into the Epithalamis:</i></p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Enduring love—sweet end of strife!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, bless this happy man and wife!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap">Curtain.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_689" id="Page_689">[Pg 689]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACT_IV" id="ACT_IV"></a>ACT IV.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span> <i>The scene is laid in</i> <span class="smcap">John Karslake's</span> <i>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</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>. <i>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.</i></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>is busy at the larger table. The door into the dining-room +is half open.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Coming in from the dining-room.</i>] Eh—what +did you say your name was?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Nogam, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Nogam? I've been here thirty minutes. Where +are the cigars? [<span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>motions to a small table near the entrance +door.</i>] Thank you. Nogam, Mr. Karslake was to have followed +us here, immediately. [<i>He lights a cigar.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Mr. Karslake just now 'phoned from his club [<span class="smcap">Sir +Wilfrid</span> <i>walks toward the front of the room.</i>], and he's on his way +home, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Nogam, why is that chair upside down?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Our orders, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Speaking as she comes in.</i>] Oh, Wilfrid! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> +<i>turns.</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>coming slowly toward him.</i>] I can't be left longer +alone with the lobster! He reminds me too much of Phillimore!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Karslake's coming; stopped at his club on the +way! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Nogam</span>.] You haven't heard anything of Mrs. Karslake—?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_690" id="Page_690">[Pg 690]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>Surprised.</i>] No, sir!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>In an aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>as they move right to appear +to be out of</i> <span class="smcap">Nogam's</span> <i>hearing.</i>] Deucedly odd, ye know—for the +Reverend Matthew declared she left Phillimore's house before +<i>he</i> did,—and she told them she was coming here!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>evidently takes this in.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> Oh, she'll turn up.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> 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. [<i>She twirls her new wedding ring gently +about her finger.</i>] Wasn't it lucky he had a ring in his +pocket?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Rather.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> And are you aware, dear, that Phillimore bought and +intended it for Cynthia? Do come [<i>Going toward the door through +which she has just entered.</i>], I'm desperately hungry! Whenever +I'm married that's the effect it has! [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>goes out and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, +<i>following, stops to talk to</i> <span class="smcap">Nogam</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> We'll give Mr. Karslake ten minutes, Nogam. +If he does not come then, you might serve supper.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He joins</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Yes, sir. [<i>The outside door opens and</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>walks in.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Easy and business-like.</i>] Hello, Nogam, where's +the guv'nor? That mare's off her oats, and I've got to see him.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> He'll soon be here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Who was the parson I met leaving the house?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>Whispering.</i>] Sir Wilfrid and Mrs. Phillimore have +a date with the guv'nor in the dining-room, and the reverend +gentleman— [<i>He makes a gesture as of giving an ecclesiastical +blessing.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Amazed.</i>] He hasn't spliced them? [<span class="smcap">Nogam</span> +<i>assents.</i>] He has? They're married? Never saw a parson could +resist it!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Yes, but I've got another piece of news for you. Who +do you think the Rev. Phillimore expected to find <i>here</i>?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_691" id="Page_691">[Pg 691]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Proud of having the knowledge.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[Fiddler <i>is about to set the chair on its legs.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>Quickly.</i>] Mr. Fiddler, sir, please to let it alone.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Putting the chair down in surprise.</i>] Does it live on +its blooming head?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Don't you remember? <i>She</i> 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. [<i>A bell rings outside.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> There's the guv'nor—I hear him!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> I'll serve the supper. [<i>Taking a letter from his pocket +and putting it on the mantel.</i>] 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. +[<i>The bell rings again. Speaking from the door to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] +I'm coming, sir!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>goes out, shutting the door.</i> <span class="smcap">John Karslake</span> <i>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</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>, <i>who salutes, forgetting the letter.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>slowly sinks into the arm-chair near his study table.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>As he walks to his chair.</i>] Hello, Fiddler! [<i>After a +pause,</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>throws himself into a chair, keeping his hat on. He +throws down his gloves, sighing.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Came in to see you, sir, about Cynthia K.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Drearily.</i>] Damn Cynthia K!—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Couldn't have a word with you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Grumpy.</i>] No!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Fiddler.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Mrs. Karslake— [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>nods.</i>] You used to say +she was our mascot?