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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5654-0.txt b/5654-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbc7b9d --- /dev/null +++ b/5654-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4623 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of What Every Woman Knows, by James M. Barrie + +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: What Every Woman Knows + +Author: James M. Barrie + + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5654] +This file was first posted on August 5, 2002 +Last Updated: October 14, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT EVERY WOMAN KNOWS *** + + + + +Produced by David Moynihan, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +WHAT EVERY WOMAN KNOWS + +By James M. Barrie + + + + +ACT I + +James Wylie is about to make a move on the dambrod, and in the little +Scotch room there is an awful silence befitting the occasion. James with +his hand poised--for if he touches a piece he has to play it, Alick +will see to that--raises his red head suddenly to read Alick’s face. His +father, who is Alick, is pretending to be in a panic lest James should +make this move. James grins heartlessly, and his fingers are about to +close on the ‘man’ when some instinct of self-preservation makes him +peep once more. This time Alick is caught: the unholy ecstasy on +his face tells as plain as porridge that he has been luring James to +destruction. James glares; and, too late, his opponent is a simple old +father again. James mops his head, sprawls in the manner most conducive +to thought in the Wylie family, and, protruding his underlip, settles +down to a reconsideration of the board. Alick blows out his cheeks, and +a drop of water settles on the point of his nose. + +You will find them thus any Saturday night (after family worship, which +sends the servant to bed); and sometimes the pauses are so long that in +the end they forget whose move it is. + +It is not the room you would be shown into if you were calling socially +on Miss Wylie. The drawing-room for you, and Miss Wylie in a coloured +merino to receive you; very likely she would exclaim, “This is a +pleasant surprise!” though she has seen you coming up the avenue and has +just had time to whip the dustcloths off the chairs, and to warn Alick, +David and James, that they had better not dare come in to see you before +they have put on a dickey. Nor is this the room in which you would dine +in solemn grandeur if invited to drop in and take pot-luck, which is how +the Wylies invite, it being a family weakness to pretend that they sit +down in the dining-room daily. It is the real living-room of the house, +where Alick, who will never get used to fashionable ways, can take off +his collar and sit happily in his stocking soles, and James at times +would do so also; but catch Maggie letting him. + +There is one very fine chair, but, heavens, not for sitting on; just to +give the room a social standing in an emergency. It sneers at the other +chairs with an air of insolent superiority, like a haughty bride who +has married into the house for money. Otherwise the furniture is homely; +most of it has come from that smaller house where the Wylies began. +There is the large and shiny chair which can be turned into a bed if you +look the other way for a moment. James cannot sit on this chair without +gradually sliding down it till he is lying luxuriously on the small of +his back, his legs indicating, like the hands of a clock, that it is ten +past twelve; a position in which Maggie shudders to see him receiving +company. + +The other chairs are horse-hair, than which nothing is more comfortable +if there be a good slit down the seat. The seats are heavily dented, +because all the Wylie family sit down with a dump. The draught-board +is on the edge of a large centre table, which also displays four books +placed at equal distances from each other, one of them a Bible, and +another the family album. If these were the only books they would not +justify Maggie in calling this chamber the library, her dogged name for +it; while David and James call it the west-room and Alick calls it ‘the +room,’ which is to him the natural name for any apartment without a bed +in it. There is a bookcase of pitch pine, which contains six hundred +books, with glass doors to prevent your getting at them. + +No one does try to get at the books, for the Wylies are not a reading +family. They like you to gasp when you see so much literature gathered +together in one prison-house, but they gasp themselves at the thought +that there are persons, chiefly clergymen, who, having finished one +book, coolly begin another. Nevertheless it was not all vainglory +that made David buy this library: it was rather a mighty respect for +education, as something that he has missed. This same feeling makes him +take in the Contemporary Review and stand up to it like a man. Alick, +who also has a respect for education, tries to read the Contemporary, +but becomes dispirited, and may be heard muttering over its pages, ‘No, +no use, no use, no,’ and sometimes even ‘Oh hell.’ James has no respect +for education; and Maggie is at present of an open mind. + +They are Wylie and Sons of the local granite quarry, in which Alick was +throughout his working days a mason. It is David who has raised them to +this position; he climbed up himself step by step (and hewed the steps), +and drew the others up after him. ‘Wylie Brothers,’ Alick would have had +the firm called, but David said No, and James said No, and Maggie said +No; first honour must be to their father; and Alick now likes it on the +whole, though he often sighs at having to shave every day; and on some +snell mornings he still creeps from his couch at four and even at two +(thinking that his mallet and chisel are calling him), and begins to +pull on his trousers, until the grandeur of them reminds him that he can +go to bed again. Sometimes he cries a little, because there is no more +work for him to do for ever and ever; and then Maggie gives him a spade +(without telling David) or David gives him the logs to saw (without +telling Maggie). + +We have given James a longer time to make his move than our kind +friends in front will give him, but in the meantime something has been +happening. David has come in, wearing a black coat and his Sabbath +boots, for he has been to a public meeting. David is nigh forty years of +age, whiskered like his father and brother (Alick’s whiskers being worn +as a sort of cravat round the neck), and he has the too brisk manner of +one who must arrive anywhere a little before any one else. The painter +who did the three of them for fifteen pounds (you may observe the +canvases on the walls) has caught this characteristic, perhaps +accidentally, for David is almost stepping out of his frame, as if to +hurry off somewhere; while Alick and James look as if they were pinned +to the wall for life. All the six of them, men and pictures, however, +have a family resemblance, like granite blocks from their own quarry. +They are as Scotch as peat for instance, and they might exchange eyes +without any neighbour noticing the difference, inquisitive little blue +eyes that seem to be always totting up the price of things. + +The dambrod players pay no attention to David, nor does he regard them. +Dumping down on the sofa he removes his ‘lastic sides, as his Sabbath +boots are called, by pushing one foot against the other, gets into a +pair of hand-sewn slippers, deposits the boots as according to rule in +the ottoman, and crosses to the fire. There must be something on David’s +mind to-night, for he pays no attention to the game, neither gives +advice (than which nothing is more maddening) nor exchanges a wink with +Alick over the parlous condition of James’s crown. You can hear the +wag-at-the-wall clock in the lobby ticking. Then David lets himself go; +it runs out of him like a hymn:-- + + +DAVID. Oh, let the solid ground Not fail beneath my feet, Before my life +has found What some have found so sweet. + +[This is not a soliloquy, but is offered as a definite statement. The +players emerge from their game with difficulty.] + +ALICK [with JAMES’s crown in his hand]. What’s that you’re saying, +David? + +DAVID [like a public speaker explaining the situation in a few +well-chosen words]. The thing I’m speaking about is Love. + +JAMES [keeping control of himself]. Do you stand there and say you’re in +love, David Wylie? + +DAVID. Me; what would I do with the thing? + +JAMES [who is by no means without pluck]. I see no necessity for calling +it a thing. + +[They are two bachelors who all their lives have been afraid of nothing +but Woman. DAVID in his sportive days--which continue--has done roguish +things with his arm when conducting a lady home under an umbrella from +a soiree, and has both chuckled and been scared on thinking of it +afterwards. JAMES, a commoner fellow altogether, has discussed the sex +over a glass, but is too canny to be in the company of less than two +young women at a time.] + +DAVID [derisively]. Oho, has she got you, James? + +JAMES [feeling the sting of it]. Nobody has got me. + +DAVID. They’ll catch you yet, lad. + +JAMES. They’ll never catch me. You’ve been nearer catched yourself. + +ALICK. Yes, Kitty Menzies, David. + +DAVID [feeling himself under the umbrella]. It was a kind of a shave +that. + +ALICK [who knows all that is to be known about women and can speak of +them without a tremor]. It’s a curious thing, but a man cannot help +winking when he hears that one of his friends has been catched. + +DAVID. That’s so. + +JAMES [clinging to his manhood]. And fear of that wink is what has kept +the two of us single men. And yet what’s the glory of being single? + +DAVID. There’s no particular glory in it, but it’s safe. + +JAMES [putting away his aspirations]. Yes, it’s lonely, but it’s safe. +But who did you mean the poetry for, then? + +DAVID. For Maggie, of course. + +[You don’t know DAVID and JAMES till you know how they love their sister +MAGGIE.] + +ALICK. I thought that. + +DAVID [coming to the second point of his statement about Love]. I saw +her reading poetry and saying those words over to herself. + +JAMES. She has such a poetical mind. + +DAVID. Love. There’s no doubt as that’s what Maggie has set her heart +on. And not merely love, but one of those grand noble loves; for though +Maggie is undersized she has a passion for romance. + +JAMES [wandering miserably about the room]. It’s terrible not to be able +to give Maggie what her heart is set on. + +[The others never pay much attention to JAMES, though he is quite a +smart figure in less important houses.] + +ALICK [violently]. Those idiots of men. + +DAVID. Father, did you tell her who had got the minister of Galashiels? + +ALICK [wagging his head sadly]. I had to tell her. And then I--I--bought +her a sealskin muff, and I just slipped it into her hands and came away. + +JAMES [illustrating the sense of justice in the Wylie family]. Of +course, to be fair to the man, he never pretended he wanted her. + +DAVID. None of them wants her; that’s what depresses her. I was +thinking, father, I would buy her that gold watch and chain in Snibby’s +window. She hankers after it. + +JAMES [slapping his pocket]. You’re too late, David; I’ve got them for +her. + +DAVID. It’s ill done of the minister. Many a pound of steak has that man +had in this house. + +ALICK. You mind the slippers she worked for him? + +JAMES. I mind them fine; she began them for William Cathro. She’s +getting on in years, too, though she looks so young. + +ALICK. I never can make up my mind, David, whether her curls make her +look younger or older. + +DAVID [determinedly]. Younger. Whist! I hear her winding the clock. +Mind, not a word about the minister to her, James. Don’t even mention +religion this day. + +JAMES. Would it be like me to do such a thing? + +DAVID. It would be very like you. And there’s that other matter: say not +a syllable about our having a reason for sitting up late to-night. When +she says it’s bed-time, just all pretend we’re not sleepy. + +ALICK. Exactly, and when-- + +[Here MAGGIE enters, and all three are suddenly engrossed in the +dambrod. We could describe MAGGIE at great length. But what is the use? +What you really want to know is whether she was good-looking. No, she +was not. Enter MAGGIE, who is not good-looking. When this is said, all +is said. Enter MAGGIE, as it were, with her throat cut from ear to ear. +She has a soft Scotch voice and a more resolute manner than is perhaps +fitting to her plainness; and she stops short at sight of JAMES +sprawling unconsciously in the company chair.] + +MAGGIE. James, I wouldn’t sit on the fine chair. + +JAMES. I forgot again. + +[But he wishes she had spoken more sharply. Even profanation of the +fine chair has not roused her. She takes up her knitting, and they all +suspect that she knows what they have been talking about.] + +MAGGIE. You’re late, David, it’s nearly bed-time. + +DAVID [finding the subject a safe one]. I was kept late at the public +meeting. + +ALICK [glad to get so far away from Galashiels]. Was it a good meeting? + +DAVID. Fairish. [with some heat] That young John Shand WOULD make a +speech. + +MAGGIE. John Shand? Is that the student Shand? + +DAVID. The same. It’s true he’s a student at Glasgow University in the +winter months, but in summer he’s just the railway porter here; and I +think it’s very presumptuous of a young lad like that to make a speech +when he hasn’t a penny to bless himself with. + +ALICK. The Shands were always an impudent family, and jealous. I suppose +that’s the reason they haven’t been on speaking terms with us this six +years. Was it a good speech? + +DAVID [illustrating the family’s generosity]. It was very fine; but he +needn’t have made fun of ME. + +MAGGIE [losing a stitch]. He dared? + +DAVID [depressed]. You see I can not get started on a speech without +saying things like ‘In rising FOR to make a few remarks.’ + +JAMES. What’s wrong with it? + +DAVID. He mimicked me, and said, ‘Will our worthy chairman come for to +go for to answer my questions?’ and so on; and they roared. + +JAMES [slapping his money pocket]. The sacket. + +DAVID. I did feel bitterly, father, the want of education. [Without +knowing it, he has a beautiful way of pronouncing this noble word.] + +MAGGIE [holding out a kind hand to him]. David. + +ALICK. I’ve missed it sore, David. Even now I feel the want of it in the +very marrow of me. I’m ashamed to think I never gave you your chance. +But when you were young I was so desperate poor, how could I do it, +Maggie? + +MAGGIE. It wasn’t possible, father. + +ALICK [gazing at the book-shelves]. To be able to understand these +books! To up with them one at a time and scrape them as clean as though +they were a bowl of brose. Lads, it’s not to riches, it’s to scholarship +that I make my humble bow. + +JAMES [who is good at bathos]. There’s ten yards of them. And they were +selected by the minister of Galashiels. He said-- + +DAVID [quickly]. James. + +JAMES. I mean--I mean-- + +MAGGIE [calmly]. I suppose you mean what you say, James. I hear, David, +that the minister of Galashiels is to be married on that Miss Turnbull. + +DAVID [on guard]. So they were saying. + +ALICK. All I can say is she has made a poor bargain. + +MAGGIE [the damned]. I wonder at you, father. He’s a very nice +gentleman. I’m sure I hope he has chosen wisely. + +JAMES. Not him. + +MAGGIE [getting near her tragedy]. How can you say that when you don’t +know her? I expect she is full of charm. + +ALICK. Charm? It’s the very word he used. + +DAVID. Havering idiot. + +ALICK. What IS charm, exactly, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. Oh, it’s--it’s a sort of bloom on a woman. If you have it, you +don’t need to have anything else; and if you don’t have it, it doesn’t +much matter what else you have. Some women, the few, have charm for all; +and most have charm for one. But some have charm for none. + +[Somehow she has stopped knitting. Her men-folk are very depressed. +JAMES brings his fist down on the table with a crash.] + +JAMES [shouting]. I have a sister that has charm. + +MAGGIE. No, James, you haven’t. + +JAMES [rushing at her with the watch and chain]. Ha’e, Maggie. + +[She lets them lie in her lap.] + +DAVID. Maggie, would you like a silk? + +MAGGIE. What could I do with a silk? [With a gust of passion] You might +as well dress up a little brown hen. + +[They wriggle miserably.] + +JAMES [stamping]. Bring him here to me. + +MAGGIE. Bring whom, James? + +JAMES. David, I would be obliged if you wouldn’t kick me beneath the +table. + +MAGGIE [rising]. Let’s be practical; let’s go to our beds. + +[This reminds them that they have a job on hand in which she is not to +share.] + +DAVID [slily]. I don’t feel very sleepy yet. + +ALICK. Nor me either. + +JAMES. You’ve just taken the very words out of my mouth. + +DAVID [with unusual politeness]. Good-night to you Maggie. + +MAGGIE [fixing the three of them]. ALL of you unsleepy, when, as is well +known, ten o’clock is your regular bed-time? + +JAMES. Yes, it’s common knowledge that we go to our beds at ten. +[Chuckling] That’s what we’re counting on. + +MAGGIE. Counting on? + +DAVID. You stupid whelp. + +JAMES. What have I done? + +MAGGIE [folding her arms]. There’s something up. You’ve got to tell me, +David. + +DAVID [who knows when he is beaten]. Go out and watch, James. + +MAGGIE. Watch? + +[JAMES takes himself off, armed, as MAGGIE notices, with a stick.] + +DAVID [in his alert business way]. Maggie, there are burglars about. + +MAGGIE. Burglars? [She sits rigid, but she is not the kind to scream.] + +DAVID. We hadn’t meant for to tell you till we nabbed them; but they’ve +been in this room twice of late. We sat up last night waiting for them, +and we’re to sit up again to-night. + +MAGGIE. The silver plate. + +DAVID. It’s all safe as yet. That makes us think that they were either +frightened away these other times, or that they are coming back for to +make a clean sweep. + +MAGGIE. How did you get to know about this? + +DAVID. It was on Tuesday that the polissman called at the quarry with a +very queer story. He had seen a man climbing out at this window at ten +past two. + +MAGGIE. Did he chase him? + +DAVID. It was so dark he lost sight of him at once. + +ALICK. Tell her about the window. + +DAVID. We’ve found out that the catch of the window has been pushed back +by slipping the blade of a knife between the woodwork. + +MAGGIE. David. + +ALICK. The polissman said he was carrying a little carpet bag. + +MAGGIE. The silver plate IS gone. + +DAVID. No, no. We were thinking that very likely he has bunches of keys +in the bag. + +MAGGIE. Or weapons. + +DAVID. As for that, we have some pretty stout weapons ourselves in the +umbrella stand. So, if you’ll go to your bed, Maggie-- + +MAGGIE. Me? and my brothers in danger. + +ALICK. There’s just one of them. + +MAGGIE. The polissman just saw one. + +DAVID [licking his palms]. I would be very pleased if there were three +of them. + +MAGGIE. I watch with you. I would be very pleased if there were four of +them. + +DAVID. And they say she has no charm! + +[JAMES returns on tiptoe as if the burglars were beneath the table. He +signs to every one to breathe no more, and then whispers his news.] + +JAMES. He’s there. I had no sooner gone out than I saw him sliding down +the garden wall, close to the rhubarbs. + +ALICK. What’s he like? + +JAMES. He’s an ugly customer. That’s all I could see. There was a little +carpet bag in his hand. + +DAVID. That’s him. + +JAMES. He slunk into the rhodydendrons, and he’s there now, watching the +window. + +DAVID. We have him. Out with the light. + +[The room is beautified by a chandelier fitted for three gas jets, +but with the advance of progress one of these has been removed and the +incandescent light put in its place. This alone is lit. ALICK climbs a +chair, pulls a little chain, and the room is now but vaguely lit by the +fire. It plays fitfully on four sparkling faces.] + +MAGGIE. Do you think he saw you, James? + +JAMES. I couldn’t say, but in any case I was too clever for him. I +looked up at the stars, and yawned loud at them as if I was tremendous +sleepy. + +[There is a long pause during which they are lurking in the shadows. At +last they hear some movement, and they steal like ghosts from the room. +We see DAVID turning out the lobby light; then the door closes and an +empty room awaits the intruder with a shudder of expectancy. The window +opens and shuts as softly as if this were a mother peering in to see +whether her baby is asleep. Then the head of a man shows between the +curtains. The remainder of him follows. He is carrying a little carpet +bag. He stands irresolute; what puzzles him evidently is that the Wylies +should have retired to rest without lifting that piece of coal off +the fire. He opens the door and peeps into the lobby, listening to the +wag-at-the-wall clock. All seems serene, and he turns on the light. We +see him clearly now. He is JOHN SHAND, age twenty-one, boots muddy, +as an indignant carpet can testify. He wears a shabby topcoat and a +cockerty bonnet; otherwise he is in the well-worn corduroys of a railway +porter. His movements, at first stealthy, become almost homely as he +feels that he is secure. He opens the bag and takes out a bunch of keys, +a small paper parcel, and a black implement that may be a burglar’s +jemmy. This cool customer examines the fire and piles on more coals. +With the keys he opens the door of the bookcase, selects two large +volumes, and brings them to the table. He takes off his topcoat and +opens his parcel, which we now see contains sheets of foolscap paper. +His next action shows that the ‘jemmy’ is really a ruler. He knows where +the pen and ink are kept. He pulls the fine chair nearer to the table, +sits on it, and proceeds to write, occasionally dotting the carpet with +ink as he stabs the air with his pen. He is so occupied that he does +not see the door opening, and the Wylie family staring at him. They are +armed with sticks.] + +ALICK [at last]. When you’re ready, John Shand. + +[JOHN hints back, and then he has the grace to rise, dogged and +expressionless.] + +JAMES [like a railway porter]. Ticket, please. + +DAVID. You can’t think of anything clever for to go for to say now, +John. + +MAGGIE. I hope you find that chair comfortable, young man. + +JOHN. I have no complaint to make against the chair. + +ALICK [who is really distressed]. A native of the town. The disgrace to +your family! I feel pity for the Shands this night. + +JOHN [glowering]. I’ll thank you, Mr. Wylie, not to pity my family. + +JAMES. Canny, canny. + +MAGGIE [that sense of justice again]. I think you should let the young +man explain. It mayn’t be so bad as we thought. + +DAVID. Explain away, my billie. + +JOHN. Only the uneducated would need an explanation. I’m a student, +[with a little passion] and I’m desperate for want of books. You have +all I want here; no use to you but for display; well, I came here to +study. I come twice weekly. [Amazement of his hosts.] + +DAVID [who is the first to recover]. By the window. + +JOHN. Do you think a Shand would so far lower himself as to enter your +door? Well, is it a case for the police? + +JAMES. It is. + +MAGGIE [not so much out of the goodness of her heart as to patronise +the Shands]. It seems to me it’s a case for us all to go to our beds and +leave the young man to study; but not on that chair. [And she wheels the +chair away from him.] + +JOHN. Thank you, Miss Maggie, but I couldn’t be beholden to you. + +JAMES. My opinion is that he’s nobody, so out with him. + +JOHN. Yes, out with me. And you’ll be cheered to hear I’m likely to be a +nobody for a long time to come. + +DAVID [who had been beginning to respect him]. Are you a poor scholar? + +JOHN. On the contrary, I’m a brilliant scholar. + +DAVID. It’s siller, then? + +JOHN [glorified by experiences he has shared with many a gallant soul]. +My first year at college I lived on a barrel of potatoes, and we had +just a sofa-bed between two of us; when the one lay down the other had +to get up. Do you think it was hardship? It was sublime. But this year +I can’t afford it. I’ll have to stay on here, collecting the tickets +of the illiterate, such as you, when I might be with Romulus and Remus +among the stars. + +JAMES [summing up]. Havers. + +DAVID [in whose head some design is vaguely taking shape]. Whist, James. +I must say, young lad, I like your spirit. Now tell me, what’s your +professors’ opinion of your future. + +JOHN. They think me a young man of extraordinary promise. + +DAVID. You have a name here for high moral character. + +JOHN. And justly. + +DAVID. Are you serious-minded? + +JOHN. I never laughed in my life. + +DAVID. Who do you sit under in Glasgow? + +JOHN. Mr. Flemister of the Sauchiehall High. + +DAVID. Are you a Sabbath-school teacher? + +JOHN. I am. + +DAVID. One more question. Are you promised? + +JOHN. To a lady? + +DAVID. Yes. + +JOHN. I’ve never given one of them a single word of encouragement. I’m +too much occupied thinking about my career. + +DAVID. So. [He reflects, and finally indicates by a jerk of the head +that he wishes to talk with his father behind the door.] + +JAMES [longingly]. Do you want me too? + +[But they go out without even answering him.] + +MAGGIE. I don’t know what maggot they have in their heads, but sit down, +young man, till they come back. + +JOHN. My name’s Mr. Shand, and till I’m called that I decline to sit +down again in this house. + +MAGGIE. Then I’m thinking, young sir, you’ll have a weary wait. + +[While he waits you can see how pinched his face is. He is little more +than a boy, and he seldom has enough to eat. DAVID and ALICK return +presently, looking as sly as if they had been discussing some move on +the dambrod, as indeed they have.] + +DAVID [suddenly become genial]. Sit down, Mr. Shand, and pull in your +chair. You’ll have a thimbleful of something to keep the cold out? +[Briskly] Glasses, Maggie. + +[She wonders, but gets glasses and decanter from the sideboard, which +JAMES calls the chiffy. DAVID and ALICK, in the most friendly manner, +also draw up to the table.] + +You’re not a totaller, I hope? + +JOHN [guardedly]. I’m practically a totaller. + +DAVID. So are we. How do you take it? Is there any hot water, Maggie? + +JOHN. If I take it at all, and I haven’t made up my mind yet, I’ll take +it cold. + +DAVID. You’ll take it hot, James? + +JAMES [also sitting at the table but completely befogged]. No, I-- + +DAVID [decisively] I think you’ll take it hot, James. + +JAMES [sulking]. I’ll take it hot. + +DAVID. The kettle, Maggie. + +[JAMES has evidently to take it hot so that they can get at the business +now on hand, while MAGGIE goes kitchenward for the kettle.] + +ALICK. Now, David, quick, before she comes back. + +DAVID. Mr. Shand, we have an offer to make you. + +JOHN [warningly]. No patronage. + +ALICK. It’s strictly a business affair. + +DAVID. Leave it to me, father. It’s this--[But to his annoyance the +suspicious MAGGIE has already returned with the kettle.] Maggie, don’t +you see that you’re not wanted? + +MAGGIE [sitting down by the fire and resuming her knitting]. I do, +David. + +DAVID. I have a proposition to put before Mr. Shand, and women are out +of place in business transactions. + +[The needles continue to click.] + +ALICK [sighing]. We’ll have to let her bide, David. + +DAVID [sternly]. Woman. [But even this does not budge her.] Very well +then, sit there, but don’t interfere, mind. Mr. Shand, we’re willing, +the three of us, to lay out L300 on your education if-- + +JOHN. Take care. + +DAVID [slowly, which is not his wont]. On condition that five years from +now, Maggie Wylie, if still unmarried, can claim to marry you, should +such be her wish; the thing to be perfectly open on her side, but you to +be strictly tied down. + +JAMES [enlightened]. So, so. + +DAVID [resuming his smart manner]. Now, what have you to say? Decide. + +JOHN [after a pause]. I regret to say-- + +MAGGIE. It doesn’t matter what he regrets to say, because I decide +against it. And I think it was very ill-done of you to make any such +proposal. + +DAVID [without looking at her]. Quiet, Maggie. + +JOHN [looking at her]. I must say, Miss Maggie, I don’t see what reasons +YOU can have for being so set against it. + +MAGGIE. If you would grow a beard, Mr. Shand, the reasons wouldn’t be +quite so obvious. + +JOHN. I’ll never grow a beard. + +MAGGIE. Then you’re done for at the start. + +ALICK. Come, come. + +MAGGIE. Seeing I have refused the young man-- + +JOHN. Refused! + +DAVID. That’s no reason why we shouldn’t have his friendly opinion. Your +objections, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN. Simply, it’s a one-sided bargain. I admit I’m no catch at present; +but what could a man of my abilities not soar to with three hundred +pounds? Something far above what she could aspire to. + +MAGGIE. Oh, indeed! + +DAVID. The position is that without the three hundred you can’t soar. + +JOHN. You have me there. + +MAGGIE. Yes, but-- + +ALICK. You see YOU’RE safeguarded, Maggie; you don’t need to take him +unless you like, but he has to take you. + +JOHN. That’s an unfair arrangement also. + +MAGGIE. I wouldn’t dream of it without that condition. + +JOHN. Then you ARE thinking of it? + +MAGGIE. Poof! + +DAVID. It’s a good arrangement for you, Mr. Shand. The chances are +you’ll never have to go on with it, for in all probability she’ll marry +soon. + +JAMES. She’s tremendous run after. + +JOHN. Even if that’s true, it’s just keeping me in reserve in case she +misses doing better. + +DAVID [relieved]. That’s the situation in a nutshell. + +JOHN. Another thing. Supposing I was to get fond of her? + +ALICK [wistfully]. It’s very likely. + +JOHN. Yes, and then suppose she was to give me the go-by? + +DAVID. You have to risk that. + +JOHN. Or take it the other way. Supposing as I got to know her I COULD +NOT endure her? + +DAVID [suavely]. You have both to take risks. + +JAMES [less suavely]. What you need, John Shand, is a clout on the head. + +JOHN. Three hundred pounds is no great sum. + +DAVID. You can take it or leave it. + +ALICK. No great sum for a student studying for the ministry! + +JOHN. Do you think that with that amount of money I would stop short at +being a minister? + +DAVID. That’s how I like to hear you speak. A young Scotsman of your +ability let loose upon the world with L300, what could he not do? It’s +almost appalling to think of; especially if he went among the English. + +JOHN. What do you think, Miss Maggie? + +MAGGIE [who is knitting]. I have no thoughts on the subject either way. + +JOHN [after looking her over]. What’s her age? She looks young, but they +say it’s the curls that does it. + +DAVID [rather happily]. She’s one of those women who are eternally +young. + +JOHN. I can’t take that for an answer. + +DAVID. She’s twenty-five. + +JOHN. I’m just twenty-one. + +JAMES. I read in a book that about four years’ difference in the ages is +the ideal thing. [As usual he is disregarded.] + +DAVID. Well, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN [where is his mother?]. I’m willing if she’s willing. + +DAVID. Maggie? + +MAGGIE. There can be no ‘if’ about it. It must be an offer. + +JOHN. A Shand give a Wylie such a chance to humiliate him? Never. + +MAGGIE. Then all is off. + +DAVID. Come, come, Mr. Shand, it’s just a form. + +JOHN [reluctantly]. Miss Maggie, will you? + +MAGGIE [doggedly]. Is it an offer? + +JOHN [dourly]. Yes. + +MAGGIE [rising]. Before I answer I want first to give you a chance of +drawing back. + +DAVID. Maggie. + +MAGGIE [bravely]. When they said that I have been run after they were +misleading you. I’m without charm; nobody has ever been after me. + +JOHN. Oho! + +ALICK. They will be yet. + +JOHN [the innocent]. It shows at least that you haven’t been after them. + +[His hosts exchange a self-conscious glance.] + +MAGGIE. One thing more; David said I’m twenty-five, I’m twenty-six. + +JOHN. Aha! + +MAGGIE. Now be practical. Do you withdraw from the bargain, or do you +not? + +JOHN [on reflection]. It’s a bargain. + +MAGGIE. Then so be it. + +DAVID [hurriedly]. And that’s settled. Did you say you would take it +hot, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN. I think I’ll take it neat. + +[The others decide to take it hot, and there is some careful business +here with the toddy ladles.] + +ALICK. Here’s to you, and your career. + +JOHN. Thank you. To you, Miss Maggie. Had we not better draw up a legal +document? Lawyer Crosbie could do it on the quiet. + +DAVID. Should we do that, or should we just trust to one another’s +honour? + +ALICK [gallantly]. Let Maggie decide. + +MAGGIE. I think we would better have a legal document. + +DAVID. We’ll have it drawn up to-morrow. I was thinking the best way +would be for to pay the money in five yearly instalments. + +JOHN. I was thinking, better bank the whole sum in my name at once. + +ALICK. I think David’s plan’s the best. + +JOHN. I think not. Of course if it’s not convenient to you-- + +DAVID [touched to the quick]. It’s perfectly convenient. What do you +say, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. I agree with John. + +DAVID [with an odd feeling that MAGGIE is now on the other side]. Very +well. + +JOHN. Then as that’s settled I think I’ll be stepping. [He is putting +his papers back in the bag.] + +ALICK [politely]. If you would like to sit on at your books-- + +JOHN. As I can come at any orra time now I think I’ll be stepping. +[MAGGIE helps him into his topcoat.] + +MAGGIE. Have you a muffler, John? + +JOHN. I have. [He gets it from his pocket.] + +MAGGIE. You had better put it twice round. [She does this for him.] + +DAVID. Well, good-night to you, Mr. Shand. + +ALICK. And good luck. + +JOHN. Thank you. The same to you. And I’ll cry in at your office in the +morning before the 6:20 is due. + +DAVID. I’ll have the document ready for you. [There is the awkward pause +that sometimes follows great events.] I think, Maggie, you might see Mr. +Shand to the door. + +MAGGIE. Certainly. [JOHN is going by the window.] This way, John. + +[She takes him off by the more usual exit.] + +DAVID. He’s a fine frank fellow; and you saw how cleverly he got the +better of me about banking the money. [As the heads of the conspirators +come gleefully together] I tell you, father, he has a grand business +head. + +ALICK. Lads, he’s canny. He’s cannier than any of us. + +JAMES. Except maybe Maggie. He has no idea what a remarkable woman +Maggie is. + +ALICK. Best he shouldn’t know. Men are nervous of remarkable women. + +JAMES. She’s a long time in coming back. + +DAVID [not quite comfortable]. It’s a good sign. H’sh. What sort of a +night is it, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. It’s a little blowy. + +[She gets a large dustcloth which is lying folded on a shelf, +and proceeds to spread it over the fine chair. The men exchange +self-conscious glances.] + +DAVID [stretching himself]. Yes--well, well, oh yes. It’s getting late. +What is it with you, father? + +ALICK. I’m ten forty-two. + +JAMES. I’m ten-forty. + +DAVID. Ten forty-two. + +[They wind up their watches.] + +MAGGIE. It’s high time we were bedded. [She puts her hands on their +shoulders lovingly, which is the very thing they have been trying to +avoid.] You’re very kind to me. + +DAVID. Havers. + +ALICK. Havers. + +JAMES [but this does not matter]. Havers. + +MAGGIE [a little dolefully]. I’m a sort of sorry for the young man, +David. + +DAVID. Not at all. You’ll be the making of him. [She lifts the two +volumes.] Are you taking the books to your bed, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. Yes. I don’t want him to know things I don’t know myself. + +[She departs with the books; and ALICK and DAVID, the villains, now want +to get away from each other.] + +ALICK. Yes--yes. Oh yes--ay, man--it is so--umpha. You’ll lift the big +coals off, David. + +[He wanders away to his spring mattress. DAVID removes the coals.] + +JAMES [who would like to sit down and have an argy-bargy]. It’s a most +romantical affair. [But he gets no answer.] I wonder how it’ll turn out? +[No answer.] She’s queer, Maggie. I wonder how some clever writers has +never noticed how queer women are. It’s my belief you could write a +whole book about them. [DAVID remains obdurate.] It was very noble of +her to tell him she’s twenty-six. [Muttering as he too wanders away.] +But I thought she was twenty-seven. + +[DAVID turns out the light.] + + + + +ACT II + +[Six years have elapsed and John Shand’s great hour has come. Perhaps +his great hour really lies ahead of him, perhaps he had it six years +ago; it often passes us by in the night with such a faint call that +we don’t even turn in our beds. But according to the trumpets this is +John’s great hour; it is the hour for which he has long been working +with his coat off; and now the coat is on again (broadcloth but +ill-fitting), for there is no more to do but await results. He is +standing for Parliament, and this is election night. + +As the scene discloses itself you get, so to speak, one of John Shand’s +posters in the face. Vote for Shand. Shand, Shand, Shand. Civil and +Religious Liberty, Faith, Hope, Freedom. They are all fly-blown names +for Shand. Have a placard about Shand, have a hundred placards about +him, it is snowing Shand to-night in Glasgow; take the paste out of your +eye, and you will see that we are in one of Shand’s committee rooms. +It has been a hairdresser’s emporium, but Shand, Shand, Shand has swept +through it like a wind, leaving nothing but the fixtures; why shave, +why have your head doused in those basins when you can be brushed and +scraped and washed up for ever by simply voting for Shand? + +There are a few hard chairs for yelling Shand from, and then rushing +away. There is an iron spiral staircase that once led to the ladies’ +hairdressing apartments, but now leads to more Shand, Shand, Shand. A +glass door at the back opens on to the shop proper, screaming Civil and +Religious Liberty, Shand, as it opens, and beyond is the street crammed +with still more Shand pro and con. Men in every sort of garb rush in +and out, up and down the stair, shouting the magic word. Then there is +a lull, and down the stair comes Maggie Wylie, decidedly overdressed in +blue velvet and (let us get this over) less good-looking than ever. She +raises her hands to heaven, she spins round like a little teetotum. To +her from the street, suffering from a determination of the word Shand to +the mouth, rush Alick and David. Alick is thinner (being older), David +is stouter (being older), and they are both in tweeds and silk hats.] + +MAGGIE. David--have they--is he? quick, quick! DAVID. There’s no news +yet, no news. It’s terrible. + +[The teetotum revolves more quickly.] + +ALICK. For God’s sake, Maggie, sit down. + +MAGGIE. I can’t, I can’t. + +DAVID. Hold her down. + +[They press her into a chair; JAMES darts in, stouter also. His necktie +has gone; he will never again be able to attend a funeral in that hat.] + +JAMES [wildly]. John Shand’s the man for you. John Shand’s the man for +you. John Shand’s the man for you. + +DAVID [clutching him]. Have you heard anything? + +JAMES. Not a word. + +ALICK. Look at her. + +DAVID. Maggie [he goes on his knees beside her, pressing her to him in +affectionate anxiety]. It was mad of him to dare. + +MAGGIE. It was grand of him. + +ALICK [moving about distraught]. Insane ambition. + +MAGGIE. Glorious ambition. + +DAVID. Maggie, Maggie, my lamb, best be prepared for the worst. + +MAGGIE [husky]. I am prepared. + +ALICK. Six weary years has she waited for this night. + +MAGGIE. Six brave years has John toiled for this night. + +JAMES. And you could have had him, Maggie, at the end of five. The +document says five. + +MAGGIE. Do you think I grudge not being married to him yet? Was I to +hamper him till the fight was won? + +DAVID [with wrinkled brows]. But if it’s lost? + +[She can’t answer.] + +ALICK [starting]. What’s that? + +[The three listen at the door, the shouting dies down.] + +DAVID. They’re terrible still; what can make them so still? + +[JAMES spirits himself away. ALICK and DAVID blanch to hear MAGGIE +speaking softly as if to JOHN.] + +MAGGIE. Did you say you had lost, John? Of course you would lose the +first time, dear John. Six years. Very well, we’ll begin another six +to-night. You’ll win yet. [Fiercely] Never give in, John, never give in! + +[The roar of the multitude breaks out again and comes rolling nearer.] + +DAVID. I think he’s coming. + +[JAMES is fired into the room like a squeezed onion.] + +JAMES. He’s coming! + +[They may go on speaking, but through the clang outside none could hear. +The populace seems to be trying to take the committee room by assault. +Out of the scrimmage a man emerges dishevelled and bursts into the room, +closing the door behind him. It is JOHN SHAND in a five guinea suit, +including the hat. There are other changes in him also, for he has +been delving his way through loamy ground all those years. His right +shoulder, which he used to raise to pound a path through the crowd, now +remains permanently in that position. His mouth tends to close like a +box. His eyes are tired, they need some one to pull the lids over them +and send him to sleep for a week. But they are honest eyes still, and +faithful, and could even light up his face at times with a smile, if the +mouth would give a little help.] + +JOHN [clinging to a chair that he may not fly straight to heaven]. I’m +in; I’m elected. Majority two hundred and forty-four; I’m John Shand, +M.P. + +[The crowd have the news by this time and their roar breaks the door +open. JAMES is off at once to tell them that he is to be SHAND’S +brother-in-law. A teardrop clings to ALICK’s nose; DAVID hits out +playfully at JOHN, and JOHN in an ecstasy returns the blow.] + +DAVID. Fling yourself at the door, father, and bar them out. Maggie, +what keeps you so quiet now? + +MAGGIE [weak in her limbs]. You’re sure you’re in, John? + +JOHN. Majority 244. I’ve beaten the baronet. I’ve done it, Maggie, and +not a soul to help me; I’ve done it alone. [His voice breaks; you could +almost pick up the pieces.] I’m as hoarse as a crow, and I have to +address the Cowcaddens Club yet; David, pump some oxygen into me. + +DAVID. Certainly, Mr. Shand. [While he does it, MAGGIE is seeing +visions.] + +ALICK. What are you doing, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. This is the House of Commons, and I’m John, catching the +Speaker’s eye for the first time. Do you see a queer little old wifie +sitting away up there in the Ladies’ Gallery? That’s me. ‘Mr. Speaker, +sir, I rise to make my historic maiden speech. I am no orator, sir’; +voice from Ladies’ Gallery, ‘Are you not, John? you’ll soon let them see +that’; cries of ‘Silence, woman,’ and general indignation. ‘Mr. Speaker, +sir, I stand here diffidently with my eyes on the Treasury Bench’; voice +from the Ladies’ Gallery, ‘And you’ll soon have your coat-tails on it, +John’; loud cries of ‘Remove that little old wifie,’ in which she is +forcibly ejected, and the honourable gentleman resumes his seat in a +torrent of admiring applause. + +[ALICK and DAVID waggle their proud heads.] + +JOHN [tolerantly]. Maggie, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. You’re not angry with me, John? + +JOHN. No, no. + +MAGGIE. But you glowered. + +JOHN. I was thinking of Sir Peregrine. Just because I beat him at the +poll he took a shabby revenge; he congratulated me in French, a language +I haven’t taken the trouble to master. + +MAGGIE [becoming a little taller]. Would it help you, John, if you were +to marry a woman that could speak French? + +DAVID [quickly]. Not at all. + +MAGGIE [gloriously]. Mon cher Jean, laissez-moi parler le francais, +voulez-vous un interprete? + +JOHN. Hullo! + +MAGGIE. Je suis la soeur francaise de mes deux freres ecossais. + +DAVID [worshipping her]. She’s been learning French. + +JOHN [lightly]. Well done. + +MAGGIE [grandly]. They’re arriving. + +ALICK. Who? + +MAGGIE. Our guests. This is London, and Mrs. John Shand is giving her +first reception. [Airily] Have I told you, darling, who are coming +to-night? There’s that dear Sir Peregrine. [To ALICK] Sir Peregrine, +this is a pleasure. Avez-vous...So sorry we beat you at the poll. + +JOHN. I’m doubting the baronet would sit on you, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. I’ve invited a lord to sit on the baronet. Voila! + +DAVID [delighted]. You thing! You’ll find the lords expensive. + +MAGGIE. Just a little cheap lord. [JAMES enters importantly.] My dear +Lord Cheap, this is kind of you. + +[JAMES hopes that MAGGIE’s reason is not unbalanced.] + +DAVID [who really ought to have had education]. How de doo, Cheap? + +JAMES [bewildered]. Maggie--- + +MAGGIE. Yes, do call me Maggie. + +ALICK [grinning]. She’s practising her first party, James. The swells +are at the door. + +JAMES [heavily]. That’s what I came to say. They are at the door. + +JOHN. Who? + +JAMES. The swells; in their motor. [He gives JOHN three cards.] + +JOHN. ‘Mr. Tenterden.’ + +DAVID. Him that was speaking for you? + +JOHN. The same. He’s a whip and an Honourable. ‘Lady Sybil Tenterden.’ +[Frowns.] Her! She’s his sister. + +MAGGIE. A married woman? + +JOHN. No. ‘The Comtesse de la Briere.’ + +MAGGIE [the scholar]. She must be French. + +JOHN. Yes; I think she’s some relation. She’s a widow. + +JAMES. But what am I to say to them? [‘Mr. Shand’s compliments, and +he will be proud to receive them’ is the very least that the Wylies +expect.] + +JOHN [who was evidently made for great ends]. Say I’m very busy, but if +they care to wait I hope presently to give them a few minutes. + +JAMES [thunderstruck]. Good God, Mr. Shand! + +[But it makes him JOHN’S more humble servant than ever, and he departs +with the message.] + +JOHN [not unaware of the sensation he has created]. I’ll go up and let +the crowd see me from the window. + +MAGGIE. But--but--what are we to do with these ladies? + +JOHN [as he tramps upwards]. It’s your reception, Maggie; this will +prove you. + +MAGGIE [growing smaller]. Tell me what you know about this Lady Sybil? + +JOHN. The only thing I know about her is that she thinks me vulgar. + +MAGGIE. You? + +JOHN. She has attended some of my meetings, and I’m told she said that. + +MAGGIE. What could the woman mean? + +JOHN. I wonder. When I come down I’ll ask her. + +[With his departure MAGGIE’S nervousness increases.] + +ALICK [encouragingly]. In at them, Maggie, with your French. + +MAGGIE. It’s all slipping from me, father. + +DAVID [gloomily]. I’m sure to say ‘for to come for to go.’ + +[The newcomers glorify the room, and MAGGIE feels that they have lifted +her up with the tongs and deposited her in one of the basins. They are +far from intending to be rude; it is not their fault that thus do swans +scatter the ducks. They do not know that they are guests of the family, +they think merely that they are waiting with other strangers in a public +room; they undulate inquiringly, and if MAGGIE could undulate in return +she would have no cause for offence. But she suddenly realises that +this is an art as yet denied her, and that though DAVID might buy her +evening-gowns as fine as theirs [and is at this moment probably deciding +to do so], she would look better carrying them in her arms than on her +person. She also feels that to emerge from wraps as they are doing is +more difficult than to plank your money on the counter for them. The +COMTESSE she could forgive, for she is old; but LADY SYBIL is young and +beautiful and comes lazily to rest like a stately ship of Tarsus.] + +COMTESSE [smiling divinely, and speaking with such a pretty accent]. I +hope one is not in the way. We were told we might wait. + +MAGGIE [bravely climbing out of the basin]. Certainly--I am sure if you +will be so--it is-- + +[She knows that DAVID and her father are very sorry for her.] + +[A high voice is heard orating outside.] + +SYBIL [screwing her nose deliciously]. He is at it again, Auntie. + +COMTESSE. Mon Dieu! [Like one begging pardon of the universe] It is Mr. +Tenterden, you understand, making one more of his delightful speeches to +the crowd. WOULD you be so charming as to shut the door? + +[This to DAVID in such appeal that she is evidently making the petition +of her life. DAVID saves her.] + +MAGGIE [determined not to go under]. J’espere que +vous--trouvez--cette--reunion--interessante? + +COMTESSE. Vous parlez francais? Mais c’est charmant! Voyons, causons +un peu. Racontez-moi tout de ce grand homme, toutes les choses +merveilleuses qu’il a faites. + +MAGGIE. I--I--Je connais--[Alas!] + +COMTESSE [naughtily]. Forgive me, Mademoiselle, I thought you spoke +French. + +SYBIL [who knows that DAVID admires her shoulders]. How wicked of you, +Auntie. [To MAGGIE] I assure you none of us can understand her when she +gallops at that pace. + +MAGGIE [crushed]. It doesn’t matter. I will tell Mr. Shand that you are +here. + +SYBIL [drawling]. Please don’t trouble him. We are really only waiting +till my brother recovers and can take us back to our hotel. + +MAGGIE. I’ll tell him. + +[She is glad to disappear up the stair.] + +COMTESSE. The lady seems distressed. Is she a relation of Mr. Shand? + +DAVID. Not for to say a relation. She’s my sister. Our name is Wylie. + +[But granite quarries are nothing to them.] + +COMTESSE. How do you do. You are the committee man of Mr. Shand? + +DAVID. No, just friends. + +COMTESSE [gaily to the basins]. Aha! I know you. Next, please! Sybil, do +you weigh yourself, or are you asleep? + +[LADY SYBIL has sunk indolently into a weighing-chair.] + +SYBIL. Not quite, Auntie. + +COMTESSE [the mirror of la politesse]. Tell me all about Mr. Shand. Was +it here that he--picked up the pin? + +DAVID. The pin? + +COMTESSE. As I have read, a self-made man always begins by picking up a +pin. After that, as the memoirs say, his rise was rapid. + +[DAVID, however, is once more master of himself, and indeed has begun to +tot up the cost of their garments.] + +DAVID. It wasn’t a pin he picked up, my lady; it was L300. + +ALICK [who feels that JOHN’s greatness has been outside the conversation +quite long enough]. And his rise wasn’t so rapid, just at first, David! + +DAVID. He had his fight. His original intention was to become a +minister; he’s university-educated, you know; he’s not a working-man +member. + +ALICK [with reverence]. He’s an M.A. But while he was a student he got a +place in an iron-cementer’s business. + +COMTESSE [now far out of her depths]. Iron-cementer? + +DAVID. They scrape boilers. + +COMTESSE. I see. The fun men have, Sybil! + +DAVID [with some solemnity]. There have been millions made in scraping +boilers. They say, father, he went into business so as to be able to pay +off the L300. + +ALICK [slily]. So I’ve heard. + +COMTESSE. Aha--it was a loan? + +[DAVID and ALICK are astride their great subject now.] + +DAVID. No, a gift--of a sort--from some well-wishers. But they wouldn’t +hear of his paying it off, father! + +ALICK. Not them! + +COMTESSE [restraining an impulse to think of other things]. That was +kind, charming. + +ALICK [with a look at DAVID]. Yes. Well, my lady, he developed a perfect +genius for the iron-cementing. + +DAVID. But his ambition wasn’t satisfied. Soon he had public life in his +eye. As a heckler he was something fearsome; they had to seat him on the +platform for to keep him quiet. Next they had to let him into the Chair. +After that he did all the speaking; he cleared all roads before him like +a fire-engine; and when this vacancy occurred, you could hardly say it +did occur, so quickly did he step into it. My lady, there are few more +impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make. + +COMTESSE. I can well believe it. And now he has said farewell to +boilers? + +DAVID [impressively]. Not at all; the firm promised if he was elected +for to make him their London manager at L800 a year. + +COMTESSE. There is a strong man for you, Sybil; but I believe you ARE +asleep. + +SYBIL [stirring herself]. Honestly, I’m not. [Sweetly to the others] But +would you mind finding out whether my brother is drawing to a close? + +[DAVID goes out, leaving poor ALICK marooned. The COMTESSE is kind to +him.] + +COMTESSE. Thank you very much. [Which helps ALICK out.] Don’t you love a +strong man, sleepy head? + +SYBIL [preening herself]. I never met one. + +COMTESSE. Neither have I. But if you DID meet one, would he wakes you +up? + +SYBIL. I dare say he would find there were two of us. + +COMTESSE [considering her]. Yes, I think he would. Ever been in love, +you cold thing? + +SYBIL [yawning]. I have never shot up in flame, Auntie. + +COMTESSE. Think you could manage it? + +SYBIL. If Mr. Right came along. + +COMTESSE. As a girl of to-day it would be your duty to tame him. + +SYBIL. As a girl of to-day I would try to do my duty. + +COMTESSE. And if it turned out that HE tamed you instead? + +SYBIL. He would have to do that if he were MY Mr. Right. + +COMTESSE. And then? + +SYBIL. Then, of course, I should adore him. Auntie, I think if I +ever really love it will be like Mary Queen of Scots, who said of her +Bothwell that she could follow him round the world in her nighty. + +COMTESSE. My petite! + +SYBIL. I believe I mean it. + +COMTESSE. Oh, it is quite my conception of your character. Do you know, +I am rather sorry for this Mr. John Shand. + +SYBIL [opening her fine eyes]. Why? He is quite a boor, is he not? + +COMTESSE. For that very reason. Because his great hour is already nearly +sped. That wild bull manner that moves the multitude--they will laugh at +it in your House of Commons. + +SYBIL [indifferent]. I suppose so. + +COMTESSE. Yet if he had education--- + +SYBIL. Have we not been hearing how superbly he is educated? + +COMTESSE. It is such as you or me that he needs to educate him now. You +could do it almost too well. + +SYBIL [with that pretty stretch of neck]. I am not sufficiently +interested. I retire in your favour. How would you begin? + +COMTESSE. By asking him to drop in, about five, of course. By the way, I +wonder is there a Mrs. Shand? + +SYBIL. I have no idea. But they marry young. + +COMTESSE. If there is not, there is probably a lady waiting for him, +somewhere in a boiler. + +SYBIL. I dare say. + +[MAGGIE descends.] + +MAGGIE. Mr. Shand will be down directly. + +COMTESSE. Thank you. Your brother has been giving us such an interesting +account of his career. I forget, Sybil, whether he said that he was +married. + +MAGGIE. No, he’s not married; but he will be soon. + +COMTESSE. Ah! [She is merely making conversation.] A friend of yours? + +MAGGIE [now a scorner of herself]. I don’t think much of her. + +COMTESSE. In that case, tell me all about her. + +MAGGIE. There’s not much to tell. She’s common, and stupid. One of those +who go in for self-culture; and then when the test comes they break +down. [With sinister enjoyment] She’ll be the ruin of him. + +COMTESSE. But is not that sad! Figure to yourself how many men with +greatness before them have been shipwrecked by marrying in the rank from +which they sprang. + +MAGGIE. I’ve told her that. + +COMTESSE. But she will not give him up? + +MAGGIE. No. + +SYBIL. Why should she if he cares for her? What is her name? + +MAGGIE. It’s--Maggie. + +COMTESSE [still uninterested]. Well, I am afraid that Maggie is to do +for John. [JOHN comes down.] Ah, our hero! + +JOHN. Sorry I have kept you waiting. The Comtesse? + +COMTESSE. And my niece Lady Sybil Tenterden. [SYBIL’S head inclines on +its stem.] She is not really all my niece; I mean I am only half of her +aunt. What a triumph, Mr. Shand! + +JOHN. Oh, pretty fair, pretty fair. Your brother has just finished +addressing the crowd, Lady Sybil. + +SYBIL. Then we must not detain Mr. Shand, Auntie. + +COMTESSE [who unless her heart is touched thinks insincerity charming]. +Only one word. I heard you speak last night. Sublime! Just the sort of +impassioned eloquence that your House of Commons loves. + +JOHN. It’s very good of you to say so. + +COMTESSE. But we must run. Bon soir. + +[SYBIL bows as to some one far away.] + +JOHN. Good-night, Lady Sybil. I hear you think I’m vulgar. [Eyebrows are +raised.] + +COMTESSE. My dear Mr. Shand, what absurd--- + +JOHN. I was told she said that after hearing me speak. + +COMTESSE. Quite a mistake, I--- + +JOHN [doggedly]. Is it not true? + +SYBIL [‘waking up’]. You seem to know, Mr. Shand; and as you press me so +unnecessarily--well, yes, that is how you struck me. + +COMTESSE. My child! + +SYBIL [who is a little agitated]. He would have it. + +JOHN [perplexed]. What’s the matter? I just wanted to know, because if +it’s true I must alter it. + +COMTESSE. There, Sybil, see how he values your good opinion. + +SYBIL [her svelte figure giving like a fishing-rod]. It is very nice of +you to put it in that way, Mr. Shand. Forgive me. + +JOHN. But I don’t quite understand yet. Of course, it can’t matter to +me, Lady Sybil, what you think of me; what I mean is, that I mustn’t be +vulgar if it would be injurious to my career. + +[The fishing-rod regains its rigidity.] + +SYBIL. I see. No, of course, I could not affect your career, Mr Shand. + +JOHN [who quite understands that he is being challenged]. That’s so, +Lady Sybil, meaning no offence. + +SYBIL [who has a naughty little impediment in her voice when she is most +alluring]. Of course not. And we are friends again? + +JOHN. Certainly. + +SYBIL. Then I hope you will come to see me in London as I present no +terrors. + +JOHN [he is a man, is JOHN]. I’ll be very pleased. + +SYBIL. Any afternoon about five. + +JOHN. Much obliged. And you can teach me the things I don’t know yet, if +you’ll be so kind. + +SYBIL [the impediment becoming more assertive]. If you wish it, I shall +do my best. + +JOHN. Thank you, Lady Sybil. And who knows there may be one or two +things I can teach you. + +SYBIL [it has now become an angel’s hiccough]. Yes, we can help one +another. Good-bye till then. + +JOHN. Good-bye. Maggie, the ladies are going. + +[During this skirmish MAGGIE has stood apart. At the mention of her name +they glance at one another. JOHN escorts SYBIL, but the COMTESSE turns +back.] + +COMTESSE. Are you, then, THE Maggie? [MAGGIE nods rather defiantly and +the COMTESSE is distressed.] But if I had known I would not have said +those things. Please forgive an old woman. + +MAGGIE. It doesn’t matter. + +COMTESSE. I--I dare say it will be all right. Mademoiselle, if I were +you I would not encourage those tete-a-tetes with Lady Sybil. I am the +rude one, but she is the dangerous one; and I am afraid his impudence +has attracted her. Bon voyage, Miss Maggie. + +MAGGIE. Good-bye--but I CAN speak French. Je parle francais. Isn’t that +right? + +COMTESSE. But, yes, it is excellent. [Making things easy for her] C’est +tres bien. + +MAGGIE. Je me suis embrouillee--la derniere fois. + +COMTESSE. Good! Shall I speak more slowly? + +MAGGIE. No, no. Nonon, non, faster, faster. + +COMTESSE. J’admire votre courage! + +MAGGIE. Je comprends chaque mot. + +COMTESSE. Parfait! Bravo! + +MAGGIE. Voila! + +COMTESSE. Superbe! + +[She goes, applauding; and MAGGIE has a moment of elation, which however +has passed before JOHN returns for his hat.] + +MAGGIE. Have you more speaking to do, John? [He is somehow in high +good-humour.] + +JOHN. I must run across and address the Cowcaddens Club. [He sprays his +throat with a hand-spray.] I wonder if I AM vulgar, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. You are not, but _I_ am. + +JOHN. Not that _I_ can see. + +MAGGIE. Look how overdressed I am, John. I knew it was too showy when +I ordered it, and yet I could not resist the thing. But I will tone it +down, I will. What did you think of Lady Sybil? + +JOHN. That young woman had better be careful. She’s a bit of a besom, +Maggie. + +MAGGIE. She’s beautiful, John. + +JOHN. She has a neat way of stretching herself. For playing with she +would do as well as another. + +[She looks at him wistfully.] + +MAGGIE. You couldn’t stay and have a talk for a few minutes? + +JOHN. If you want me, Maggie. The longer you keep them waiting, the more +they think of you. + +MAGGIE. When are you to announce that we’re to be married, John? + +JOHN. I won’t be long. You’ve waited a year more than you need have +done, so I think it’s your due I should hurry things now. + +MAGGIE. I think it’s noble of you. + +JOHN. Not at all, Maggie; the nobleness has been yours in waiting so +patiently. And your brothers would insist on it at any rate. They’re +watching me like cats with a mouse. + +MAGGIE. It’s so little I’ve done to help. + +JOHN. Three hundred pounds. + +MAGGIE. I’m getting a thousand per cent for it. + +JOHN. And very pleased I am you should think so, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. Is it terrible hard to you, John? + +JOHN. It’s not hard at all. I can say truthfully, Maggie, that all, or +nearly all, I’ve seen of you in these six years has gone to increase my +respect for you. + +MAGGIE. Respect! + +JOHN. And a bargain’s a bargain. + +MAGGIE. If it wasn’t that you’re so glorious to me, John, I would let +you off. + +[There is a gleam in his eye, but he puts it out.] + +JOHN. In my opinion, Maggie, we’ll be a very happy pair. + +[She accepts this eagerly.] + +MAGGIE. We know each other so well, John, don’t we? + +JOHN. I’m an extraordinary queer character, and I suppose nobody knows +me well except myself; but I know you, Maggie, to the very roots of you. + +[She magnanimously lets this remark alone.] + +MAGGIE. And it’s not as if there was any other woman you--fancied more, +John. + +JOHN. There’s none whatever. + +MAGGIE. If there ever should be--oh, if there ever should be! Some woman +with charm. + +JOHN. Maggie, you forget yourself. There couldn’t be another woman once +I was a married man. + +MAGGIE. One has heard of such things. + +JOHN. Not in Scotsmen, Maggie; not in Scotsmen. + +MAGGIE. I’ve sometimes thought, John, that the difference between us and +the English is that the Scotch are hard in all other respects but soft +with women, and the English are hard with women but soft in all other +respects. + +JOHN. You’ve forgotten the grandest moral attribute of a Scotsman, +Maggie, that he’ll do nothing which might damage his career. + +MAGGIE. Ah, but John, whatever you do, you do it so tremendously; and if +you were to love, what a passion it would be. + +JOHN. There’s something in that, I suppose. + +MAGGIE. And then, what could I do? For the desire of my life now, John, +is to help you to get everything you want, except just that I want you +to have me, too. + +JOHN. We’ll get on fine, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. You’re just making the best of it. They say that love is +sympathy, and if that’s so, mine must be a great love for you, for I see +all you are feeling this night and bravely hiding; I feel for you as if +I was John Shand myself. [He sighs.] + +JOHN. I had best go to the meeting, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. Not yet. Can you look me in the face, John, and deny that there +is surging within you a mighty desire to be free, to begin the new life +untrammelled? + +JOHN. Leave such maggots alone, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. It’s a shame of me not to give you up. + +JOHN. I would consider you a very foolish woman if you did. + +MAGGIE. If I were John Shand I would no more want to take Maggie Wylie +with me through the beautiful door that has opened wide for you than I +would want to take an old pair of shoon. Why don’t you bang the door in +my face, John? [A tremor runs through JOHN.] + +JOHN. A bargain’s a bargain, Maggie. + +[MAGGIE moves about, an eerie figure, breaking into little cries. She +flutters round him, threateningly.] + +MAGGIE. Say one word about wanting to get out of it, and I’ll put the +lawyers on you. + +JOHN. Have I hinted at such a thing? + +MAGGIE. The document holds you hard and fast. + +JOHN. It does. + +[She gloats miserably.] + +MAGGIE. The woman never rises with the man. I’ll drag you down, John. +I’ll drag you down. + +JOHN. Have no fear of that, I won’t let you. I’m too strong. + +MAGGIE. You’ll miss the prettiest thing in the world, and all owing to +me. + +JOHN. What’s that? + +MAGGIE. Romance. + +JOHN. Poof. + +MAGGIE. All’s cold and grey without it, John. They that have had it have +slipped in and out of heaven. + +JOHN. You’re exaggerating, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. You’ve worked so hard, you’ve had none of the fun that comes to +most men long before they’re your age. + +JOHN. I never was one for fun. I cannot call to mind, Maggie, ever +having laughed in my life. + +MAGGIE. You have no sense of humour. + +JOHN. Not a spark. + +MAGGIE. I’ve sometimes thought that if you had, it might make you fonder +of me. I think one needs a sense of humour to be fond of me. + +JOHN. I remember reading of some one that said it needed a surgical +operation to get a joke into a Scotsman’s head. + +MAGGIE. Yes, that’s been said. + +JOHN. What beats me, Maggie, is how you could insert a joke with an +operation. + +[He considers this and gives it up.] + +MAGGIE. That’s not the kind of fun I was thinking of. I mean fun with +the lasses, John--gay, jolly, harmless fun. They could be impudent +fashionable beauties now, stretching themselves to attract you, like +that hiccoughing little devil, and running away from you, and crooking +their fingers to you to run after them. + +[He draws a big breath.] + +JOHN. No, I never had that. + +MAGGIE. It’s every man’s birthright, and you would have it now but for +me. + +JOHN. I can do without, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. It’s like missing out all the Saturdays. + +JOHN. You feel sure, I suppose, that an older man wouldn’t suit you +better, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. I couldn’t feel surer of anything. You’re just my ideal. + +JOHN. Yes, yes. Well, that’s as it should be. + +[She threatens him again.] + +MAGGIE. David has the document. It’s carefully locked away. + +JOHN. He would naturally take good care of it. + +[The pride of the Wylies deserts her.] + +MAGGIE. John, I make you a solemn promise that, in consideration of the +circumstances of our marriage, if you should ever fall in love I’ll act +differently from other wives. + +JOHN. There will be no occasion, Maggie. + +[Her voice becomes tremulous.] + +MAGGIE. John, David doesn’t have the document. He thinks he has, but I +have it here. + +[Somewhat heavily JOHN surveys the fatal paper.] + +JOHN. Well do I mind the look of it, Maggie. Yes, yes, that’s it. Umpha. + +MAGGIE. You don’t ask why I’ve brought it. + +JOHN. Why did you? + +MAGGIE. Because I thought I might perhaps have the courage and the +womanliness to give it back to you. [JOHN has a brief dream.] Will you +never hold it up against me in the future that I couldn’t do that? + +JOHN. I promise you, Maggie, I never will. + +MAGGIE. To go back to The Pans and take up my old life there, when +all these six years my eyes have been centred on this night! I’ve been +waiting for this night as long as you have been; and now to go back +there, and wizen and dry up, when I might be married to John Shand! + +JOHN. And you will be, Maggie. You have my word. + +MAGGIE. Never--never--never. [She tears up the document. He remains +seated immovable, but the gleam returns to his eye. She rages first at +herself and then at him.] I’m a fool, a fool, to let you go. I tell you, +you’ll rue this day, for you need me, you’ll come to grief without me. +There’s nobody can help you as I could have helped you. I’m essential to +your career, and you’re blind not to see it. + +JOHN. What’s that, Maggie? In no circumstances would I allow any +meddling with my career. + +MAGGIE. You would never have known I was meddling with it. But that’s +over. Don’t be in too great a hurry to marry, John. Have your fling with +the beautiful dolls first. Get the whiphand of the haughty ones, John. +Give them their licks. Every time they hiccough let them have an extra +slap in memory of me. And be sure to remember this, my man, that the one +who marries you will find you out. + +JOHN. Find me out? + +MAGGIE. However careful a man is, his wife always finds out his +failings. + +JOHN. I don’t know, Maggie, to what failings you refer. + +[The Cowcaddens Club has burst its walls, and is pouring this way to +raise the new Member on its crest. The first wave hurls itself against +the barber’s shop with cries of ‘Shand, Shand, Shand.’ For a moment, +JOHN stems the torrent by planting his back against the door.] + +You are acting under an impulse, Maggie, and I can’t take advantage of +it. Think the matter over, and we’ll speak about it in the morning. + +MAGGIE. No, I can’t go through it again. It ends to-night and now. Good +luck, John. + +[She is immediately submerged in the sea that surges through the door, +bringing much wreckage with it. In a moment the place is so full that +another cupful could not find standing room. Some slippery ones are +squeezed upwards and remain aloft as warnings. JOHN has jumped on to +the stair, and harangues the flood vainly like another Canute. It is +something about freedom and noble minds, and, though unheard, goes to +all heads, including the speaker’s. By the time he is audible sentiment +has him for her own.] + +JOHN. But, gentlemen, one may have too much even of freedom [No, no.] +Yes, Mr. Adamson. One may want to be tied. [Never, never.] I say yes, +Willie Cameron; and I have found a young lady who I am proud to say is +willing to be tied to me. I’m to be married. [Uproar.] Her name’s Miss +Wylie. [Transport.] Quiet; she’s here now. [Frenzy.] She was here! +Where are you, Maggie? [A small voice--‘I’m here.’ A hundred great +voices--‘Where--where--where?’ The small voice--‘I’m so little none of +you can see me.’] + +[Three men, name of Wylie, buffet their way forward.] + +DAVID. James, father, have you grip of her? + +ALICK. We’ve got her. + +DAVID. Then hoist her up. + +[The queer little elated figure is raised aloft. With her fingers +she can just touch the stars. Not unconscious of the nobility of his +behaviour, the hero of the evening points an impressive finger at her.] + +JOHN. Gentlemen, the future Mrs. John Shand! [Cries of ‘Speech, +speech!’] No, no, being a lady she can’t make a speech, but--- + +[The heroine of the evening surprises him.] + +MAGGIE. I can make a speech, and I will make a speech, and it’s in two +words, and they’re these [holding out her arms to enfold all the members +of the Cowcaddens Club]--My Constituents! [Dementia.] + + + + +ACT III + +[A few minutes ago the Comtesse de la Briere, who has not recently been +in England, was shown into the London home of the Shands. Though not +sufficiently interested to express her surprise in words, she raised her +eyebrows on finding herself in a charming room; she has presumed that +the Shand scheme of decoration would be as impossible as themselves. + +It is the little room behind the dining-room for which English +architects have long been famous; ‘Make something of this, and you will +indeed be a clever one,’ they seem to say to you as they unveil it. The +Comtesse finds that John has undoubtedly made something of it. It is his +‘study’ (mon Dieu, the words these English use!) and there is nothing +in it that offends; there is so much not in it too that might so easily +have been there. It is not in the least ornate; there are no colours +quarrelling with each other (unseen, unheard by the blissful occupant of +the revolving chair); the Comtesse has not even the gentle satisfaction +of noting a ‘suite’ in stained oak. Nature might have taken a share in +the decorations, so restful are they to the eyes; it is the working +room of a man of culture, probably lately down from Oxford; at a first +meeting there is nothing in it that pretends to be what it is not. Our +visitor is a little disappointed, but being fair-minded blows her absent +host a kiss for disappointing her. + +He has even, she observes with a twinkle, made something of the most +difficult of his possessions, the little wife. For Maggie, who is here +receiving her, has been quite creditably toned down. He has put her +into a little grey frock that not only deals gently with her personal +defects, but is in harmony with the room. Evidently, however, she has +not ‘risen’ with him, for she is as ever; the Comtesse, who remembers +having liked her the better of the two, could shake her for being so +stupid. For instance, why is she not asserting herself in that other +apartment? + +The other apartment is really a correctly solemn dining-room, of which +we have a glimpse through partly open folding-doors. At this moment +it is harbouring Mr. Shand’s ladies’ committee, who sit with pens and +foolscap round the large table, awaiting the advent of their leader. +There are nobly wise ones and some foolish ones among them, for we are +back in the strange days when it was considered ‘unwomanly’ for women to +have minds. The Comtesse peeps at them with curiosity, as they arrange +their papers or are ushered into the dining-room through a door which we +cannot see. To her frivolous ladyship they are a species of wild fowl, +and she is specially amused to find her niece among them. She demands an +explanation as soon as the communicating doors close.] + +COMTESSE. Tell me since when has my dear Sybil become one of these +ladies? It is not like her. + +[MAGGIE is obviously not clever enough to understand the woman question. +Her eye rests longingly on a half-finished stocking as she innocently +but densely replies:] + + MAGGIE. I think it was about the time that my husband took up their +cause. + +[The COMTESSE has been hearing tales of LADY SYBIL and the barbarian; +and after having the grace to hesitate, she speaks with the directness +for which she is famed in Mayfair.] + +COMTESSE. Mrs. Shand, excuse me for saying that if half of what I +hear be true, your husband is seeing that lady a great deal too often. +[MAGGIE is expressionless; she reaches for her stocking, whereat her +guest loses patience.] Oh, mon Dieu, put that down; you can buy them at +two francs the pair. Mrs. Shand, why do not you compel yourself to take +an intelligent interest in your husband’s work? + +MAGGIE. I typewrite his speeches. + +COMTESSE. But do you know what they are about? + +MAGGIE. They are about various subjects. + +COMTESSE. Oh! + +[Did MAGGIE give her an unseen quizzical glance before demurely +resuming the knitting? One is not certain, as JOHN has come in, and +this obliterates her. A ‘Scotsman on the make,’ of whom DAVID has spoken +reverently, is still to be read--in a somewhat better bound volume--in +JOHN SHAND’s person; but it is as doggedly honest a face as ever; and he +champions women, not for personal ends, but because his blessed days +of poverty gave him a light upon their needs. His self-satisfaction, +however, has increased, and he has pleasantly forgotten some things. +For instance, he can now call out ‘Porter’ at railway stations without +dropping his hands for the barrow. MAGGIE introduces the COMTESSE, and +he is still undaunted.] + +JOHN. I remember you well--at Glasgow. + +COMTESSE. It must be quite two years ago, Mr. Shand. + +[JOHN has no objection to showing that he has had a classical +education.] + +JOHN. Tempus fugit, Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. I have not been much in this country since then, and I return +to find you a coming man. + +[Fortunately his learning is tempered with modesty.] + +JOHN. Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know. + +COMTESSE. The Ladies’ Champion. + +[His modesty is tempered with a respect for truth.] + +JOHN. Well, well. + +COMTESSE. And you are about, as I understand, to introduce a bill to +give women an equal right with men to grow beards [which is all she +knows about it. He takes the remark literally.] + +JOHN. There’s nothing about beards in it, Comtesse. [She gives him time +to cogitate, and is pleased to note that there is no result.] Have you +typed my speech, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. Yes; twenty-six pages. [She produces it from a drawer.] + +[Perhaps JOHN wishes to impress the visitor.] + +JOHN. I’m to give the ladies’ committee a general idea of it. Just see, +Maggie, if I know the peroration. ‘In conclusion, Mr. Speaker, these are +the reasonable demands of every intelligent Englishwoman’--I had better +say British woman--‘and I am proud to nail them to my flag’--- + +[The visitor is properly impressed.] + +COMTESSE. Oho! defies his leaders! + +JOHN. ‘So long as I can do so without embarrassing the Government.’ + +COMTESSE. Ah, ah, Mr. Shand! + +JOHN. ‘I call upon the Front Bench, sir, loyally but firmly’-- + +COMTESSE. Firm again! + +JOHN. --‘either to accept my Bill, or to promise WITHOUT DELAY to bring +in one of their own; and if they decline to do so I solemnly warn them +that though I will not press the matter to a division just now’-- + +COMTESSE. Ahem! + +JOHN. ‘I will bring it forward again in the near future.’ And now +Comtesse, you know that I’m not going to divide--and not another soul +knows it. + +COMTESSE. I am indeed flattered by your confidence. + +JOHN. I’ve only told you because I don’t care who knows now. + +COMTESSE. Oh! + +[Somehow MAGGIE seems to be dissatisfied.] + +MAGGIE. But why is that, John? + +JOHN. I daren’t keep the Government in doubt any longer about what I +mean to do. I’ll show the whips the speech privately to-night. + +MAGGIE [who still wants to know]. But not to go to a division is +hedging, isn’t it? Is that strong? + +JOHN. To make the speech at all, Maggie, is stronger than most would +dare. They would do for me if I went to a division. + +MAGGIE. Bark but not bite? + +JOHN. Now, now, Maggie, you’re out of your depth. + +MAGGIE. I suppose that’s it. + +[The COMTESSE remains in the shallows.] + +COMTESSE. But what will the ladies say, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN. They won’t like it, Comtesse, but they’ve got to lump it. + +[Here the maid appears with a card for MAGGIE, who considers it +quietly.] + +JOHN. Any one of importance? + +MAGGIE. No. + +JOHN. Then I’m ready, Maggie. + +[This is evidently an intimation that she is to open the folding-doors, +and he makes an effective entrance into the dining-room, his thumb +in his waistcoat. There is a delicious clapping of hands from the +committee, and the door closes. Not till then does MAGGIE, who has grown +thoughtful, tell her maid to admit the visitor.] + +COMTESSE. Another lady, Mrs. Shand? + +MAGGIE. The card says ‘Mr. Charles Venables.’ + +[The COMTESSE is really interested at last.] + +COMTESSE. Charles Venables! Do you know him? + +MAGGIE. I think I call to mind meeting one of that name at the Foreign +Office party. + +COMTESSE. One of that name! He who is a Minister of your Cabinet. But as +you know him so little why should he call on you? + +MAGGIE. I wonder. + +[MAGGIE’s glance wanders to the drawer in which she has replaced JOHN’s +speech.] + +COMTESSE. Well, well, I shall take care of you, petite. + +MAGGIE. Do you know him? + +COMTESSE. Do I know him! The last time I saw him he asked me +to--to--hem!--ma cherie, it was thirty years ago. + +MAGGIE. Thirty years! + +COMTESSE. I was a pretty woman then. I dare say I shall detest him now; +but if I find I do not--let us have a little plot--I shall drop this +book; and then perhaps you will be so charming as--as not to be here for +a little while? + +[MR. VENABLES, who enters, is such a courtly seigneur that he seems to +bring the eighteenth century with him; you feel that his sedan chair is +at the door. He stoops over MAGGIE’s plebeian hand.] + +VENABLES. I hope you will pardon my calling, Mrs. Shand; we had such a +pleasant talk the other evening. + +[MAGGIE, of course, is at once deceived by his gracious manner.] + +MAGGIE. I think it’s kind of you. Do you know each other? The Comtesse +de la Briere. + +[He repeats the name with some emotion, and the COMTESSE, half +mischievously, half sadly, holds a hand before her face.] + +VENABLES. Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. Thirty years, Mr. Venables. + +[He gallantly removes the hand that screens her face.] + +VENABLES. It does not seem so much. + +[She gives him a similar scrutiny.] + +COMTESSE. Mon Dieu, it seems all that. + +[They smile rather ruefully. MAGGIE like a kind hostess relieves the +tension.] + +MAGGIE. The Comtesse has taken a cottage in Surrey for the summer. + +VENABLES. I am overjoyed. + +COMTESSE. No, Charles, you are not. You no longer care. Fickle one! And +it is only thirty years. + +[He sinks into a chair beside her.] + +VENABLES. Those heavenly evenings, Comtesse, on the Bosphorus. + +COMTESSE. I refuse to talk of them. I hate you. + +[But she drops the book, and MAGGIE fades from the room. It is not a +very clever departure, and the old diplomatist smiles. Then he sighs a +beautiful sigh, for he does all things beautifully.] + +VENABLES. It is moonlight, Comtesse, on the Golden Horn. + +COMTESSE. Who are those two young things in a caique? + +VENABLES. Is he the brave Leander, Comtesse, and is she Hero of the +Lamp? + +COMTESSE. No, she is the foolish wife of the French Ambassador, and +he is a good-for-nothing British attache trying to get her husband’s +secrets out of her. + +VENABLES. Is it possible! They part at a certain garden gate. + +COMTESSE. Oh, Charles, Charles! + +VENABLES. But you promised to come back; I waited there till dawn. +Blanche, if you HAD come back-- + +COMTESSE. How is Mrs. Venables? + +VENABLES. She is rather poorly. I think it’s gout. + +COMTESSE. And you? + +VENABLES. I creak a little in the mornings. + +COMTESSE. So do I. There is such a good man at Wiesbaden. + +VENABLES. The Homburg fellow is better. The way he patched me up last +summer--Oh, Lord, Lord! + +COMTESSE. Yes, Charles, the game is up; we are two old fogies. [They +groan in unison; then she raps him sharply on the knuckles.] Tell me, +sir, what are you doing here? + +VENABLES. Merely a friendly call. + +COMTESSE. I do not believe it. + +VENABLES. The same woman; the old delightful candour. + +COMTESSE. The same man; the old fibs. [She sees that the door is asking +a question.] Yes, come, Mrs. Shand, I have had quite enough of him; I +warn you he is here for some crafty purpose. + +MAGGIE [drawing back timidly]. Surely not? + +VENABLES. Really, Comtesse, you make conversation difficult. To show +that my intentions are innocent, Mrs. Shand, I propose that you choose +the subject. + +MAGGIE [relieved]. There, Comtesse. + +VENABLES. I hope your husband is well? + +MAGGIE. Yes, thank you. [With a happy thought] I decide that we talk +about him. + +VENABLES. If you wish it. + +COMTESSE. Be careful; HE has chosen the subject. + +MAGGIE. _I_ chose it, didn’t I? + +VENABLES. You know you did. + +MAGGIE [appealingly]. You admire John? + +VENABLES. Very much. But he puzzles me a little. You Scots, Mrs. Shand, +are such a mixture of the practical and the emotional that you escape +out of an Englishman’s hand like a trout. + +MAGGIE [open-eyed]. Do we? + +VENABLES. Well, not you, but your husband. I have known few men make +a worse beginning in the House. He had the most atrocious bow-wow +public-park manner--- + +COMTESSE. I remember that manner! + +MAGGIE. No, he hadn’t. + +VENABLES [soothingly]. At first. But by his second session he had shed +all that, and he is now a pleasure to listen to. By the way, Comtesse, +have you found any dark intention in that? + +COMTESSE. You wanted to know whether he talks over these matter with his +wife; and she has told you that he does not. + +MAGGIE [indignantly]. I haven’t said a word about it, have I? + +VENABLES. Not a word. Then, again, I admire him for his impromptu +speeches. + +MAGGIE. What is impromptu? + +VENABLES. Unprepared. They have contained some grave blunders not so +much of judgment as of taste--- + +MAGGIE [hotly]. _I_ don’t think so. + +VENABLES. Pardon me. But he has righted himself subsequently in the +neatest way. I have always found that the man whose second thoughts are +good is worth watching. Well, Comtesse, I see you have something to say. + +COMTESSE. You are wondering whether she can tell you who gives him his +second thoughts. + +MAGGIE. Gives them to John? I would like to see anybody try to give +thoughts to John. + +VENABLES. Quite so. + +COMTESSE. Is there anything more that has roused your admiration +Charles? + +VENABLES [purring]. Let me see. Yes, we are all much edified by his +humour. + +COMTESSE [surprised indeed]. His humour? That man! + +MAGGIE [with hauteur]. Why not? + +VENABLES. I assure you, Comtesse, some of the neat things in +his speeches convulse the house. A word has even been coined for +them--Shandisms. + +COMTESSE [slowly recovering from a blow]. Humour! + +VENABLES. In conversation, I admit, he strikes one as +being--ah--somewhat lacking in humour. + +COMTESSE [pouncing]. You are wondering who supplies his speeches with +the humour. + +MAGGIE. Supplies John? + +VENABLES. Now that you mention it, some of his Shandisms do have a +curiously feminine quality. + +COMTESSE. You have thought it might be a woman. + +VENABLES. Really, Comtesse-- + +COMTESSE. I see it all. Charles, you thought it might be the wife! + +VENABLES [flinging up his hands]. I own up. + +MAGGIE [bewildered]. Me? + +VENABLES. Forgive me, I see I was wrong. + +MAGGIE [alarmed]. Have I been doing John any harm? + +VENABLES. On the contrary, I am relieved to know that there are no +hairpins in his speeches. If he is at home, Mrs. Shand, may I see him? I +am going to be rather charming to him. + +MAGGIE [drawn in two directions]. Yes, he is--oh yes--but-- + +VENABLES. That is to say, Comtesse, if he proves himself the man I +believe him to be. + +[This arrests MAGGIE almost as she has reached the dining-room door.] + +MAGGIE [hesitating]. He is very busy just now. + +VENABLES [smiling]. I think he will see me. + +MAGGIE. Is it something about his speech? + +VENABLES [the smile hardening]. Well, yes, it is. + +MAGGIE. Then I dare say I could tell you what you want to know without +troubling him, as I’ve been typing it. + +VENABLES [with a sigh]. I don’t acquire information in that way. + +COMTESSE. I trust not. + +MAGGIE. There’s no secret about it. He is to show it to the whips +tonight. + +VENABLES [sharply]. You are sure of that? + +COMTESSE. It is quite true, Charles. I heard him say so; and indeed he +repeated what he called the ‘peroration’ before me. + +MAGGIE. I know it by heart. [She plays a bold game.] ‘These are the +demands of all intelligent British women, and I am proud to nail them to +my flag’-- + +COMTESSE. The very words, Mrs. Shand. + +MAGGIE [looking at her imploringly]. ‘And I don’t care how they may +embarrass the Government.’ [The COMTESSE is bereft of speech, so +suddenly has she been introduced to the real MAGGIE SHAND]. ‘If the +right honourable gentleman will give us his pledge to introduce a +similar Bill this session I will willingly withdraw mine; but otherwise +I solemnly warn him that I will press the matter now to a division.’ + +[She turns her face from the great man; she has gone white.] + +VENABLES [after a pause]. Capital. + +[The blood returns to MAGGIE’s heart.] + +COMTESSE [who is beginning to enjoy herself very much]. Then you are +pleased to know that he means to, as you say, go to a division? + +VENABLES. Delighted. The courage of it will be the making of him. + +COMTESSE. I see. + +VENABLES. Had he been to hedge we should have known that he was a +pasteboard knight and have disregarded him. + +COMTESSE. I see. + +[She desires to catch the eye of MAGGIE, but it is carefully turned from +her.] + +VENABLES. Mrs. Shand, let us have him in at once. + +COMTESSE. Yes, yes, indeed. + +[MAGGIE’s anxiety returns, but she has to call JOHN in.] + +JOHN [impressed]. Mr. Venables! This is an honour. + +VENABLES. How are you, Shand? + +JOHN. Sit down, sit down. [Becoming himself again.] I can guess what you +have come about. + +VENABLES. Ah, you Scotsmen. + +JOHN. Of course I know I’m harassing the Government a good deal-- + +VENABLES [blandly]. Not at all, Shand. The Government are very pleased. + +JOHN. You don’t expect me to believe that? + +VENABLES. I called here to give you the proof of it. You may know that +we are to have a big meeting at Leeds on the 24th, when two Ministers +are to speak. There is room for a third speaker, and I am authorised to +offer that place to you. + +JOHN. To me! + +VENABLES. Yes. + +JOHN [swelling]. It would be--the Government taking me up. + +VENABLES. Don’t make too much of it; it would be an acknowledgment that +they look upon you as one of their likely young men. + +MAGGIE. John! + +JOHN [not found wanting in a trying hour]. It’s a bribe. You are +offering me this on condition that I don’t make my speech. How can you +think so meanly of me as to believe that I would play the women’s cause +false for the sake of my own advancement. I refuse your bribe. + +VENABLES [liking him for the first time]. Good. But you are wrong. +There are no conditions, and we want you to make your speech. Now do you +accept? + +JOHN [still suspicious]. If you make me the same offer after you have +read it. I insist on your reading it first. + +VENABLES [sighing]. By all means. + +[MAGGIE is in an agony as she sees JOHN hand the speech to his leader. +On the other hand, the COMTESSE thrills.] + +But I assure you we look on the speech as a small matter. The important +thing is your intention of going to a division; and we agree to that +also. + +JOHN [losing his head]. What’s that? + +VENABLES. Yes, we agree. + +JOHN. But--but--why, you have been threatening to excommunicate me if I +dared. + +VENABLES. All done to test you, Shand. + +JOHN. To test me? + +VENABLES. We know that a division on your Bill can have no serious +significance; we shall see to that. And so the test was to be whether +you had the pluck to divide the House. Had you been intending to talk +big in this speech, and then hedge, through fear of the Government, they +would have had no further use for you. + +JOHN [heavily]. I understand. [But there is one thing he cannot +understand, which is, why VENABLES should be so sure that he is not to +hedge.] + +VENABLES [turning over the pages carelessly]. Any of your good things in +this, Shand? + +JOHN [whose one desire is to get the pages back]. No, I--no--it isn’t +necessary you should read it now. + +VENABLES [from politeness only]. Merely for my own pleasure. I shall +look through it this evening. [He rolls up the speech to put it in his +pocket. JOHN turns despairingly to MAGGIE, though well aware that no +help can come from her.] + +MAGGIE. That’s the only copy there is, John. [To VENABLES] Let me make a +fresh one, and send it to you in an hour or two. + +VENABLES [good-naturedly]. I could not put you to that trouble, Mrs. +Shand. I will take good care of it. + +MAGGIE. If anything were to happen to you on the way home, wouldn’t +whatever is in your pocket be considered to be the property of your +heirs? + +VENABLES [laughing]. Now there is forethought! Shand, I think that +after that--! [He returns the speech to JOHN, whose hand swallows it +greedily.] She is Scotch too, Comtesse. + +COMTESSE [delighted]. Yes, she is Scotch too. + +VENABLES. Though the only persons likely to do for me in the street, +Shand, are your ladies’ committee. Ever since they took the horse out of +my brougham, I can scent them a mile away. + +COMTESSE. A mile? Charles, peep in there. + +[He softly turns the handle of the dining-room door, and realises that +his scent is not so good as he had thought it. He bids his hostess and +the COMTESSE good-bye in a burlesque whisper and tiptoes off to safer +places. JOHN having gone out with him, MAGGIE can no longer avoid the +COMTESSE’s reproachful eye. That much injured lady advances upon her +with accusing finger.] + +COMTESSE. So, madam! + +[MAGGIE is prepared for her.] + +MAGGIE. I don’t know what you mean. + +COMTESSE. Yes, you do. I mean that there IS some one who ‘helps’ our Mr. +Shand. + +MAGGIE. There’s not. + +COMTESSE. And it IS a woman, and it’s you. + +MAGGIE. I help in the little things. + +COMTESSE. The little things! You are the Pin he picked up and that is +to make his fortune. And now what I want to know is whether your John is +aware that you help at all. + +[JOHN returns, and at once provides the answer.] + +JOHN. Maggie, Comtesse, I’ve done it again! + +MAGGIE. I’m so glad, John. + +[The COMTESSE is in an ecstasy.] + +COMTESSE. And all because you were not to hedge, Mr. Shand. + +[His appeal to her with the wistfulness of a schoolboy makes him rather +attractive.] + +JOHN. You won’t tell on me, Comtesse! [He thinks it out.] They had just +guessed I would be firm because they know I’m a strong man. You little +saw, Maggie, what a good turn you were doing me when you said you wanted +to make another copy of the speech. + +[She is dense.] + +MAGGIE. How, John? + +JOHN. Because now I can alter the end. + +[She is enlightened.] + +MAGGIE. So you can! + +JOHN. Here’s another lucky thing, Maggie: I hadn’t told the ladies’ +committee that I was to hedge, and so they need never know. Comtesse, I +tell you there’s a little cherub who sits up aloft and looks after the +career of John Shand. + +[The COMTESSE looks not aloft but toward the chair at present occupied +by MAGGIE.] + +COMTESSE. Where does she sit, Mr. Shand? + +[He knows that women are not well read.] + +JOHN. It’s just a figure of speech. + +[He returns airily to his committee room; and now again you may hear +the click of MAGGIE’s needles. They no longer annoy the COMTESSE; she is +setting them to music.] + +COMTESSE. It is not down here she sits, Mrs. Shand, knitting a stocking. + +MAGGIE. No, it isn’t. + +COMTESSE. And when I came in I gave him credit for everything; even for +the prettiness of the room! + +MAGGIE. He has beautiful taste. + +COMTESSE. Good-bye, Scotchy. + +MAGGIE. Good-bye, Comtesse, and thank you for coming. + +COMTESSE. Good-bye--Miss Pin. + +[MAGGIE rings genteelly.] + +MAGGIE. Good-bye. + +[The COMTESSE is now lost in admiration of her.] + +COMTESSE. You divine little wife. He can’t be worthy of it, no man could +be worthy of it. Why do you do it? + +[MAGGIE shivers a little.] + +MAGGIE. He loves to think he does it all himself; that’s the way of +men. I’m six years older than he is. I’m plain, and I have no charm. I +shouldn’t have let him marry me. I’m trying to make up for it. + +[The COMTESSE kisses her and goes away. MAGGIE, somewhat foolishly, +resumes her knitting.] + +[Some days later this same room is listening--with the same +inattention--to the outpouring of JOHN SHAND’s love for the lady of the +hiccoughs. We arrive--by arrangement--rather late; and thus we miss some +of the most delightful of the pangs. + +One can see that these two are playing no game, or, if they are, that +they little know it. The wonders of the world [so strange are the +instruments chosen by Love] have been revealed to JOHN in hiccoughs; he +shakes in SYBIL’s presence; never were more swimming eyes; he who has +been of a wooden face till now, with ways to match, has gone on flame +like a piece of paper; emotion is in flood in him. We may be almost fond +of JOHN for being so worshipful of love. Much has come to him that we +had almost despaired of his acquiring, including nearly all the divine +attributes except that sense of humour. The beautiful SYBIL has always +possessed but little of it also, and what she had has been struck from +her by Cupid’s flail. Naked of the saving grace, they face each other in +awful rapture.] + +JOHN. In a room, Sybil, I go to you as a cold man to a fire. You fill me +like a peal of bells in an empty house. + +[She is being brutally treated by the dear impediment, for which +hiccough is such an inadequate name that even to spell it is an +abomination though a sign of ability. How to describe a sound that is +noiseless? Let us put it thus, that when SYBIL wants to say something +very much there are little obstacles in her way; she falters, falls +perhaps once, and then is over, the while her appealing orbs beg you +not to be angry with her. We may express those sweet pauses in precious +dots, which some clever person can afterwards string together and make a +pearl necklace of them.] + +SYBIL. I should not ... let you say it, ... but ... you ... say it so +beautifully. + +JOHN. You must have guessed. + +SYBIL. I dreamed ... I feared ... but you were ... Scotch, and I didn’t +know what to think. + +JOHN. Do you know what first attracted me to you, Sybil? It was your +insolence. I thought, ‘I’ll break her insolence for her.’ + +SYBIL. And I thought... ‘I’ll break his str...ength!’ + +JOHN. And now your cooing voice plays round me; the softness of you, +Sybil, in your pretty clothes makes me think of young birds. [The +impediment is now insurmountable; she has to swim for it, she swims +toward him.] It is you who inspire my work. + +[He thrills to find that she can be touched without breaking.] + +SYBIL. I am so glad... so proud... + +JOHN. And others know it, Sybil, as well as I. Only yesterday the +Comtesse said to me, ‘No man could get on so fast unaided. Cherchez la +femme, Mr. Shand.’ + +SYBIL. Auntie said that? + +JOHN. I said ‘Find her yourself, Comtesse.’ + +SYBIL. And she? + +JOHN. She said ‘I have found her,’ and I said in my blunt way, ‘You mean +Lady Sybil,’ and she went away laughing. + +SYBIL. Laughing? + +JOHN. I seem to amuse the woman. + +[Sybil grows sad.] + +SYBIL. If Mrs. Shand--It is so cruel to her. Whom did you say she had +gone to the station to meet? + +JOHN. Her father and brothers. + +SYBIL. It is so cruel to them. We must think no more of this. It is +mad... ness. + +JOHN. It’s fate. Sybil, let us declare our love openly. + +SYBIL. You can’t ask that, now in the first moment that you tell me of +it. + +JOHN. The one thing I won’t do even for you is to live a life of +underhand. + +SYBIL. The... blow to her. + +JOHN. Yes. But at least she has always known that I never loved her. + +SYBIL. It is asking me to give... up everything, every one, for you. + +JOHN. It’s too much. + +[JOHN is humble at last.] + +SYBIL. To a woman who truly loves, even that is not too much. Oh! it is +not I who matter--it is you. + +JOHN. My dear, my dear. + +SYBIL. So gladly would I do it to save you; but, oh, if it were to bring +you down! + +JOHN. Nothing can keep me down if I have you to help me. + +SYBIL. I am dazed, John, I... + +JOHN. My love, my love. + +SYBIL. I... oh... here... + +JOHN. Be brave, Sybil, be brave. + +SYBIL. .......... + +[In this bewilderment of pearls she melts into his arms. MAGGIE happens +to open the door just then; but neither fond heart hears her.] + +JOHN. I can’t walk along the streets, Sybil, without looking in all the +shop windows for what I think would become you best. [As awkwardly as +though his heart still beat against corduroy, he takes from his pocket +a pendant and its chain. He is shy, and she drops pearls over the beauty +of the ruby which is its only stone.] It is a drop of my blood, Sybil. + +[Her lovely neck is outstretched, and he puts the chain round it. MAGGIE +withdraws as silently as she had come; but perhaps the door whispered +‘d--n’ as it closed, for SYBIL wakes out of Paradise.] + +SYBIL. I thought---Did the door shut? + +JOHN. It was shut already. + +[Perhaps it is only that SYBIL is bewildered to find herself once again +in a world that has doors.] + +SYBIL. It seemed to me--- + +JOHN. There was nothing. But I think I hear voices; they may have +arrived. + +[Some pretty instinct makes SYBIL go farther from him. MAGGIE kindly +gives her time for this by speaking before opening the door.] + +MAGGIE. That will do perfectly, David. The maid knows where to put them. +[She comes in.] They’ve come, John; they WOULD help with the luggage. +[JOHN goes out. MAGGIE is agreeably surprised to find a visitor.] How do +you do, Lady Sybil? This is nice of you. + +SYBIL. I was so sorry not to find you in, Mrs. Shand. + +[The impediment has run away. It is only for those who love it.] + +MAGGIE. Thank you. You’ll sit down? + +SYBIL. I think not; your relatives--- + +MAGGIE. They will be so proud to see that you are my friend. + +[If MAGGIE were less simple her guest would feel more comfortable. She +tries to make conversation.] + +SYBIL. It is their first visit to London? + +[Instead of relieving her anxiety on this point, MAGGIE has a long look +at the gorgeous armful.] + +MAGGIE. I’m glad you are so beautiful, Lady Sybil. + +[The beautiful one is somehow not flattered. She pursues her +investigations with growing uneasiness.] + +SYBIL. One of them is married now, isn’t he? [Still there is no answer; +MAGGIE continues looking at her, and shivers slightly.] Have they +travelled from Scotland to-day? Mrs. Shand, why do you look at me so? +The door did open! [MAGGIE nods.] What are you to do? + +MAGGIE. That would be telling. Sit down, my pretty. + +[As SYBIL subsides into what the Wylies with one glance would call the +best chair, MAGGIE’s men-folk are brought in by JOHN, all carrying silk +hats and looking very active after their long rest in the train. They +are gazing about them. They would like this lady, they would like JOHN, +they would even like MAGGIE to go away for a little and leave them to +examine the room. Is that linen on the walls, for instance, or just +paper? Is the carpet as thick as it feels, or is there brown paper +beneath it? Had MAGGIE got anything off that bookcase on account of the +worm-hole? DAVID even discovers that we were simpletons when we said +there was nothing in the room that pretended to be what it was not. He +taps the marble mantelpiece, and is favourably impressed by the tinny +sound.] + +DAVID. Very fine imitation. It’s a capital house, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. I’m so glad you like it. Do you know one another? This is my +father and my brothers, Lady Sybil. + +[The lovely form inclines towards them. ALICK and DAVID remain firm on +their legs, but JAMES totters.] + +JAMES. A ladyship! Well done, Maggie. + +ALICK [sharply]. James! I remember you, my lady. + +MAGGIE. Sit down, father. This is the study. + +[JAMES wanders round it inquisitively until called to order.] + +SYBIL. You must be tired after your long journey. + +DAVID [drawing the portraits of himself and partners in one lightning +sketch]. Tired, your ladyship? We sat on cushioned seats the whole way. + +JAMES [looking about him for the chair you sit on]. Every seat in this +room is cushioned. + +MAGGIE. You may say all my life is cushioned now, James, by this dear +man of mine. + +[She gives JOHN’S shoulder a loving pressure, which SYBIL feels is a +telegraphic communication to herself in a cypher that she cannot read. +ALICK and the BROTHERS bask in the evidence of MAGGIE’s happiness.] + +JOHN [uncomfortably]. And is Elizabeth hearty, James? + +JAMES [looking down his nose in the manner proper to young husbands when +addressed about their wives]. She’s very well, I thank you kindly. + +MAGGIE. James is a married man now, Lady Sybil. + +[SYBIL murmurs her congratulations.] + +JAMES. I thank you kindly. [Courageously] Yes, I’m married. [He looks at +DAVID and ALICK to see if they are smiling; and they are.] It wasn’t a +case of being catched; it was entirely of my own free will. [He looks +again; and the mean fellows are smiling still.] Is your ladyship +married? + +SYBIL. Alas! no. + +DAVID. James! [Politely.] You will be yet, my lady. + +[SYBIL indicates that he is kind indeed.] + +JOHN. Perhaps they would like you to show them their rooms, Maggie? + +DAVID. Fine would we like to see all the house as well as the sleeping +accommodation. But first--[He gives his father the look with which +chairmen call on the next speaker.] + +ALICK. I take you, David. [He produces a paper parcel from a roomy +pocket.] It wasn’t likely, Mr. Shand, that we should forget the day. + +JOHN. The day? + +DAVID. The second anniversary of your marriage. We came purposely for +the day. + +JAMES [his fingers itching to take the parcel from his father]. It’s a +lace shawl, Maggie, from the three of us, a pure Tobermory; you would +never dare wear it if you knew the cost. + +[The shawl in its beauty is revealed, and MAGGIE hails it with little +cries of joy. She rushes at the donors and kisses each of them just as +if she were a pretty woman. They are much pleased and give expression to +their pleasure in a not very dissimilar manner.] + +ALICK. Havers. + +DAVID. Havers. + +JAMES. Havers. + +JOHN. It’s a very fine shawl. + +[He should not have spoken, for he has set JAMES’S volatile mind +working.] + +JAMES. You may say so. What did you give her, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN [suddenly deserted by God and man]. Me? + +ALICK. Yes, yes, let’s see it. + +JOHN. Oh--I-- + +[He is not deserted by MAGGIE, but she can think of no way out.] + +SYBIL [prompted by the impediment, which is in hiding, quite close]. Did +he ... forget? + +[There is more than a touch of malice in the question. It is a +challenge, and the Wylies as a family are almost too quick to accept a +challenge.] + +MAGGIE [lifting the gage of battle]. John forget? Never! It’s a pendant, +father. + +[The impediment bolts. JOHN rises.] + +ALICK. A pendant? One of those things on a chain? + +[He grins, remembering how once, about sixty years ago, he and a lady +and a pendant--but we have no time for this.] + +MAGGIE. Yes. + +DAVID [who has felt the note of antagonism and is troubled]. You were +slow in speaking of it, Mr. Shand. + +MAGGIE [This is her fight.] He was shy, because he thought you might +blame him for extravagance. + +DAVID [relieved]. Oh, that’s it. + +JAMES [licking his lips]. Let’s see it. + +MAGGIE [a daughter of the devil]. Where did you put it, John? + +[JOHN’s mouth opens but has nothing to contribute.] + +SYBIL [the impediment has stolen back again]. Perhaps it has been ... +mislaid. + +[The BROTHERS echo the word incredulously.] + +MAGGIE. Not it. I can’t think where we laid it down, John. It’s not on +that table, is it, James? [The Wylies turn to look, and MAGGIE’s hand +goes out to LADY SYBIL: JOHN SHAND, witness. It is a very determined +hand, and presently a pendant is placed in it.] Here it is! [ALICK and +the BROTHERS cluster round it, weigh it and appraise it.] + +ALICK. Preserve me. Is that stone real, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN [who has begun to look his grimmest]. Yes. + +MAGGIE [who is now ready, if he wishes it, to take him on too]. John +says it’s a drop of his blood. + +JOHN [wishing it]. And so it is. + +DAVID. Well said, Mr. Shand. + +MAGGIE [scared]. And now, if you’ll come with me, I think John has +something he wants to talk over with Lady Sybil. [Recovering and taking +him on.] Or would you prefer, John, to say it before us all? + +SYBIL [gasping]. No! + +JOHN [flinging back his head]. Yes, I prefer to say it before you all. + +MAGGIE [flinging back hers]. Then sit down again. + +[The WYLIES wonderingly obey.] + +SYBIL. Mr. Shand, Mr. Shand!