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, she's just married herself to a—a sort of a man—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Sorry to hear it, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, Fiddler, between you and me, we're a pair of idiots.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_692" id="Page_692">[Pg 692]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> And now it's too late!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, sir—oh, beg your pardon, sir—your lawyer +left a letter. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>takes letter; opens it and reads it, indifferently +at first.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>As he opens the letter.</i>] What's he got to say, more than +what his wire said?—Eh— [<i>Dumbfounded as he reads.</i>] what?—Will +explain.—Error in wording of telegram.—Call me up.— [<i>Turning +quickly to the telephone.</i>] The man can't mean that she's +still—Hello! Hello! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>listens.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Would like to have a word with you, sir—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Hello, Central!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> That mare—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Consulting the letter, and speaking into the 'phone.</i>] +33246a 38! Did you get it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> That mare, sir, she's got a touch of malaria—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>At the 'phone.</i>] Hello, Central—33246a—38!—Clayton +Osgood—yes, yes, and say, Central—get a move on you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> If you think well of it, sir, I'll give her a +tonic—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Still at the 'phone.</i>] Hello! Yes—yes—Jack Karslake. +Is that you, Clayton? Yes—yes—well—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Or if you like, sir, I'll give her—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Turning on</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>.] Shut up! [<i>To 'phone.</i>] 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! [<i>He +hangs up the receiver; falls back into a chair. For a moment he is +overcome. He takes up telephone book.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> All very well, Mr. Karslake, but I must know if I'm +to give her—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Turning over the leaves of the telephone book in hot +haste.</i>] What's Phillimore's number?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> If you've no objections, I think I'll give her a—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> L—M—N—O—P—It's too late! She's married +by this! Married!—and—my God—I—I am the cause. Phillimore—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> I'll give her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_693" id="Page_693">[Pg 693]</a></span>—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Give her wheatina!—give her grape-nuts—give her +away! [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>, <i>biding his time, walks toward the window.</i>] +Only be quiet! Phillimore!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>comes in.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Hello! We'd almost given you up!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>In his agitation unable to find</i> Phillimore's <i>number.</i>] +Just a moment! I'm trying to get Phillimore on the 'phone +to—to tell Mrs. Karslake—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> No good, my boy—she's on her way here! +[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>drops the book and looks up dumbfounded.</i>] The Reverend +Matthew was here, y' see—and he said—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Rising, turns.</i>] Mrs. Karslake is coming here? [<span class="smcap">Sir +Wilfrid</span> <i>nods.</i>] To this house? Here?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> That's right.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Coming here? You're sure? [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>nods assent.</i>] +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?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> Come along in and I'll tell you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> On your life now, Fiddler, don't fail to let me—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> <i>carries</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>off with him.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>From the dining-room.</i>] Ah, here you are!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Phew!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>A moment's pause, and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>opens the front door, and comes +in very quietly, almost shyly, as if she were uncertain of her welcome.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Fiddler! Where is he? Has he come? Is he +here? Has he gone?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> [<i>Rattled.</i>] Nobody's gone, ma'am, except the Reverend +Matthew Phillimore.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Matthew? He's been here and gone? [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> +<i>nods assent.</i>] You don't mean I'm too late? He's married +them already?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Nogam says he married them!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> He's married them! Married! Married before I +could get here! [<i>Sinking into an armchair.</i>] Married in less +time than it takes to pray for rain! Oh, well, the church—the +church is a regular quick marriage counter. [<span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>are heard in light-hearted laughter.</i>] Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> I'll tell Mr. Karslake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_694" id="Page_694">[Pg 694]</a></span>—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Rising and going to the dining-room door, +turns the key in the lock and takes it out.</i>] No—I wouldn't see +him for the world! [<i>Moving to the work-table with the key.</i>] +If I'm too late, I'm too late! and that's the end of it! [<i>Laying +the key on the table, she remains standing near it.</i>] I've come, +and now I'll go! [<i>There is a long pause during which</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> +<i>looks slowly about the room, then sighs and changes her tone.</i>] +Well, Fiddler, it's all a good deal as it used to be in my day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> No, ma'am—everything changed, even the horses.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Absent-mindedly.</i>] Horses—how are the horses?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Throughout her talk with</i> Fiddler <i>she gives the idea that she is +saying good-bye to her life with</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.</p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> How's he changed?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Lost his sharp for horses, and ladies, ma'am—gives +'em both the boiled eye.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I can't say I see any change; there's my portrait—I +suppose he sits and pulls faces at me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yes, ma'am, I think I'd better tell him of your bein' here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Gently but decidedly.</i>] No, Fiddler, no! [<i>Again +looking about her.</i>] The room's in a terrible state of disorder. +However, your new mistress will attend to that. [<i>Pause.</i>] Why, +that's not her hat!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Yours, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Mine? [<i>Walking to the table to look at it.</i>] Is that +my work-basket? [<i>After a pause.</i>] My gloves? [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> +<i>assents.</i>] And I suppose— [<i>Hurriedly going to the writing-table.</i>] +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— [<i>She glances at</i> <span class="smcap">Fiddler</span> <i>and breaks off.</i>] But for +heaven's sake, Fiddler, set that chair on its feet!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Against orders, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Against orders?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> You kicked it over, ma'am, the day you left us.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No wonder he hates me with the chair in that state! +He nurses his wrath to keep it warm. So, after all, Fiddler, +everything <i>is</i> changed, and that chair is the proof of it. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_695" id="Page_695">[Pg 695]</a></span> +suppose Cynthia K is the only thing in the world that cares a +whinney whether I'm alive or dead. [<i>She breaks down and sobs.</i>] +How is she, Fiddler?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fiddler.</span> Off her oats, ma'am, this evening.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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. [<span class="smcap">Fiddler</span>, <i>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</i>, +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>rises and dries her eyes.</i>] There—I'm a fool—I must go—before—before—he—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>As she speaks her last word</i>, <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes in swiftly.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Mrs. Karslake!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Confused.</i>] I—I—I just heard Cynthia K was ill— [<span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>assents.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>tries to put on a cheerful and indifferent +manner.</i>] I—I ran round—I—and—and— [<i>Pausing, +she turns and takes a few steps.</i>] Well, I understand it's all over.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Cheerfully.</i>] Yes, it's all over.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> How is the bride?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, she's a wonder.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Vida</span>, <i>unable to keep her finger long out of a pie, saunters in.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> 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! [<span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span> +<i>follows her with hat and cane.</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>kisses</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] That's the +wages of virtue!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>In time to see her kiss</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] I say, is it the +custom? Every time she does that, my boy, you owe me a +thousand pounds. [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who approaches them, he +looks at her and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>in turn.</i>] Mrs. Karslake. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] And +then you say it's not an extraordinary country!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is more and more puzzled.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] See you next Derby, Jack! [<i>Walking to +the door. To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>.] Come along, Wilfrid! We really +ought to be going. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] I hope, dear, you haven't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_696" id="Page_696">[Pg 696]</a></span> +married him! Phillimore's a tomb! Good-bye, Cynthia—I'm +so happy! [<i>As she goes.</i>] Just think of the silly people, dear, +that only have this sensation once in a lifetime!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>follows</i> <span class="smcap">Vida</span> <i>out the door.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>.] 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! [<i>With real +delicacy of feeling and forgetting his wife.</i>] Never liked a woman as +much in my life as I did you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Vida.</span> [<i>Outside; calling him.</i>] Wilfrid, dear!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid.</span> [<i>Loyal to the woman who has caught him.</i>] —except +the one that's calling me!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">John</span> <i>returns, and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Wilfrid</span>, <i>nodding to him, goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>shuts the door and crosses the room. There is a pause.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> So you're not married?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No. But I know that you imagined I was.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After a pause.</i>] I suppose you think a woman has +no right to divorce a man—and still continue to feel a keen interest +in his affairs?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I don't quite see +how—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> A woman can be divorced—and still— [<span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>assents; she hides her embarrassment.</i>] 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? [<i>She moves to the door.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Indignantly.</i>] I'm not married to him!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Silent for a moment.</i>] I left you on the brink—made +me feel a little uncertain.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>In a matter of course tone.</i>] I changed my mind—that's all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Taking his tone from her.</i>] Of course. [<i>After an interval.</i>] +Are you going to marry him?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't know.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_697" id="Page_697">[Pg 697]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Does he know you—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I told him I was coming here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh! He'll turn up here, then—eh? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>is +silent.</i>] And you'll go back with him, I suppose?