-- + +JOHN. Maggie knows, and it was only for her I was troubled. Do you think +I’m afraid of them? [With mighty relief] Now we can be open. + +DAVID [lowering]. What is it? What’s wrong, John Shand? + +JOHN [facing him squarely]. It was to Lady Sybil I gave the pendant, +and all my love with it. [Perhaps JAMES utters a cry, but the silence of +ALICK and DAVID is more terrible.] + +SYBIL [whose voice is smaller than we had thought]. What are you to do? + +[It is to MAGGIE she is speaking.] + +DAVID. She’ll leave it for us to do. + +JOHN. That’s what I want. + +[The lords of creation look at the ladies.] + +MAGGIE [interpreting]. You and I are expected to retire, Lady Sybil, +while the men decide our fate. [SYBIL is ready to obey the law, but +MAGGIE remains seated.] Man’s the oak, woman’s the ivy. Which of us is +it that’s to cling to you, John? + +[With three stalwarts glaring at him, JOHN rather grandly takes SYBIL’S +hand. They are two against the world.] + +SYBIL [a heroine]. I hesitated, but I am afraid no longer; whatever he +asks of me I will do. + +[Evidently the first thing he asks of her is to await him in the +dining-room.] + +It will mean surrendering everything for him. I am glad it means all +that. [She passes into the dining-room looking as pretty as a kiss.] + +MAGGIE. So that settles it. + +ALICK. I’m thinking that doesn’t settle it. + +DAVID. No, by God! [But his love for MAGGIE steadies him. There is even +a note of entreaty in his voice.] Have you nothing to say to her, man? + +JOHN. I have things to say to her, but not before you. + +DAVID [sternly]. Go away, Maggie. Leave him to us. + +JAMES [who thinks it is about time that he said something]. Yes, leave +him to us. + +MAGGIE. No, David, I want to hear what is to become of me; I promise not +to take any side. + +[And sitting by the fire she resumes her knitting. The four regard her +as on an evening at The Pans a good many years ago.] + +DAVID [barking]. How long has this been going on? + +JOHN. If you mean how long has that lady been the apple of my eye, I’m +not sure; but I never told her of it until today. + +MAGGIE [thoughtfully and without dropping a stitch]. I think it wasn’t +till about six months ago, John, that she began to be very dear to you. +At first you liked to bring in her name when talking to me, so that I +could tell you of any little things I might have heard she was doing. +But afterwards, as she became more and more to you, you avoided +mentioning her name. + +JOHN [surprised]. Did you notice that? + +MAGGIE [in her old-fashioned way]. Yes. + +JOHN. I tried to be done with it for your sake. I’ve often had a sore +heart for you, Maggie. + +JAMES. You’re proving it! + +MAGGIE. Yes, James, he had. I’ve often seen him looking at me very +sorrowfully of late because of what was in his mind; and many a kindly +little thing he has done for me that he didn’t use to do. + +JOHN. You noticed that too! + +MAGGIE. Yes. + +DAVID [controlling himself]. Well, we won’t go into that; the thing to +be thankful for is that it’s ended. + +ALICK [who is looking very old]. Yes, yes, that’s the great thing. + +JOHN. All useless, sir, it’s not ended; it’s to go on. + +DAVID. There’s a devil in you, John Shand. + +JOHN [who is an unhappy man just now]. I dare say there is. But do you +think he had a walk over, Mr. David? + +JAMES. Man, I could knock you down! + +MAGGIE. There’s not one of you could knock John down. + +DAVID [exasperated]. Quiet, Maggie. One would think you were taking his +part. + +MAGGIE. Do you expect me to desert him at the very moment that he needs +me most? + +DAVID. It’s him that’s deserting you. + +JOHN. Yes, Maggie, that’s what it is. + +ALICK. Where’s your marriage vow? And your church attendances? + +JAMES [with terrible irony]. And your prize for moral philosophy? + +JOHN [recklessly]. All gone whistling down the wind. + +DAVID. I suppose you understand that you’ll have to resign your seat. + +JOHN [his underlip much in evidence]. There are hundreds of seats, but +there’s only one John Shand. + +MAGGIE [but we don’t hear her]. That’s how I like to hear him speak. + +DAVID [the ablest person in the room]. Think, man, I’m old by you, and +for long I’ve had a pride in you. It will be beginning the world again +with more against you than there was eight years ago. + +JOHN. I have a better head to begin it with than I had eight years ago. + +ALICK [hoping this will bite]. She’ll have her own money, David! + +JOHN. She’s as poor as a mouse. + +JAMES [thinking possibly of his Elizabeth’s mother]. We’ll go to her +friends, and tell them all. They’ll stop it. + +JOHN. She’s of age. + +JAMES. They’ll take her far away. + +JOHN. I’ll follow, and tear her from them. + +ALICK. Your career--- + +JOHN [to his credit]. To hell with my career. Do you think I don’t +know I’m on the rocks? What can you, or you, or you, understand of the +passions of a man! I’ve fought, and I’ve given in. When a ship founders, +as I suppose I’m foundering, it’s not a thing to yelp at. Peace, all of +you. [He strides into the dining-room, where we see him at times pacing +the floor.] + +DAVID [to JAMES, who gives signs of a desire to take off his coat]. Let +him be. We can’t budge him. [With bitter wisdom] It’s true what he says, +true at any rate about me. What do I know of the passions of a man! I’m +up against something I don’t understand. + +ALICK. It’s something wicked. + +DAVID. I dare say it is, but it’s something big. + +JAMES. It’s that damned charm. + +MAGGIE [still by the fire]. That’s it. What was it that made you fancy +Elizabeth, James? + +JAMES [sheepishly]. I can scarcely say. + +MAGGIE. It was her charm. + +DAVID. HER charm! + +JAMES [pugnaciously]. Yes, HER charm. + +MAGGIE. She had charm for James. + +[This somehow breaks them up. MAGGIE goes from one to another with an +odd little smile flickering on her face.] + +DAVID. Put on your things, Maggie, and we’ll leave his house. + +MAGGIE [patting his kind head]. Not me, David. + +[This is a MAGGIE they have known but forgotten; all three brighten.] + +DAVID. You haven’t given in! + +[The smile flickers and expires.] + +MAGGIE. I want you all to go upstairs, and let me have my try now. + +JAMES. Your try? + +ALICK. Maggie, you put new life into me. + +JAMES. And into me. + +[DAVID says nothing; the way he grips her shoulder says it for him.] + +MAGGIE. I’ll save him, David, if I can. + +DAVID. Does he deserve to be saved after the way he has treated you? + +MAGGIE. You stupid David. What has that to do with it. + +[When they have gone, JOHN comes to the door of the dining-room. There +is welling up in him a great pity for MAGGIE, but it has to subside a +little when he sees that the knitting is still in her hand. No man likes +to be so soon supplanted. SYBIL follows, and the two of them gaze at the +active needles.] + +MAGGIE [perceiving that she has visitors]. Come in, John. Sit down, Lady +Sybil, and make yourself comfortable. I’m afraid we’ve put you about. + +[She is, after all, only a few years older than they and scarcely looks +her age; yet it must have been in some such way as this that the little +old woman who lived in a shoe addressed her numerous progeny.] + +JOHN. I’m mortal sorry, Maggie. + +SYBIL [who would be more courageous if she could hold his hand]. And I +also. + +MAGGIE [soothingly]. I’m sure you are. But as it can’t be helped I see +no reason why we three shouldn’t talk the matter over in a practical +way. + +[SYBIL looks doubtful, but JOHN hangs on desperately to the word +practical.] + +JOHN. If you could understand, Maggie, what an inspiration she is to me +and my work. + +SYBIL. Indeed, Mrs. Shand, I think of nothing else. + +MAGGIE. That’s fine. That’s as it should be. + +SYBIL [talking too much]. Mrs. Shand, I think you are very kind to take +it so reasonably. + +MAGGIE. That’s the Scotch way. When were you thinking of leaving me, +John? + +[Perhaps this is the Scotch way also; but SYBIL is English, and from the +manner in which she starts you would say that something has fallen on +her toes.] + +JOHN [who has heard nothing fall]. I think, now that it has come to +a breach, the sooner the better. [His tone becomes that of JAMES when +asked after the health of his wife.] When it is convenient to you, +Maggie. + +MAGGIE [making a rapid calculation]. It couldn’t well be before +Wednesday. That’s the day the laundry comes home. + +[SYBIL has to draw in her toes again.] + +JOHN. And it’s the day the House rises. [Stifling a groan] It may be my +last appearance in the House. + +SYBIL [her arms yearning for him]. No, no, please don’t say that. + +MAGGIE [surveying him sympathetically]. You love the House, don’t you, +John, next to her? It’s a pity you can’t wait till after your speech at +Leeds. Mr. Venables won’t let you speak at Leeds, I fear, if you leave +me. + +JOHN. What a chance it would have been. But let it go. + +MAGGIE. The meeting is in less than a month. Could you not make it such +a speech that they would be very loth to lose you? + +JOHN [swelling]. That’s what was in my mind. + +SYBIL [with noble confidence]. And he could have done it. + +MAGGIE. Then we’ve come to something practical. + +JOHN [exercising his imagination with powerful effect]. No, it wouldn’t +be fair to you if I was to stay on now. + +MAGGIE. Do you think I’ll let myself be considered when your career is +at stake. A month will soon pass for me; I’ll have a lot of packing to +do. + +JOHN. It’s noble of you, but I don’t deserve it, and I can’t take it +from you. + +MAGGIE. Now’s the time, Lady Sybil, for you to have one of your +inspiring ideas. + +SYBIL [ever ready]. Yes, yes--but what? + +[It is odd that they should both turn to MAGGIE at this moment.] + +MAGGIE [who has already been saying it to herself]. What do you think of +this: I can stay on here with my father and brothers; and you, John, can +go away somewhere and devote yourself to your speech? + +SYBIL. Yes. + +JOHN. That might be. [Considerately] Away from both of you. Where could +I go? + +SYBIL [ever ready]. Where? + +MAGGIE. I know. + +[She has called up a number on the telephone before they have time to +check her.] + +JOHN [on his dignity]. Don’t be in such a hurry, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. Is this Lamb’s Hotel? Put me on to the Comtesse de la Briere, +please. + +SYBIL [with a sinking]. What do you want with Auntie? + +MAGGIE. Her cottage in the country would be the very place. She invited +John and me. + +JOHN. Yes, but-- + +MAGGIE [arguing]. And Mr. Venables is to be there. Think of the +impression you could make on HIM, seeing him daily for three weeks. + +JOHN. There’s something in that. + +MAGGIE. Is it you, Comtesse? I’m Maggie Shand. + +SYBIL. You are not to tell her that--? + +MAGGIE. No. [To the COMTESSE] Oh, I’m very well, never was better. Yes, +yes; you see I can’t, because my folk have never been in London before, +and I must take them about and show them the sights. But John could come +to you alone; why not? + +JOHN [with proper pride]. If she’s not keen to have me, I won’t go. + +MAGGIE. She’s very keen. Comtesse, I could come for a day by and by +to see how you are getting on. Yes--yes--certainly. [To JOHN] She says +she’ll be delighted. + +JOHN [thoughtfully]. You’re not doing this, Maggie, thinking that my +being absent from Sybil for a few weeks can make any difference? Of +course it’s natural you should want us to keep apart, but-- + +MAGGIE [grimly]. I’m founding no hope on keeping you apart, John. + +JOHN. It’s what other wives would do. + +MAGGIE. I promised to be different. + +JOHN [his position as a strong man assured]. Then tell her I accept. [He +wanders back into the dining-room.] + +SYBIL. I think--[she is not sure what she thinks]--I think you are very +wonderful. + +MAGGIE. Was that John calling to you? + +SYBIL. Was it? [She is glad to join him in the dining-room.] + +MAGGIE. Comtesse, hold the line a minute. [She is alone, and she has +nearly reached the end of her self-control. She shakes emotionally and +utters painful little cries; there is something she wants to do, and she +is loth to do it. But she does it.] Are you there, Comtesse? There’s one +other thing, dear Comtesse; I want you to invite Lady Sybil also; yes, +for the whole time that John is there. No, I’m not mad; as a great +favour to me; yes, I have a very particular reason, but I won’t tell you +what it is; oh, call me Scotchy as much as you like, but consent; do, +do, do. Thank you, thank you, good-bye. + +[She has control of herself now, and is determined not to let it +slip from her again. When they reappear the stubborn one is writing a +letter.] + +JOHN. I thought I heard the telephone again. + +MAGGIE [looking up from her labours]. It was the Comtesse; she says +she’s to invite Lady Sybil to the cottage at the same time. + +SYBIL. Me! + +JOHN. To invite Sybil? Then of course I won’t go, Maggie. + +MAGGIE [wondering seemingly at these niceties]. What does it matter? Is +anything to be considered except the speech? [It has been admitted that +she was a little devil.] And, with Sybil on the spot, John, to help you +and inspire you, what a speech it will be! + +JOHN [carried away]. Maggie, you really are a very generous woman. + +SYBIL [convinced at last]. She is indeed. + +JOHN. And you’re queer too. How many women in the circumstances would +sit down to write a letter? + +MAGGIE. It’s a letter to you, John. + +JOHN. To me? + +MAGGIE. I’ll give it to you when it’s finished, but I ask you not to +open it till your visit to the Comtesse ends. + +JOHN. What is it about? + +MAGGIE. It’s practical. + +SYBIL [rather faintly]. Practical? [She has heard the word so frequently +to-day that it is beginning to have a Scotch sound. She feels she ought +to like MAGGIE, but that she would like her better if they were farther +apart. She indicates that the doctors are troubled about her heart, and +murmuring her adieux she goes. JOHN, who is accompanying her, pauses at +the door.] + +JOHN [with a queer sort of admiration for his wife]. Maggie, I wish I +was fond of you. + +MAGGIE [heartily]. I wish you were, John. + +[He goes, and she resumes her letter. The stocking is lying at hand, and +she pushes it to the floor. She is done for a time with knitting.] + + + + +ACT IV + +[Man’s most pleasant invention is the lawn-mower. All the birds know +this, and that is why, when it is at rest, there is always at least one +of them sitting on the handle with his head cocked, wondering how the +delicious whirring sound is made. When they find out, they will change +their note. As it is, you must sometimes have thought that you heard the +mower very early in the morning, and perhaps you peeped in neglige from +your lattice window to see who was up so early. It was really the birds +trying to get the note. + +On this broiling morning, however, we are at noon, and whoever looks +will see that the whirring is done by Mr. Venables. He is in a linen +suit with the coat discarded (the bird is sitting on it), and he comes +and goes across the Comtesse’s lawns, pleasantly mopping his face. We +see him through a crooked bowed window generously open, roses intruding +into it as if to prevent its ever being closed at night; there are other +roses in such armfuls on the tables that one could not easily say where +the room ends and the garden begins. + +In the Comtesse’s pretty comic drawing-room (for she likes the comic +touch when she is in England) sits John Shand with his hostess, on +chairs at a great distance from each other. No linen garments for John, +nor flannels, nor even knickerbockers; he envies the English way of +dressing for trees and lawns, but is too Scotch to be able to imitate +it; he wears tweeds, just as he would do in his native country where +they would be in kilts. Like many another Scot, the first time he ever +saw a kilt was on a Sassenach; indeed kilts were perhaps invented, like +golf, to draw the English north. John is doing nothing, which again is +not a Scotch accomplishment, and he looks rather miserable and dour. The +Comtesse is already at her Patience cards, and occasionally she smiles +on him as if not displeased with his long silence. At last she speaks:] + +COMTESSE. I feel it rather a shame to detain you here on such a lovely +day, Mr. Shand, entertaining an old woman. + +JOHN. I don’t pretend to think I’m entertaining you, Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. But you ARE, you know. + +JOHN. I would be pleased to be told how? + +[She shrugs her impertinent shoulders, and presently there is another +heavy sigh from JOHN.] + +COMTESSE. Again! Why do not you go out on the river? + +JOHN. Yes, I can do that. [He rises.] + +COMTESSE. And take Sybil with you. [He sits again.] No? + +JOHN. I have been on the river with her twenty times. + +COMTESSE. Then take her for a long walk through the Fairloe woods. + +JOHN. We were there twice last week. + +COMTESSE. There is a romantically damp little arbour at the end of what +the villagers call the Lovers’ Lane. + +JOHN. One can’t go there every day. I see nothing to laugh at. + +COMTESSE. Did I laugh? I must have been translating the situation into +French. + +[Perhaps the music of the lawn-mower is not to JOHN’s mood, for he +betakes himself to another room. MR. VENABLES pauses in his labours to +greet a lady who has appeared on the lawn, and who is MAGGIE. She is as +neat as if she were one of the army of typists [who are quite the nicest +kind of women], and carries a little bag. She comes in through the +window, and puts her hands over the COMTESSE’s eyes.] + +COMTESSE. They are a strong pair of hands, at any rate. + +MAGGIE. And not very white, and biggish for my size. Now guess. + +[The COMTESSE guesses, and takes both the hands in hers as if she valued +them. She pulls off MAGGIE’s hat as if to prevent her flying away.] + +COMTESSE. Dear abominable one, not to let me know you were coming. + +MAGGIE. It is just a surprise visit, Comtesse. I walked up from +the station. [For a moment MAGGIE seems to have borrowed SYBIL’S +impediment.] How is--everybody? + +COMTESSE. He is quite well. But, my child, he seems to me to be a most +unhappy man. + +[This sad news does not seem to make a most unhappy woman of the child. +The COMTESSE is puzzled, as she knows nothing of the situation save what +she has discovered for herself.] + +Why should that please you, O heartless one? + +MAGGIE. I won’t tell you. + +COMTESSE. I could take you and shake you, Maggie. Here have I put my +house at your disposal for so many days for some sly Scotch purpose, and +you will not tell me what it is. + +MAGGIE. No. + +COMTESSE. Very well, then, but I have what you call a nasty one for you. +[The COMTESSE lures MR. VENABLES into the room by holding up what might +be a foaming glass of lemon squash.] Alas, Charles, it is but a flower +vase. I want you to tell Mrs. Shand what you think of her husband’s +speech. + +[MR. VENABLES gives his hostess a reproachful look.] + +VENABLES. Eh--ah--Shand will prefer to do that himself. I promised the +gardener--I must not disappoint him--excuse me-- + +COMTESSE. You must tell her, Charles. + +MAGGIE. Please, Mr. Venables, I should like to know. + +[He sits down with a sigh and obeys.] + +VENABLES. Your husband has been writing the speech here, and by his own +wish he read it to me three days ago. The occasion is to be an important +one; and, well, there are a dozen young men in the party at present, all +capable of filling a certain small ministerial post. [He looks longingly +at the mower, but it sends no message to his aid.] And as he is one +of them I was anxious that he should show in this speech of what he is +capable. + +MAGGIE. And hasn’t he? + +[Not for the first time MR. VENABLES wishes that he was not in +politics.] + +VENABLES. I am afraid he has. + +COMTESSE. What is wrong with the speech, Charles? + +VENABLES. Nothing--and he can still deliver it. It is a powerful, +well-thought-out piece of work, such as only a very able man could +produce. But it has no SPECIAL QUALITY of its own--none of the little +touches that used to make an old stager like myself want to pat Shand +on the shoulder. [The COMTESSE’s mouth twitches, but MAGGIE declines to +notice it.] He pounds on manfully enough, but, if I may say so, with a +wooden leg. It is as good, I dare say, as the rest of them could have +done; but they start with such inherited advantages, Mrs. Shand, that he +had to do better. + +MAGGIE. Yes, I can understand that. + +VENABLES. I am sorry, Mrs. Shand, for he interested me. His career has +set me wondering whether if _I_ had begun as a railway porter I might +not still be calling out, ‘By your leave.’ + +[MAGGIE thinks it probable but not important] + +MAGGIE. Mr. Venables, now that I think of it, surely John wrote to +me that you were dissatisfied with his first speech, and that he was +writing another. + +[The COMTESSE’s eyes open very wide indeed.] + +VENABLES. I have heard nothing of that, Mrs. Shand. [He shakes his wise +head.] And in any case, I am afraid--[He still hears the wooden leg.] + +MAGGIE. But you said yourself that his second thoughts were sometimes +such an improvement on the first. + +[The COMTESSE comes to the help of the baggage.] + +COMTESSE. I remember you saying that, Charles. + +VENABLES. Yes, that has struck me. [Politely] Well, if he has anything +to show me--In the meantime-- + +[He regains the lawn, like one glad to escape attendance at JOHN’S +obsequies. The COMTESSE is brought back to speech by the sound of the +mower--nothing wooden in it.] + +COMTESSE. What are you up to now, Miss Pin? You know as well as I do +that there is no such speech. + +[MAGGIE’s mouth tightens.] + +MAGGIE. I do not. + +COMTESSE. It is a duel, is it, my friend? + +[The COMTESSE rings the bell and MAGGIE’s guilty mind is agitated.] + +MAGGIE. What are you ringing for? + +COMTESSE. As the challenged one, Miss Pin, I have the choice of weapons. +I am going to send for your husband to ask him if he has written such a +speech. After which, I suppose, you will ask me to leave you while you +and he write it together. + +[MAGGIE wrings her hands.] + +MAGGIE. You are wrong, Comtesse; but please don’t do that. + +COMTESSE. You but make me more curious, and my doctor says that I +must be told everything. [The COMTESSE assumes the pose of her sex +in melodrama.] Put your cards on the table, Maggie Shand, or--[She +indicates that she always pinks her man. MAGGIE dolefully produces a +roll of paper from her bag.] What precisely is that? + +[The reply is little more than a squeak.] + +MAGGIE. John’s speech. + +COMTESSE. You have written it yourself! + +[MAGGIE is naturally indignant.] + +MAGGIE. It’s typed. + +COMTESSE. You guessed that the speech he wrote unaided would not +satisfy, and you prepared this to take its place! + +MAGGIE. Not at all, Comtesse. It is the draft of his speech that he left +at home. That’s all. + +COMTESSE. With a few trivial alterations by yourself, I swear. Can you +deny it? + +[No wonder that MAGGIE is outraged. She replaces JOHN’s speech in the +bag with becoming hauteur.] + +MAGGIE. Comtesse, these insinuations are unworthy of you. May I ask +where is my husband? + +[The COMTESSE drops her a curtsey.] + +COMTESSE. I believe your Haughtiness may find him in the Dutch garden. +Oh, I see through you. You are not to show him your speech. But you are +to get him to write another one, and somehow all your additions will be +in it. Think not, creature, that you can deceive one so old in iniquity +as the Comtesse de la Briere. + +[There can be but one reply from a good wife to such a charge, and at +once the COMTESSE is left alone with her shame. Anon a footman appears. +You know how they come and go.] + +FOOTMAN. You rang, my lady? + +COMTESSE. Did I? Ah, yes, but why? [He is but lately from the +ploughshare and cannot help her. In this quandary her eyes alight upon +the bag. She is unfortunately too abandoned to feel her shame; she still +thinks that she has the choice of weapons. She takes the speech from the +bag and bestows it on her servitor.] Take this to Mr. Venables, please, +and say it is from Mr. Shand. [THOMAS--but in the end we shall probably +call him JOHN--departs with the dangerous papers; and when MAGGIE +returns she finds that the COMTESSE is once more engaged in her +interrupted game of Patience.] You did not find him? + +[All the bravery has dropped from MAGGIE’s face.] + +MAGGIE. I didn’t see him, but I heard him. SHE is with him. I think they +are coming here. + +[The COMTESSE is suddenly kind again.] + +COMTESSE. Sybil? Shall I get rid of her? + +MAGGIE. No, I want her to be here, too. Now I shall know. + +[The COMTESSE twists the little thing round.] + +COMTESSE. Know what? + +MAGGIE. As soon as I look into his face I shall know. + +[A delicious scent ushers in the fair SYBIL, who is as sweet as a +milking stool. She greets MRS. SHAND with some alarm.] + +MAGGIE. How do you do, Lady Sybil? How pretty you look in that frock. +[SYBIL rustles uncomfortably.] You are a feast to the eye. + +SYBIL. Please, I wish you would not. + +[Shall we describe SYBIL’S frock, in which she looks like a great +strawberry that knows it ought to be plucked; or would it be easier to +watch the coming of JOHN? Let us watch JOHN.] + +JOHN. You, Maggie! You never wrote that you were coming. + +[No, let us watch MAGGIE. As soon as she looked into his face she was to +know something of importance.] + +MAGGIE [not dissatisfied with what she sees]. No, John, it’s a surprise +visit. I just ran down to say good-bye. + +[At this his face falls, which does not seem to pain her.] + +SYBIL [foreseeing another horrible Scotch scene]. To say good-bye? + +COMTESSE [thrilling with expectation]. To whom, Maggie? + +SYBIL [deserted by the impediment, which is probably playing with rough +boys in the Lovers’ Lane]. Auntie, do leave us, won’t you? + +COMTESSE. Not I. It is becoming far too interesting. + +MAGGIE. I suppose there’s no reason the Comtesse shouldn’t be told, as +she will know so soon at any rate? + +JOHN. That’s so. [SYBIL sees with discomfort that he is to be practical +also.] + +MAGGIE. It’s so simple. You see, Comtesse, John and Lady Sybil have +fallen in love with one another, and they are to go off as soon as the +meeting at Leeds has taken place. + +[The COMTESSE’s breast is too suddenly introduced to Caledonia and its +varied charms.] + +COMTESSE. Mon Dieu! + +MAGGIE. I think that’s putting it correctly, John. + +JOHN. In a sense. But I’m not to attend the meeting at Leeds. My speech +doesn’t find favour. [With a strange humility] There’s something wrong +with it. + +COMTESSE. I never expected to hear you say that, Mr. Shand. + +JOHN [wondering also]. I never expected it myself. I meant to make it +the speech of my career. But somehow my hand seems to have lost its +cunning. + +COMTESSE. And you don’t know how? + +JOHN. It’s inexplicable. My brain was never clearer. + +COMTESSE. You might have helped him, Sybil. + +SYBIL [quite sulkily]. I did. + +COMTESSE. But I thought she was such an inspiration to you, Mr. Shand. + +JOHN [going bravely to SYBIL’S side]. She slaved at it with me. + +COMTESSE. Strange. [Wickedly becoming practical also] So now there is +nothing to detain you. Shall I send for a fly, Sybil? + +SYBIL [with a cry of the heart]. Auntie, do leave us. + +COMTESSE. I can understand your impatience to be gone, Mr. Shand. + +JOHN [heavily]. I promised Maggie to wait till the 24th, and I’m a man +of my word. + +MAGGIE. But I give you back your word, John. You can go now. + +[JOHN looks at SYBIL, and SYBIL looks at JOHN, and the impediment +arrives in time to take a peep at both of them.] + +SYBIL [groping for the practical, to which we must all come in the end]. +He must make satisfactory arrangements about you first. I insist on +that. + +MAGGIE [with no more imagination than a hen]. Thank you, Lady Sybil, but +I have made all my arrangements. + +JOHN [stung]. Maggie, that was my part. + +MAGGIE. You see, my brothers feel they can’t be away from their business +any longer; and so, if it would be convenient to you, John, I could +travel north with them by the night train on Wednesday. + +SYBIL. I--I----The way you put things---! + +JOHN. This is just the 21st. + +MAGGIE. My things are all packed. I think you’ll find the house in good +order, Lady Sybil. I have had the vacuum cleaners in. I’ll give you the +keys of the linen and the silver plate; I have them in that bag. The +carpet on the upper landing is a good deal frayed, but--- + +SYBIL. Please, I don’t want to hear any more. + +MAGGIE. The ceiling of the dining-room would be the better of a new lick +of paint--- + +SYBIL [stamping her foot, small fours]. Can’t you stop her? + +JOHN [soothingly]. She’s meaning well. Maggie, I know it’s natural to +you to value those things, because your outlook on life is bounded by +them; but all this jars on me. + +MAGGIE. Does it? + +JOHN. Why should you be so ready to go? + +MAGGIE. I promised not to stand in your way. + +JOHN [stoutly]. You needn’t be in such a hurry. There are three days +to run yet. [The French are so different from us that we shall probably +never be able to understand why the COMTESSE laughed aloud here.] It’s +just a joke to the Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. It seems to be no joke to you, Mr. Shand. Sybil, my pet, are +you to let him off? + +SYBIL [flashing]. Let him off? If he wishes it. Do you? + +JOHN [manfully]. I want it to go on. [Something seems to have caught in +his throat: perhaps it is the impediment trying a temporary home.] It’s +the one wish of my heart. If you come with me, Sybil, I’ll do all in a +man’s power to make you never regret it. + +[Triumph of the Vere de Veres.] + +MAGGIE [bringing them back to earth with a dump]. And I can make my +arrangements for Wednesday? + +SYBIL [seeking the COMTESSE’s protection]. No, you can’t. Auntie, I am +not going on with this. I’m very sorry for you, John, but I see now--I +couldn’t face it--- + +[She can’t face anything at this moment except the sofa pillows.] + +COMTESSE [noticing JOHN’S big sigh of relief]. So THAT is all right, Mr. +Shand! + +MAGGIE. Don’t you love her any more, John? Be practical. + +SYBIL [to the pillows]. At any rate I have tired of him. Oh, best to +tell the horrid truth. I am ashamed of myself. I have been crying my +eyes out over it--I thought I was such a different kind of woman. But I +am weary of him. I think him--oh, so dull. + +JOHN [his face lighting up]. Are you sure that is how you have come to +think of me? + +SYBIL. I’m sorry; [with all her soul] but yes--yes--yes. + +JOHN. By God, it’s more than I deserve. + +COMTESSE. Congratulations to you both. + +[SYBIL runs away; and in the fulness of time she married successfully in +cloth of silver, which was afterwards turned into a bed-spread.] + +MAGGIE. You haven’t read my letter yet, John, have you? + +JOHN. No. + +COMTESSE [imploringly]. May I know to what darling letter you refer? + +MAGGIE. It’s a letter I wrote to him before he left London. I gave it to +him closed, not to be opened until his time here was ended. + +JOHN [as his hand strays to his pocket]. Am I to read it now? + +MAGGIE. Not before her. Please go away, Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. Every word you say makes me more determined to remain. + +MAGGIE. It will hurt you, John. [Distressed] Don’t read it; tear it up. + +JOHN. You make me very curious, Maggie. And yet I don’t see what can be +in it. + +COMTESSE. But you feel a little nervous? Give ME the dagger. + +MAGGIE [quickly]. No. [But the COMTESSE has already got it.] + +COMTESSE. May I? [She must have thought they said Yes, for she opens the +letter. She shares its contents with them.] ‘Dearest John, It is at my +request that the Comtesse is having Lady Sybil at the cottage at the +same time as yourself.’ + +JOHN. What? + +COMTESSE. Yes, she begged me to invite you together. + +JOHN. But why? + +MAGGIE. I promised you not to behave as other wives would do. + +JOHN. It’s not understandable. + +COMTESSE. ‘You may ask why I do this, John, and my reason is, I think +that after a few weeks of Lady Sybil, every day, and all day, you will +become sick to death of her. I am also giving her the chance to help you +and inspire you with your work, so that you may both learn what her +help and her inspiration amount to. Of course, if your love is the great +strong passion you think it, then those weeks will make you love her +more than ever and I can only say good-bye. But if, as I suspect, you +don’t even now know what true love is, then by the next time we meet, +dear John, you will have had enough of her.--Your affectionate wife, +Maggie.’ Oh, why was not Sybil present at the reading of the will! And +now, if you two will kindly excuse me, I think I must go and get that +poor sufferer the eau de Cologne. + +JOHN. It’s almost enough to make a man lose faith in himself. + +COMTESSE. Oh, don’t say that, Mr. Shand. + +MAGGIE [defending him]. You mustn’t hurt him. If you haven’t loved deep +and true, that’s just because you have never met a woman yet, John, +capable of inspiring it. + +COMTESSE [putting her hand on MAGGIE’s shoulder]. Have you not, Mr. +Shand? + +JOHN. I see what you mean. But Maggie wouldn’t think better of me for +any false pretences. She knows my feelings for her now are neither more +nor less than what they have always been. + +MAGGIE [who sees that he is looking at her as solemnly as a volume of +sermons printed by request]. I think no one could be fond of me that +can’t laugh a little at me. + +JOHN. How could that help? + +COMTESSE [exasperated]. Mr. Shand, I give you up. + +MAGGIE. I admire his honesty. + +COMTESSE. Oh, I give you up also. Arcades ambo. Scotchies both. + +JOHN [when she has gone]. But this letter, it’s not like you. By Gosh, +Maggie, you’re no fool. + +[She beams at this, as any wife would.] + +But how could I have made such a mistake? It’s not like a strong man. +[Evidently he has an inspiration.] + +MAGGIE. What is it? + +JOHN [the inspiration]. AM I a strong man? + +MAGGIE. You? Of course you are. And self-made. Has anybody ever helped +you in the smallest way? + +JOHN [thinking it out again]. No, nobody. + +MAGGIE. Not even Lady Sybil? + +JOHN. I’m beginning to doubt it. It’s very curious, though, Maggie, that +this speech should be disappointing. + +MAGGIE. It’s just that Mr. Venables hasn’t the brains to see how good it +is. + +JOHN. That must be it. [But he is too good a man to rest satisfied with +this.] No, Maggie, it’s not. Somehow I seem to have lost my neat way of +saying things. + +MAGGIE [almost cooing]. It will come back to you. + +JOHN [forlorn]. If you knew how I’ve tried. + +MAGGIE [cautiously]. Maybe if you were to try again; and I’ll just come +and sit beside you, and knit. I think the click of the needles sometimes +put you in the mood. + +JOHN. Hardly that; and yet many a Shandism have I knocked off while you +were sitting beside me knitting. I suppose it was the quietness. + +MAGGIE. Very likely. + +JOHN [with another inspiration]. Maggie! + +MAGGIE [again]. What is it, John? + +JOHN. What if it was you that put those queer ideas into my head! + +MAGGIE. Me? + +JOHN. Without your knowing it, I mean. + +MAGGIE. But how? + +JOHN. We used to talk bits over; and it may be that you dropped the +seed, so to speak. + +MAGGIE. John, could it be this, that I sometimes had the idea in a rough +womanish sort of way and then you polished it up till it came out a +Shandism? + +JOHN [slowly slapping his knee]. I believe you’ve hit it, Maggie: to +think that you may have been helping me all the time--and neither of us +knew it! + +[He has so nearly reached a smile that no one can say what might have +happened within the next moment if the COMTESSE had not reappeared.] + +COMTESSE. Mr. Venables wishes to see you, Mr. Shand. + +JOHN [lost, stolen, or strayed a smile in the making]. Hum! + +COMTESSE. He is coming now. + +JOHN [grumpy]. Indeed! + +COMTESSE [sweetly]. It is about your speech. + +JOHN. He has said all he need say on that subject, and more. + +COMTESSE [quaking a little]. I think it is about the second speech. + +JOHN. What second speech? + +[MAGGIE runs to her bag and opens it.] + +MAGGIE [horrified]. Comtesse, you have given it to him! + +COMTESSE [impudently]. Wasn’t I meant to? + +JOHN. What is it? What second speech? + +MAGGIE. Cruel, cruel. [Willing to go on her knees] You had left +the first draft of your speech at home, John, and I brought it here +with--with a few little things I’ve added myself. + +JOHN [a seven-footer]. What’s that? + +MAGGIE [four foot ten at most]. Just trifles--things I was to suggest to +you--while I was knitting--and then, if you liked any of them you could +have polished them--and turned them into something good. John, John--and +now she has shown it to Mr. Venables. + +JOHN [thundering]. As my work, Comtesse? + +[But the COMTESSE is not of the women who are afraid of thunder.] + +MAGGIE. It is your work--nine-tenths of it. + +JOHN [in the black cap]. You presumed, Maggie Shand! Very well, then, +here he comes, and now we’ll see to what extent you’ve helped me. + +VENABLES. My dear fellow. My dear Shand, I congratulate you. Give me +your hand. + +JOHN. The speech? + +VENABLES. You have improved it out of knowledge. It is the same speech, +but those new touches make all the difference. [JOHN sits down heavily.] +Mrs. Shand, be proud of him. + +MAGGIE. I am. I am, John. + +COMTESSE. You always said that his second thoughts were best, Charles. + +VENABLES [pleased to be reminded of it]. Didn’t I, didn’t I? Those +delicious little touches! How good that is, Shand, about the flowing +tide. + +COMTESSE. The flowing tide? + +VENABLES. In the first speech it was something like this--‘Gentlemen, +the Opposition are calling to you to vote for them and the flowing tide, +but I solemnly warn you to beware lest the flowing tide does not engulf +you.’ The second way is much better. + +COMTESSE. What is the second way, Mr. Shand? + +[JOHN does not tell her.] + +VENABLES. This is how he puts it now. [JOHN cannot help raising his head +to listen.] ‘Gentlemen, the Opposition are calling to you to vote for +them and the flowing tide, but I ask you cheerfully to vote for us and +DAM the flowing tide.’ + +[VENABLES and his old friend the COMTESSE laugh heartily, but for +different reasons.] + +COMTESSE. It IS better, Mr. Shand. + +MAGGIE. _I_ don’t think so. + +VENABLES. Yes, yes, it’s so virile. Excuse me, Comtesse, I’m off to +read the whole thing again. [For the first time he notices that JOHN is +strangely quiet.] I think this has rather bowled you over, Shand. + +[JOHN’s head sinks lower.] + +Well, well, good news doesn’t kill. + +MAGGIE [counsel for the defence]. Surely the important thing about the +speech is its strength and knowledge and eloquence, the things that were +in the first speech as well as in the second. + +VENABLES. That of course is largely true. The wit would not be enough +without them, just as they were not enough without the wit. It is the +combination that is irresistible. [JOHN’s head rises a little.] Shand, +you are our man, remember that, it is emphatically the best thing you +have ever done. How this will go down at Leeds! + +[He returns gaily to his hammock; but lower sinks JOHN’S head, and even +the COMTESSE has the grace to take herself off. MAGGIE’s arms flutter +near her husband, not daring to alight.] + +MAGGIE. You heard what he said, John. It’s the combination. Is it so +terrible to you to find that my love for you had made me able to help +you in the little things? + +JOHN. The little things! It seems strange to me to hear you call me by +my name, Maggie. It’s as if I looked on you for the first time. + +MAGGIE. Look at me, John, for the first time. What do you see? + +JOHN. I see a woman who has brought her husband low. + +MAGGIE. Only that? + +JOHN. I see the tragedy of a man who has found himself out. Eh, I can’t +live with you again, Maggie. + +[He shivers.] + +MAGGIE. Why did you shiver, John? + +JOHN. It was at myself for saying that I couldn’t live with you again, +when I should have been wondering how for so long you have lived with +me. And I suppose you have forgiven me all the time. [She nods.] And +forgive me still? [She nods again.] Dear God! + +MAGGIE. John, am I to go? or are you to keep me on? [She is now a little +bundle near his feet.] I’m willing to stay because I’m useful to you, if +it can’t be for a better reason. [His hand feels for her, and the bundle +wriggles nearer.] It’s nothing unusual I’ve done, John. Every man who +is high up loves to think that he has done it all himself; and the wife +smiles, and lets it go at that. It’s our only joke. Every woman knows +that. [He stares at her in hopeless perplexity.] Oh, John, if only you +could laugh at me. + +JOHN. I can’t laugh, Maggie. + +[But as he continues to stare at her a strange disorder appears in his +face. MAGGIE feels that it is to be now or never.] + +MAGGIE. Laugh, John, laugh. Watch me; see how easy it is. + +[A terrible struggle is taking place within him. He creaks. Something +that may be mirth forces a passage, at first painfully, no more joy in +it than in the discoloured water from a spring that has long been dry. +Soon, however, he laughs loud and long. The spring water is becoming +clear. MAGGIE claps her hands. He is saved.] + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s What Every Woman Knows, by James M. 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Barrie + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of What Every Woman Knows, by James M. Barrie + +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: What Every Woman Knows + +Author: James M. Barrie + + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5654] +This file was first posted on August 5, 2002 +Last Updated: October 14, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT EVERY WOMAN KNOWS *** + + + + +Text produced by David Moynihan, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + WHAT EVERY WOMAN KNOWS + </h1> + <h2> + By James M. Barrie + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> ACT I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> ACT II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ACT III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACT IV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I + </h2> + <p> + James Wylie is about to make a move on the dambrod, and in the little + Scotch room there is an awful silence befitting the occasion. James with + his hand poised—for if he touches a piece he has to play it, Alick + will see to that—raises his red head suddenly to read Alick’s face. + His father, who is Alick, is pretending to be in a panic lest James should + make this move. James grins heartlessly, and his fingers are about to + close on the ‘man’ when some instinct of self-preservation makes him peep + once more. This time Alick is caught: the unholy ecstasy on his face tells + as plain as porridge that he has been luring James to destruction. James + glares; and, too late, his opponent is a simple old father again. James + mops his head, sprawls in the manner most conducive to thought in the + Wylie family, and, protruding his underlip, settles down to a + reconsideration of the board. Alick blows out his cheeks, and a drop of + water settles on the point of his nose. + </p> + <p> + You will find them thus any Saturday night (after family worship, which + sends the servant to bed); and sometimes the pauses are so long that in + the end they forget whose move it is. + </p> + <p> + It is not the room you would be shown into if you were calling socially on + Miss Wylie. The drawing-room for you, and Miss Wylie in a coloured merino + to receive you; very likely she would exclaim, “This is a pleasant + surprise!” though she has seen you coming up the avenue and has just had + time to whip the dustcloths off the chairs, and to warn Alick, David and + James, that they had better not dare come in to see you before they have + put on a dickey. Nor is this the room in which you would dine in solemn + grandeur if invited to drop in and take pot-luck, which is how the Wylies + invite, it being a family weakness to pretend that they sit down in the + dining-room daily. It is the real living-room of the house, where Alick, + who will never get used to fashionable ways, can take off his collar and + sit happily in his stocking soles, and James at times would do so also; + but catch Maggie letting him. + </p> + <p> + There is one very fine chair, but, heavens, not for sitting on; just to + give the room a social standing in an emergency. It sneers at the other + chairs with an air of insolent superiority, like a haughty bride who has + married into the house for money. Otherwise the furniture is homely; most + of it has come from that smaller house where the Wylies began. There is + the large and shiny chair which can be turned into a bed if you look the + other way for a moment. James cannot sit on this chair without gradually + sliding down it till he is lying luxuriously on the small of his back, his + legs indicating, like the hands of a clock, that it is ten past twelve; a + position in which Maggie shudders to see him receiving company. + </p> + <p> + The other chairs are horse-hair, than which nothing is more comfortable if + there be a good slit down the seat. The seats are heavily dented, because + all the Wylie family sit down with a dump. The draught-board is on the + edge of a large centre table, which also displays four books placed at + equal distances from each other, one of them a Bible, and another the + family album. If these were the only books they would not justify Maggie + in calling this chamber the library, her dogged name for it; while David + and James call it the west-room and Alick calls it ‘the room,’ which is to + him the natural name for any apartment without a bed in it. There is a + bookcase of pitch pine, which contains six hundred books, with glass doors + to prevent your getting at them. + </p> + <p> + No one does try to get at the books, for the Wylies are not a reading + family. They like you to gasp when you see so much literature gathered + together in one prison-house, but they gasp themselves at the thought that + there are persons, chiefly clergymen, who, having finished one book, + coolly begin another. Nevertheless it was not all vainglory that made + David buy this library: it was rather a mighty respect for education, as + something that he has missed. This same feeling makes him take in the + Contemporary Review and stand up to it like a man. Alick, who also has a + respect for education, tries to read the Contemporary, but becomes + dispirited, and may be heard muttering over its pages, ‘No, no use, no + use, no,’ and sometimes even ‘Oh hell.’ James has no respect for + education; and Maggie is at present of an open mind. + </p> + <p> + They are Wylie and Sons of the local granite quarry, in which Alick was + throughout his working days a mason. It is David who has raised them to + this position; he climbed up himself step by step (and hewed the steps), + and drew the others up after him. ‘Wylie Brothers,’ Alick would have had + the firm called, but David said No, and James said No, and Maggie said No; + first honour must be to their father; and Alick now likes it on the whole, + though he often sighs at having to shave every day; and on some snell + mornings he still creeps from his couch at four and even at two (thinking + that his mallet and chisel are calling him), and begins to pull on his + trousers, until the grandeur of them reminds him that he can go to bed + again. Sometimes he cries a little, because there is no more work for him + to do for ever and ever; and then Maggie gives him a spade (without + telling David) or David gives him the logs to saw (without telling + Maggie). + </p> + <p> + We have given James a longer time to make his move than our kind friends + in front will give him, but in the meantime something has been happening. + David has come in, wearing a black coat and his Sabbath boots, for he has + been to a public meeting. David is nigh forty years of age, whiskered like + his father and brother (Alick’s whiskers being worn as a sort of cravat + round the neck), and he has the too brisk manner of one who must arrive + anywhere a little before any one else. The painter who did the three of + them for fifteen pounds (you may observe the canvases on the walls) has + caught this characteristic, perhaps accidentally, for David is almost + stepping out of his frame, as if to hurry off somewhere; while Alick and + James look as if they were pinned to the wall for life. All the six of + them, men and pictures, however, have a family resemblance, like granite + blocks from their own quarry. They are as Scotch as peat for instance, and + they might exchange eyes without any neighbour noticing the difference, + inquisitive little blue eyes that seem to be always totting up the price + of things. + </p> + <p> + The dambrod players pay no attention to David, nor does he regard them. + Dumping down on the sofa he removes his ‘lastic sides, as his Sabbath + boots are called, by pushing one foot against the other, gets into a pair + of hand-sewn slippers, deposits the boots as according to rule in the + ottoman, and crosses to the fire. There must be something on David’s mind + to-night, for he pays no attention to the game, neither gives advice (than + which nothing is more maddening) nor exchanges a wink with Alick over the + parlous condition of James’s crown. You can hear the wag-at-the-wall clock + in the lobby ticking. Then David lets himself go; it runs out of him like + a hymn:— + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Oh, let the solid ground Not fail beneath my feet, Before my life + has found What some have found so sweet. + </p> + <p> + [This is not a soliloquy, but is offered as a definite statement. The + players emerge from their game with difficulty.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK [with JAMES’s crown in his hand]. What’s that you’re saying, David? + </p> + <p> + DAVID [like a public speaker explaining the situation in a few well-chosen + words]. The thing I’m speaking about is Love. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [keeping control of himself]. Do you stand there and say you’re in + love, David Wylie? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Me; what would I do with the thing? + </p> + <p> + JAMES [who is by no means without pluck]. I see no necessity for calling + it a thing. + </p> + <p> + [They are two bachelors who all their lives have been afraid of nothing + but Woman. DAVID in his sportive days—which continue—has done + roguish things with his arm when conducting a lady home under an umbrella + from a soiree, and has both chuckled and been scared on thinking of it + afterwards. JAMES, a commoner fellow altogether, has discussed the sex + over a glass, but is too canny to be in the company of less than two young + women at a time.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID [derisively]. Oho, has she got you, James? + </p> + <p> + JAMES [feeling the sting of it]. Nobody has got me. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. They’ll catch you yet, lad. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. They’ll never catch me. You’ve been nearer catched yourself. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Yes, Kitty Menzies, David. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [feeling himself under the umbrella]. It was a kind of a shave that. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [who knows all that is to be known about women and can speak of them + without a tremor]. It’s a curious thing, but a man cannot help winking + when he hears that one of his friends has been catched. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. That’s so. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [clinging to his manhood]. And fear of that wink is what has kept + the two of us single men. And yet what’s the glory of being single? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. There’s no particular glory in it, but it’s safe. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [putting away his aspirations]. Yes, it’s lonely, but it’s safe. But + who did you mean the poetry for, then? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. For Maggie, of course. + </p> + <p> + [You don’t know DAVID and JAMES till you know how they love their sister + MAGGIE.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. I thought that. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [coming to the second point of his statement about Love]. I saw her + reading poetry and saying those words over to herself. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. She has such a poetical mind. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Love. There’s no doubt as that’s what Maggie has set her heart on. + And not merely love, but one of those grand noble loves; for though Maggie + is undersized she has a passion for romance. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [wandering miserably about the room]. It’s terrible not to be able + to give Maggie what her heart is set on. + </p> + <p> + [The others never pay much attention to JAMES, though he is quite a smart + figure in less important houses.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK [violently]. Those idiots of men. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Father, did you tell her who had got the minister of Galashiels? + </p> + <p> + ALICK [wagging his head sadly]. I had to tell her. And then I—I—bought + her a sealskin muff, and I just slipped it into her hands and came away. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [illustrating the sense of justice in the Wylie family]. Of course, + to be fair to the man, he never pretended he wanted her. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. None of them wants her; that’s what depresses her. I was thinking, + father, I would buy her that gold watch and chain in Snibby’s window. She + hankers after it. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [slapping his pocket]. You’re too late, David; I’ve got them for + her. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. It’s ill done of the minister. Many a pound of steak has that man + had in this house. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. You mind the slippers she worked for him? + </p> + <p> + JAMES. I mind them fine; she began them for William Cathro. She’s getting + on in years, too, though she looks so young. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. I never can make up my mind, David, whether her curls make her look + younger or older. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [determinedly]. Younger. Whist! I hear her winding the clock. Mind, + not a word about the minister to her, James. Don’t even mention religion + this day. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. Would it be like me to do such a thing? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. It would be very like you. And there’s that other matter: say not a + syllable about our having a reason for sitting up late to-night. When she + says it’s bed-time, just all pretend we’re not sleepy. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Exactly, and when— + </p> + <p> + [Here MAGGIE enters, and all three are suddenly engrossed in the dambrod. + We could describe MAGGIE at great length. But what is the use? What you + really want to know is whether she was good-looking. No, she was not. + Enter MAGGIE, who is not good-looking. When this is said, all is said. + Enter MAGGIE, as it were, with her throat cut from ear to ear. She has a + soft Scotch voice and a more resolute manner than is perhaps fitting to + her plainness; and she stops short at sight of JAMES sprawling + unconsciously in the company chair.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. James, I wouldn’t sit on the fine chair. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. I forgot again. + </p> + <p> + [But he wishes she had spoken more sharply. Even profanation of the fine + chair has not roused her. She takes up her knitting, and they all suspect + that she knows what they have been talking about.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You’re late, David, it’s nearly bed-time. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [finding the subject a safe one]. I was kept late at the public + meeting. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [glad to get so far away from Galashiels]. Was it a good meeting? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Fairish. [with some heat] That young John Shand WOULD make a + speech. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. John Shand? Is that the student Shand? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. The same. It’s true he’s a student at Glasgow University in the + winter months, but in summer he’s just the railway porter here; and I + think it’s very presumptuous of a young lad like that to make a speech + when he hasn’t a penny to bless himself with. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. The Shands were always an impudent family, and jealous. I suppose + that’s the reason they haven’t been on speaking terms with us this six + years. Was it a good speech? + </p> + <p> + DAVID [illustrating the family’s generosity]. It was very fine; but he + needn’t have made fun of ME. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [losing a stitch]. He dared? + </p> + <p> + DAVID [depressed]. You see I can not get started on a speech without + saying things like ‘In rising FOR to make a few remarks.’ + </p> + <p> + JAMES. What’s wrong with it? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. He mimicked me, and said, ‘Will our worthy chairman come for to go + for to answer my questions?’ and so on; and they roared. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [slapping his money pocket]. The sacket. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. I did feel bitterly, father, the want of education. [Without + knowing it, he has a beautiful way of pronouncing this noble word.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [holding out a kind hand to him]. David. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. I’ve missed it sore, David. Even now I feel the want of it in the + very marrow of me. I’m ashamed to think I never gave you your chance. But + when you were young I was so desperate poor, how could I do it, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It wasn’t possible, father. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [gazing at the book-shelves]. To be able to understand these books! + To up with them one at a time and scrape them as clean as though they were + a bowl of brose. Lads, it’s not to riches, it’s to scholarship that I make + my humble bow. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [who is good at bathos]. There’s ten yards of them. And they were + selected by the minister of Galashiels. He said— + </p> + <p> + DAVID [quickly]. James. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. I mean—I mean— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [calmly]. I suppose you mean what you say, James. I hear, David, + that the minister of Galashiels is to be married on that Miss Turnbull. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [on guard]. So they were saying. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. All I can say is she has made a poor bargain. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [the damned]. I wonder at you, father. He’s a very nice gentleman. + I’m sure I hope he has chosen wisely. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. Not him. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [getting near her tragedy]. How can you say that when you don’t + know her? I expect she is full of charm. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Charm? It’s the very word he used. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Havering idiot. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. What IS charm, exactly, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Oh, it’s—it’s a sort of bloom on a woman. If you have it, + you don’t need to have anything else; and if you don’t have it, it doesn’t + much matter what else you have. Some women, the few, have charm for all; + and most have charm for one. But some have charm for none. + </p> + <p> + [Somehow she has stopped knitting. Her men-folk are very depressed. JAMES + brings his fist down on the table with a crash.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES [shouting]. I have a sister that has charm. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No, James, you haven’t. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [rushing at her with the watch and chain]. Ha’e, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + [She lets them lie in her lap.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Maggie, would you like a silk? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. What could I do with a silk? [With a gust of passion] You might as + well dress up a little brown hen. + </p> + <p> + [They wriggle miserably.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES [stamping]. Bring him here to me. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Bring whom, James? + </p> + <p> + JAMES. David, I would be obliged if you wouldn’t kick me beneath the + table. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [rising]. Let’s be practical; let’s go to our beds. + </p> + <p> + [This reminds them that they have a job on hand in which she is not to + share.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID [slily]. I don’t feel very sleepy yet. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Nor me either. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. You’ve just taken the very words out of my mouth. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [with unusual politeness]. Good-night to you Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [fixing the three of them]. ALL of you unsleepy, when, as is well + known, ten o’clock is your regular bed-time? + </p> + <p> + JAMES. Yes, it’s common knowledge that we go to our beds at ten. + [Chuckling] That’s what we’re counting on. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Counting on? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. You stupid whelp. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. What have I done? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [folding her arms]. There’s something up. You’ve got to tell me, + David. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [who knows when he is beaten]. Go out and watch, James. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Watch? + </p> + <p> + [JAMES takes himself off, armed, as MAGGIE notices, with a stick.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID [in his alert business way]. Maggie, there are burglars about. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Burglars? [She sits rigid, but she is not the kind to scream.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. We hadn’t meant for to tell you till we nabbed them; but they’ve + been in this room twice of late. We sat up last night waiting for them, + and we’re to sit up again to-night. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. The silver plate. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. It’s all safe as yet. That makes us think that they were either + frightened away these other times, or that they are coming back for to + make a clean sweep. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. How did you get to know about this? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. It was on Tuesday that the polissman called at the quarry with a + very queer story. He had seen a man climbing out at this window at ten + past two. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Did he chase him? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. It was so dark he lost sight of him at once. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Tell her about the window. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. We’ve found out that the catch of the window has been pushed back + by slipping the blade of a knife between the woodwork. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. David. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. The polissman said he was carrying a little carpet bag. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. The silver plate IS gone. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. No, no. We were thinking that very likely he has bunches of keys in + the bag. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Or weapons. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. As for that, we have some pretty stout weapons ourselves in the + umbrella stand. So, if you’ll go to your bed, Maggie— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Me? and my brothers in danger. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. There’s just one of them. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. The polissman just saw one. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [licking his palms]. I would be very pleased if there were three of + them. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I watch with you. I would be very pleased if there were four of + them. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. And they say she has no charm! + </p> + <p> + [JAMES returns on tiptoe as if the burglars were beneath the table. He + signs to every one to breathe no more, and then whispers his news.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES. He’s there. I had no sooner gone out than I saw him sliding down + the garden wall, close to the rhubarbs. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. What’s he like? + </p> + <p> + JAMES. He’s an ugly customer. That’s all I could see. There was a little + carpet bag in his hand. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. That’s him. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. He slunk into the rhodydendrons, and he’s there now, watching the + window. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. We have him. Out with the light. + </p> + <p> + [The room is beautified by a chandelier fitted for three gas jets, but + with the advance of progress one of these has been removed and the + incandescent light put in its place. This alone is lit. ALICK climbs a + chair, pulls a little chain, and the room is now but vaguely lit by the + fire. It plays fitfully on four sparkling faces.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Do you think he saw you, James? + </p> + <p> + JAMES. I couldn’t say, but in any case I was too clever for him. I looked + up at the stars, and yawned loud at them as if I was tremendous sleepy. + </p> + <p> + [There is a long pause during which they are lurking in the shadows. At + last they hear some movement, and they steal like ghosts from the room. We + see DAVID turning out the lobby light; then the door closes and an empty + room awaits the intruder with a shudder of expectancy. The window opens + and shuts as softly as if this were a mother peering in to see whether her + baby is asleep. Then the head of a man shows between the curtains. The + remainder of him follows. He is carrying a little carpet bag. He stands + irresolute; what puzzles him evidently is that the Wylies should have + retired to rest without lifting that piece of coal off the fire. He opens + the door and peeps into the lobby, listening to the wag-at-the-wall clock. + All seems serene, and he turns on the light. We see him clearly now. He is + JOHN SHAND, age twenty-one, boots muddy, as an indignant carpet can + testify. He wears a shabby topcoat and a cockerty bonnet; otherwise he is + in the well-worn corduroys of a railway porter. His movements, at first + stealthy, become almost homely as he feels that he is secure. He opens the + bag and takes out a bunch of keys, a small paper parcel, and a black + implement that may be a burglar’s jemmy. This cool customer examines the + fire and piles on more coals. With the keys he opens the door of the + bookcase, selects two large volumes, and brings them to the table. He + takes off his topcoat and opens his parcel, which we now see contains + sheets of foolscap paper. His next action shows that the ‘jemmy’ is really + a ruler. He knows where the pen and ink are kept. He pulls the fine chair + nearer to the table, sits on it, and proceeds to write, occasionally + dotting the carpet with ink as he stabs the air with his pen. He is so + occupied that he does not see the door opening, and the Wylie family + staring at him. They are armed with sticks.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK [at last]. When you’re ready, John Shand. + </p> + <p> + [JOHN hints back, and then he has the grace to rise, dogged and + expressionless.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES [like a railway porter]. Ticket, please. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. You can’t think of anything clever for to go for to say now, John. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I hope you find that chair comfortable, young man. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I have no complaint to make against the chair. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [who is really distressed]. A native of the town. The disgrace to + your family! I feel pity for the Shands this night. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [glowering]. I’ll thank you, Mr. Wylie, not to pity my family. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. Canny, canny. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [that sense of justice again]. I think you should let the young man + explain. It mayn’t be so bad as we thought. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Explain away, my billie. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Only the uneducated would need an explanation. I’m a student, [with + a little passion] and I’m desperate for want of books. You have all I want + here; no use to you but for display; well, I came here to study. I come + twice weekly. [Amazement of his hosts.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID [who is the first to recover]. By the window. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Do you think a Shand would so far lower himself as to enter your + door? Well, is it a case for the police? + </p> + <p> + JAMES. It is. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [not so much out of the goodness of her heart as to patronise the + Shands]. It seems to me it’s a case for us all to go to our beds and leave + the young man to study; but not on that chair. [And she wheels the chair + away from him.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Thank you, Miss Maggie, but I couldn’t be beholden to you. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. My opinion is that he’s nobody, so out with him. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Yes, out with me. And you’ll be cheered to hear I’m likely to be a + nobody for a long time to come. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [who had been beginning to respect him]. Are you a poor scholar? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. On the contrary, I’m a brilliant scholar. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. It’s siller, then? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [glorified by experiences he has shared with many a gallant soul]. My + first year at college I lived on a barrel of potatoes, and we had just a + sofa-bed between two of us; when the one lay down the other had to get up. + Do you think it was hardship? It was sublime. But this year I can’t afford + it. I’ll have to stay on here, collecting the tickets of the illiterate, + such as you, when I might be with Romulus and Remus among the stars. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [summing up]. Havers. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [in whose head some design is vaguely taking shape]. Whist, James. I + must say, young lad, I like your spirit. Now tell me, what’s your + professors’ opinion of your future. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. They think me a young man of extraordinary promise. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. You have a name here for high moral character. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. And justly. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Are you serious-minded? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I never laughed in my life. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Who do you sit under in Glasgow? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Mr. Flemister of the Sauchiehall High. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Are you a Sabbath-school teacher? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I am. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. One more question. Are you promised? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. To a lady? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Yes. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’ve never given one of them a single word of encouragement. I’m too + much occupied thinking about my career. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. So. [He reflects, and finally indicates by a jerk of the head that + he wishes to talk with his father behind the door.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES [longingly]. Do you want me too? + </p> + <p> + [But they go out without even answering him.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I don’t know what maggot they have in their heads, but sit down, + young man, till they come back. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. My name’s Mr. Shand, and till I’m called that I decline to sit down + again in this house. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Then I’m thinking, young sir, you’ll have a weary wait. + </p> + <p> + [While he waits you can see how pinched his face is. He is little more + than a boy, and he seldom has enough to eat. DAVID and ALICK return + presently, looking as sly as if they had been discussing some move on the + dambrod, as indeed they have.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID [suddenly become genial]. Sit down, Mr. Shand, and pull in your + chair. You’ll have a thimbleful of something to keep the cold out? + [Briskly] Glasses, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + [She wonders, but gets glasses and decanter from the sideboard, which + JAMES calls the chiffy. DAVID and ALICK, in the most friendly manner, also + draw up to the table.] + </p> + <p> + You’re not a totaller, I hope? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [guardedly]. I’m practically a totaller. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. So are we. How do you take it? Is there any hot water, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. If I take it at all, and I haven’t made up my mind yet, I’ll take it + cold. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. You’ll take it hot, James? + </p> + <p> + JAMES [also sitting at the table but completely befogged]. No, I— + </p> + <p> + DAVID [decisively] I think you’ll take it hot, James. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [sulking]. I’ll take it hot. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. The kettle, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + [JAMES has evidently to take it hot so that they can get at the business + now on hand, while MAGGIE goes kitchenward for the kettle.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Now, David, quick, before she comes back. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Mr. Shand, we have an offer to make you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [warningly]. No patronage. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. It’s strictly a business affair. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Leave it to me, father. It’s this—[But to his annoyance the + suspicious MAGGIE has already returned with the kettle.] Maggie, don’t you + see that you’re not wanted? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [sitting down by the fire and resuming her knitting]. I do, David. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. I have a proposition to put before Mr. Shand, and women are out of + place in business transactions. + </p> + <p> + [The needles continue to click.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK [sighing]. We’ll have to let her bide, David. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [sternly]. Woman. [But even this does not budge her.] Very well + then, sit there, but don’t interfere, mind. Mr. Shand, we’re willing, the + three of us, to lay out L300 on your education if— + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Take care. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [slowly, which is not his wont]. On condition that five years from + now, Maggie Wylie, if still unmarried, can claim to marry you, should such + be her wish; the thing to be perfectly open on her side, but you to be + strictly tied down. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [enlightened]. So, so. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [resuming his smart manner]. Now, what have you to say? Decide. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [after a pause]. I regret to say— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It doesn’t matter what he regrets to say, because I decide against + it. And I think it was very ill-done of you to make any such proposal. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [without looking at her]. Quiet, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [looking at her]. I must say, Miss Maggie, I don’t see what reasons + YOU can have for being so set against it. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. If you would grow a beard, Mr. Shand, the reasons wouldn’t be + quite so obvious. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’ll never grow a beard. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Then you’re done for at the start. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Come, come. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Seeing I have refused the young man— + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Refused! + </p> + <p> + DAVID. That’s no reason why we shouldn’t have his friendly opinion. Your + objections, Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Simply, it’s a one-sided bargain. I admit I’m no catch at present; + but what could a man of my abilities not soar to with three hundred + pounds? Something far above what she could aspire to. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Oh, indeed! + </p> + <p> + DAVID. The position is that without the three hundred you can’t soar. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You have me there. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes, but— + </p> + <p> + ALICK. You see YOU’RE safeguarded, Maggie; you don’t need to take him + unless you like, but he has to take you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. That’s an unfair arrangement also. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I wouldn’t dream of it without that condition. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Then you ARE thinking of it? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Poof! + </p> + <p> + DAVID. It’s a good arrangement for you, Mr. Shand. The chances are you’ll + never have to go on with it, for in all probability she’ll marry soon. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. She’s tremendous run after. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Even if that’s true, it’s just keeping me in reserve in case she + misses doing better. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [relieved]. That’s the situation in a nutshell. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Another thing. Supposing I was to get fond of her? + </p> + <p> + ALICK [wistfully]. It’s very likely. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Yes, and then suppose she was to give me the go-by? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. You have to risk that. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Or take it the other way. Supposing as I got to know her I COULD NOT + endure her? + </p> + <p> + DAVID [suavely]. You have both to take risks. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [less suavely]. What you need, John Shand, is a clout on the head. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Three hundred pounds is no great sum. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. You can take it or leave it. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. No great sum for a student studying for the ministry! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Do you think that with that amount of money I would stop short at + being a minister? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. That’s how I like to hear you speak. A young Scotsman of your + ability let loose upon the world with L300, what could he not do? It’s + almost appalling to think of; especially if he went among the English. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What do you think, Miss Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [who is knitting]. I have no thoughts on the subject either way. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [after looking her over]. What’s her age? She looks young, but they + say it’s the curls that does it. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [rather happily]. She’s one of those women who are eternally young. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I can’t take that for an answer. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. She’s twenty-five. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’m just twenty-one. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. I read in a book that about four years’ difference in the ages is + the ideal thing. [As usual he is disregarded.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Well, Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [where is his mother?]. I’m willing if she’s willing. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. There can be no ‘if’ about it. It must be an offer. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. A Shand give a Wylie such a chance to humiliate him? Never. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Then all is off. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Come, come, Mr. Shand, it’s just a form. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [reluctantly]. Miss Maggie, will you? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [doggedly]. Is it an offer? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [dourly]. Yes. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [rising]. Before I answer I want first to give you a chance of + drawing back. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [bravely]. When they said that I have been run after they were + misleading you. I’m without charm; nobody has ever been after me. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Oho! + </p> + <p> + ALICK. They will be yet. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [the innocent]. It shows at least that you haven’t been after them. + </p> + <p> + [His hosts exchange a self-conscious glance.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. One thing more; David said I’m twenty-five, I’m twenty-six. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Aha! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Now be practical. Do you withdraw from the bargain, or do you not? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [on reflection]. It’s a bargain. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Then so be it. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [hurriedly]. And that’s settled. Did you say you would take it hot, + Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I think I’ll take it neat. + </p> + <p> + [The others decide to take it hot, and there is some careful business here + with the toddy ladles.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Here’s to you, and your career. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Thank you. To you, Miss Maggie. Had we not better draw up a legal + document? Lawyer Crosbie could do it on the quiet. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Should we do that, or should we just trust to one another’s honour? + </p> + <p> + ALICK [gallantly]. Let Maggie decide. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I think we would better have a legal document. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. We’ll have it drawn up to-morrow. I was thinking the best way would + be for to pay the money in five yearly instalments. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I was thinking, better bank the whole sum in my name at once. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. I think David’s plan’s the best. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I think not. Of course if it’s not convenient to you— + </p> + <p> + DAVID [touched to the quick]. It’s perfectly convenient. What do you say, + Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I agree with John. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [with an odd feeling that MAGGIE is now on the other side]. Very + well. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Then as that’s settled I think I’ll be stepping. [He is putting his + papers back in the bag.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK [politely]. If you would like to sit on at your books— + </p> + <p> + JOHN. As I can come at any orra time now I think I’ll be stepping. [MAGGIE + helps him into his topcoat.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Have you a muffler, John? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I have. [He gets it from his pocket.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You had better put it twice round. [She does this for him.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Well, good-night to you, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. And good luck. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Thank you. The same to you. And I’ll cry in at your office in the + morning before the 6:20 is due. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. I’ll have the document ready for you. [There is the awkward pause + that sometimes follows great events.] I think, Maggie, you might see Mr. + Shand to the door. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Certainly. [JOHN is going by the window.] This way, John. + </p> + <p> + [She takes him off by the more usual exit.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. He’s a fine frank fellow; and you saw how cleverly he got the + better of me about banking the money. [As the heads of the conspirators + come gleefully together] I tell you, father, he has a grand business head. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Lads, he’s canny. He’s cannier than any of us. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. Except maybe Maggie. He has no idea what a remarkable woman Maggie + is. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Best he shouldn’t know. Men are nervous of remarkable women. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. She’s a long time in coming back. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [not quite comfortable]. It’s a good sign. H’sh. What sort of a + night is it, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s a little blowy. + </p> + <p> + [She gets a large dustcloth which is lying folded on a shelf, and proceeds + to spread it over the fine chair. The men exchange self-conscious + glances.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID [stretching himself]. Yes—well, well, oh yes. It’s getting + late. What is it with you, father? + </p> + <p> + ALICK. I’m ten forty-two. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. I’m ten-forty. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Ten forty-two. + </p> + <p> + [They wind up their watches.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s high time we were bedded. [She puts her hands on their + shoulders lovingly, which is the very thing they have been trying to + avoid.] You’re very kind to me. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Havers. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Havers. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [but this does not matter]. Havers. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [a little dolefully]. I’m a sort of sorry for the young man, David. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Not at all. You’ll be the making of him. [She lifts the two + volumes.] Are you taking the books to your bed, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes. I don’t want him to know things I don’t know myself. + </p> + <p> + [She departs with the books; and ALICK and DAVID, the villains, now want + to get away from each other.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Yes—yes. Oh yes—ay, man—it is so—umpha. + You’ll lift the big coals off, David. + </p> + <p> + [He wanders away to his spring mattress. DAVID removes the coals.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES [who would like to sit down and have an argy-bargy]. It’s a most + romantical affair. [But he gets no answer.] I wonder how it’ll turn out? + [No answer.] She’s queer, Maggie. I wonder how some clever writers has + never noticed how queer women are. It’s my belief you could write a whole + book about them. [DAVID remains obdurate.] It was very noble of her to + tell him she’s twenty-six. [Muttering as he too wanders away.] But I + thought she was twenty-seven. + </p> + <p> + [DAVID turns out the light.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II + </h2> + <p> + [Six years have elapsed and John Shand’s great hour has come. Perhaps his + great hour really lies ahead of him, perhaps he had it six years ago; it + often passes us by in the night with such a faint call that we don’t even + turn in our beds. But according to the trumpets this is John’s great hour; + it is the hour for which he has long been working with his coat off; and + now the coat is on again (broadcloth but ill-fitting), for there is no + more to do but await results. He is standing for Parliament, and this is + election night. + </p> + <p> + As the scene discloses itself you get, so to speak, one of John Shand’s + posters in the face. Vote for Shand. Shand, Shand, Shand. Civil and + Religious Liberty, Faith, Hope, Freedom. They are all fly-blown names for + Shand. Have a placard about Shand, have a hundred placards about him, it + is snowing Shand to-night in Glasgow; take the paste out of your eye, and + you will see that we are in one of Shand’s committee rooms. It has been a + hairdresser’s emporium, but Shand, Shand, Shand has swept through it like + a wind, leaving nothing but the fixtures; why shave, why have your head + doused in those basins when you can be brushed and scraped and washed up + for ever by simply voting for Shand? + </p> + <p> + There are a few hard chairs for yelling Shand from, and then rushing away. + There is an iron spiral staircase that once led to the ladies’ + hairdressing apartments, but now leads to more Shand, Shand, Shand. A + glass door at the back opens on to the shop proper, screaming Civil and + Religious Liberty, Shand, as it opens, and beyond is the street crammed + with still more Shand pro and con. Men in every sort of garb rush in and + out, up and down the stair, shouting the magic word. Then there is a lull, + and down the stair comes Maggie Wylie, decidedly overdressed in blue + velvet and (let us get this over) less good-looking than ever. She raises + her hands to heaven, she spins round like a little teetotum. To her from + the street, suffering from a determination of the word Shand to the mouth, + rush Alick and David. Alick is thinner (being older), David is stouter + (being older), and they are both in tweeds and silk hats.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. David—have they—is he? quick, quick! DAVID. There’s no + news yet, no news. It’s terrible. + </p> + <p> + [The teetotum revolves more quickly.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. For God’s sake, Maggie, sit down. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I can’t, I can’t. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Hold her down. + </p> + <p> + [They press her into a chair; JAMES darts in, stouter also. His necktie + has gone; he will never again be able to attend a funeral in that hat.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES [wildly]. John Shand’s the man for you. John Shand’s the man for + you. John Shand’s the man for you. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [clutching him]. Have you heard anything? + </p> + <p> + JAMES. Not a word. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Look at her. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Maggie [he goes on his knees beside her, pressing her to him in + affectionate anxiety]. It was mad of him to dare. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It was grand of him. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [moving about distraught]. Insane ambition. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Glorious ambition. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Maggie, Maggie, my lamb, best be prepared for the worst. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [husky]. I am prepared. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Six weary years has she waited for this night. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Six brave years has John toiled for this night. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. And you could have had him, Maggie, at the end of five. The + document says five. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Do you think I grudge not being married to him yet? Was I to + hamper him till the fight was won? + </p> + <p> + DAVID [with wrinkled brows]. But if it’s lost? + </p> + <p> + [She can’t answer.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK [starting]. What’s that? + </p> + <p> + [The three listen at the door, the shouting dies down.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. They’re terrible still; what can make them so still? + </p> + <p> + [JAMES spirits himself away. ALICK and DAVID blanch to hear MAGGIE + speaking softly as if to JOHN.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Did you say you had lost, John? Of course you would lose the first + time, dear John. Six years. Very well, we’ll begin another six to-night. + You’ll win yet. [Fiercely] Never give in, John, never give in! + </p> + <p> + [The roar of the multitude breaks out again and comes rolling nearer.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. I think he’s coming. + </p> + <p> + [JAMES is fired into the room like a squeezed onion.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES. He’s coming! + </p> + <p> + [They may go on speaking, but through the clang outside none could hear. + The populace seems to be trying to take the committee room by assault. Out + of the scrimmage a man emerges dishevelled and bursts into the room, + closing the door behind him. It is JOHN SHAND in a five guinea suit, + including the hat. There are other changes in him also, for he has been + delving his way through loamy ground all those years. His right shoulder, + which he used to raise to pound a path through the crowd, now remains + permanently in that position. His mouth tends to close like a box. His + eyes are tired, they need some one to pull the lids over them and send him + to sleep for a week. But they are honest eyes still, and faithful, and + could even light up his face at times with a smile, if the mouth would + give a little help.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [clinging to a chair that he may not fly straight to heaven]. I’m in; + I’m elected. Majority two hundred and forty-four; I’m John Shand, M.P. + </p> + <p> + [The crowd have the news by this time and their roar breaks the door open. + JAMES is off at once to tell them that he is to be SHAND’S brother-in-law. + A teardrop clings to ALICK’s nose; DAVID hits out playfully at JOHN, and + JOHN in an ecstasy returns the blow.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Fling yourself at the door, father, and bar them out. Maggie, what + keeps you so quiet now? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [weak in her limbs]. You’re sure you’re in, John? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Majority 244. I’ve beaten the baronet. I’ve done it, Maggie, and not + a soul to help me; I’ve done it alone. [His voice breaks; you could almost + pick up the pieces.] I’m as hoarse as a crow, and I have to address the + Cowcaddens Club yet; David, pump some oxygen into me. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Certainly, Mr. Shand. [While he does it, MAGGIE is seeing visions.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. What are you doing, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. This is the House of Commons, and I’m John, catching the Speaker’s + eye for the first time. Do you see a queer little old wifie sitting away + up there in the Ladies’ Gallery? That’s me. ‘Mr. Speaker, sir, I rise to + make my historic maiden speech. I am no orator, sir’; voice from Ladies’ + Gallery, ‘Are you not, John? you’ll soon let them see that’; cries of + ‘Silence, woman,’ and general indignation. ‘Mr. Speaker, sir, I stand here + diffidently with my eyes on the Treasury Bench’; voice from the Ladies’ + Gallery, ‘And you’ll soon have your coat-tails on it, John’; loud cries of + ‘Remove that little old wifie,’ in which she is forcibly ejected, and the + honourable gentleman resumes his seat in a torrent of admiring applause. + </p> + <p> + [ALICK and DAVID waggle their proud heads.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [tolerantly]. Maggie, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You’re not angry with me, John? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. No, no. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. But you glowered. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I was thinking of Sir Peregrine. Just because I beat him at the poll + he took a shabby revenge; he congratulated me in French, a language I + haven’t taken the trouble to master. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [becoming a little taller]. Would it help you, John, if you were to + marry a woman that could speak French? + </p> + <p> + DAVID [quickly]. Not at all. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [gloriously]. Mon cher Jean, laissez-moi parler le francais, + voulez-vous un interprete? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Hullo! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Je suis la soeur francaise de mes deux freres ecossais. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [worshipping her]. She’s been learning French. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [lightly]. Well done. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [grandly]. They’re arriving. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Who? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Our guests. This is London, and Mrs. John Shand is giving her + first reception. [Airily] Have I told you, darling, who are coming + to-night? There’s that dear Sir Peregrine. [To ALICK] Sir Peregrine, this + is a pleasure. Avez-vous...So sorry we beat you at the poll. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’m doubting the baronet would sit on you, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’ve invited a lord to sit on the baronet. Voila! + </p> + <p> + DAVID [delighted]. You thing! You’ll find the lords expensive. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Just a little cheap lord. [JAMES enters importantly.] My dear Lord + Cheap, this is kind of you. + </p> + <p> + [JAMES hopes that MAGGIE’s reason is not unbalanced.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID [who really ought to have had education]. How de doo, Cheap? + </p> + <p> + JAMES [bewildered]. Maggie—- + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes, do call me Maggie. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [grinning]. She’s practising her first party, James. The swells are + at the door. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [heavily]. That’s what I came to say. They are at the door. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Who? + </p> + <p> + JAMES. The swells; in their motor. [He gives JOHN three cards.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. ‘Mr. Tenterden.’ + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Him that was speaking for you? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. The same. He’s a whip and an Honourable. ‘Lady Sybil Tenterden.’ + [Frowns.] Her! She’s his sister. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. A married woman? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. No. ‘The Comtesse de la Briere.’ + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [the scholar]. She must be French. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Yes; I think she’s some relation. She’s a widow. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. But what am I to say to them? [’Mr. Shand’s compliments, and he + will be proud to receive them’ is the very least that the Wylies expect.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [who was evidently made for great ends]. Say I’m very busy, but if + they care to wait I hope presently to give them a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [thunderstruck]. Good God, Mr. Shand! + </p> + <p> + [But it makes him JOHN’S more humble servant than ever, and he departs + with the message.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [not unaware of the sensation he has created]. I’ll go up and let the + crowd see me from the window. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. But—but—what are we to do with these ladies? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [as he tramps upwards]. It’s your reception, Maggie; this will prove + you. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [growing smaller]. Tell me what you know about this Lady Sybil? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. The only thing I know about her is that she thinks me vulgar. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. She has attended some of my meetings, and I’m told she said that. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. What could the woman mean? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I wonder. When I come down I’ll ask her. + </p> + <p> + [With his departure MAGGIE’S nervousness increases.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK [encouragingly]. In at them, Maggie, with your French. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s all slipping from me, father. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [gloomily]. I’m sure to say ‘for to come for to go.’ + </p> + <p> + [The newcomers glorify the room, and MAGGIE feels that they have lifted + her up with the tongs and deposited her in one of the basins. They are far + from intending to be rude; it is not their fault that thus do swans + scatter the ducks. They do not know that they are guests of the family, + they think merely that they are waiting with other strangers in a public + room; they undulate inquiringly, and if MAGGIE could undulate in return + she would have no cause for offence. But she suddenly realises that this + is an art as yet denied her, and that though DAVID might buy her + evening-gowns as fine as theirs [and is at this moment probably deciding + to do so], she would look better carrying them in her arms than on her + person. She also feels that to emerge from wraps as they are doing is more + difficult than to plank your money on the counter for them. The COMTESSE + she could forgive, for she is old; but LADY SYBIL is young and beautiful + and comes lazily to rest like a stately ship of Tarsus.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [smiling divinely, and speaking with such a pretty accent]. I + hope one is not in the way. We were told we might wait. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [bravely climbing out of the basin]. Certainly—I am sure if + you will be so—it is— + </p> + <p> + [She knows that DAVID and her father are very sorry for her.] + </p> + <p> + [A high voice is heard orating outside.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [screwing her nose deliciously]. He is at it again, Auntie. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Mon Dieu! [Like one begging pardon of the universe] It is Mr. + Tenterden, you understand, making one more of his delightful speeches to + the crowd. WOULD you be so charming as to shut the door? + </p> + <p> + [This to DAVID in such appeal that she is evidently making the petition of + her life. DAVID saves her.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [determined not to go under]. J’espere que vous—trouvez—cette—reunion—interessante? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Vous parlez francais? Mais c’est charmant! Voyons, causons un + peu. Racontez-moi tout de ce grand homme, toutes les choses merveilleuses + qu’il a faites. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I—I—Je connais—[Alas!] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [naughtily]. Forgive me, Mademoiselle, I thought you spoke + French. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [who knows that DAVID admires her shoulders]. How wicked of you, + Auntie. [To MAGGIE] I assure you none of us can understand her when she + gallops at that pace. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [crushed]. It doesn’t matter. I will tell Mr. Shand that you are + here. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [drawling]. Please don’t trouble him. We are really only waiting + till my brother recovers and can take us back to our hotel. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’ll tell him. + </p> + <p> + [She is glad to disappear up the stair.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. The lady seems distressed. Is she a relation of Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Not for to say a relation. She’s my sister. Our name is Wylie. + </p> + <p> + [But granite quarries are nothing to them.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. How do you do. You are the committee man of Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. No, just friends. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [gaily to the basins]. Aha! I know you. Next, please! Sybil, do + you weigh yourself, or are you asleep? + </p> + <p> + [LADY SYBIL has sunk indolently into a weighing-chair.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Not quite, Auntie. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [the mirror of la politesse]. Tell me all about Mr. Shand. Was it + here that he—picked up the pin? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. The pin? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. As I have read, a self-made man always begins by picking up a + pin. After that, as the memoirs say, his rise was rapid. + </p> + <p> + [DAVID, however, is once more master of himself, and indeed has begun to + tot up the cost of their garments.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. It wasn’t a pin he picked up, my lady; it was L300. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [who feels that JOHN’s greatness has been outside the conversation + quite long enough]. And his rise wasn’t so rapid, just at first, David! + </p> + <p> + DAVID. He had his fight. His original intention was to become a minister; + he’s university-educated, you know; he’s not a working-man member. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [with reverence]. He’s an M.A. But while he was a student he got a + place in an iron-cementer’s business. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [now far out of her depths]. Iron-cementer? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. They scrape boilers. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I see. The fun men have, Sybil! + </p> + <p> + DAVID [with some solemnity]. There have been millions made in scraping + boilers. They say, father, he went into business so as to be able to pay + off the L300. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [slily]. So I’ve heard. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Aha—it was a loan? + </p> + <p> + [DAVID and ALICK are astride their great subject now.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. No, a gift—of a sort—from some well-wishers. But they + wouldn’t hear of his paying it off, father! + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Not them! + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [restraining an impulse to think of other things]. That was kind, + charming. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [with a look at DAVID]. Yes. Well, my lady, he developed a perfect + genius for the iron-cementing. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. But his ambition wasn’t satisfied. Soon he had public life in his + eye. As a heckler he was something fearsome; they had to seat him on the + platform for to keep him quiet. Next they had to let him into the Chair. + After that he did all the speaking; he cleared all roads before him like a + fire-engine; and when this vacancy occurred, you could hardly say it did + occur, so quickly did he step into it. My lady, there are few more + impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I can well believe it. And now he has said farewell to boilers? + </p> + <p> + DAVID [impressively]. Not at all; the firm promised if he was elected for + to make him their London manager at L800 a year. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. There is a strong man for you, Sybil; but I believe you ARE + asleep. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [stirring herself]. Honestly, I’m not. [Sweetly to the others] But + would you mind finding out whether my brother is drawing to a close? + </p> + <p> + [DAVID goes out, leaving poor ALICK marooned. The COMTESSE is kind to + him.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Thank you very much. [Which helps ALICK out.] Don’t you love a + strong man, sleepy head? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [preening herself]. I never met one. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Neither have I. But if you DID meet one, would he wakes you up? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I dare say he would find there were two of us. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [considering her]. Yes, I think he would. Ever been in love, you + cold thing? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [yawning]. I have never shot up in flame, Auntie. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Think you could manage it? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. If Mr. Right came along. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. As a girl of to-day it would be your duty to tame him. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. As a girl of to-day I would try to do my duty. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And if it turned out that HE tamed you instead? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. He would have to do that if he were MY Mr. Right. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And then? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Then, of course, I should adore him. Auntie, I think if I ever + really love it will be like Mary Queen of Scots, who said of her Bothwell + that she could follow him round the world in her nighty. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. My petite! + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I believe I mean it. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Oh, it is quite my conception of your character. Do you know, I + am rather sorry for this Mr. John Shand. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [opening her fine eyes]. Why? He is quite a boor, is he not? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. For that very reason. Because his great hour is already nearly + sped. That wild bull manner that moves the multitude—they will laugh + at it in your House of Commons. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [indifferent]. I suppose so. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Yet if he had education—- + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Have we not been hearing how superbly he is educated? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. It is such as you or me that he needs to educate him now. You + could do it almost too well. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [with that pretty stretch of neck]. I am not sufficiently + interested. I retire in your favour. How would you begin? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. By asking him to drop in, about five, of course. By the way, I + wonder is there a Mrs. Shand? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I have no idea. But they marry young. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. If there is not, there is probably a lady waiting for him, + somewhere in a boiler. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I dare say. + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE descends.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Mr. Shand will be down directly. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Thank you. Your brother has been giving us such an interesting + account of his career. I forget, Sybil, whether he said that he was + married. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No, he’s not married; but he will be soon. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Ah! [She is merely making conversation.] A friend of yours? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [now a scorner of herself]. I don’t think much of her. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. In that case, tell me all about her. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. There’s not much to tell. She’s common, and stupid. One of those + who go in for self-culture; and then when the test comes they break down. + [With sinister enjoyment] She’ll be the ruin of him. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. But is not that sad! Figure to yourself how many men with + greatness before them have been shipwrecked by marrying in the rank from + which they sprang. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’ve told her that. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. But she will not give him up? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Why should she if he cares for her? What is her name? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s—Maggie. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [still uninterested]. Well, I am afraid that Maggie is to do for + John. [JOHN comes down.] Ah, our hero! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Sorry I have kept you waiting. The Comtesse? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And my niece Lady Sybil Tenterden. [SYBIL’S head inclines on its + stem.] She is not really all my niece; I mean I am only half of her aunt. + What a triumph, Mr. Shand! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Oh, pretty fair, pretty fair. Your brother has just finished + addressing the crowd, Lady Sybil. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Then we must not detain Mr. Shand, Auntie. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [who unless her heart is touched thinks insincerity charming]. + Only one word. I heard you speak last night. Sublime! Just the sort of + impassioned eloquence that your House of Commons loves. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s very good of you to say so. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. But we must run. Bon soir. + </p> + <p> + [SYBIL bows as to some one far away.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Good-night, Lady Sybil. I hear you think I’m vulgar. [Eyebrows are + raised.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. My dear Mr. Shand, what absurd—- + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I was told she said that after hearing me speak. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Quite a mistake, I—- + </p> + <p> + JOHN [doggedly]. Is it not true? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [‘waking up’]. You seem to know, Mr. Shand; and as you press me so + unnecessarily—well, yes, that is how you struck me. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. My child! + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [who is a little agitated]. He would have it. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [perplexed]. What’s the matter? I just wanted to know, because if + it’s true I must alter it. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. There, Sybil, see how he values your good opinion. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [her svelte figure giving like a fishing-rod]. It is very nice of + you to put it in that way, Mr. Shand. Forgive me. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. But I don’t quite understand yet. Of course, it can’t matter to me, + Lady Sybil, what you think of me; what I mean is, that I mustn’t be vulgar + if it would be injurious to my career. + </p> + <p> + [The fishing-rod regains its rigidity.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I see. No, of course, I could not affect your career, Mr Shand. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [who quite understands that he is being challenged]. That’s so, Lady + Sybil, meaning no offence. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [who has a naughty little impediment in her voice when she is most + alluring]. Of course not. And we are friends again? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Certainly. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Then I hope you will come to see me in London as I present no + terrors. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [he is a man, is JOHN]. I’ll be very pleased. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Any afternoon about five. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Much obliged. And you can teach me the things I don’t know yet, if + you’ll be so kind. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [the impediment becoming more assertive]. If you wish it, I shall do + my best. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Thank you, Lady Sybil. And who knows there may be one or two things + I can teach you. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [it has now become an angel’s hiccough]. Yes, we can help one + another. Good-bye till then. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Good-bye. Maggie, the ladies are going. + </p> + <p> + [During this skirmish MAGGIE has stood apart. At the mention of her name + they glance at one another. JOHN escorts SYBIL, but the COMTESSE turns + back.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Are you, then, THE Maggie? [MAGGIE nods rather defiantly and the + COMTESSE is distressed.] But if I had known I would not have said those + things. Please forgive an old woman. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It doesn’t matter. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I—I dare say it will be all right. Mademoiselle, if I were + you I would not encourage those tete-a-tetes with Lady Sybil. I am the + rude one, but she is the dangerous one; and I am afraid his impudence has + attracted her. Bon voyage, Miss Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Good-bye—but I CAN speak French. Je parle francais. Isn’t + that right? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. But, yes, it is excellent. [Making things easy for her] C’est + tres bien. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Je me suis embrouillee—la derniere fois. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Good! Shall I speak more slowly? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No, no. Nonon, non, faster, faster. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. J’admire votre courage! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Je comprends chaque mot. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Parfait! Bravo! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Voila! + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Superbe! + </p> + <p> + [She goes, applauding; and MAGGIE has a moment of elation, which however + has passed before JOHN returns for his hat.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Have you more speaking to do, John? [He is somehow in high + good-humour.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I must run across and address the Cowcaddens Club. [He sprays his + throat with a hand-spray.] I wonder if I AM vulgar, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You are not, but <i>I</i> am. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Not that <i>I</i> can see. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Look how overdressed I am, John. I knew it was too showy when I + ordered it, and yet I could not resist the thing. But I will tone it down, + I will. What did you think of Lady Sybil? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. That young woman had better be careful. She’s a bit of a besom, + Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. She’s beautiful, John. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. She has a neat way of stretching herself. For playing with she would + do as well as another. + </p> + <p> + [She looks at him wistfully.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You couldn’t stay and have a talk for a few minutes? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. If you want me, Maggie. The longer you keep them waiting, the more + they think of you. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. When are you to announce that we’re to be married, John? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I won’t be long. You’ve waited a year more than you need have done, + so I think it’s your due I should hurry things now. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I think it’s noble of you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Not at all, Maggie; the nobleness has been yours in waiting so + patiently. And your brothers would insist on it at any rate. They’re + watching me like cats with a mouse. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s so little I’ve done to help. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Three hundred pounds. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’m getting a thousand per cent for it. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. And very pleased I am you should think so, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Is it terrible hard to you, John? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s not hard at all. I can say truthfully, Maggie, that all, or + nearly all, I’ve seen of you in these six years has gone to increase my + respect for you. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Respect! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. And a bargain’s a bargain. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. If it wasn’t that you’re so glorious to me, John, I would let you + off. + </p> + <p> + [There is a gleam in his eye, but he puts it out.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. In my opinion, Maggie, we’ll be a very happy pair. + </p> + <p> + [She accepts this eagerly.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. We know each other so well, John, don’t we? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’m an extraordinary queer character, and I suppose nobody knows me + well except myself; but I know you, Maggie, to the very roots of you. + </p> + <p> + [She magnanimously lets this remark alone.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. And it’s not as if there was any other woman you—fancied + more, John. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. There’s none whatever. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. If there ever should be—oh, if there ever should be! Some + woman with charm. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Maggie, you forget yourself. There couldn’t be another woman once I + was a married man. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. One has heard of such things. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Not in Scotsmen, Maggie; not in Scotsmen. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’ve sometimes thought, John, that the difference between us and + the English is that the Scotch are hard in all other respects but soft + with women, and the English are hard with women but soft in all other + respects. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You’ve forgotten the grandest moral attribute of a Scotsman, Maggie, + that he’ll do nothing which might damage his career. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Ah, but John, whatever you do, you do it so tremendously; and if + you were to love, what a passion it would be. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. There’s something in that, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. And then, what could I do? For the desire of my life now, John, is + to help you to get everything you want, except just that I want you to + have me, too. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. We’ll get on fine, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You’re just making the best of it. They say that love is sympathy, + and if that’s so, mine must be a great love for you, for I see all you are + feeling this night and bravely hiding; I feel for you as if I was John + Shand myself. [He sighs.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I had best go to the meeting, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Not yet. Can you look me in the face, John, and deny that there is + surging within you a mighty desire to be free, to begin the new life + untrammelled? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Leave such maggots alone, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s a shame of me not to give you up. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I would consider you a very foolish woman if you did. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. If I were John Shand I would no more want to take Maggie Wylie + with me through the beautiful door that has opened wide for you than I + would want to take an old pair of shoon. Why don’t you bang the door in my + face, John? [A tremor runs through JOHN.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. A bargain’s a bargain, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE moves about, an eerie figure, breaking into little cries. She + flutters round him, threateningly.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Say one word about wanting to get out of it, and I’ll put the + lawyers on you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Have I hinted at such a thing? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. The document holds you hard and fast. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It does. + </p> + <p> + [She gloats miserably.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. The woman never rises with the man. I’ll drag you down, John. I’ll + drag you down. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Have no fear of that, I won’t let you. I’m too strong. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You’ll miss the prettiest thing in the world, and all owing to me. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What’s that? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Romance. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Poof. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. All’s cold and grey without it, John. They that have had it have + slipped in and out of heaven. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You’re exaggerating, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You’ve worked so hard, you’ve had none of the fun that comes to + most men long before they’re your age. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I never was one for fun. I cannot call to mind, Maggie, ever having + laughed in my life. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You have no sense of humour. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Not a spark. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’ve sometimes thought that if you had, it might make you fonder + of me. I think one needs a sense of humour to be fond of me. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I remember reading of some one that said it needed a surgical + operation to get a joke into a Scotsman’s head. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes, that’s been said. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What beats me, Maggie, is how you could insert a joke with an + operation. + </p> + <p> + [He considers this and gives it up.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. That’s not the kind of fun I was thinking of. I mean fun with the + lasses, John—gay, jolly, harmless fun. They could be impudent + fashionable beauties now, stretching themselves to attract you, like that + hiccoughing little devil, and running away from you, and crooking their + fingers to you to run after them. + </p> + <p> + [He draws a big breath.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. No, I never had that. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s every man’s birthright, and you would have it now but for me. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I can do without, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s like missing out all the Saturdays. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You feel sure, I suppose, that an older man wouldn’t suit you + better, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I couldn’t feel surer of anything. You’re just my ideal. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Yes, yes. Well, that’s as it should be. + </p> + <p> + [She threatens him again.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. David has the document. It’s carefully locked away. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. He would naturally take good care of it. + </p> + <p> + [The pride of the Wylies deserts her.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. John, I make you a solemn promise that, in consideration of the + circumstances of our marriage, if you should ever fall in love I’ll act + differently from other wives. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. There will be no occasion, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + [Her voice becomes tremulous.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. John, David doesn’t have the document. He thinks he has, but I + have it here. + </p> + <p> + [Somewhat heavily JOHN surveys the fatal paper.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Well do I mind the look of it, Maggie. Yes, yes, that’s it. Umpha. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You don’t ask why I’ve brought it. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Why did you? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Because I thought I might perhaps have the courage and the + womanliness to give it back to you. [JOHN has a brief dream.] Will you + never hold it up against me in the future that I couldn’t do that? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I promise you, Maggie, I never will. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. To go back to The Pans and take up my old life there, when all + these six years my eyes have been centred on this night! I’ve been waiting + for this night as long as you have been; and now to go back there, and + wizen and dry up, when I might be married to John Shand! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. And you will be, Maggie. You have my word. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Never—never—never. [She tears up the document. He + remains seated immovable, but the gleam returns to his eye. She rages + first at herself and then at him.] I’m a fool, a fool, to let you go. I + tell you, you’ll rue this day, for you need me, you’ll come to grief + without me. There’s nobody can help you as I could have helped you. I’m + essential to your career, and you’re blind not to see it. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What’s that, Maggie? In no circumstances would I allow any meddling + with my career. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You would never have known I was meddling with it. But that’s + over. Don’t be in too great a hurry to marry, John. Have your fling with + the beautiful dolls first. Get the whiphand of the haughty ones, John. + Give them their licks. Every time they hiccough let them have an extra + slap in memory of me. And be sure to remember this, my man, that the one + who marries you will find you out. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Find me out? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. However careful a man is, his wife always finds out his failings. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I don’t know, Maggie, to what failings you refer. + </p> + <p> + [The Cowcaddens Club has burst its walls, and is pouring this way to raise + the new Member on its crest. The first wave hurls itself against the + barber’s shop with cries of ‘Shand, Shand, Shand.’ For a moment, JOHN + stems the torrent by planting his back against the door.] + </p> + <p> + You are acting under an impulse, Maggie, and I can’t take advantage of it. + Think the matter over, and we’ll speak about it in the morning. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No, I can’t go through it again. It ends to-night and now. Good + luck, John. + </p> + <p> + [She is immediately submerged in the sea that surges through the door, + bringing much wreckage with it. In a moment the place is so full that + another cupful could not find standing room. Some slippery ones are + squeezed upwards and remain aloft as warnings. JOHN has jumped on to the + stair, and harangues the flood vainly like another Canute. It is something + about freedom and noble minds, and, though unheard, goes to all heads, + including the speaker’s. By the time he is audible sentiment has him for + her own.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. But, gentlemen, one may have too much even of freedom [No, no.] Yes, + Mr. Adamson. One may want to be tied. [Never, never.] I say yes, Willie + Cameron; and I have found a young lady who I am proud to say is willing to + be tied to me. I’m to be married. [Uproar.] Her name’s Miss Wylie. + [Transport.] Quiet; she’s here now. [Frenzy.] She was here! Where are you, + Maggie? [A small voice—‘I’m here.’ A hundred great voices—‘Where—where—where?’ + The small voice—‘I’m so little none of you can see me.‘] + </p> + <p> + [Three men, name of Wylie, buffet their way forward.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. James, father, have you grip of her? + </p> + <p> + ALICK. We’ve got her. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Then hoist her up. + </p> + <p> + [The queer little elated figure is raised aloft. With her fingers she can + just touch the stars. Not unconscious of the nobility of his behaviour, + the hero of the evening points an impressive finger at her.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Gentlemen, the future Mrs. John Shand! [Cries of ‘Speech, speech!’] + No, no, being a lady she can’t make a speech, but—- + </p> + <p> + [The heroine of the evening surprises him.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I can make a speech, and I will make a speech, and it’s in two + words, and they’re these [holding out her arms to enfold all the members + of the Cowcaddens Club]—My Constituents! [Dementia.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT III + </h2> + <p> + [A few minutes ago the Comtesse de la Briere, who has not recently been in + England, was shown into the London home of the Shands. Though not + sufficiently interested to express her surprise in words, she raised her + eyebrows on finding herself in a charming room; she has presumed that the + Shand scheme of decoration would be as impossible as themselves. + </p> + <p> + It is the little room behind the dining-room for which English architects + have long been famous; ‘Make something of this, and you will indeed be a + clever one,’ they seem to say to you as they unveil it. The Comtesse finds + that John has undoubtedly made something of it. It is his ‘study’ (mon + Dieu, the words these English use!) and there is nothing in it that + offends; there is so much not in it too that might so easily have been + there. It is not in the least ornate; there are no colours quarrelling + with each other (unseen, unheard by the blissful occupant of the revolving + chair); the Comtesse has not even the gentle satisfaction of noting a + ‘suite’ in stained oak. Nature might have taken a share in the + decorations, so restful are they to the eyes; it is the working room of a + man of culture, probably lately down from Oxford; at a first meeting there + is nothing in it that pretends to be what it is not. Our visitor is a + little disappointed, but being fair-minded blows her absent host a kiss + for disappointing her. + </p> + <p> + He has even, she observes with a twinkle, made something of the most + difficult of his possessions, the little wife. For Maggie, who is here + receiving her, has been quite creditably toned down. He has put her into a + little grey frock that not only deals gently with her personal defects, + but is in harmony with the room. Evidently, however, she has not ‘risen’ + with him, for she is as ever; the Comtesse, who remembers having liked her + the better of the two, could shake her for being so stupid. For instance, + why is she not asserting herself in that other apartment? + </p> + <p> + The other apartment is really a correctly solemn dining-room, of which we + have a glimpse through partly open folding-doors. At this moment it is + harbouring Mr. Shand’s ladies’ committee, who sit with pens and foolscap + round the large table, awaiting the advent of their leader. There are + nobly wise ones and some foolish ones among them, for we are back in the + strange days when it was considered ‘unwomanly’ for women to have minds. + The Comtesse peeps at them with curiosity, as they arrange their papers or + are ushered into the dining-room through a door which we cannot see. To + her frivolous ladyship they are a species of wild fowl, and she is + specially amused to find her niece among them. She demands an explanation + as soon as the communicating doors close.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Tell me since when has my dear Sybil become one of these ladies? + It is not like her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[MAGGIE is obviously not clever enough to understand the woman question. +Her eye rests longingly on a half-finished stocking as she innocently +but densely replies:] + + MAGGIE. I think it was about the time that my husband took up their +cause. +</pre> + <p> + [The COMTESSE has been hearing tales of LADY SYBIL and the barbarian; and + after having the grace to hesitate, she speaks with the directness for + which she is famed in Mayfair.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Mrs. Shand, excuse me for saying that if half of what I hear be + true, your husband is seeing that lady a great deal too often. [MAGGIE is + expressionless; she reaches for her stocking, whereat her guest loses + patience.] Oh, mon Dieu, put that down; you can buy them at two francs the + pair. Mrs. Shand, why do not you compel yourself to take an intelligent + interest in your husband’s work? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I typewrite his speeches. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. But do you know what they are about? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. They are about various subjects. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Oh! + </p> + <p> + [Did MAGGIE give her an unseen quizzical glance before demurely resuming + the knitting? One is not certain, as JOHN has come in, and this + obliterates her. A ‘Scotsman on the make,’ of whom DAVID has spoken + reverently, is still to be read—in a somewhat better bound volume—in + JOHN SHAND’s person; but it is as doggedly honest a face as ever; and he + champions women, not for personal ends, but because his blessed days of + poverty gave him a light upon their needs. His self-satisfaction, however, + has increased, and he has pleasantly forgotten some things. For instance, + he can now call out ‘Porter’ at railway stations without dropping his + hands for the barrow. MAGGIE introduces the COMTESSE, and he is still + undaunted.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I remember you well—at Glasgow. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. It must be quite two years ago, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + [JOHN has no objection to showing that he has had a classical education.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Tempus fugit, Comtesse. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I have not been much in this country since then, and I return to + find you a coming man. + </p> + <p> + [Fortunately his learning is tempered with modesty.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. The Ladies’ Champion. + </p> + <p> + [His modesty is tempered with a respect for truth.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Well, well. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And you are about, as I understand, to introduce a bill to give + women an equal right with men to grow beards [which is all she knows about + it. He takes the remark literally.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. There’s nothing about beards in it, Comtesse. [She gives him time to + cogitate, and is pleased to note that there is no result.] Have you typed + my speech, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes; twenty-six pages. [She produces it from a drawer.] + </p> + <p> + [Perhaps JOHN wishes to impress the visitor.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’m to give the ladies’ committee a general idea of it. Just see, + Maggie, if I know the peroration. ‘In conclusion, Mr. Speaker, these are + the reasonable demands of every intelligent Englishwoman’—I had + better say British woman—‘and I am proud to nail them to my flag’—- + </p> + <p> + [The visitor is properly impressed.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Oho! defies his leaders! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. ‘So long as I can do so without embarrassing the Government.’ + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Ah, ah, Mr. Shand! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. ‘I call upon the Front Bench, sir, loyally but firmly’— + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Firm again! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. —‘either to accept my Bill, or to promise WITHOUT DELAY to + bring in one of their own; and if they decline to do so I solemnly warn + them that though I will not press the matter to a division just now’— + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Ahem! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. ‘I will bring it forward again in the near future.’ And now + Comtesse, you know that I’m not going to divide—and not another soul + knows it. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I am indeed flattered by your confidence. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’ve only told you because I don’t care who knows now. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Oh! + </p> + <p> + [Somehow MAGGIE seems to be dissatisfied.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. But why is that, John? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I daren’t keep the Government in doubt any longer about what I mean + to do. I’ll show the whips the speech privately to-night. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [who still wants to know]. But not to go to a division is hedging, + isn’t it? Is that strong? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. To make the speech at all, Maggie, is stronger than most would dare. + They would do for me if I went to a division. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Bark but not bite? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Now, now, Maggie, you’re out of your depth. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I suppose that’s it. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE remains in the shallows.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. But what will the ladies say, Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. They won’t like it, Comtesse, but they’ve got to lump it. + </p> + <p> + [Here the maid appears with a card for MAGGIE, who considers it quietly.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Any one of importance? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Then I’m ready, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + [This is evidently an intimation that she is to open the folding-doors, + and he makes an effective entrance into the dining-room, his thumb in his + waistcoat. There is a delicious clapping of hands from the committee, and + the door closes. Not till then does MAGGIE, who has grown thoughtful, tell + her maid to admit the visitor.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Another lady, Mrs. Shand? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. The card says ‘Mr. Charles Venables.’ + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE is really interested at last.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Charles Venables! Do you know him? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I think I call to mind meeting one of that name at the Foreign + Office party. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. One of that name! He who is a Minister of your Cabinet. But as + you know him so little why should he call on you? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I wonder. + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE’s glance wanders to the drawer in which she has replaced JOHN’s + speech.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Well, well, I shall take care of you, petite. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Do you know him? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Do I know him! The last time I saw him he asked me to—to—hem!—ma + cherie, it was thirty years ago. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Thirty years! + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I was a pretty woman then. I dare say I shall detest him now; + but if I find I do not—let us have a little plot—I shall drop + this book; and then perhaps you will be so charming as—as not to be + here for a little while? + </p> + <p> + [MR. VENABLES, who enters, is such a courtly seigneur that he seems to + bring the eighteenth century with him; you feel that his sedan chair is at + the door. He stoops over MAGGIE’s plebeian hand.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. I hope you will pardon my calling, Mrs. Shand; we had such a + pleasant talk the other evening. + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE, of course, is at once deceived by his gracious manner.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I think it’s kind of you. Do you know each other? The Comtesse de + la Briere. + </p> + <p> + [He repeats the name with some emotion, and the COMTESSE, half + mischievously, half sadly, holds a hand before her face.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Comtesse. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Thirty years, Mr. Venables. + </p> + <p> + [He gallantly removes the hand that screens her face.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. It does not seem so much. + </p> + <p> + [She gives him a similar scrutiny.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Mon Dieu, it seems all that. + </p> + <p> + [They smile rather ruefully. MAGGIE like a kind hostess relieves the + tension.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. The Comtesse has taken a cottage in Surrey for the summer. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. I am overjoyed. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. No, Charles, you are not. You no longer care. Fickle one! And it + is only thirty years. + </p> + <p> + [He sinks into a chair beside her.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Those heavenly evenings, Comtesse, on the Bosphorus. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I refuse to talk of them. I hate you. + </p> + <p> + [But she drops the book, and MAGGIE fades from the room. It is not a very + clever departure, and the old diplomatist smiles. Then he sighs a + beautiful sigh, for he does all things beautifully.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. It is moonlight, Comtesse, on the Golden Horn. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Who are those two young things in a caique? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Is he the brave Leander, Comtesse, and is she Hero of the Lamp? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. No, she is the foolish wife of the French Ambassador, and he is + a good-for-nothing British attache trying to get her husband’s secrets out + of her. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Is it possible! They part at a certain garden gate. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Oh, Charles, Charles! + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. But you promised to come back; I waited there till dawn. + Blanche, if you HAD come back— + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. How is Mrs. Venables? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. She is rather poorly. I think it’s gout. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And you? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. I creak a little in the mornings. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. So do I. There is such a good man at Wiesbaden. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. The Homburg fellow is better. The way he patched me up last + summer—Oh, Lord, Lord! + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Yes, Charles, the game is up; we are two old fogies. [They groan + in unison; then she raps him sharply on the knuckles.] Tell me, sir, what + are you doing here? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Merely a friendly call. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I do not believe it. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. The same woman; the old delightful candour. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. The same man; the old fibs. [She sees that the door is asking a + question.] Yes, come, Mrs. Shand, I have had quite enough of him; I warn + you he is here for some crafty purpose. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [drawing back timidly]. Surely not? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Really, Comtesse, you make conversation difficult. To show that + my intentions are innocent, Mrs. Shand, I propose that you choose the + subject. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [relieved]. There, Comtesse. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. I hope your husband is well? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes, thank you. [With a happy thought] I decide that we talk about + him. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. If you wish it. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Be careful; HE has chosen the subject. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. <i>I</i> chose it, didn’t I? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. You know you did. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [appealingly]. You admire John? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Very much. But he puzzles me a little. You Scots, Mrs. Shand, + are such a mixture of the practical and the emotional that you escape out + of an Englishman’s hand like a trout. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [open-eyed]. Do we? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Well, not you, but your husband. I have known few men make a + worse beginning in the House. He had the most atrocious bow-wow + public-park manner—- + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I remember that manner! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No, he hadn’t. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [soothingly]. At first. But by his second session he had shed all + that, and he is now a pleasure to listen to. By the way, Comtesse, have + you found any dark intention in that? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You wanted to know whether he talks over these matter with his + wife; and she has told you that he does not. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [indignantly]. I haven’t said a word about it, have I? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Not a word. Then, again, I admire him for his impromptu + speeches. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. What is impromptu? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Unprepared. They have contained some grave blunders not so much + of judgment as of taste—- + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [hotly]. <i>I</i> don’t think so. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Pardon me. But he has righted himself subsequently in the + neatest way. I have always found that the man whose second thoughts are + good is worth watching. Well, Comtesse, I see you have something to say. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You are wondering whether she can tell you who gives him his + second thoughts. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Gives them to John? I would like to see anybody try to give + thoughts to John. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Quite so. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Is there anything more that has roused your admiration Charles? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [purring]. Let me see. Yes, we are all much edified by his + humour. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [surprised indeed]. His humour? That man! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [with hauteur]. Why not? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. I assure you, Comtesse, some of the neat things in his speeches + convulse the house. A word has even been coined for them—Shandisms. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [slowly recovering from a blow]. Humour! + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. In conversation, I admit, he strikes one as being—ah—somewhat + lacking in humour. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [pouncing]. You are wondering who supplies his speeches with the + humour. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Supplies John? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Now that you mention it, some of his Shandisms do have a + curiously feminine quality. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You have thought it might be a woman. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Really, Comtesse— + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I see it all. Charles, you thought it might be the wife! + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [flinging up his hands]. I own up. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [bewildered]. Me? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Forgive me, I see I was wrong. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [alarmed]. Have I been doing John any harm? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. On the contrary, I am relieved to know that there are no + hairpins in his speeches. If he is at home, Mrs. Shand, may I see him? I + am going to be rather charming to him. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [drawn in two directions]. Yes, he is—oh yes—but— + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. That is to say, Comtesse, if he proves himself the man I believe + him to be. + </p> + <p> + [This arrests MAGGIE almost as she has reached the dining-room door.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [hesitating]. He is very busy just now. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [smiling]. I think he will see me. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Is it something about his speech? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [the smile hardening]. Well, yes, it is. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Then I dare say I could tell you what you want to know without + troubling him, as I’ve been typing it. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [with a sigh]. I don’t acquire information in that way. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I trust not. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. There’s no secret about it. He is to show it to the whips tonight. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [sharply]. You are sure of that? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. It is quite true, Charles. I heard him say so; and indeed he + repeated what he called the ‘peroration’ before me. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I know it by heart. [She plays a bold game.] ‘These are the + demands of all intelligent British women, and I am proud to nail them to + my flag’— + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. The very words, Mrs. Shand. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [looking at her imploringly]. ‘And I don’t care how they may + embarrass the Government.’ [The COMTESSE is bereft of speech, so suddenly + has she been introduced to the real MAGGIE SHAND]. ‘If the right + honourable gentleman will give us his pledge to introduce a similar Bill + this session I will willingly withdraw mine; but otherwise I solemnly warn + him that I will press the matter now to a division.’ + </p> + <p> + [She turns her face from the great man; she has gone white.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [after a pause]. Capital. + </p> + <p> + [The blood returns to MAGGIE’s heart.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [who is beginning to enjoy herself very much]. Then you are + pleased to know that he means to, as you say, go to a division? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Delighted. The courage of it will be the making of him. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I see. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Had he been to hedge we should have known that he was a + pasteboard knight and have disregarded him. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I see. + </p> + <p> + [She desires to catch the eye of MAGGIE, but it is carefully turned from + her.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Mrs. Shand, let us have him in at once. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Yes, yes, indeed. + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE’s anxiety returns, but she has to call JOHN in.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [impressed]. Mr. Venables! This is an honour. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. How are you, Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Sit down, sit down. [Becoming himself again.] I can guess what you + have come about. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Ah, you Scotsmen. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Of course I know I’m harassing the Government a good deal— + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [blandly]. Not at all, Shand. The Government are very pleased. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You don’t expect me to believe that? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. I called here to give you the proof of it. You may know that we + are to have a big meeting at Leeds on the 24th, when two Ministers are to + speak. There is room for a third speaker, and I am authorised to offer + that place to you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. To me! + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Yes. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [swelling]. It would be—the Government taking me up. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Don’t make too much of it; it would be an acknowledgment that + they look upon you as one of their likely young men. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. John! + </p> + <p> + JOHN [not found wanting in a trying hour]. It’s a bribe. You are offering + me this on condition that I don’t make my speech. How can you think so + meanly of me as to believe that I would play the women’s cause false for + the sake of my own advancement. I refuse your bribe. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [liking him for the first time]. Good. But you are wrong. There + are no conditions, and we want you to make your speech. Now do you accept? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [still suspicious]. If you make me the same offer after you have read + it. I insist on your reading it first. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [sighing]. By all means. + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE is in an agony as she sees JOHN hand the speech to his leader. On + the other hand, the COMTESSE thrills.] + </p> + <p> + But I assure you we look on the speech as a small matter. The important + thing is your intention of going to a division; and we agree to that also. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [losing his head]. What’s that? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Yes, we agree. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. But—but—why, you have been threatening to excommunicate + me if I dared. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. All done to test you, Shand. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. To test me? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. We know that a division on your Bill can have no serious + significance; we shall see to that. And so the test was to be whether you + had the pluck to divide the House. Had you been intending to talk big in + this speech, and then hedge, through fear of the Government, they would + have had no further use for you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [heavily]. I understand. [But there is one thing he cannot + understand, which is, why VENABLES should be so sure that he is not to + hedge.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [turning over the pages carelessly]. Any of your good things in + this, Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [whose one desire is to get the pages back]. No, I—no—it + isn’t necessary you should read it now. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [from politeness only]. Merely for my own pleasure. I shall look + through it this evening. [He rolls up the speech to put it in his pocket. + JOHN turns despairingly to MAGGIE, though well aware that no help can come + from her.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. That’s the only copy there is, John. [To VENABLES] Let me make a + fresh one, and send it to you in an hour or two. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [good-naturedly]. I could not put you to that trouble, Mrs. + Shand. I will take good care of it. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. If anything were to happen to you on the way home, wouldn’t + whatever is in your pocket be considered to be the property of your heirs? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [laughing]. Now there is forethought! Shand, I think that after + that—! [He returns the speech to JOHN, whose hand swallows it + greedily.] She is Scotch too, Comtesse. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [delighted]. Yes, she is Scotch too. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Though the only persons likely to do for me in the street, + Shand, are your ladies’ committee. Ever since they took the horse out of + my brougham, I can scent them a mile away. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. A mile? Charles, peep in there. + </p> + <p> + [He softly turns the handle of the dining-room door, and realises that his + scent is not so good as he had thought it. He bids his hostess and the + COMTESSE good-bye in a burlesque whisper and tiptoes off to safer places. + JOHN having gone out with him, MAGGIE can no longer avoid the COMTESSE’s + reproachful eye. That much injured lady advances upon her with accusing + finger.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. So, madam! + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE is prepared for her.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I don’t know what you mean. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Yes, you do. I mean that there IS some one who ‘helps’ our Mr. + Shand. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. There’s not. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And it IS a woman, and it’s you. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I help in the little things. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. The little things! You are the Pin he picked up and that is to + make his fortune. And now what I want to know is whether your John is + aware that you help at all. + </p> + <p> + [JOHN returns, and at once provides the answer.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Maggie, Comtesse, I’ve done it again! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’m so glad, John. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE is in an ecstasy.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And all because you were not to hedge, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + [His appeal to her with the wistfulness of a schoolboy makes him rather + attractive.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You won’t tell on me, Comtesse! [He thinks it out.] They had just + guessed I would be firm because they know I’m a strong man. You little + saw, Maggie, what a good turn you were doing me when you said you wanted + to make another copy of the speech. + </p> + <p> + [She is dense.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. How, John? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Because now I can alter the end. + </p> + <p> + [She is enlightened.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. So you can! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Here’s another lucky thing, Maggie: I hadn’t told the ladies’ + committee that I was to hedge, and so they need never know. Comtesse, I + tell you there’s a little cherub who sits up aloft and looks after the + career of John Shand. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE looks not aloft but toward the chair at present occupied by + MAGGIE.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Where does she sit, Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + [He knows that women are not well read.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s just a figure of speech. + </p> + <p> + [He returns airily to his committee room; and now again you may hear the + click of MAGGIE’s needles. They no longer annoy the COMTESSE; she is + setting them to music.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. It is not down here she sits, Mrs. Shand, knitting a stocking. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No, it isn’t. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And when I came in I gave him credit for everything; even for + the prettiness of the room! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. He has beautiful taste. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Good-bye, Scotchy. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Good-bye, Comtesse, and thank you for coming. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Good-bye—Miss Pin. + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE rings genteelly.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Good-bye. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE is now lost in admiration of her.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You divine little wife. He can’t be worthy of it, no man could + be worthy of it. Why do you do it? + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE shivers a little.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. He loves to think he does it all himself; that’s the way of men. + I’m six years older than he is. I’m plain, and I have no charm. I + shouldn’t have let him marry me. I’m trying to make up for it. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE kisses her and goes away. MAGGIE, somewhat foolishly, + resumes her knitting.] + </p> + <p> + [Some days later this same room is listening—with the same + inattention—to the outpouring of JOHN SHAND’s love for the lady of + the hiccoughs. We arrive—by arrangement—rather late; and thus + we miss some of the most delightful of the pangs. + </p> + <p> + One can see that these two are playing no game, or, if they are, that they + little know it. The wonders of the world [so strange are the instruments + chosen by Love] have been revealed to JOHN in hiccoughs; he shakes in + SYBIL’s presence; never were more swimming eyes; he who has been of a + wooden face till now, with ways to match, has gone on flame like a piece + of paper; emotion is in flood in him. We may be almost fond of JOHN for + being so worshipful of love. Much has come to him that we had almost + despaired of his acquiring, including nearly all the divine attributes + except that sense of humour. The beautiful SYBIL has always possessed but + little of it also, and what she had has been struck from her by Cupid’s + flail. Naked of the saving grace, they face each other in awful rapture.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. In a room, Sybil, I go to you as a cold man to a fire. You fill me + like a peal of bells in an empty house. + </p> + <p> + [She is being brutally treated by the dear impediment, for which hiccough + is such an inadequate name that even to spell it is an abomination though + a sign of ability. How to describe a sound that is noiseless? Let us put + it thus, that when SYBIL wants to say something very much there are little + obstacles in her way; she falters, falls perhaps once, and then is over, + the while her appealing orbs beg you not to be angry with her. We may + express those sweet pauses in precious dots, which some clever person can + afterwards string together and make a pearl necklace of them.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I should not ... let you say it, ... but ... you ... say it so + beautifully. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You must have guessed. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I dreamed ... I feared ... but you were ... Scotch, and I didn’t + know what to think. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Do you know what first attracted me to you, Sybil? It was your + insolence. I thought, ‘I’ll break her insolence for her.’ + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. And I thought... ‘I’ll break his str...ength!’ + </p> + <p> + JOHN. And now your cooing voice plays round me; the softness of you, + Sybil, in your pretty clothes makes me think of young birds. [The + impediment is now insurmountable; she has to swim for it, she swims toward + him.] It is you who inspire my work. + </p> + <p> + [He thrills to find that she can be touched without breaking.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I am so glad... so proud... + </p> + <p> + JOHN. And others know it, Sybil, as well as I. Only yesterday the Comtesse + said to me, ‘No man could get on so fast unaided. Cherchez la femme, Mr. + Shand.’ + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Auntie said that? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I said ‘Find her yourself, Comtesse.’ + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. And she? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. She said ‘I have found her,’ and I said in my blunt way, ‘You mean + Lady Sybil,’ and she went away laughing. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Laughing? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I seem to amuse the woman. + </p> + <p> + [Sybil grows sad.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. If Mrs. Shand—It is so cruel to her. Whom did you say she had + gone to the station to meet? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Her father and brothers. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. It is so cruel to them. We must think no more of this. It is mad... + ness. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s fate. Sybil, let us declare our love openly. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. You can’t ask that, now in the first moment that you tell me of it. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. The one thing I won’t do even for you is to live a life of + underhand. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. The... blow to her. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Yes. But at least she has always known that I never loved her. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. It is asking me to give... up everything, every one, for you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s too much. + </p> + <p> + [JOHN is humble at last.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. To a woman who truly loves, even that is not too much. Oh! it is + not I who matter—it is you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. My dear, my dear. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. So gladly would I do it to save you; but, oh, if it were to bring + you down! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Nothing can keep me down if I have you to help me. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I am dazed, John, I... + </p> + <p> + JOHN. My love, my love. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I... oh... here... + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Be brave, Sybil, be brave. + </p> + <h3> + SYBIL. .......... + </h3> + <p> + [In this bewilderment of pearls she melts into his arms. MAGGIE happens to + open the door just then; but neither fond heart hears her.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I can’t walk along the streets, Sybil, without looking in all the + shop windows for what I think would become you best. [As awkwardly as + though his heart still beat against corduroy, he takes from his pocket a + pendant and its chain. He is shy, and she drops pearls over the beauty of + the ruby which is its only stone.] It is a drop of my blood, Sybil. + </p> + <p> + [Her lovely neck is outstretched, and he puts the chain round it. MAGGIE + withdraws as silently as she had come; but perhaps the door whispered ‘d—n’ + as it closed, for SYBIL wakes out of Paradise.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I thought—-Did the door shut? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It was shut already. + </p> + <p> + [Perhaps it is only that SYBIL is bewildered to find herself once again in + a world that has doors.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. It seemed to me—- + </p> + <p> + JOHN. There was nothing. But I think I hear voices; they may have arrived. + </p> + <p> + [Some pretty instinct makes SYBIL go farther from him. MAGGIE kindly gives + her time for this by speaking before opening the door.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. That will do perfectly, David. The maid knows where to put them. + [She comes in.] They’ve come, John; they WOULD help with the luggage. + [JOHN goes out. MAGGIE is agreeably surprised to find a visitor.] How do + you do, Lady Sybil? This is nice of you. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I was so sorry not to find you in, Mrs. Shand. + </p> + <p> + [The impediment has run away. It is only for those who love it.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Thank you. You’ll sit down? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I think not; your relatives—- + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. They will be so proud to see that you are my friend. + </p> + <p> + [If MAGGIE were less simple her guest would feel more comfortable. She + tries to make conversation.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. It is their first visit to London? + </p> + <p> + [Instead of relieving her anxiety on this point, MAGGIE has a long look at + the gorgeous armful.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’m glad you are so beautiful, Lady Sybil. + </p> + <p> + [The beautiful one is somehow not flattered. She pursues her + investigations with growing uneasiness.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. One of them is married now, isn’t he? [Still there is no answer; + MAGGIE continues looking at her, and shivers slightly.] Have they + travelled from Scotland to-day? Mrs. Shand, why do you look at me so? The + door did open! [MAGGIE nods.] What are you to do? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. That would be telling. Sit down, my pretty. + </p> + <p> + [As SYBIL subsides into what the Wylies with one glance would call the + best chair, MAGGIE’s men-folk are brought in by JOHN, all carrying silk + hats and looking very active after their long rest in the train. They are + gazing about them. They would like this lady, they would like JOHN, they + would even like MAGGIE to go away for a little and leave them to examine + the room. Is that linen on the walls, for instance, or just paper? Is the + carpet as thick as it feels, or is there brown paper beneath it? Had + MAGGIE got anything off that bookcase on account of the worm-hole? DAVID + even discovers that we were simpletons when we said there was nothing in + the room that pretended to be what it was not. He taps the marble + mantelpiece, and is favourably impressed by the tinny sound.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Very fine imitation. It’s a capital house, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’m so glad you like it. Do you know one another? This is my + father and my brothers, Lady Sybil. + </p> + <p> + [The lovely form inclines towards them. ALICK and DAVID remain firm on + their legs, but JAMES totters.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES. A ladyship! Well done, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [sharply]. James! I remember you, my lady. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Sit down, father. This is the study. + </p> + <p> + [JAMES wanders round it inquisitively until called to order.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. You must be tired after your long journey. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [drawing the portraits of himself and partners in one lightning + sketch]. Tired, your ladyship? We sat on cushioned seats the whole way. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [looking about him for the chair you sit on]. Every seat in this + room is cushioned. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You may say all my life is cushioned now, James, by this dear man + of mine. + </p> + <p> + [She gives JOHN’S shoulder a loving pressure, which SYBIL feels is a + telegraphic communication to herself in a cypher that she cannot read. + ALICK and the BROTHERS bask in the evidence of MAGGIE’s happiness.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [uncomfortably]. And is Elizabeth hearty, James? + </p> + <p> + JAMES [looking down his nose in the manner proper to young husbands when + addressed about their wives]. She’s very well, I thank you kindly. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. James is a married man now, Lady Sybil. + </p> + <p> + [SYBIL murmurs her congratulations.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES. I thank you kindly. [Courageously] Yes, I’m married. [He looks at + DAVID and ALICK to see if they are smiling; and they are.] It wasn’t a + case of being catched; it was entirely of my own free will. [He looks + again; and the mean fellows are smiling still.] Is your ladyship married? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Alas! no. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. James! [Politely.] You will be yet, my lady. + </p> + <p> + [SYBIL indicates that he is kind indeed.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Perhaps they would like you to show them their rooms, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Fine would we like to see all the house as well as the sleeping + accommodation. But first—[He gives his father the look with which + chairmen call on the next speaker.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. I take you, David. [He produces a paper parcel from a roomy + pocket.] It wasn’t likely, Mr. Shand, that we should forget the day. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. The day? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. The second anniversary of your marriage. We came purposely for the + day. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [his fingers itching to take the parcel from his father]. It’s a + lace shawl, Maggie, from the three of us, a pure Tobermory; you would + never dare wear it if you knew the cost. + </p> + <p> + [The shawl in its beauty is revealed, and MAGGIE hails it with little + cries of joy. She rushes at the donors and kisses each of them just as if + she were a pretty woman. They are much pleased and give expression to + their pleasure in a not very dissimilar manner.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Havers. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Havers. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. Havers. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s a very fine shawl. + </p> + <p> + [He should not have spoken, for he has set JAMES’S volatile mind working.] + </p> + <p> + JAMES. You may say so. What did you give her, Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [suddenly deserted by God and man]. Me? + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Yes, yes, let’s see it. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Oh—I— + </p> + <p> + [He is not deserted by MAGGIE, but she can think of no way out.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [prompted by the impediment, which is in hiding, quite close]. Did + he ... forget? + </p> + <p> + [There is more than a touch of malice in the question. It is a challenge, + and the Wylies as a family are almost too quick to accept a challenge.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [lifting the gage of battle]. John forget? Never! It’s a pendant, + father. + </p> + <p> + [The impediment bolts. JOHN rises.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. A pendant? One of those things on a chain? + </p> + <p> + [He grins, remembering how once, about sixty years ago, he and a lady and + a pendant—but we have no time for this.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [who has felt the note of antagonism and is troubled]. You were slow + in speaking of it, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [This is her fight.] He was shy, because he thought you might blame + him for extravagance. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [relieved]. Oh, that’s it. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [licking his lips]. Let’s see it. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [a daughter of the devil]. Where did you put it, John? + </p> + <p> + [JOHN’s mouth opens but has nothing to contribute.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [the impediment has stolen back again]. Perhaps it has been ... + mislaid. + </p> + <p> + [The BROTHERS echo the word incredulously.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Not it. I can’t think where we laid it down, John. It’s not on + that table, is it, James? [The Wylies turn to look, and MAGGIE’s hand goes + out to LADY SYBIL: JOHN SHAND, witness. It is a very determined hand, and + presently a pendant is placed in it.] Here it is! [ALICK and the BROTHERS + cluster round it, weigh it and appraise it.] + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Preserve me. Is that stone real, Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [who has begun to look his grimmest]. Yes. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [who is now ready, if he wishes it, to take him on too]. John says + it’s a drop of his blood. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [wishing it]. And so it is. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Well said, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [scared]. And now, if you’ll come with me, I think John has + something he wants to talk over with Lady Sybil. [Recovering and taking + him on.] Or would you prefer, John, to say it before us all? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [gasping]. No! + </p> + <p> + JOHN [flinging back his head]. Yes, I prefer to say it before you all. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [flinging back hers]. Then sit down again. + </p> + <p> + [The WYLIES wonderingly obey.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Mr. Shand, Mr. Shand!— + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Maggie knows, and it was only for her I was troubled. Do you think + I’m afraid of them? [With mighty relief] Now we can be open. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [lowering]. What is it? What’s wrong, John Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [facing him squarely]. It was to Lady Sybil I gave the pendant, and + all my love with it. [Perhaps JAMES utters a cry, but the silence of ALICK + and DAVID is more terrible.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [whose voice is smaller than we had thought]. What are you to do? + </p> + <p> + [It is to MAGGIE she is speaking.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. She’ll leave it for us to do. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. That’s what I want. + </p> + <p> + [The lords of creation look at the ladies.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [interpreting]. You and I are expected to retire, Lady Sybil, while + the men decide our fate. [SYBIL is ready to obey the law, but MAGGIE + remains seated.] Man’s the oak, woman’s the ivy. Which of us is it that’s + to cling to you, John? + </p> + <p> + [With three stalwarts glaring at him, JOHN rather grandly takes SYBIL’S + hand. They are two against the world.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [a heroine]. I hesitated, but I am afraid no longer; whatever he + asks of me I will do. + </p> + <p> + [Evidently the first thing he asks of her is to await him in the + dining-room.] + </p> + <p> + It will mean surrendering everything for him. I am glad it means all that. + [She passes into the dining-room looking as pretty as a kiss.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. So that settles it. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. I’m thinking that doesn’t settle it. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. No, by God! [But his love for MAGGIE steadies him. There is even a + note of entreaty in his voice.] Have you nothing to say to her, man? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I have things to say to her, but not before you. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [sternly]. Go away, Maggie. Leave him to us. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [who thinks it is about time that he said something]. Yes, leave him + to us. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No, David, I want to hear what is to become of me; I promise not + to take any side. + </p> + <p> + [And sitting by the fire she resumes her knitting. The four regard her as + on an evening at The Pans a good many years ago.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID [barking]. How long has this been going on? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. If you mean how long has that lady been the apple of my eye, I’m not + sure; but I never told her of it until today. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [thoughtfully and without dropping a stitch]. I think it wasn’t + till about six months ago, John, that she began to be very dear to you. At + first you liked to bring in her name when talking to me, so that I could + tell you of any little things I might have heard she was doing. But + afterwards, as she became more and more to you, you avoided mentioning her + name. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [surprised]. Did you notice that? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [in her old-fashioned way]. Yes. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I tried to be done with it for your sake. I’ve often had a sore + heart for you, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. You’re proving it! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes, James, he had. I’ve often seen him looking at me very + sorrowfully of late because of what was in his mind; and many a kindly + little thing he has done for me that he didn’t use to do. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You noticed that too! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [controlling himself]. Well, we won’t go into that; the thing to be + thankful for is that it’s ended. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [who is looking very old]. Yes, yes, that’s the great thing. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. All useless, sir, it’s not ended; it’s to go on. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. There’s a devil in you, John Shand. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [who is an unhappy man just now]. I dare say there is. But do you + think he had a walk over, Mr. David? + </p> + <p> + JAMES. Man, I could knock you down! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. There’s not one of you could knock John down. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [exasperated]. Quiet, Maggie. One would think you were taking his + part. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Do you expect me to desert him at the very moment that he needs me + most? + </p> + <p> + DAVID. It’s him that’s deserting you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Yes, Maggie, that’s what it is. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Where’s your marriage vow? And your church attendances? + </p> + <p> + JAMES [with terrible irony]. And your prize for moral philosophy? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [recklessly]. All gone whistling down the wind. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. I suppose you understand that you’ll have to resign your seat. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [his underlip much in evidence]. There are hundreds of seats, but + there’s only one John Shand. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [but we don’t hear her]. That’s how I like to hear him speak. + </p> + <p> + DAVID [the ablest person in the room]. Think, man, I’m old by you, and for + long I’ve had a pride in you. It will be beginning the world again with + more against you than there was eight years ago. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I have a better head to begin it with than I had eight years ago. + </p> + <p> + ALICK [hoping this will bite]. She’ll have her own money, David! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. She’s as poor as a mouse. + </p> + <p> + JAMES [thinking possibly of his Elizabeth’s mother]. We’ll go to her + friends, and tell them all. They’ll stop it. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. She’s of age. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. They’ll take her far away. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’ll follow, and tear her from them. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Your career—- + </p> + <p> + JOHN [to his credit]. To hell with my career. Do you think I don’t know + I’m on the rocks? What can you, or you, or you, understand of the passions + of a man! I’ve fought, and I’ve given in. When a ship founders, as I + suppose I’m foundering, it’s not a thing to yelp at. Peace, all of you. + [He strides into the dining-room, where we see him at times pacing the + floor.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID [to JAMES, who gives signs of a desire to take off his coat]. Let + him be. We can’t budge him. [With bitter wisdom] It’s true what he says, + true at any rate about me. What do I know of the passions of a man! I’m up + against something I don’t understand. + </p> + <p> + ALICK. It’s something wicked. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. I dare say it is, but it’s something big. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. It’s that damned charm. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [still by the fire]. That’s it. What was it that made you fancy + Elizabeth, James? + </p> + <p> + JAMES [sheepishly]. I can scarcely say. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It was her charm. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. HER charm! + </p> + <p> + JAMES [pugnaciously]. Yes, HER charm. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. She had charm for James. + </p> + <p> + [This somehow breaks them up. MAGGIE goes from one to another with an odd + little smile flickering on her face.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Put on your things, Maggie, and we’ll leave his house. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [patting his kind head]. Not me, David. + </p> + <p> + [This is a MAGGIE they have known but forgotten; all three brighten.] + </p> + <p> + DAVID. You haven’t given in! + </p> + <p> + [The smile flickers and expires.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I want you all to go upstairs, and let me have my try now. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. Your try? + </p> + <p> + ALICK. Maggie, you put new life into me. + </p> + <p> + JAMES. And into me. + </p> + <p> + [DAVID says nothing; the way he grips her shoulder says it for him.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’ll save him, David, if I can. + </p> + <p> + DAVID. Does he deserve to be saved after the way he has treated you? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You stupid David. What has that to do with it. + </p> + <p> + [When they have gone, JOHN comes to the door of the dining-room. There is + welling up in him a great pity for MAGGIE, but it has to subside a little + when he sees that the knitting is still in her hand. No man likes to be so + soon supplanted. SYBIL follows, and the two of them gaze at the active + needles.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [perceiving that she has visitors]. Come in, John. Sit down, Lady + Sybil, and make yourself comfortable. I’m afraid we’ve put you about. + </p> + <p> + [She is, after all, only a few years older than they and scarcely looks + her age; yet it must have been in some such way as this that the little + old woman who lived in a shoe addressed her numerous progeny.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’m mortal sorry, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [who would be more courageous if she could hold his hand]. And I + also. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [soothingly]. I’m sure you are. But as it can’t be helped I see no + reason why we three shouldn’t talk the matter over in a practical way. + </p> + <p> + [SYBIL looks doubtful, but JOHN hangs on desperately to the word + practical.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. If you could understand, Maggie, what an inspiration she is to me + and my work. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Indeed, Mrs. Shand, I think of nothing else. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. That’s fine. That’s as it should be. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [talking too much]. Mrs. Shand, I think you are very kind to take it + so reasonably. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. That’s the Scotch way. When were you thinking of leaving me, John? + </p> + <p> + [Perhaps this is the Scotch way also; but SYBIL is English, and from the + manner in which she starts you would say that something has fallen on her + toes.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [who has heard nothing fall]. I think, now that it has come to a + breach, the sooner the better. [His tone becomes that of JAMES when asked + after the health of his wife.] When it is convenient to you, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [making a rapid calculation]. It couldn’t well be before Wednesday. + That’s the day the laundry comes home. + </p> + <p> + [SYBIL has to draw in her toes again.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. And it’s the day the House rises. [Stifling a groan] It may be my + last appearance in the House. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [her arms yearning for him]. No, no, please don’t say that. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [surveying him sympathetically]. You love the House, don’t you, + John, next to her? It’s a pity you can’t wait till after your speech at + Leeds. Mr. Venables won’t let you speak at Leeds, I fear, if you leave me. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What a chance it would have been. But let it go. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. The meeting is in less than a month. Could you not make it such a + speech that they would be very loth to lose you? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [swelling]. That’s what was in my mind. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [with noble confidence]. And he could have done it. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Then we’ve come to something practical. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [exercising his imagination with powerful effect]. No, it wouldn’t be + fair to you if I was to stay on now. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Do you think I’ll let myself be considered when your career is at + stake. A month will soon pass for me; I’ll have a lot of packing to do. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s noble of you, but I don’t deserve it, and I can’t take it from + you. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Now’s the time, Lady Sybil, for you to have one of your inspiring + ideas. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [ever ready]. Yes, yes—but what? + </p> + <p> + [It is odd that they should both turn to MAGGIE at this moment.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [who has already been saying it to herself]. What do you think of + this: I can stay on here with my father and brothers; and you, John, can + go away somewhere and devote yourself to your speech? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Yes. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. That might be. [Considerately] Away from both of you. Where could I + go? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [ever ready]. Where? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I know. + </p> + <p> + [She has called up a number on the telephone before they have time to + check her.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [on his dignity]. Don’t be in such a hurry, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Is this Lamb’s Hotel? Put me on to the Comtesse de la Briere, + please. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [with a sinking]. What do you want with Auntie? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Her cottage in the country would be the very place. She invited + John and me. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Yes, but— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [arguing]. And Mr. Venables is to be there. Think of the impression + you could make on HIM, seeing him daily for three weeks. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. There’s something in that. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Is it you, Comtesse? I’m Maggie Shand. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. You are not to tell her that—? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No. [To the COMTESSE] Oh, I’m very well, never was better. Yes, + yes; you see I can’t, because my folk have never been in London before, + and I must take them about and show them the sights. But John could come + to you alone; why not? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [with proper pride]. If she’s not keen to have me, I won’t go. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. She’s very keen. Comtesse, I could come for a day by and by to see + how you are getting on. Yes—yes—certainly. [To JOHN] She says + she’ll be delighted. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [thoughtfully]. You’re not doing this, Maggie, thinking that my being + absent from Sybil for a few weeks can make any difference? Of course it’s + natural you should want us to keep apart, but— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [grimly]. I’m founding no hope on keeping you apart, John. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s what other wives would do. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I promised to be different. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [his position as a strong man assured]. Then tell her I accept. [He + wanders back into the dining-room.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I think—[she is not sure what she thinks]—I think you + are very wonderful. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Was that John calling to you? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Was it? [She is glad to join him in the dining-room.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Comtesse, hold the line a minute. [She is alone, and she has + nearly reached the end of her self-control. She shakes emotionally and + utters painful little cries; there is something she wants to do, and she + is loth to do it. But she does it.] Are you there, Comtesse? There’s one + other thing, dear Comtesse; I want you to invite Lady Sybil also; yes, for + the whole time that John is there. No, I’m not mad; as a great favour to + me; yes, I have a very particular reason, but I won’t tell you what it is; + oh, call me Scotchy as much as you like, but consent; do, do, do. Thank + you, thank you, good-bye. + </p> + <p> + [She has control of herself now, and is determined not to let it slip from + her again. When they reappear the stubborn one is writing a letter.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I thought I heard the telephone again. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [looking up from her labours]. It was the Comtesse; she says she’s + to invite Lady Sybil to the cottage at the same time. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Me! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. To invite Sybil? Then of course I won’t go, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [wondering seemingly at these niceties]. What does it matter? Is + anything to be considered except the speech? [It has been admitted that + she was a little devil.] And, with Sybil on the spot, John, to help you + and inspire you, what a speech it will be! + </p> + <p> + JOHN [carried away]. Maggie, you really are a very generous woman. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [convinced at last]. She is indeed. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. And you’re queer too. How many women in the circumstances would sit + down to write a letter? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s a letter to you, John. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. To me? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I’ll give it to you when it’s finished, but I ask you not to open + it till your visit to the Comtesse ends. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What is it about? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s practical. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [rather faintly]. Practical? [She has heard the word so frequently + to-day that it is beginning to have a Scotch sound. She feels she ought to + like MAGGIE, but that she would like her better if they were farther + apart. She indicates that the doctors are troubled about her heart, and + murmuring her adieux she goes. JOHN, who is accompanying her, pauses at + the door.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [with a queer sort of admiration for his wife]. Maggie, I wish I was + fond of you. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [heartily]. I wish you were, John. + </p> + <p> + [He goes, and she resumes her letter. The stocking is lying at hand, and + she pushes it to the floor. She is done for a time with knitting.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT IV + </h2> + <p> + [Man’s most pleasant invention is the lawn-mower. All the birds know this, + and that is why, when it is at rest, there is always at least one of them + sitting on the handle with his head cocked, wondering how the delicious + whirring sound is made. When they find out, they will change their note. + As it is, you must sometimes have thought that you heard the mower very + early in the morning, and perhaps you peeped in neglige from your lattice + window to see who was up so early. It was really the birds trying to get + the note. + </p> + <p> + On this broiling morning, however, we are at noon, and whoever looks will + see that the whirring is done by Mr. Venables. He is in a linen suit with + the coat discarded (the bird is sitting on it), and he comes and goes + across the Comtesse’s lawns, pleasantly mopping his face. We see him + through a crooked bowed window generously open, roses intruding into it as + if to prevent its ever being closed at night; there are other roses in + such armfuls on the tables that one could not easily say where the room + ends and the garden begins. + </p> + <p> + In the Comtesse’s pretty comic drawing-room (for she likes the comic touch + when she is in England) sits John Shand with his hostess, on chairs at a + great distance from each other. No linen garments for John, nor flannels, + nor even knickerbockers; he envies the English way of dressing for trees + and lawns, but is too Scotch to be able to imitate it; he wears tweeds, + just as he would do in his native country where they would be in kilts. + Like many another Scot, the first time he ever saw a kilt was on a + Sassenach; indeed kilts were perhaps invented, like golf, to draw the + English north. John is doing nothing, which again is not a Scotch + accomplishment, and he looks rather miserable and dour. The Comtesse is + already at her Patience cards, and occasionally she smiles on him as if + not displeased with his long silence. At last she speaks:] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I feel it rather a shame to detain you here on such a lovely + day, Mr. Shand, entertaining an old woman. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I don’t pretend to think I’m entertaining you, Comtesse. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. But you ARE, you know. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I would be pleased to be told how? + </p> + <p> + [She shrugs her impertinent shoulders, and presently there is another + heavy sigh from JOHN.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Again! Why do not you go out on the river? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Yes, I can do that. [He rises.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And take Sybil with you. [He sits again.] No? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I have been on the river with her twenty times. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Then take her for a long walk through the Fairloe woods. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. We were there twice last week. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. There is a romantically damp little arbour at the end of what + the villagers call the Lovers’ Lane. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. One can’t go there every day. I see nothing to laugh at. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Did I laugh? I must have been translating the situation into + French. + </p> + <p> + [Perhaps the music of the lawn-mower is not to JOHN’s mood, for he betakes + himself to another room. MR. VENABLES pauses in his labours to greet a + lady who has appeared on the lawn, and who is MAGGIE. She is as neat as if + she were one of the army of typists [who are quite the nicest kind of + women], and carries a little bag. She comes in through the window, and + puts her hands over the COMTESSE’s eyes.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. They are a strong pair of hands, at any rate. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. And not very white, and biggish for my size. Now guess. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE guesses, and takes both the hands in hers as if she valued + them. She pulls off MAGGIE’s hat as if to prevent her flying away.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Dear abominable one, not to let me know you were coming. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It is just a surprise visit, Comtesse. I walked up from the + station. [For a moment MAGGIE seems to have borrowed SYBIL’S impediment.] + How is—everybody? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. He is quite well. But, my child, he seems to me to be a most + unhappy man. + </p> + <p> + [This sad news does not seem to make a most unhappy woman of the child. + The COMTESSE is puzzled, as she knows nothing of the situation save what + she has discovered for herself.] + </p> + <p> + Why should that please you, O heartless one? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I won’t tell you. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I could take you and shake you, Maggie. Here have I put my house + at your disposal for so many days for some sly Scotch purpose, and you + will not tell me what it is. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Very well, then, but I have what you call a nasty one for you. + [The COMTESSE lures MR. VENABLES into the room by holding up what might be + a foaming glass of lemon squash.] Alas, Charles, it is but a flower vase. + I want you to tell Mrs. Shand what you think of her husband’s speech. + </p> + <p> + [MR. VENABLES gives his hostess a reproachful look.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Eh—ah—Shand will prefer to do that himself. I + promised the gardener—I must not disappoint him—excuse me— + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You must tell her, Charles. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Please, Mr. Venables, I should like to know. + </p> + <p> + [He sits down with a sigh and obeys.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Your husband has been writing the speech here, and by his own + wish he read it to me three days ago. The occasion is to be an important + one; and, well, there are a dozen young men in the party at present, all + capable of filling a certain small ministerial post. [He looks longingly + at the mower, but it sends no message to his aid.] And as he is one of + them I was anxious that he should show in this speech of what he is + capable. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. And hasn’t he? + </p> + <p> + [Not for the first time MR. VENABLES wishes that he was not in politics.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. I am afraid he has. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. What is wrong with the speech, Charles? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Nothing—and he can still deliver it. It is a powerful, + well-thought-out piece of work, such as only a very able man could + produce. But it has no SPECIAL QUALITY of its own—none of the little + touches that used to make an old stager like myself want to pat Shand on + the shoulder. [The COMTESSE’s mouth twitches, but MAGGIE declines to + notice it.] He pounds on manfully enough, but, if I may say so, with a + wooden leg. It is as good, I dare say, as the rest of them could have + done; but they start with such inherited advantages, Mrs. Shand, that he + had to do better. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes, I can understand that. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. I am sorry, Mrs. Shand, for he interested me. His career has set + me wondering whether if <i>I</i> had begun as a railway porter I might not + still be calling out, ‘By your leave.’ + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE thinks it probable but not important] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Mr. Venables, now that I think of it, surely John wrote to me that + you were dissatisfied with his first speech, and that he was writing + another. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE’s eyes open very wide indeed.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. I have heard nothing of that, Mrs. Shand. [He shakes his wise + head.] And in any case, I am afraid—[He still hears the wooden leg.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. But you said yourself that his second thoughts were sometimes such + an improvement on the first. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE comes to the help of the baggage.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I remember you saying that, Charles. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Yes, that has struck me. [Politely] Well, if he has anything to + show me—In the meantime— + </p> + <p> + [He regains the lawn, like one glad to escape attendance at JOHN’S + obsequies. The COMTESSE is brought back to speech by the sound of the + mower—nothing wooden in it.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. What are you up to now, Miss Pin? You know as well as I do that + there is no such speech. + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE’s mouth tightens.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I do not. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. It is a duel, is it, my friend? + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE rings the bell and MAGGIE’s guilty mind is agitated.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. What are you ringing for? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. As the challenged one, Miss Pin, I have the choice of weapons. I + am going to send for your husband to ask him if he has written such a + speech. After which, I suppose, you will ask me to leave you while you and + he write it together. + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE wrings her hands.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You are wrong, Comtesse; but please don’t do that. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You but make me more curious, and my doctor says that I must be + told everything. [The COMTESSE assumes the pose of her sex in melodrama.] + Put your cards on the table, Maggie Shand, or—[She indicates that + she always pinks her man. MAGGIE dolefully produces a roll of paper from + her bag.] What precisely is that? + </p> + <p> + [The reply is little more than a squeak.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. John’s speech. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You have written it yourself! + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE is naturally indignant.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s typed. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You guessed that the speech he wrote unaided would not satisfy, + and you prepared this to take its place! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Not at all, Comtesse. It is the draft of his speech that he left + at home. That’s all. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. With a few trivial alterations by yourself, I swear. Can you + deny it? + </p> + <p> + [No wonder that MAGGIE is outraged. She replaces JOHN’s speech in the bag + with becoming hauteur.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Comtesse, these insinuations are unworthy of you. May I ask where + is my husband? + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE drops her a curtsey.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I believe your Haughtiness may find him in the Dutch garden. Oh, + I see through you. You are not to show him your speech. But you are to get + him to write another one, and somehow all your additions will be in it. + Think not, creature, that you can deceive one so old in iniquity as the + Comtesse de la Briere. + </p> + <p> + [There can be but one reply from a good wife to such a charge, and at once + the COMTESSE is left alone with her shame. Anon a footman appears. You + know how they come and go.] + </p> + <p> + FOOTMAN. You rang, my lady? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Did I? Ah, yes, but why? [He is but lately from the ploughshare + and cannot help her. In this quandary her eyes alight upon the bag. She is + unfortunately too abandoned to feel her shame; she still thinks that she + has the choice of weapons. She takes the speech from the bag and bestows + it on her servitor.] Take this to Mr. Venables, please, and say it is from + Mr. Shand. [THOMAS—but in the end we shall probably call him JOHN—departs + with the dangerous papers; and when MAGGIE returns she finds that the + COMTESSE is once more engaged in her interrupted game of Patience.] You + did not find him? + </p> + <p> + [All the bravery has dropped from MAGGIE’s face.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I didn’t see him, but I heard him. SHE is with him. I think they + are coming here. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE is suddenly kind again.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Sybil? Shall I get rid of her? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No, I want her to be here, too. Now I shall know. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE twists the little thing round.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Know what? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. As soon as I look into his face I shall know. + </p> + <p> + [A delicious scent ushers in the fair SYBIL, who is as sweet as a milking + stool. She greets MRS. SHAND with some alarm.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. How do you do, Lady Sybil? How pretty you look in that frock. + [SYBIL rustles uncomfortably.] You are a feast to the eye. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Please, I wish you would not. + </p> + <p> + [Shall we describe SYBIL’S frock, in which she looks like a great + strawberry that knows it ought to be plucked; or would it be easier to + watch the coming of JOHN? Let us watch JOHN.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You, Maggie! You never wrote that you were coming. + </p> + <p> + [No, let us watch MAGGIE. As soon as she looked into his face she was to + know something of importance.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [not dissatisfied with what she sees]. No, John, it’s a surprise + visit. I just ran down to say good-bye. + </p> + <p> + [At this his face falls, which does not seem to pain her.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [foreseeing another horrible Scotch scene]. To say good-bye? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [thrilling with expectation]. To whom, Maggie? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [deserted by the impediment, which is probably playing with rough + boys in the Lovers’ Lane]. Auntie, do leave us, won’t you? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Not I. It is becoming far too interesting. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I suppose there’s no reason the Comtesse shouldn’t be told, as she + will know so soon at any rate? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. That’s so. [SYBIL sees with discomfort that he is to be practical + also.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s so simple. You see, Comtesse, John and Lady Sybil have fallen + in love with one another, and they are to go off as soon as the meeting at + Leeds has taken place. + </p> + <p> + [The COMTESSE’s breast is too suddenly introduced to Caledonia and its + varied charms.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Mon Dieu! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I think that’s putting it correctly, John. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. In a sense. But I’m not to attend the meeting at Leeds. My speech + doesn’t find favour. [With a strange humility] There’s something wrong + with it. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I never expected to hear you say that, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [wondering also]. I never expected it myself. I meant to make it the + speech of my career. But somehow my hand seems to have lost its cunning. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. And you don’t know how? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s inexplicable. My brain was never clearer. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You might have helped him, Sybil. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [quite sulkily]. I did. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. But I thought she was such an inspiration to you, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [going bravely to SYBIL’S side]. She slaved at it with me. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Strange. [Wickedly becoming practical also] So now there is + nothing to detain you. Shall I send for a fly, Sybil? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [with a cry of the heart]. Auntie, do leave us. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. I can understand your impatience to be gone, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [heavily]. I promised Maggie to wait till the 24th, and I’m a man of + my word. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. But I give you back your word, John. You can go now. + </p> + <p> + [JOHN looks at SYBIL, and SYBIL looks at JOHN, and the impediment arrives + in time to take a peep at both of them.] + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [groping for the practical, to which we must all come in the end]. + He must make satisfactory arrangements about you first. I insist on that. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [with no more imagination than a hen]. Thank you, Lady Sybil, but I + have made all my arrangements. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [stung]. Maggie, that was my part. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You see, my brothers feel they can’t be away from their business + any longer; and so, if it would be convenient to you, John, I could travel + north with them by the night train on Wednesday. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I—I——The way you put things—-! + </p> + <p> + JOHN. This is just the 21st. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. My things are all packed. I think you’ll find the house in good + order, Lady Sybil. I have had the vacuum cleaners in. I’ll give you the + keys of the linen and the silver plate; I have them in that bag. The + carpet on the upper landing is a good deal frayed, but—- + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. Please, I don’t want to hear any more. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. The ceiling of the dining-room would be the better of a new lick + of paint—- + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [stamping her foot, small fours]. Can’t you stop her? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [soothingly]. She’s meaning well. Maggie, I know it’s natural to you + to value those things, because your outlook on life is bounded by them; + but all this jars on me. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Does it? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Why should you be so ready to go? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I promised not to stand in your way. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [stoutly]. You needn’t be in such a hurry. There are three days to + run yet. [The French are so different from us that we shall probably never + be able to understand why the COMTESSE laughed aloud here.] It’s just a + joke to the Comtesse. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. It seems to be no joke to you, Mr. Shand. Sybil, my pet, are you + to let him off? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [flashing]. Let him off? If he wishes it. Do you? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [manfully]. I want it to go on. [Something seems to have caught in + his throat: perhaps it is the impediment trying a temporary home.] It’s + the one wish of my heart. If you come with me, Sybil, I’ll do all in a + man’s power to make you never regret it. + </p> + <p> + [Triumph of the Vere de Veres.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [bringing them back to earth with a dump]. And I can make my + arrangements for Wednesday? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [seeking the COMTESSE’s protection]. No, you can’t. Auntie, I am not + going on with this. I’m very sorry for you, John, but I see now—I + couldn’t face it—- + </p> + <p> + [She can’t face anything at this moment except the sofa pillows.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [noticing JOHN’S big sigh of relief]. So THAT is all right, Mr. + Shand! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Don’t you love her any more, John? Be practical. + </p> + <p> + SYBIL [to the pillows]. At any rate I have tired of him. Oh, best to tell + the horrid truth. I am ashamed of myself. I have been crying my eyes out + over it—I thought I was such a different kind of woman. But I am + weary of him. I think him—oh, so dull. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [his face lighting up]. Are you sure that is how you have come to + think of me? + </p> + <p> + SYBIL. I’m sorry; [with all her soul] but yes—yes—yes. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. By God, it’s more than I deserve. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Congratulations to you both. + </p> + <p> + [SYBIL runs away; and in the fulness of time she married successfully in + cloth of silver, which was afterwards turned into a bed-spread.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You haven’t read my letter yet, John, have you? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. No. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [imploringly]. May I know to what darling letter you refer? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s a letter I wrote to him before he left London. I gave it to + him closed, not to be opened until his time here was ended. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [as his hand strays to his pocket]. Am I to read it now? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Not before her. Please go away, Comtesse. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Every word you say makes me more determined to remain. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It will hurt you, John. [Distressed] Don’t read it; tear it up. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. You make me very curious, Maggie. And yet I don’t see what can be in + it. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. But you feel a little nervous? Give ME the dagger. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [quickly]. No. [But the COMTESSE has already got it.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. May I? [She must have thought they said Yes, for she opens the + letter. She shares its contents with them.] ‘Dearest John, It is at my + request that the Comtesse is having Lady Sybil at the cottage at the same + time as yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Yes, she begged me to invite you together. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. But why? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I promised you not to behave as other wives would do. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s not understandable. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. ‘You may ask why I do this, John, and my reason is, I think that + after a few weeks of Lady Sybil, every day, and all day, you will become + sick to death of her. I am also giving her the chance to help you and + inspire you with your work, so that you may both learn what her help and + her inspiration amount to. Of course, if your love is the great strong + passion you think it, then those weeks will make you love her more than + ever and I can only say good-bye. But if, as I suspect, you don’t even now + know what true love is, then by the next time we meet, dear John, you will + have had enough of her.—Your affectionate wife, Maggie.’ Oh, why was + not Sybil present at the reading of the will! And now, if you two will + kindly excuse me, I think I must go and get that poor sufferer the eau de + Cologne. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It’s almost enough to make a man lose faith in himself. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Oh, don’t say that, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [defending him]. You mustn’t hurt him. If you haven’t loved deep + and true, that’s just because you have never met a woman yet, John, + capable of inspiring it. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [putting her hand on MAGGIE’s shoulder]. Have you not, Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I see what you mean. But Maggie wouldn’t think better of me for any + false pretences. She knows my feelings for her now are neither more nor + less than what they have always been. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [who sees that he is looking at her as solemnly as a volume of + sermons printed by request]. I think no one could be fond of me that can’t + laugh a little at me. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. How could that help? + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [exasperated]. Mr. Shand, I give you up. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I admire his honesty. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Oh, I give you up also. Arcades ambo. Scotchies both. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [when she has gone]. But this letter, it’s not like you. By Gosh, + Maggie, you’re no fool. + </p> + <p> + [She beams at this, as any wife would.] + </p> + <p> + But how could I have made such a mistake? It’s not like a strong man. + [Evidently he has an inspiration.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. What is it? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [the inspiration]. AM I a strong man? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You? Of course you are. And self-made. Has anybody ever helped you + in the smallest way? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [thinking it out again]. No, nobody. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Not even Lady Sybil? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I’m beginning to doubt it. It’s very curious, though, Maggie, that + this speech should be disappointing. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It’s just that Mr. Venables hasn’t the brains to see how good it + is. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. That must be it. [But he is too good a man to rest satisfied with + this.] No, Maggie, it’s not. Somehow I seem to have lost my neat way of + saying things. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [almost cooing]. It will come back to you. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [forlorn]. If you knew how I’ve tried. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [cautiously]. Maybe if you were to try again; and I’ll just come + and sit beside you, and knit. I think the click of the needles sometimes + put you in the mood. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Hardly that; and yet many a Shandism have I knocked off while you + were sitting beside me knitting. I suppose it was the quietness. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Very likely. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [with another inspiration]. Maggie! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [again]. What is it, John? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What if it was you that put those queer ideas into my head! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Me? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. Without your knowing it, I mean. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. But how? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. We used to talk bits over; and it may be that you dropped the seed, + so to speak. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. John, could it be this, that I sometimes had the idea in a rough + womanish sort of way and then you polished it up till it came out a + Shandism? + </p> + <p> + JOHN [slowly slapping his knee]. I believe you’ve hit it, Maggie: to think + that you may have been helping me all the time—and neither of us + knew it! + </p> + <p> + [He has so nearly reached a smile that no one can say what might have + happened within the next moment if the COMTESSE had not reappeared.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. Mr. Venables wishes to see you, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [lost, stolen, or strayed a smile in the making]. Hum! + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. He is coming now. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [grumpy]. Indeed! + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [sweetly]. It is about your speech. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. He has said all he need say on that subject, and more. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [quaking a little]. I think it is about the second speech. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What second speech? + </p> + <p> + [MAGGIE runs to her bag and opens it.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [horrified]. Comtesse, you have given it to him! + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE [impudently]. Wasn’t I meant to? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. What is it? What second speech? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Cruel, cruel. [Willing to go on her knees] You had left the first + draft of your speech at home, John, and I brought it here with—with + a few little things I’ve added myself. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [a seven-footer]. What’s that? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [four foot ten at most]. Just trifles—things I was to suggest + to you—while I was knitting—and then, if you liked any of them + you could have polished them—and turned them into something good. + John, John—and now she has shown it to Mr. Venables. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [thundering]. As my work, Comtesse? + </p> + <p> + [But the COMTESSE is not of the women who are afraid of thunder.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It is your work—nine-tenths of it. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [in the black cap]. You presumed, Maggie Shand! Very well, then, here + he comes, and now we’ll see to what extent you’ve helped me. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. My dear fellow. My dear Shand, I congratulate you. Give me your + hand. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. The speech? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. You have improved it out of knowledge. It is the same speech, + but those new touches make all the difference. [JOHN sits down heavily.] + Mrs. Shand, be proud of him. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I am. I am, John. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. You always said that his second thoughts were best, Charles. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES [pleased to be reminded of it]. Didn’t I, didn’t I? Those + delicious little touches! How good that is, Shand, about the flowing tide. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. The flowing tide? + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. In the first speech it was something like this—‘Gentlemen, + the Opposition are calling to you to vote for them and the flowing tide, + but I solemnly warn you to beware lest the flowing tide does not engulf + you.’ The second way is much better. + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. What is the second way, Mr. Shand? + </p> + <p> + [JOHN does not tell her.] + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. This is how he puts it now. [JOHN cannot help raising his head + to listen.] ‘Gentlemen, the Opposition are calling to you to vote for them + and the flowing tide, but I ask you cheerfully to vote for us and DAM the + flowing tide.’ + </p> + <p> + [VENABLES and his old friend the COMTESSE laugh heartily, but for + different reasons.] + </p> + <p> + COMTESSE. It IS better, Mr. Shand. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. <i>I</i> don’t think so. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. Yes, yes, it’s so virile. Excuse me, Comtesse, I’m off to read + the whole thing again. [For the first time he notices that JOHN is + strangely quiet.] I think this has rather bowled you over, Shand. + </p> + <p> + [JOHN’s head sinks lower.] + </p> + <p> + Well, well, good news doesn’t kill. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [counsel for the defence]. Surely the important thing about the + speech is its strength and knowledge and eloquence, the things that were + in the first speech as well as in the second. + </p> + <p> + VENABLES. That of course is largely true. The wit would not be enough + without them, just as they were not enough without the wit. It is the + combination that is irresistible. [JOHN’s head rises a little.] Shand, you + are our man, remember that, it is emphatically the best thing you have + ever done. How this will go down at Leeds! + </p> + <p> + [He returns gaily to his hammock; but lower sinks JOHN’S head, and even + the COMTESSE has the grace to take herself off. MAGGIE’s arms flutter near + her husband, not daring to alight.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. You heard what he said, John. It’s the combination. Is it so + terrible to you to find that my love for you had made me able to help you + in the little things? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. The little things! It seems strange to me to hear you call me by my + name, Maggie. It’s as if I looked on you for the first time. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Look at me, John, for the first time. What do you see? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I see a woman who has brought her husband low. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Only that? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I see the tragedy of a man who has found himself out. Eh, I can’t + live with you again, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + [He shivers.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Why did you shiver, John? + </p> + <p> + JOHN. It was at myself for saying that I couldn’t live with you again, + when I should have been wondering how for so long you have lived with me. + And I suppose you have forgiven me all the time. [She nods.] And forgive + me still? [She nods again.] Dear God! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. John, am I to go? or are you to keep me on? [She is now a little + bundle near his feet.] I’m willing to stay because I’m useful to you, if + it can’t be for a better reason. [His hand feels for her, and the bundle + wriggles nearer.] It’s nothing unusual I’ve done, John. Every man who is + high up loves to think that he has done it all himself; and the wife + smiles, and lets it go at that. It’s our only joke. Every woman knows + that. [He stares at her in hopeless perplexity.] Oh, John, if only you + could laugh at me. + </p> + <p> + JOHN. I can’t laugh, Maggie. + </p> + <p> + [But as he continues to stare at her a strange disorder appears in his + face. MAGGIE feels that it is to be now or never.] + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Laugh, John, laugh. Watch me; see how easy it is. + </p> + <p> + [A terrible struggle is taking place within him. He creaks. Something that + may be mirth forces a passage, at first painfully, no more joy in it than + in the discoloured water from a spring that has long been dry. Soon, + however, he laughs loud and long. The spring water is becoming clear. + MAGGIE claps her hands. He is saved.] + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s What Every Woman Knows, by James M. 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Barrie + + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5654] +This file was first posted on August 5, 2002 +Last Updated: April 23, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT EVERY WOMAN KNOWS *** + + + + +Produced by David Moynihan, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +WHAT EVERY WOMAN KNOWS + +By James M. Barrie + + + + +ACT I + +James Wylie is about to make a move on the dambrod, and in the little +Scotch room there is an awful silence befitting the occasion. James with +his hand poised--for if he touches a piece he has to play it, Alick +will see to that--raises his red head suddenly to read Alick's face. His +father, who is Alick, is pretending to be in a panic lest James should +make this move. James grins heartlessly, and his fingers are about to +close on the 'man' when some instinct of self-preservation makes him +peep once more. This time Alick is caught: the unholy ecstasy on +his face tells as plain as porridge that he has been luring James to +destruction. James glares; and, too late, his opponent is a simple old +father again. James mops his head, sprawls in the manner most conducive +to thought in the Wylie family, and, protruding his underlip, settles +down to a reconsideration of the board. Alick blows out his cheeks, and +a drop of water settles on the point of his nose. + +You will find them thus any Saturday night (after family worship, which +sends the servant to bed); and sometimes the pauses are so long that in +the end they forget whose move it is. + +It is not the room you would be shown into if you were calling socially +on Miss Wylie. The drawing-room for you, and Miss Wylie in a coloured +merino to receive you; very likely she would exclaim, "This is a +pleasant surprise!" though she has seen you coming up the avenue and has +just had time to whip the dustcloths off the chairs, and to warn Alick, +David and James, that they had better not dare come in to see you before +they have put on a dickey. Nor is this the room in which you would dine +in solemn grandeur if invited to drop in and take pot-luck, which is how +the Wylies invite, it being a family weakness to pretend that they sit +down in the dining-room daily. It is the real living-room of the house, +where Alick, who will never get used to fashionable ways, can take off +his collar and sit happily in his stocking soles, and James at times +would do so also; but catch Maggie letting him. + +There is one very fine chair, but, heavens, not for sitting on; just to +give the room a social standing in an emergency. It sneers at the other +chairs with an air of insolent superiority, like a haughty bride who +has married into the house for money. Otherwise the furniture is homely; +most of it has come from that smaller house where the Wylies began. +There is the large and shiny chair which can be turned into a bed if you +look the other way for a moment. James cannot sit on this chair without +gradually sliding down it till he is lying luxuriously on the small of +his back, his legs indicating, like the hands of a clock, that it is ten +past twelve; a position in which Maggie shudders to see him receiving +company. + +The other chairs are horse-hair, than which nothing is more comfortable +if there be a good slit down the seat. The seats are heavily dented, +because all the Wylie family sit down with a dump. The draught-board +is on the edge of a large centre table, which also displays four books +placed at equal distances from each other, one of them a Bible, and +another the family album. If these were the only books they would not +justify Maggie in calling this chamber the library, her dogged name for +it; while David and James call it the west-room and Alick calls it 'the +room,' which is to him the natural name for any apartment without a bed +in it. There is a bookcase of pitch pine, which contains six hundred +books, with glass doors to prevent your getting at them. + +No one does try to get at the books, for the Wylies are not a reading +family. They like you to gasp when you see so much literature gathered +together in one prison-house, but they gasp themselves at the thought +that there are persons, chiefly clergymen, who, having finished one +book, coolly begin another. Nevertheless it was not all vainglory +that made David buy this library: it was rather a mighty respect for +education, as something that he has missed. This same feeling makes him +take in the Contemporary Review and stand up to it like a man. Alick, +who also has a respect for education, tries to read the Contemporary, +but becomes dispirited, and may be heard muttering over its pages, 'No, +no use, no use, no,' and sometimes even 'Oh hell.' James has no respect +for education; and Maggie is at present of an open mind. + +They are Wylie and Sons of the local granite quarry, in which Alick was +throughout his working days a mason. It is David who has raised them to +this position; he climbed up himself step by step (and hewed the steps), +and drew the others up after him. 'Wylie Brothers,' Alick would have had +the firm called, but David said No, and James said No, and Maggie said +No; first honour must be to their father; and Alick now likes it on the +whole, though he often sighs at having to shave every day; and on some +snell mornings he still creeps from his couch at four and even at two +(thinking that his mallet and chisel are calling him), and begins to +pull on his trousers, until the grandeur of them reminds him that he can +go to bed again. Sometimes he cries a little, because there is no more +work for him to do for ever and ever; and then Maggie gives him a spade +(without telling David) or David gives him the logs to saw (without +telling Maggie). + +We have given James a longer time to make his move than our kind +friends in front will give him, but in the meantime something has been +happening. David has come in, wearing a black coat and his Sabbath +boots, for he has been to a public meeting. David is nigh forty years of +age, whiskered like his father and brother (Alick's whiskers being worn +as a sort of cravat round the neck), and he has the too brisk manner of +one who must arrive anywhere a little before any one else. The painter +who did the three of them for fifteen pounds (you may observe the +canvases on the walls) has caught this characteristic, perhaps +accidentally, for David is almost stepping out of his frame, as if to +hurry off somewhere; while Alick and James look as if they were pinned +to the wall for life. All the six of them, men and pictures, however, +have a family resemblance, like granite blocks from their own quarry. +They are as Scotch as peat for instance, and they might exchange eyes +without any neighbour noticing the difference, inquisitive little blue +eyes that seem to be always totting up the price of things. + +The dambrod players pay no attention to David, nor does he regard them. +Dumping down on the sofa he removes his 'lastic sides, as his Sabbath +boots are called, by pushing one foot against the other, gets into a +pair of hand-sewn slippers, deposits the boots as according to rule in +the ottoman, and crosses to the fire. There must be something on David's +mind to-night, for he pays no attention to the game, neither gives +advice (than which nothing is more maddening) nor exchanges a wink with +Alick over the parlous condition of James's crown. You can hear the +wag-at-the-wall clock in the lobby ticking. Then David lets himself go; +it runs out of him like a hymn:-- + + +DAVID. Oh, let the solid ground Not fail beneath my feet, Before my life +has found What some have found so sweet. + +[This is not a soliloquy, but is offered as a definite statement. The +players emerge from their game with difficulty.] + +ALICK [with JAMES's crown in his hand]. What's that you're saying, +David? + +DAVID [like a public speaker explaining the situation in a few +well-chosen words]. The thing I'm speaking about is Love. + +JAMES [keeping control of himself]. Do you stand there and say you're in +love, David Wylie? + +DAVID. Me; what would I do with the thing? + +JAMES [who is by no means without pluck]. I see no necessity for calling +it a thing. + +[They are two bachelors who all their lives have been afraid of nothing +but Woman. DAVID in his sportive days--which continue--has done roguish +things with his arm when conducting a lady home under an umbrella from +a soiree, and has both chuckled and been scared on thinking of it +afterwards. JAMES, a commoner fellow altogether, has discussed the sex +over a glass, but is too canny to be in the company of less than two +young women at a time.] + +DAVID [derisively]. Oho, has she got you, James? + +JAMES [feeling the sting of it]. Nobody has got me. + +DAVID. They'll catch you yet, lad. + +JAMES. They'll never catch me. You've been nearer catched yourself. + +ALICK. Yes, Kitty Menzies, David. + +DAVID [feeling himself under the umbrella]. It was a kind of a shave +that. + +ALICK [who knows all that is to be known about women and can speak of +them without a tremor]. It's a curious thing, but a man cannot help +winking when he hears that one of his friends has been catched. + +DAVID. That's so. + +JAMES [clinging to his manhood]. And fear of that wink is what has kept +the two of us single men. And yet what's the glory of being single? + +DAVID. There's no particular glory in it, but it's safe. + +JAMES [putting away his aspirations]. Yes, it's lonely, but it's safe. +But who did you mean the poetry for, then? + +DAVID. For Maggie, of course. + +[You don't know DAVID and JAMES till you know how they love their sister +MAGGIE.] + +ALICK. I thought that. + +DAVID [coming to the second point of his statement about Love]. I saw +her reading poetry and saying those words over to herself. + +JAMES. She has such a poetical mind. + +DAVID. Love. There's no doubt as that's what Maggie has set her heart +on. And not merely love, but one of those grand noble loves; for though +Maggie is undersized she has a passion for romance. + +JAMES [wandering miserably about the room]. It's terrible not to be able +to give Maggie what her heart is set on. + +[The others never pay much attention to JAMES, though he is quite a +smart figure in less important houses.] + +ALICK [violently]. Those idiots of men. + +DAVID. Father, did you tell her who had got the minister of Galashiels? + +ALICK [wagging his head sadly]. I had to tell her. And then I--I--bought +her a sealskin muff, and I just slipped it into her hands and came away. + +JAMES [illustrating the sense of justice in the Wylie family]. Of +course, to be fair to the man, he never pretended he wanted her. + +DAVID. None of them wants her; that's what depresses her. I was +thinking, father, I would buy her that gold watch and chain in Snibby's +window. She hankers after it. + +JAMES [slapping his pocket]. You're too late, David; I've got them for +her. + +DAVID. It's ill done of the minister. Many a pound of steak has that man +had in this house. + +ALICK. You mind the slippers she worked for him? + +JAMES. I mind them fine; she began them for William Cathro. She's +getting on in years, too, though she looks so young. + +ALICK. I never can make up my mind, David, whether her curls make her +look younger or older. + +DAVID [determinedly]. Younger. Whist! I hear her winding the clock. +Mind, not a word about the minister to her, James. Don't even mention +religion this day. + +JAMES. Would it be like me to do such a thing? + +DAVID. It would be very like you. And there's that other matter: say not +a syllable about our having a reason for sitting up late to-night. When +she says it's bed-time, just all pretend we're not sleepy. + +ALICK. Exactly, and when-- + +[Here MAGGIE enters, and all three are suddenly engrossed in the +dambrod. We could describe MAGGIE at great length. But what is the use? +What you really want to know is whether she was good-looking. No, she +was not. Enter MAGGIE, who is not good-looking. When this is said, all +is said. Enter MAGGIE, as it were, with her throat cut from ear to ear. +She has a soft Scotch voice and a more resolute manner than is perhaps +fitting to her plainness; and she stops short at sight of JAMES +sprawling unconsciously in the company chair.] + +MAGGIE. James, I wouldn't sit on the fine chair. + +JAMES. I forgot again. + +[But he wishes she had spoken more sharply. Even profanation of the +fine chair has not roused her. She takes up her knitting, and they all +suspect that she knows what they have been talking about.] + +MAGGIE. You're late, David, it's nearly bed-time. + +DAVID [finding the subject a safe one]. I was kept late at the public +meeting. + +ALICK [glad to get so far away from Galashiels]. Was it a good meeting? + +DAVID. Fairish. [with some heat] That young John Shand WOULD make a +speech. + +MAGGIE. John Shand? Is that the student Shand? + +DAVID. The same. It's true he's a student at Glasgow University in the +winter months, but in summer he's just the railway porter here; and I +think it's very presumptuous of a young lad like that to make a speech +when he hasn't a penny to bless himself with. + +ALICK. The Shands were always an impudent family, and jealous. I suppose +that's the reason they haven't been on speaking terms with us this six +years. Was it a good speech? + +DAVID [illustrating the family's generosity]. It was very fine; but he +needn't have made fun of ME. + +MAGGIE [losing a stitch]. He dared? + +DAVID [depressed]. You see I can not get started on a speech without +saying things like 'In rising FOR to make a few remarks.' + +JAMES. What's wrong with it? + +DAVID. He mimicked me, and said, 'Will our worthy chairman come for to +go for to answer my questions?' and so on; and they roared. + +JAMES [slapping his money pocket]. The sacket. + +DAVID. I did feel bitterly, father, the want of education. [Without +knowing it, he has a beautiful way of pronouncing this noble word.] + +MAGGIE [holding out a kind hand to him]. David. + +ALICK. I've missed it sore, David. Even now I feel the want of it in the +very marrow of me. I'm ashamed to think I never gave you your chance. +But when you were young I was so desperate poor, how could I do it, +Maggie? + +MAGGIE. It wasn't possible, father. + +ALICK [gazing at the book-shelves]. To be able to understand these +books! To up with them one at a time and scrape them as clean as though +they were a bowl of brose. Lads, it's not to riches, it's to scholarship +that I make my humble bow. + +JAMES [who is good at bathos]. There's ten yards of them. And they were +selected by the minister of Galashiels. He said-- + +DAVID [quickly]. James. + +JAMES. I mean--I mean-- + +MAGGIE [calmly]. I suppose you mean what you say, James. I hear, David, +that the minister of Galashiels is to be married on that Miss Turnbull. + +DAVID [on guard]. So they were saying. + +ALICK. All I can say is she has made a poor bargain. + +MAGGIE [the damned]. I wonder at you, father. He's a very nice +gentleman. I'm sure I hope he has chosen wisely. + +JAMES. Not him. + +MAGGIE [getting near her tragedy]. How can you say that when you don't +know her? I expect she is full of charm. + +ALICK. Charm? It's the very word he used. + +DAVID. Havering idiot. + +ALICK. What IS charm, exactly, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. Oh, it's--it's a sort of bloom on a woman. If you have it, you +don't need to have anything else; and if you don't have it, it doesn't +much matter what else you have. Some women, the few, have charm for all; +and most have charm for one. But some have charm for none. + +[Somehow she has stopped knitting. Her men-folk are very depressed. +JAMES brings his fist down on the table with a crash.] + +JAMES [shouting]. I have a sister that has charm. + +MAGGIE. No, James, you haven't. + +JAMES [rushing at her with the watch and chain]. Ha'e, Maggie. + +[She lets them lie in her lap.] + +DAVID. Maggie, would you like a silk? + +MAGGIE. What could I do with a silk? [With a gust of passion] You might +as well dress up a little brown hen. + +[They wriggle miserably.] + +JAMES [stamping]. Bring him here to me. + +MAGGIE. Bring whom, James? + +JAMES. David, I would be obliged if you wouldn't kick me beneath the +table. + +MAGGIE [rising]. Let's be practical; let's go to our beds. + +[This reminds them that they have a job on hand in which she is not to +share.] + +DAVID [slily]. I don't feel very sleepy yet. + +ALICK. Nor me either. + +JAMES. You've just taken the very words out of my mouth. + +DAVID [with unusual politeness]. Good-night to you Maggie. + +MAGGIE [fixing the three of them]. ALL of you unsleepy, when, as is well +known, ten o'clock is your regular bed-time? + +JAMES. Yes, it's common knowledge that we go to our beds at ten. +[Chuckling] That's what we're counting on. + +MAGGIE. Counting on? + +DAVID. You stupid whelp. + +JAMES. What have I done? + +MAGGIE [folding her arms]. There's something up. You've got to tell me, +David. + +DAVID [who knows when he is beaten]. Go out and watch, James. + +MAGGIE. Watch? + +[JAMES takes himself off, armed, as MAGGIE notices, with a stick.] + +DAVID [in his alert business way]. Maggie, there are burglars about. + +MAGGIE. Burglars? [She sits rigid, but she is not the kind to scream.] + +DAVID. We hadn't meant for to tell you till we nabbed them; but they've +been in this room twice of late. We sat up last night waiting for them, +and we're to sit up again to-night. + +MAGGIE. The silver plate. + +DAVID. It's all safe as yet. That makes us think that they were either +frightened away these other times, or that they are coming back for to +make a clean sweep. + +MAGGIE. How did you get to know about this? + +DAVID. It was on Tuesday that the polissman called at the quarry with a +very queer story. He had seen a man climbing out at this window at ten +past two. + +MAGGIE. Did he chase him? + +DAVID. It was so dark he lost sight of him at once. + +ALICK. Tell her about the window. + +DAVID. We've found out that the catch of the window has been pushed back +by slipping the blade of a knife between the woodwork. + +MAGGIE. David. + +ALICK. The polissman said he was carrying a little carpet bag. + +MAGGIE. The silver plate IS gone. + +DAVID. No, no. We were thinking that very likely he has bunches of keys +in the bag. + +MAGGIE. Or weapons. + +DAVID. As for that, we have some pretty stout weapons ourselves in the +umbrella stand. So, if you'll go to your bed, Maggie-- + +MAGGIE. Me? and my brothers in danger. + +ALICK. There's just one of them. + +MAGGIE. The polissman just saw one. + +DAVID [licking his palms]. I would be very pleased if there were three +of them. + +MAGGIE. I watch with you. I would be very pleased if there were four of +them. + +DAVID. And they say she has no charm! + +[JAMES returns on tiptoe as if the burglars were beneath the table. He +signs to every one to breathe no more, and then whispers his news.] + +JAMES. He's there. I had no sooner gone out than I saw him sliding down +the garden wall, close to the rhubarbs. + +ALICK. What's he like? + +JAMES. He's an ugly customer. That's all I could see. There was a little +carpet bag in his hand. + +DAVID. That's him. + +JAMES. He slunk into the rhodydendrons, and he's there now, watching the +window. + +DAVID. We have him. Out with the light. + +[The room is beautified by a chandelier fitted for three gas jets, +but with the advance of progress one of these has been removed and the +incandescent light put in its place. This alone is lit. ALICK climbs a +chair, pulls a little chain, and the room is now but vaguely lit by the +fire. It plays fitfully on four sparkling faces.] + +MAGGIE. Do you think he saw you, James? + +JAMES. I couldn't say, but in any case I was too clever for him. I +looked up at the stars, and yawned loud at them as if I was tremendous +sleepy. + +[There is a long pause during which they are lurking in the shadows. At +last they hear some movement, and they steal like ghosts from the room. +We see DAVID turning out the lobby light; then the door closes and an +empty room awaits the intruder with a shudder of expectancy. The window +opens and shuts as softly as if this were a mother peering in to see +whether her baby is asleep. Then the head of a man shows between the +curtains. The remainder of him follows. He is carrying a little carpet +bag. He stands irresolute; what puzzles him evidently is that the Wylies +should have retired to rest without lifting that piece of coal off +the fire. He opens the door and peeps into the lobby, listening to the +wag-at-the-wall clock. All seems serene, and he turns on the light. We +see him clearly now. He is JOHN SHAND, age twenty-one, boots muddy, +as an indignant carpet can testify. He wears a shabby topcoat and a +cockerty bonnet; otherwise he is in the well-worn corduroys of a railway +porter. His movements, at first stealthy, become almost homely as he +feels that he is secure. He opens the bag and takes out a bunch of keys, +a small paper parcel, and a black implement that may be a burglar's +jemmy. This cool customer examines the fire and piles on more coals. +With the keys he opens the door of the bookcase, selects two large +volumes, and brings them to the table. He takes off his topcoat and +opens his parcel, which we now see contains sheets of foolscap paper. +His next action shows that the 'jemmy' is really a ruler. He knows where +the pen and ink are kept. He pulls the fine chair nearer to the table, +sits on it, and proceeds to write, occasionally dotting the carpet with +ink as he stabs the air with his pen. He is so occupied that he does +not see the door opening, and the Wylie family staring at him. They are +armed with sticks.] + +ALICK [at last]. When you're ready, John Shand. + +[JOHN hints back, and then he has the grace to rise, dogged and +expressionless.] + +JAMES [like a railway porter]. Ticket, please. + +DAVID. You can't think of anything clever for to go for to say now, +John. + +MAGGIE. I hope you find that chair comfortable, young man. + +JOHN. I have no complaint to make against the chair. + +ALICK [who is really distressed]. A native of the town. The disgrace to +your family! I feel pity for the Shands this night. + +JOHN [glowering]. I'll thank you, Mr. Wylie, not to pity my family. + +JAMES. Canny, canny. + +MAGGIE [that sense of justice again]. I think you should let the young +man explain. It mayn't be so bad as we thought. + +DAVID. Explain away, my billie. + +JOHN. Only the uneducated would need an explanation. I'm a student, +[with a little passion] and I'm desperate for want of books. You have +all I want here; no use to you but for display; well, I came here to +study. I come twice weekly. [Amazement of his hosts.] + +DAVID [who is the first to recover]. By the window. + +JOHN. Do you think a Shand would so far lower himself as to enter your +door? Well, is it a case for the police? + +JAMES. It is. + +MAGGIE [not so much out of the goodness of her heart as to patronise +the Shands]. It seems to me it's a case for us all to go to our beds and +leave the young man to study; but not on that chair. [And she wheels the +chair away from him.] + +JOHN. Thank you, Miss Maggie, but I couldn't be beholden to you. + +JAMES. My opinion is that he's nobody, so out with him. + +JOHN. Yes, out with me. And you'll be cheered to hear I'm likely to be a +nobody for a long time to come. + +DAVID [who had been beginning to respect him]. Are you a poor scholar? + +JOHN. On the contrary, I'm a brilliant scholar. + +DAVID. It's siller, then? + +JOHN [glorified by experiences he has shared with many a gallant soul]. +My first year at college I lived on a barrel of potatoes, and we had +just a sofa-bed between two of us; when the one lay down the other had +to get up. Do you think it was hardship? It was sublime. But this year +I can't afford it. I'll have to stay on here, collecting the tickets +of the illiterate, such as you, when I might be with Romulus and Remus +among the stars. + +JAMES [summing up]. Havers. + +DAVID [in whose head some design is vaguely taking shape]. Whist, James. +I must say, young lad, I like your spirit. Now tell me, what's your +professors' opinion of your future. + +JOHN. They think me a young man of extraordinary promise. + +DAVID. You have a name here for high moral character. + +JOHN. And justly. + +DAVID. Are you serious-minded? + +JOHN. I never laughed in my life. + +DAVID. Who do you sit under in Glasgow? + +JOHN. Mr. Flemister of the Sauchiehall High. + +DAVID. Are you a Sabbath-school teacher? + +JOHN. I am. + +DAVID. One more question. Are you promised? + +JOHN. To a lady? + +DAVID. Yes. + +JOHN. I've never given one of them a single word of encouragement. I'm +too much occupied thinking about my career. + +DAVID. So. [He reflects, and finally indicates by a jerk of the head +that he wishes to talk with his father behind the door.] + +JAMES [longingly]. Do you want me too? + +[But they go out without even answering him.] + +MAGGIE. I don't know what maggot they have in their heads, but sit down, +young man, till they come back. + +JOHN. My name's Mr. Shand, and till I'm called that I decline to sit +down again in this house. + +MAGGIE. Then I'm thinking, young sir, you'll have a weary wait. + +[While he waits you can see how pinched his face is. He is little more +than a boy, and he seldom has enough to eat. DAVID and ALICK return +presently, looking as sly as if they had been discussing some move on +the dambrod, as indeed they have.] + +DAVID [suddenly become genial]. Sit down, Mr. Shand, and pull in your +chair. You'll have a thimbleful of something to keep the cold out? +[Briskly] Glasses, Maggie. + +[She wonders, but gets glasses and decanter from the sideboard, which +JAMES calls the chiffy. DAVID and ALICK, in the most friendly manner, +also draw up to the table.] + +You're not a totaller, I hope? + +JOHN [guardedly]. I'm practically a totaller. + +DAVID. So are we. How do you take it? Is there any hot water, Maggie? + +JOHN. If I take it at all, and I haven't made up my mind yet, I'll take +it cold. + +DAVID. You'll take it hot, James? + +JAMES [also sitting at the table but completely befogged]. No, I-- + +DAVID [decisively] I think you'll take it hot, James. + +JAMES [sulking]. I'll take it hot. + +DAVID. The kettle, Maggie. + +[JAMES has evidently to take it hot so that they can get at the business +now on hand, while MAGGIE goes kitchenward for the kettle.] + +ALICK. Now, David, quick, before she comes back. + +DAVID. Mr. Shand, we have an offer to make you. + +JOHN [warningly]. No patronage. + +ALICK. It's strictly a business affair. + +DAVID. Leave it to me, father. It's this--[But to his annoyance the +suspicious MAGGIE has already returned with the kettle.] Maggie, don't +you see that you're not wanted? + +MAGGIE [sitting down by the fire and resuming her knitting]. I do, +David. + +DAVID. I have a proposition to put before Mr. Shand, and women are out +of place in business transactions. + +[The needles continue to click.] + +ALICK [sighing]. We'll have to let her bide, David. + +DAVID [sternly]. Woman. [But even this does not budge her.] Very well +then, sit there, but don't interfere, mind. Mr. Shand, we're willing, +the three of us, to lay out L300 on your education if-- + +JOHN. Take care. + +DAVID [slowly, which is not his wont]. On condition that five years from +now, Maggie Wylie, if still unmarried, can claim to marry you, should +such be her wish; the thing to be perfectly open on her side, but you to +be strictly tied down. + +JAMES [enlightened]. So, so. + +DAVID [resuming his smart manner]. Now, what have you to say? Decide. + +JOHN [after a pause]. I regret to say-- + +MAGGIE. It doesn't matter what he regrets to say, because I decide +against it. And I think it was very ill-done of you to make any such +proposal. + +DAVID [without looking at her]. Quiet, Maggie. + +JOHN [looking at her]. I must say, Miss Maggie, I don't see what reasons +YOU can have for being so set against it. + +MAGGIE. If you would grow a beard, Mr. Shand, the reasons wouldn't be +quite so obvious. + +JOHN. I'll never grow a beard. + +MAGGIE. Then you're done for at the start. + +ALICK. Come, come. + +MAGGIE. Seeing I have refused the young man-- + +JOHN. Refused! + +DAVID. That's no reason why we shouldn't have his friendly opinion. Your +objections, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN. Simply, it's a one-sided bargain. I admit I'm no catch at present; +but what could a man of my abilities not soar to with three hundred +pounds? Something far above what she could aspire to. + +MAGGIE. Oh, indeed! + +DAVID. The position is that without the three hundred you can't soar. + +JOHN. You have me there. + +MAGGIE. Yes, but-- + +ALICK. You see YOU'RE safeguarded, Maggie; you don't need to take him +unless you like, but he has to take you. + +JOHN. That's an unfair arrangement also. + +MAGGIE. I wouldn't dream of it without that condition. + +JOHN. Then you ARE thinking of it? + +MAGGIE. Poof! + +DAVID. It's a good arrangement for you, Mr. Shand. The chances are +you'll never have to go on with it, for in all probability she'll marry +soon. + +JAMES. She's tremendous run after. + +JOHN. Even if that's true, it's just keeping me in reserve in case she +misses doing better. + +DAVID [relieved]. That's the situation in a nutshell. + +JOHN. Another thing. Supposing I was to get fond of her? + +ALICK [wistfully]. It's very likely. + +JOHN. Yes, and then suppose she was to give me the go-by? + +DAVID. You have to risk that. + +JOHN. Or take it the other way. Supposing as I got to know her I COULD +NOT endure her? + +DAVID [suavely]. You have both to take risks. + +JAMES [less suavely]. What you need, John Shand, is a clout on the head. + +JOHN. Three hundred pounds is no great sum. + +DAVID. You can take it or leave it. + +ALICK. No great sum for a student studying for the ministry! + +JOHN. Do you think that with that amount of money I would stop short at +being a minister? + +DAVID. That's how I like to hear you speak. A young Scotsman of your +ability let loose upon the world with L300, what could he not do? It's +almost appalling to think of; especially if he went among the English. + +JOHN. What do you think, Miss Maggie? + +MAGGIE [who is knitting]. I have no thoughts on the subject either way. + +JOHN [after looking her over]. What's her age? She looks young, but they +say it's the curls that does it. + +DAVID [rather happily]. She's one of those women who are eternally +young. + +JOHN. I can't take that for an answer. + +DAVID. She's twenty-five. + +JOHN. I'm just twenty-one. + +JAMES. I read in a book that about four years' difference in the ages is +the ideal thing. [As usual he is disregarded.] + +DAVID. Well, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN [where is his mother?]