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Talking at random.</i>] Oh—yes—I suppose so. I—I +haven't thought much about it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Changing his tone.</i>] Well, sit down; do. Till he +comes—talk it over. [<i>He places the armchair more comfortably +for her.</i>] This is a more comfortable chair!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Shamefacedly.</i>] You never liked me to sit in that one!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, well—it's different now. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves and sits +down, near the upset chair. There is a long pause, during which</i> +<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>thoughtfully paces the room.</i>] You don't mind if I smoke?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Shaking her head.</i>] No.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Lighting his pipe and sitting down on the arm of a chair.</i>] +Of course, if you find my presence painful, I'll—skiddoo.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>He indicates the door.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shakes her head.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>smokes +his pipe and remains seated.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Suddenly and quickly.</i>] 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! [<span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>takes this as if he were simply glad to have the information.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh—H'm! ah—yes—yes.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After a pause.</i>] You probably felt jealous of Phillimore.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Reasonably, sweetly, and in doubt.</i>] N-o! [<i>Apologetically.</i>] +I felt simply: Let him take his medicine.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I beg your pardon—I meant—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You meant what you said!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Moving a step toward her.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> It isn't what you <i>say</i>—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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_698" id="Page_698">[Pg 698]</a></span> +to me, you know—and—the whole place—it's so familiar, and +so—so associated with—with—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Discord and misery—I know—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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. [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>crosses the room rapidly, and sets the +chair on its legs. His tone changes.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>While setting chair on its legs.</i>] There! I beg your pardon.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Nervously.</i>] I believe I hear Philip. [<i>She rises.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Going up to the window.</i>] 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—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Very well, if you don't—give me my hat. [<span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>does so.</i>] And my sewing! And my gloves, please! [<i>She indicates +the several articles which lie on the small table.</i>] Thanks! +[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>throws the lot into the fireplace, and returns to the place +she has left near table.</i>] There! I feel better! And now—all I ask is—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing.</i>] My stars, what a pleasure it is!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> What is?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Seeing you in a whirlwind!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Wounded by his seeming indifference.</i>] Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No, but I mean, a real pleasure! Why not? Time's +passed since you and I were together—and—eh—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> And you've forgotten what a vile temper I had!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Reflectively.</i>] Well, you did kick the stuffing out of the +matrimonial buggy—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Pointedly but with good temper.</i>] It wasn't a buggy; +it was a break cart— [<i>She stands back of the arm-chair.</i>] It's +all very well to blame me! But when you married me, I'd never +had a bit in my mouth!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, I guess I had a pretty hard hand. Do you +remember the time you threw both your slippers out of the window?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Yes, and do you remember the time you took my +fan from me by force?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> After you slapped my face with it!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_699" id="Page_699">[Pg 699]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, oh! I hardly touched your face! And do you +remember the day you held my wrists?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You were going to bite me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack! I never! I showed my teeth at you! And I +<i>said</i> I would bite you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Cynthia, I never knew you to break your word! [<i>He +laughs. Casually.</i>] And anyhow—they were awfully pretty +teeth! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>though bolt upright, has ceased to seem pained.</i>] +And I say—do you remember, Cyn—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He leans over her armchair to talk.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>After a pause.</i>] 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.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Awfully sorry; didn't mean to be beastly, Cyn. +[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>turns quickly.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>stamps his foot.</i>] Cynthia! Sorry. +I'll make it a commandment: thou shalt not Cyn!!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>laughs and wipes her eyes.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> How can you, Jack? How can you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I do, I do! [<i>Both laugh. The door opens and</i> +<span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>comes in, unnoticed by either.</i>] But what was it started me +laughing? [<i>Laughing, she sits down and laughs again.</i>] That +morning. Wasn't it somebody we met? [<i>Laughing afresh.</i>] +Wasn't it a man on a horse? [<i>As her memory pieces the picture, she +again goes off into laughter.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing too.</i>] Of course! You didn't know him in +those days! But I did! And he looked a sight in the saddle!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Nogam</span>, <i>trying to catch their attention, moves toward the table.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Who was it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Phillimore!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> He's no laughing matter now. [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Nogam</span>.] +Jack, he's here!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Eh? Oh, Nogam?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> Mr. Phillimore, sir—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> In the house?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> On the street in a hansom, sir—and he requests Mrs. +Karslake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_700" id="Page_700">[Pg 700]</a></span>—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> That'll do, Nogam. [<span class="smcap">Nogam</span> <i>goes out and there is a +pause.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>on his way to the window, looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>, <i>who +has slowly risen and turned her back to him.</i>] Well, Cynthia?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He speaks almost gravely and with finality.</i>]</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Trembling.</i>] Well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> It's the hour of decision; are you going to marry him? +[<i>Pause.</i>] Speak up!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack,—I—I—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> There he is—you can join him. [<i>He points to the street.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Join Phillimore—and go home—with him—to his +house, and Miss Heneage and—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> The door's open. [<i>He points to the door.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No, no! It's mean of you to suggest it!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You won't marry—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Phillimore—no; never. [<i>Running to the window.</i>] +No; never, never, Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Opening the window and calling out.</i>] It's all right, +Judge. You needn't wait.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>There is a pause.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>leaves the window and bursts into laughter. +He moves toward the door and closes it.</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>looks dazed.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Jack! [<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>laughs.</i>] Yes, but I'm here, Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why not?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> You'll have to take me round to the Holland House!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Of course, I will! But, I say, Cynthia, there's no hurry.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why, I—I—can't stay here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No, of course you can't stay here. But you can have a +bite, though. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shakes her head.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>places the small +chair, which was upset, next to the table, and the armchair close by.</i>] +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! [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>moves to the chair drawn up to the table, and sits +down.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Faintly.</i>] I <i>am</i> hungry.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Just wait a moment.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>rushes out, leaving the door open.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't want more than a nibble! [<i>After a pause.</i>] +I am sorry to give you so much trouble.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> No trouble at all. [<i>From the dining-room comes the +cheerful noise of glasses and silver.</i>] A hansom, of course, to take +you round to your hotel? [<i>Speaking as he returns with a tray.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_701" id="Page_701">[Pg 701]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>To herself.</i>] I wonder how I ever dreamed I could +marry that man.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Now by the table.</i>] Can't imagine! There!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I am hungry. Don't forget the hansom.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She eats; he waits on her, setting this and that before her.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Goes to the door, opens it and calls.</i>] Nogam, a hansom at once.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>From without.</i>] Yes, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Again at the table, shows, and from now on continues +to show, his true feelings for her.</i>] How does it go?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Faintly.</i>] It goes all right. Thanks!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>Hardly eating at all.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> You always used to like anchovy. [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>nods and +eats.</i>] Claret? [<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>shakes her head.</i>] Oh, but you must!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Tremulously.</i>] Ever so little. [<i>He fills her glass and +then his.</i>] Thanks!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Here's to old times! [<i>Raising his glass.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Very tremulous.</i>] Please not!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, here's to your next husband.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Very tenderly.</i>] Don't!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, well, then, what shall the toast be?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'll tell you— [<i>After a pause.</i>] you can drink to the +relation I am to you!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing.</i>] Well—what relation are you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I'm your first wife once removed!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Laughing, drinks.</i>] I say, you're feeling better.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Lots.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Reminiscent.</i>] It's a good deal like those mornings +after the races—isn't it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Nods.</i>] Yes. [<i>Half-rising.</i>] Is that the hansom?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Going up to the window.</i>] No.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Sitting down again.</i>] What is that sound?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Don't you remember?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> That's the rumbling of the early milk wagons.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Do you recognize it now?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> H'm!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_702" id="Page_702">[Pg 702]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> It must be fearfully late. I must go.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She rises and moves to the chair where she has left her cloak. She +sees that</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>will not help her and puts it on herself.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Oh, don't go—why go?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Embarrassed and agitated.</i>] All good things come to +an end, you know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> They don't need to.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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! [<i>After a pause and almost in tears.</i>] I'd +like to say, I—I—I—well, I sha'n't be bitter about you hereafter, +and— [<i>Halting.</i>] Thank you awfully, old man, for the fodder +and all that! [<i>She turns to go out.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Mrs. Karslake—wait—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Stopping to hear.</i>] Well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Serious.</i>] I've rather an ugly bit of news for you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I don't believe you know that I have been testing the +validity of the decree of divorce which you procured.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Oh, have you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Yes; you know I felt pretty warmly about it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Well?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Well, I've been successful. [<i>After a pause.</i>] The +decree's been declared invalid. Understand?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Looking at him for a moment; then speaking.</i>] +Not—precisely.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>After a moment's silence.</i>] I'm awfully sorry—I'm +awfully sorry, Cynthia, but, you're my wife still.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>There is a pause.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>With rapture.</i>] Honour bright?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She sinks into the armchair.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Nods. Half laughingly.</i>] Crazy country, isn't it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Nods. After an interval.</i>] Well, Jack—what's to +be done?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Gently.</i>] Whatever you say.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He moves a few steps toward her.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nogam.</span> [<i>Quietly coming in.</i>] Hansom, sir.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>He goes out and</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>rises.</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_703" id="Page_703">[Pg 703]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why don't you finish your supper?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>hesitates.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> The—the—hansom—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Why go to the Holland? After all—you know, Cyn, +you're at home here.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> No, Jack, I'm not—I'm not at home here—unless—unless—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Out with it!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Bursting into tears.</i>] Unless I—unless I'm at home +in your heart, Jack!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> What do you think?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> I don't believe you want me to stay.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Don't you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> 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!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">[<i>She sobs and he takes her in his arms.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Very tenderly.</i>] Cyn! I love you! [<i>Strongly.</i>] And +you've got to stay! And hereafter you can chuck chairs around +till all's blue! Not a word now.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He draws her gently to a chair.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Wiping her tears.</i>] Oh, Jack! Jack!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> I'm as hungry as a shark. We'll nibble together.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Well, all I can say is, I feel that of all the improprieties +I ever committed this—this—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> This takes the claret, eh? Oh, Lord, how happy I am!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Now don't say that! You'll make me cry more.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>She wipes her eyes.</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>takes out the wedding ring from his +pocket; he lifts a wine-glass, drops the ring into it and offers her +the glass.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Cynthia!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> [<i>Looking at it and wiping her eyes.</i>] What is it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Benedictine!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> Why, you know I never take it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> Take this one for my sake.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cynthia.</span> That's not benedictine. [<i>With gentle curiosity.</i>] +What is it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">John.</span> [<i>Slides the ring out of the glass and puts his arm about</i> +<span class="smcap">Cynthia</span>. <i>He slips the ring on to her finger and, as he kisses her +hand, says</i>:] Your wedding ring!</p> + + +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap">Curtain.</span><br /> +</p> + + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h4>Transcriber's Notes</h4> + +<p>Page 614: Phillmore changed to Phillimore.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(<span class="smcap">Miss Heneage.</span> Thomas, Mr. Phillmore's sherry?)</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>gives the list to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Phillmore</span> <i>and moves away.</i>)</span><br /> +<br /> +Page 654: entremely changed to extremely.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">([<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>looks entremely dark and angry;</i>)</span><br /> +<br /> +Page 679: nad changed to and.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(<span class="smcap">Wilfrid</span> <i>nad</i> <span class="smcap">Cynthia</span> <i>are practically alone)</i></span><br /> +<br /> +Page 685: tradional changed to traditional.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>(in the tradional bridegroom's rig.)</i></span><br /> +<br /> +Page 691: couldn'. changed to couldn't<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>(his lawyer couldn'. find him)</i></span><br /> +<br /> +Page 691: importantt changed to important.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>(He said it was very importantt)</i></span><br /> +<br /></p> + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +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-h.htm or 25565-h.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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