. I'm willing if she's willing. + +DAVID. Maggie? + +MAGGIE. There can be no 'if' about it. It must be an offer. + +JOHN. A Shand give a Wylie such a chance to humiliate him? Never. + +MAGGIE. Then all is off. + +DAVID. Come, come, Mr. Shand, it's just a form. + +JOHN [reluctantly]. Miss Maggie, will you? + +MAGGIE [doggedly]. Is it an offer? + +JOHN [dourly]. Yes. + +MAGGIE [rising]. Before I answer I want first to give you a chance of +drawing back. + +DAVID. Maggie. + +MAGGIE [bravely]. When they said that I have been run after they were +misleading you. I'm without charm; nobody has ever been after me. + +JOHN. Oho! + +ALICK. They will be yet. + +JOHN [the innocent]. It shows at least that you haven't been after them. + +[His hosts exchange a self-conscious glance.] + +MAGGIE. One thing more; David said I'm twenty-five, I'm twenty-six. + +JOHN. Aha! + +MAGGIE. Now be practical. Do you withdraw from the bargain, or do you +not? + +JOHN [on reflection]. It's a bargain. + +MAGGIE. Then so be it. + +DAVID [hurriedly]. And that's settled. Did you say you would take it +hot, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN. I think I'll take it neat. + +[The others decide to take it hot, and there is some careful business +here with the toddy ladles.] + +ALICK. Here's to you, and your career. + +JOHN. Thank you. To you, Miss Maggie. Had we not better draw up a legal +document? Lawyer Crosbie could do it on the quiet. + +DAVID. Should we do that, or should we just trust to one another's +honour? + +ALICK [gallantly]. Let Maggie decide. + +MAGGIE. I think we would better have a legal document. + +DAVID. We'll have it drawn up to-morrow. I was thinking the best way +would be for to pay the money in five yearly instalments. + +JOHN. I was thinking, better bank the whole sum in my name at once. + +ALICK. I think David's plan's the best. + +JOHN. I think not. Of course if it's not convenient to you-- + +DAVID [touched to the quick]. It's perfectly convenient. What do you +say, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. I agree with John. + +DAVID [with an odd feeling that MAGGIE is now on the other side]. Very +well. + +JOHN. Then as that's settled I think I'll be stepping. [He is putting +his papers back in the bag.] + +ALICK [politely]. If you would like to sit on at your books-- + +JOHN. As I can come at any orra time now I think I'll be stepping. +[MAGGIE helps him into his topcoat.] + +MAGGIE. Have you a muffler, John? + +JOHN. I have. [He gets it from his pocket.] + +MAGGIE. You had better put it twice round. [She does this for him.] + +DAVID. Well, good-night to you, Mr. Shand. + +ALICK. And good luck. + +JOHN. Thank you. The same to you. And I'll cry in at your office in the +morning before the 6:20 is due. + +DAVID. I'll have the document ready for you. [There is the awkward pause +that sometimes follows great events.] I think, Maggie, you might see Mr. +Shand to the door. + +MAGGIE. Certainly. [JOHN is going by the window.] This way, John. + +[She takes him off by the more usual exit.] + +DAVID. He's a fine frank fellow; and you saw how cleverly he got the +better of me about banking the money. [As the heads of the conspirators +come gleefully together] I tell you, father, he has a grand business +head. + +ALICK. Lads, he's canny. He's cannier than any of us. + +JAMES. Except maybe Maggie. He has no idea what a remarkable woman +Maggie is. + +ALICK. Best he shouldn't know. Men are nervous of remarkable women. + +JAMES. She's a long time in coming back. + +DAVID [not quite comfortable]. It's a good sign. H'sh. What sort of a +night is it, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. It's a little blowy. + +[She gets a large dustcloth which is lying folded on a shelf, +and proceeds to spread it over the fine chair. The men exchange +self-conscious glances.] + +DAVID [stretching himself]. Yes--well, well, oh yes. It's getting late. +What is it with you, father? + +ALICK. I'm ten forty-two. + +JAMES. I'm ten-forty. + +DAVID. Ten forty-two. + +[They wind up their watches.] + +MAGGIE. It's high time we were bedded. [She puts her hands on their +shoulders lovingly, which is the very thing they have been trying to +avoid.] You're very kind to me. + +DAVID. Havers. + +ALICK. Havers. + +JAMES [but this does not matter]. Havers. + +MAGGIE [a little dolefully]. I'm a sort of sorry for the young man, +David. + +DAVID. Not at all. You'll be the making of him. [She lifts the two +volumes.] Are you taking the books to your bed, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. Yes. I don't want him to know things I don't know myself. + +[She departs with the books; and ALICK and DAVID, the villains, now want +to get away from each other.] + +ALICK. Yes--yes. Oh yes--ay, man--it is so--umpha. You'll lift the big +coals off, David. + +[He wanders away to his spring mattress. DAVID removes the coals.] + +JAMES [who would like to sit down and have an argy-bargy]. It's a most +romantical affair. [But he gets no answer.] I wonder how it'll turn out? +[No answer.] She's queer, Maggie. I wonder how some clever writers has +never noticed how queer women are. It's my belief you could write a +whole book about them. [DAVID remains obdurate.] It was very noble of +her to tell him she's twenty-six. [Muttering as he too wanders away.] +But I thought she was twenty-seven. + +[DAVID turns out the light.] + + + + +ACT II + +[Six years have elapsed and John Shand's great hour has come. Perhaps +his great hour really lies ahead of him, perhaps he had it six years +ago; it often passes us by in the night with such a faint call that +we don't even turn in our beds. But according to the trumpets this is +John's great hour; it is the hour for which he has long been working +with his coat off; and now the coat is on again (broadcloth but +ill-fitting), for there is no more to do but await results. He is +standing for Parliament, and this is election night. + +As the scene discloses itself you get, so to speak, one of John Shand's +posters in the face. Vote for Shand. Shand, Shand, Shand. Civil and +Religious Liberty, Faith, Hope, Freedom. They are all fly-blown names +for Shand. Have a placard about Shand, have a hundred placards about +him, it is snowing Shand to-night in Glasgow; take the paste out of your +eye, and you will see that we are in one of Shand's committee rooms. +It has been a hairdresser's emporium, but Shand, Shand, Shand has swept +through it like a wind, leaving nothing but the fixtures; why shave, +why have your head doused in those basins when you can be brushed and +scraped and washed up for ever by simply voting for Shand? + +There are a few hard chairs for yelling Shand from, and then rushing +away. There is an iron spiral staircase that once led to the ladies' +hairdressing apartments, but now leads to more Shand, Shand, Shand. A +glass door at the back opens on to the shop proper, screaming Civil and +Religious Liberty, Shand, as it opens, and beyond is the street crammed +with still more Shand pro and con. Men in every sort of garb rush in +and out, up and down the stair, shouting the magic word. Then there is +a lull, and down the stair comes Maggie Wylie, decidedly overdressed in +blue velvet and (let us get this over) less good-looking than ever. She +raises her hands to heaven, she spins round like a little teetotum. To +her from the street, suffering from a determination of the word Shand to +the mouth, rush Alick and David. Alick is thinner (being older), David +is stouter (being older), and they are both in tweeds and silk hats.] + +MAGGIE. David--have they--is he? quick, quick! DAVID. There's no news +yet, no news. It's terrible. + +[The teetotum revolves more quickly.] + +ALICK. For God's sake, Maggie, sit down. + +MAGGIE. I can't, I can't. + +DAVID. Hold her down. + +[They press her into a chair; JAMES darts in, stouter also. His necktie +has gone; he will never again be able to attend a funeral in that hat.] + +JAMES [wildly]. John Shand's the man for you. John Shand's the man for +you. John Shand's the man for you. + +DAVID [clutching him]. Have you heard anything? + +JAMES. Not a word. + +ALICK. Look at her. + +DAVID. Maggie [he goes on his knees beside her, pressing her to him in +affectionate anxiety]. It was mad of him to dare. + +MAGGIE. It was grand of him. + +ALICK [moving about distraught]. Insane ambition. + +MAGGIE. Glorious ambition. + +DAVID. Maggie, Maggie, my lamb, best be prepared for the worst. + +MAGGIE [husky]. I am prepared. + +ALICK. Six weary years has she waited for this night. + +MAGGIE. Six brave years has John toiled for this night. + +JAMES. And you could have had him, Maggie, at the end of five. The +document says five. + +MAGGIE. Do you think I grudge not being married to him yet? Was I to +hamper him till the fight was won? + +DAVID [with wrinkled brows]. But if it's lost? + +[She can't answer.] + +ALICK [starting]. What's that? + +[The three listen at the door, the shouting dies down.] + +DAVID. They're terrible still; what can make them so still? + +[JAMES spirits himself away. ALICK and DAVID blanch to hear MAGGIE +speaking softly as if to JOHN.] + +MAGGIE. Did you say you had lost, John? Of course you would lose the +first time, dear John. Six years. Very well, we'll begin another six +to-night. You'll win yet. [Fiercely] Never give in, John, never give in! + +[The roar of the multitude breaks out again and comes rolling nearer.] + +DAVID. I think he's coming. + +[JAMES is fired into the room like a squeezed onion.] + +JAMES. He's coming! + +[They may go on speaking, but through the clang outside none could hear. +The populace seems to be trying to take the committee room by assault. +Out of the scrimmage a man emerges dishevelled and bursts into the room, +closing the door behind him. It is JOHN SHAND in a five guinea suit, +including the hat. There are other changes in him also, for he has +been delving his way through loamy ground all those years. His right +shoulder, which he used to raise to pound a path through the crowd, now +remains permanently in that position. His mouth tends to close like a +box. His eyes are tired, they need some one to pull the lids over them +and send him to sleep for a week. But they are honest eyes still, and +faithful, and could even light up his face at times with a smile, if the +mouth would give a little help.] + +JOHN [clinging to a chair that he may not fly straight to heaven]. I'm +in; I'm elected. Majority two hundred and forty-four; I'm John Shand, +M.P. + +[The crowd have the news by this time and their roar breaks the door +open. JAMES is off at once to tell them that he is to be SHAND'S +brother-in-law. A teardrop clings to ALICK's nose; DAVID hits out +playfully at JOHN, and JOHN in an ecstasy returns the blow.] + +DAVID. Fling yourself at the door, father, and bar them out. Maggie, +what keeps you so quiet now? + +MAGGIE [weak in her limbs]. You're sure you're in, John? + +JOHN. Majority 244. I've beaten the baronet. I've done it, Maggie, and +not a soul to help me; I've done it alone. [His voice breaks; you could +almost pick up the pieces.] I'm as hoarse as a crow, and I have to +address the Cowcaddens Club yet; David, pump some oxygen into me. + +DAVID. Certainly, Mr. Shand. [While he does it, MAGGIE is seeing +visions.] + +ALICK. What are you doing, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. This is the House of Commons, and I'm John, catching the +Speaker's eye for the first time. Do you see a queer little old wifie +sitting away up there in the Ladies' Gallery? That's me. 'Mr. Speaker, +sir, I rise to make my historic maiden speech. I am no orator, sir'; +voice from Ladies' Gallery, 'Are you not, John? you'll soon let them see +that'; cries of 'Silence, woman,' and general indignation. 'Mr. Speaker, +sir, I stand here diffidently with my eyes on the Treasury Bench'; voice +from the Ladies' Gallery, 'And you'll soon have your coat-tails on it, +John'; loud cries of 'Remove that little old wifie,' in which she is +forcibly ejected, and the honourable gentleman resumes his seat in a +torrent of admiring applause. + +[ALICK and DAVID waggle their proud heads.] + +JOHN [tolerantly]. Maggie, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. You're not angry with me, John? + +JOHN. No, no. + +MAGGIE. But you glowered. + +JOHN. I was thinking of Sir Peregrine. Just because I beat him at the +poll he took a shabby revenge; he congratulated me in French, a language +I haven't taken the trouble to master. + +MAGGIE [becoming a little taller]. Would it help you, John, if you were +to marry a woman that could speak French? + +DAVID [quickly]. Not at all. + +MAGGIE [gloriously]. Mon cher Jean, laissez-moi parler le francais, +voulez-vous un interprete? + +JOHN. Hullo! + +MAGGIE. Je suis la soeur francaise de mes deux freres ecossais. + +DAVID [worshipping her]. She's been learning French. + +JOHN [lightly]. Well done. + +MAGGIE [grandly]. They're arriving. + +ALICK. Who? + +MAGGIE. Our guests. This is London, and Mrs. John Shand is giving her +first reception. [Airily] Have I told you, darling, who are coming +to-night? There's that dear Sir Peregrine. [To ALICK] Sir Peregrine, +this is a pleasure. Avez-vous...So sorry we beat you at the poll. + +JOHN. I'm doubting the baronet would sit on you, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. I've invited a lord to sit on the baronet. Voila! + +DAVID [delighted]. You thing! You'll find the lords expensive. + +MAGGIE. Just a little cheap lord. [JAMES enters importantly.] My dear +Lord Cheap, this is kind of you. + +[JAMES hopes that MAGGIE's reason is not unbalanced.] + +DAVID [who really ought to have had education]. How de doo, Cheap? + +JAMES [bewildered]. Maggie--- + +MAGGIE. Yes, do call me Maggie. + +ALICK [grinning]. She's practising her first party, James. The swells +are at the door. + +JAMES [heavily]. That's what I came to say. They are at the door. + +JOHN. Who? + +JAMES. The swells; in their motor. [He gives JOHN three cards.] + +JOHN. 'Mr. Tenterden.' + +DAVID. Him that was speaking for you? + +JOHN. The same. He's a whip and an Honourable. 'Lady Sybil Tenterden.' +[Frowns.] Her! She's his sister. + +MAGGIE. A married woman? + +JOHN. No. 'The Comtesse de la Briere.' + +MAGGIE [the scholar]. She must be French. + +JOHN. Yes; I think she's some relation. She's a widow. + +JAMES. But what am I to say to them? ['Mr. Shand's compliments, and +he will be proud to receive them' is the very least that the Wylies +expect.] + +JOHN [who was evidently made for great ends]. Say I'm very busy, but if +they care to wait I hope presently to give them a few minutes. + +JAMES [thunderstruck]. Good God, Mr. Shand! + +[But it makes him JOHN'S more humble servant than ever, and he departs +with the message.] + +JOHN [not unaware of the sensation he has created]. I'll go up and let +the crowd see me from the window. + +MAGGIE. But--but--what are we to do with these ladies? + +JOHN [as he tramps upwards]. It's your reception, Maggie; this will +prove you. + +MAGGIE [growing smaller]. Tell me what you know about this Lady Sybil? + +JOHN. The only thing I know about her is that she thinks me vulgar. + +MAGGIE. You? + +JOHN. She has attended some of my meetings, and I'm told she said that. + +MAGGIE. What could the woman mean? + +JOHN. I wonder. When I come down I'll ask her. + +[With his departure MAGGIE'S nervousness increases.] + +ALICK [encouragingly]. In at them, Maggie, with your French. + +MAGGIE. It's all slipping from me, father. + +DAVID [gloomily]. I'm sure to say 'for to come for to go.' + +[The newcomers glorify the room, and MAGGIE feels that they have lifted +her up with the tongs and deposited her in one of the basins. They are +far from intending to be rude; it is not their fault that thus do swans +scatter the ducks. They do not know that they are guests of the family, +they think merely that they are waiting with other strangers in a public +room; they undulate inquiringly, and if MAGGIE could undulate in return +she would have no cause for offence. But she suddenly realises that +this is an art as yet denied her, and that though DAVID might buy her +evening-gowns as fine as theirs [and is at this moment probably deciding +to do so], she would look better carrying them in her arms than on her +person. She also feels that to emerge from wraps as they are doing is +more difficult than to plank your money on the counter for them. The +COMTESSE she could forgive, for she is old; but LADY SYBIL is young and +beautiful and comes lazily to rest like a stately ship of Tarsus.] + +COMTESSE [smiling divinely, and speaking with such a pretty accent]. I +hope one is not in the way. We were told we might wait. + +MAGGIE [bravely climbing out of the basin]. Certainly--I am sure if you +will be so--it is-- + +[She knows that DAVID and her father are very sorry for her.] + +[A high voice is heard orating outside.] + +SYBIL [screwing her nose deliciously]. He is at it again, Auntie. + +COMTESSE. Mon Dieu! [Like one begging pardon of the universe] It is Mr. +Tenterden, you understand, making one more of his delightful speeches to +the crowd. WOULD you be so charming as to shut the door? + +[This to DAVID in such appeal that she is evidently making the petition +of her life. DAVID saves her.] + +MAGGIE [determined not to go under]. J'espere que +vous--trouvez--cette--reunion--interessante? + +COMTESSE. Vous parlez francais? Mais c'est charmant! Voyons, causons +un peu. Racontez-moi tout de ce grand homme, toutes les choses +merveilleuses qu'il a faites. + +MAGGIE. I--I--Je connais--[Alas!] + +COMTESSE [naughtily]. Forgive me, Mademoiselle, I thought you spoke +French. + +SYBIL [who knows that DAVID admires her shoulders]. How wicked of you, +Auntie. [To MAGGIE] I assure you none of us can understand her when she +gallops at that pace. + +MAGGIE [crushed]. It doesn't matter. I will tell Mr. Shand that you are +here. + +SYBIL [drawling]. Please don't trouble him. We are really only waiting +till my brother recovers and can take us back to our hotel. + +MAGGIE. I'll tell him. + +[She is glad to disappear up the stair.] + +COMTESSE. The lady seems distressed. Is she a relation of Mr. Shand? + +DAVID. Not for to say a relation. She's my sister. Our name is Wylie. + +[But granite quarries are nothing to them.] + +COMTESSE. How do you do. You are the committee man of Mr. Shand? + +DAVID. No, just friends. + +COMTESSE [gaily to the basins]. Aha! I know you. Next, please! Sybil, do +you weigh yourself, or are you asleep? + +[LADY SYBIL has sunk indolently into a weighing-chair.] + +SYBIL. Not quite, Auntie. + +COMTESSE [the mirror of la politesse]. Tell me all about Mr. Shand. Was +it here that he--picked up the pin? + +DAVID. The pin? + +COMTESSE. As I have read, a self-made man always begins by picking up a +pin. After that, as the memoirs say, his rise was rapid. + +[DAVID, however, is once more master of himself, and indeed has begun to +tot up the cost of their garments.] + +DAVID. It wasn't a pin he picked up, my lady; it was L300. + +ALICK [who feels that JOHN's greatness has been outside the conversation +quite long enough]. And his rise wasn't so rapid, just at first, David! + +DAVID. He had his fight. His original intention was to become a +minister; he's university-educated, you know; he's not a working-man +member. + +ALICK [with reverence]. He's an M.A. But while he was a student he got a +place in an iron-cementer's business. + +COMTESSE [now far out of her depths]. Iron-cementer? + +DAVID. They scrape boilers. + +COMTESSE. I see. The fun men have, Sybil! + +DAVID [with some solemnity]. There have been millions made in scraping +boilers. They say, father, he went into business so as to be able to pay +off the L300. + +ALICK [slily]. So I've heard. + +COMTESSE. Aha--it was a loan? + +[DAVID and ALICK are astride their great subject now.] + +DAVID. No, a gift--of a sort--from some well-wishers. But they wouldn't +hear of his paying it off, father! + +ALICK. Not them! + +COMTESSE [restraining an impulse to think of other things]. That was +kind, charming. + +ALICK [with a look at DAVID]. Yes. Well, my lady, he developed a perfect +genius for the iron-cementing. + +DAVID. But his ambition wasn't satisfied. Soon he had public life in his +eye. As a heckler he was something fearsome; they had to seat him on the +platform for to keep him quiet. Next they had to let him into the Chair. +After that he did all the speaking; he cleared all roads before him like +a fire-engine; and when this vacancy occurred, you could hardly say it +did occur, so quickly did he step into it. My lady, there are few more +impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make. + +COMTESSE. I can well believe it. And now he has said farewell to +boilers? + +DAVID [impressively]. Not at all; the firm promised if he was elected +for to make him their London manager at L800 a year. + +COMTESSE. There is a strong man for you, Sybil; but I believe you ARE +asleep. + +SYBIL [stirring herself]. Honestly, I'm not. [Sweetly to the others] But +would you mind finding out whether my brother is drawing to a close? + +[DAVID goes out, leaving poor ALICK marooned. The COMTESSE is kind to +him.] + +COMTESSE. Thank you very much. [Which helps ALICK out.] Don't you love a +strong man, sleepy head? + +SYBIL [preening herself]. I never met one. + +COMTESSE. Neither have I. But if you DID meet one, would he wakes you +up? + +SYBIL. I dare say he would find there were two of us. + +COMTESSE [considering her]. Yes, I think he would. Ever been in love, +you cold thing? + +SYBIL [yawning]. I have never shot up in flame, Auntie. + +COMTESSE. Think you could manage it? + +SYBIL. If Mr. Right came along. + +COMTESSE. As a girl of to-day it would be your duty to tame him. + +SYBIL. As a girl of to-day I would try to do my duty. + +COMTESSE. And if it turned out that HE tamed you instead? + +SYBIL. He would have to do that if he were MY Mr. Right. + +COMTESSE. And then? + +SYBIL. Then, of course, I should adore him. Auntie, I think if I +ever really love it will be like Mary Queen of Scots, who said of her +Bothwell that she could follow him round the world in her nighty. + +COMTESSE. My petite! + +SYBIL. I believe I mean it. + +COMTESSE. Oh, it is quite my conception of your character. Do you know, +I am rather sorry for this Mr. John Shand. + +SYBIL [opening her fine eyes]. Why? He is quite a boor, is he not? + +COMTESSE. For that very reason. Because his great hour is already nearly +sped. That wild bull manner that moves the multitude--they will laugh at +it in your House of Commons. + +SYBIL [indifferent]. I suppose so. + +COMTESSE. Yet if he had education--- + +SYBIL. Have we not been hearing how superbly he is educated? + +COMTESSE. It is such as you or me that he needs to educate him now. You +could do it almost too well. + +SYBIL [with that pretty stretch of neck]. I am not sufficiently +interested. I retire in your favour. How would you begin? + +COMTESSE. By asking him to drop in, about five, of course. By the way, I +wonder is there a Mrs. Shand? + +SYBIL. I have no idea. But they marry young. + +COMTESSE. If there is not, there is probably a lady waiting for him, +somewhere in a boiler. + +SYBIL. I dare say. + +[MAGGIE descends.] + +MAGGIE. Mr. Shand will be down directly. + +COMTESSE. Thank you. Your brother has been giving us such an interesting +account of his career. I forget, Sybil, whether he said that he was +married. + +MAGGIE. No, he's not married; but he will be soon. + +COMTESSE. Ah! [She is merely making conversation.] A friend of yours? + +MAGGIE [now a scorner of herself]. I don't think much of her. + +COMTESSE. In that case, tell me all about her. + +MAGGIE. There's not much to tell. She's common, and stupid. One of those +who go in for self-culture; and then when the test comes they break +down. [With sinister enjoyment] She'll be the ruin of him. + +COMTESSE. But is not that sad! Figure to yourself how many men with +greatness before them have been shipwrecked by marrying in the rank from +which they sprang. + +MAGGIE. I've told her that. + +COMTESSE. But she will not give him up? + +MAGGIE. No. + +SYBIL. Why should she if he cares for her? What is her name? + +MAGGIE. It's--Maggie. + +COMTESSE [still uninterested]. Well, I am afraid that Maggie is to do +for John. [JOHN comes down.] Ah, our hero! + +JOHN. Sorry I have kept you waiting. The Comtesse? + +COMTESSE. And my niece Lady Sybil Tenterden. [SYBIL'S head inclines on +its stem.] She is not really all my niece; I mean I am only half of her +aunt. What a triumph, Mr. Shand! + +JOHN. Oh, pretty fair, pretty fair. Your brother has just finished +addressing the crowd, Lady Sybil. + +SYBIL. Then we must not detain Mr. Shand, Auntie. + +COMTESSE [who unless her heart is touched thinks insincerity charming]. +Only one word. I heard you speak last night. Sublime! Just the sort of +impassioned eloquence that your House of Commons loves. + +JOHN. It's very good of you to say so. + +COMTESSE. But we must run. Bon soir. + +[SYBIL bows as to some one far away.] + +JOHN. Good-night, Lady Sybil. I hear you think I'm vulgar. [Eyebrows are +raised.] + +COMTESSE. My dear Mr. Shand, what absurd--- + +JOHN. I was told she said that after hearing me speak. + +COMTESSE. Quite a mistake, I--- + +JOHN [doggedly]. Is it not true? + +SYBIL ['waking up']. You seem to know, Mr. Shand; and as you press me so +unnecessarily--well, yes, that is how you struck me. + +COMTESSE. My child! + +SYBIL [who is a little agitated]. He would have it. + +JOHN [perplexed]. What's the matter? I just wanted to know, because if +it's true I must alter it. + +COMTESSE. There, Sybil, see how he values your good opinion. + +SYBIL [her svelte figure giving like a fishing-rod]. It is very nice of +you to put it in that way, Mr. Shand. Forgive me. + +JOHN. But I don't quite understand yet. Of course, it can't matter to +me, Lady Sybil, what you think of me; what I mean is, that I mustn't be +vulgar if it would be injurious to my career. + +[The fishing-rod regains its rigidity.] + +SYBIL. I see. No, of course, I could not affect your career, Mr Shand. + +JOHN [who quite understands that he is being challenged]. That's so, +Lady Sybil, meaning no offence. + +SYBIL [who has a naughty little impediment in her voice when she is most +alluring]. Of course not. And we are friends again? + +JOHN. Certainly. + +SYBIL. Then I hope you will come to see me in London as I present no +terrors. + +JOHN [he is a man, is JOHN]. I'll be very pleased. + +SYBIL. Any afternoon about five. + +JOHN. Much obliged. And you can teach me the things I don't know yet, if +you'll be so kind. + +SYBIL [the impediment becoming more assertive]. If you wish it, I shall +do my best. + +JOHN. Thank you, Lady Sybil. And who knows there may be one or two +things I can teach you. + +SYBIL [it has now become an angel's hiccough]. Yes, we can help one +another. Good-bye till then. + +JOHN. Good-bye. Maggie, the ladies are going. + +[During this skirmish MAGGIE has stood apart. At the mention of her name +they glance at one another. JOHN escorts SYBIL, but the COMTESSE turns +back.] + +COMTESSE. Are you, then, THE Maggie? [MAGGIE nods rather defiantly and +the COMTESSE is distressed.] But if I had known I would not have said +those things. Please forgive an old woman. + +MAGGIE. It doesn't matter. + +COMTESSE. I--I dare say it will be all right. Mademoiselle, if I were +you I would not encourage those tete-a-tetes with Lady Sybil. I am the +rude one, but she is the dangerous one; and I am afraid his impudence +has attracted her. Bon voyage, Miss Maggie. + +MAGGIE. Good-bye--but I CAN speak French. Je parle francais. Isn't that +right? + +COMTESSE. But, yes, it is excellent. [Making things easy for her] C'est +tres bien. + +MAGGIE. Je me suis embrouillee--la derniere fois. + +COMTESSE. Good! Shall I speak more slowly? + +MAGGIE. No, no. Nonon, non, faster, faster. + +COMTESSE. J'admire votre courage! + +MAGGIE. Je comprends chaque mot. + +COMTESSE. Parfait! Bravo! + +MAGGIE. Voila! + +COMTESSE. Superbe! + +[She goes, applauding; and MAGGIE has a moment of elation, which however +has passed before JOHN returns for his hat.] + +MAGGIE. Have you more speaking to do, John? [He is somehow in high +good-humour.] + +JOHN. I must run across and address the Cowcaddens Club. [He sprays his +throat with a hand-spray.] I wonder if I AM vulgar, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. You are not, but _I_ am. + +JOHN. Not that _I_ can see. + +MAGGIE. Look how overdressed I am, John. I knew it was too showy when +I ordered it, and yet I could not resist the thing. But I will tone it +down, I will. What did you think of Lady Sybil? + +JOHN. That young woman had better be careful. She's a bit of a besom, +Maggie. + +MAGGIE. She's beautiful, John. + +JOHN. She has a neat way of stretching herself. For playing with she +would do as well as another. + +[She looks at him wistfully.] + +MAGGIE. You couldn't stay and have a talk for a few minutes? + +JOHN. If you want me, Maggie. The longer you keep them waiting, the more +they think of you. + +MAGGIE. When are you to announce that we're to be married, John? + +JOHN. I won't be long. You've waited a year more than you need have +done, so I think it's your due I should hurry things now. + +MAGGIE. I think it's noble of you. + +JOHN. Not at all, Maggie; the nobleness has been yours in waiting so +patiently. And your brothers would insist on it at any rate. They're +watching me like cats with a mouse. + +MAGGIE. It's so little I've done to help. + +JOHN. Three hundred pounds. + +MAGGIE. I'm getting a thousand per cent for it. + +JOHN. And very pleased I am you should think so, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. Is it terrible hard to you, John? + +JOHN. It's not hard at all. I can say truthfully, Maggie, that all, or +nearly all, I've seen of you in these six years has gone to increase my +respect for you. + +MAGGIE. Respect! + +JOHN. And a bargain's a bargain. + +MAGGIE. If it wasn't that you're so glorious to me, John, I would let +you off. + +[There is a gleam in his eye, but he puts it out.] + +JOHN. In my opinion, Maggie, we'll be a very happy pair. + +[She accepts this eagerly.] + +MAGGIE. We know each other so well, John, don't we? + +JOHN. I'm an extraordinary queer character, and I suppose nobody knows +me well except myself; but I know you, Maggie, to the very roots of you. + +[She magnanimously lets this remark alone.] + +MAGGIE. And it's not as if there was any other woman you--fancied more, +John. + +JOHN. There's none whatever. + +MAGGIE. If there ever should be--oh, if there ever should be! Some woman +with charm. + +JOHN. Maggie, you forget yourself. There couldn't be another woman once +I was a married man. + +MAGGIE. One has heard of such things. + +JOHN. Not in Scotsmen, Maggie; not in Scotsmen. + +MAGGIE. I've sometimes thought, John, that the difference between us and +the English is that the Scotch are hard in all other respects but soft +with women, and the English are hard with women but soft in all other +respects. + +JOHN. You've forgotten the grandest moral attribute of a Scotsman, +Maggie, that he'll do nothing which might damage his career. + +MAGGIE. Ah, but John, whatever you do, you do it so tremendously; and if +you were to love, what a passion it would be. + +JOHN. There's something in that, I suppose. + +MAGGIE. And then, what could I do? For the desire of my life now, John, +is to help you to get everything you want, except just that I want you +to have me, too. + +JOHN. We'll get on fine, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. You're just making the best of it. They say that love is +sympathy, and if that's so, mine must be a great love for you, for I see +all you are feeling this night and bravely hiding; I feel for you as if +I was John Shand myself. [He sighs.] + +JOHN. I had best go to the meeting, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. Not yet. Can you look me in the face, John, and deny that there +is surging within you a mighty desire to be free, to begin the new life +untrammelled? + +JOHN. Leave such maggots alone, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. It's a shame of me not to give you up. + +JOHN. I would consider you a very foolish woman if you did. + +MAGGIE. If I were John Shand I would no more want to take Maggie Wylie +with me through the beautiful door that has opened wide for you than I +would want to take an old pair of shoon. Why don't you bang the door in +my face, John? [A tremor runs through JOHN.] + +JOHN. A bargain's a bargain, Maggie. + +[MAGGIE moves about, an eerie figure, breaking into little cries. She +flutters round him, threateningly.] + +MAGGIE. Say one word about wanting to get out of it, and I'll put the +lawyers on you. + +JOHN. Have I hinted at such a thing? + +MAGGIE. The document holds you hard and fast. + +JOHN. It does. + +[She gloats miserably.] + +MAGGIE. The woman never rises with the man. I'll drag you down, John. +I'll drag you down. + +JOHN. Have no fear of that, I won't let you. I'm too strong. + +MAGGIE. You'll miss the prettiest thing in the world, and all owing to +me. + +JOHN. What's that? + +MAGGIE. Romance. + +JOHN. Poof. + +MAGGIE. All's cold and grey without it, John. They that have had it have +slipped in and out of heaven. + +JOHN. You're exaggerating, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. You've worked so hard, you've had none of the fun that comes to +most men long before they're your age. + +JOHN. I never was one for fun. I cannot call to mind, Maggie, ever +having laughed in my life. + +MAGGIE. You have no sense of humour. + +JOHN. Not a spark. + +MAGGIE. I've sometimes thought that if you had, it might make you fonder +of me. I think one needs a sense of humour to be fond of me. + +JOHN. I remember reading of some one that said it needed a surgical +operation to get a joke into a Scotsman's head. + +MAGGIE. Yes, that's been said. + +JOHN. What beats me, Maggie, is how you could insert a joke with an +operation. + +[He considers this and gives it up.] + +MAGGIE. That's not the kind of fun I was thinking of. I mean fun with +the lasses, John--gay, jolly, harmless fun. They could be impudent +fashionable beauties now, stretching themselves to attract you, like +that hiccoughing little devil, and running away from you, and crooking +their fingers to you to run after them. + +[He draws a big breath.] + +JOHN. No, I never had that. + +MAGGIE. It's every man's birthright, and you would have it now but for +me. + +JOHN. I can do without, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. It's like missing out all the Saturdays. + +JOHN. You feel sure, I suppose, that an older man wouldn't suit you +better, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. I couldn't feel surer of anything. You're just my ideal. + +JOHN. Yes, yes. Well, that's as it should be. + +[She threatens him again.] + +MAGGIE. David has the document. It's carefully locked away. + +JOHN. He would naturally take good care of it. + +[The pride of the Wylies deserts her.] + +MAGGIE. John, I make you a solemn promise that, in consideration of the +circumstances of our marriage, if you should ever fall in love I'll act +differently from other wives. + +JOHN. There will be no occasion, Maggie. + +[Her voice becomes tremulous.] + +MAGGIE. John, David doesn't have the document. He thinks he has, but I +have it here. + +[Somewhat heavily JOHN surveys the fatal paper.] + +JOHN. Well do I mind the look of it, Maggie. Yes, yes, that's it. Umpha. + +MAGGIE. You don't ask why I've brought it. + +JOHN. Why did you? + +MAGGIE. Because I thought I might perhaps have the courage and the +womanliness to give it back to you. [JOHN has a brief dream.] Will you +never hold it up against me in the future that I couldn't do that? + +JOHN. I promise you, Maggie, I never will. + +MAGGIE. To go back to The Pans and take up my old life there, when +all these six years my eyes have been centred on this night! I've been +waiting for this night as long as you have been; and now to go back +there, and wizen and dry up, when I might be married to John Shand! + +JOHN. And you will be, Maggie. You have my word. + +MAGGIE. Never--never--never. [She tears up the document. He remains +seated immovable, but the gleam returns to his eye. She rages first at +herself and then at him.] I'm a fool, a fool, to let you go. I tell you, +you'll rue this day, for you need me, you'll come to grief without me. +There's nobody can help you as I could have helped you. I'm essential to +your career, and you're blind not to see it. + +JOHN. What's that, Maggie? In no circumstances would I allow any +meddling with my career. + +MAGGIE. You would never have known I was meddling with it. But that's +over. Don't be in too great a hurry to marry, John. Have your fling with +the beautiful dolls first. Get the whiphand of the haughty ones, John. +Give them their licks. Every time they hiccough let them have an extra +slap in memory of me. And be sure to remember this, my man, that the one +who marries you will find you out. + +JOHN. Find me out? + +MAGGIE. However careful a man is, his wife always finds out his +failings. + +JOHN. I don't know, Maggie, to what failings you refer. + +[The Cowcaddens Club has burst its walls, and is pouring this way to +raise the new Member on its crest. The first wave hurls itself against +the barber's shop with cries of 'Shand, Shand, Shand.' For a moment, +JOHN stems the torrent by planting his back against the door.] + +You are acting under an impulse, Maggie, and I can't take advantage of +it. Think the matter over, and we'll speak about it in the morning. + +MAGGIE. No, I can't go through it again. It ends to-night and now. Good +luck, John. + +[She is immediately submerged in the sea that surges through the door, +bringing much wreckage with it. In a moment the place is so full that +another cupful could not find standing room. Some slippery ones are +squeezed upwards and remain aloft as warnings. JOHN has jumped on to +the stair, and harangues the flood vainly like another Canute. It is +something about freedom and noble minds, and, though unheard, goes to +all heads, including the speaker's. By the time he is audible sentiment +has him for her own.] + +JOHN. But, gentlemen, one may have too much even of freedom [No, no.] +Yes, Mr. Adamson. One may want to be tied. [Never, never.] I say yes, +Willie Cameron; and I have found a young lady who I am proud to say is +willing to be tied to me. I'm to be married. [Uproar.] Her name's Miss +Wylie. [Transport.] Quiet; she's here now. [Frenzy.] She was here! +Where are you, Maggie? [A small voice--'I'm here.' A hundred great +voices--'Where--where--where?' The small voice--'I'm so little none of +you can see me.'] + +[Three men, name of Wylie, buffet their way forward.] + +DAVID. James, father, have you grip of her? + +ALICK. We've got her. + +DAVID. Then hoist her up. + +[The queer little elated figure is raised aloft. With her fingers +she can just touch the stars. Not unconscious of the nobility of his +behaviour, the hero of the evening points an impressive finger at her.] + +JOHN. Gentlemen, the future Mrs. John Shand! [Cries of 'Speech, +speech!'] No, no, being a lady she can't make a speech, but--- + +[The heroine of the evening surprises him.] + +MAGGIE. I can make a speech, and I will make a speech, and it's in two +words, and they're these [holding out her arms to enfold all the members +of the Cowcaddens Club]--My Constituents! [Dementia.] + + + + +ACT III + +[A few minutes ago the Comtesse de la Briere, who has not recently been +in England, was shown into the London home of the Shands. Though not +sufficiently interested to express her surprise in words, she raised her +eyebrows on finding herself in a charming room; she has presumed that +the Shand scheme of decoration would be as impossible as themselves. + +It is the little room behind the dining-room for which English +architects have long been famous; 'Make something of this, and you will +indeed be a clever one,' they seem to say to you as they unveil it. The +Comtesse finds that John has undoubtedly made something of it. It is his +'study' (mon Dieu, the words these English use!) and there is nothing +in it that offends; there is so much not in it too that might so easily +have been there. It is not in the least ornate; there are no colours +quarrelling with each other (unseen, unheard by the blissful occupant of +the revolving chair); the Comtesse has not even the gentle satisfaction +of noting a 'suite' in stained oak. Nature might have taken a share in +the decorations, so restful are they to the eyes; it is the working +room of a man of culture, probably lately down from Oxford; at a first +meeting there is nothing in it that pretends to be what it is not. Our +visitor is a little disappointed, but being fair-minded blows her absent +host a kiss for disappointing her. + +He has even, she observes with a twinkle, made something of the most +difficult of his possessions, the little wife. For Maggie, who is here +receiving her, has been quite creditably toned down. He has put her +into a little grey frock that not only deals gently with her personal +defects, but is in harmony with the room. Evidently, however, she has +not 'risen' with him, for she is as ever; the Comtesse, who remembers +having liked her the better of the two, could shake her for being so +stupid. For instance, why is she not asserting herself in that other +apartment? + +The other apartment is really a correctly solemn dining-room, of which +we have a glimpse through partly open folding-doors. At this moment +it is harbouring Mr. Shand's ladies' committee, who sit with pens and +foolscap round the large table, awaiting the advent of their leader. +There are nobly wise ones and some foolish ones among them, for we are +back in the strange days when it was considered 'unwomanly' for women to +have minds. The Comtesse peeps at them with curiosity, as they arrange +their papers or are ushered into the dining-room through a door which we +cannot see. To her frivolous ladyship they are a species of wild fowl, +and she is specially amused to find her niece among them. She demands an +explanation as soon as the communicating doors close.] + +COMTESSE. Tell me since when has my dear Sybil become one of these +ladies? It is not like her. + +[MAGGIE is obviously not clever enough to understand the woman question. +Her eye rests longingly on a half-finished stocking as she innocently +but densely replies:] + + MAGGIE. I think it was about the time that my husband took up their +cause. + +[The COMTESSE has been hearing tales of LADY SYBIL and the barbarian; +and after having the grace to hesitate, she speaks with the directness +for which she is famed in Mayfair.] + +COMTESSE. Mrs. Shand, excuse me for saying that if half of what I +hear be true, your husband is seeing that lady a great deal too often. +[MAGGIE is expressionless; she reaches for her stocking, whereat her +guest loses patience.] Oh, mon Dieu, put that down; you can buy them at +two francs the pair. Mrs. Shand, why do not you compel yourself to take +an intelligent interest in your husband's work? + +MAGGIE. I typewrite his speeches. + +COMTESSE. But do you know what they are about? + +MAGGIE. They are about various subjects. + +COMTESSE. Oh! + +[Did MAGGIE give her an unseen quizzical glance before demurely +resuming the knitting? One is not certain, as JOHN has come in, and +this obliterates her. A 'Scotsman on the make,' of whom DAVID has spoken +reverently, is still to be read--in a somewhat better bound volume--in +JOHN SHAND's person; but it is as doggedly honest a face as ever; and he +champions women, not for personal ends, but because his blessed days +of poverty gave him a light upon their needs. His self-satisfaction, +however, has increased, and he has pleasantly forgotten some things. +For instance, he can now call out 'Porter' at railway stations without +dropping his hands for the barrow. MAGGIE introduces the COMTESSE, and +he is still undaunted.] + +JOHN. I remember you well--at Glasgow. + +COMTESSE. It must be quite two years ago, Mr. Shand. + +[JOHN has no objection to showing that he has had a classical +education.] + +JOHN. Tempus fugit, Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. I have not been much in this country since then, and I return +to find you a coming man. + +[Fortunately his learning is tempered with modesty.] + +JOHN. Oh, I don't know, I don't know. + +COMTESSE. The Ladies' Champion. + +[His modesty is tempered with a respect for truth.] + +JOHN. Well, well. + +COMTESSE. And you are about, as I understand, to introduce a bill to +give women an equal right with men to grow beards [which is all she +knows about it. He takes the remark literally.] + +JOHN. There's nothing about beards in it, Comtesse. [She gives him time +to cogitate, and is pleased to note that there is no result.] Have you +typed my speech, Maggie? + +MAGGIE. Yes; twenty-six pages. [She produces it from a drawer.] + +[Perhaps JOHN wishes to impress the visitor.] + +JOHN. I'm to give the ladies' committee a general idea of it. Just see, +Maggie, if I know the peroration. 'In conclusion, Mr. Speaker, these are +the reasonable demands of every intelligent Englishwoman'--I had better +say British woman--'and I am proud to nail them to my flag'--- + +[The visitor is properly impressed.] + +COMTESSE. Oho! defies his leaders! + +JOHN. 'So long as I can do so without embarrassing the Government.' + +COMTESSE. Ah, ah, Mr. Shand! + +JOHN. 'I call upon the Front Bench, sir, loyally but firmly'-- + +COMTESSE. Firm again! + +JOHN. --'either to accept my Bill, or to promise WITHOUT DELAY to bring +in one of their own; and if they decline to do so I solemnly warn them +that though I will not press the matter to a division just now'-- + +COMTESSE. Ahem! + +JOHN. 'I will bring it forward again in the near future.' And now +Comtesse, you know that I'm not going to divide--and not another soul +knows it. + +COMTESSE. I am indeed flattered by your confidence. + +JOHN. I've only told you because I don't care who knows now. + +COMTESSE. Oh! + +[Somehow MAGGIE seems to be dissatisfied.] + +MAGGIE. But why is that, John? + +JOHN. I daren't keep the Government in doubt any longer about what I +mean to do. I'll show the whips the speech privately to-night. + +MAGGIE [who still wants to know]. But not to go to a division is +hedging, isn't it? Is that strong? + +JOHN. To make the speech at all, Maggie, is stronger than most would +dare. They would do for me if I went to a division. + +MAGGIE. Bark but not bite? + +JOHN. Now, now, Maggie, you're out of your depth. + +MAGGIE. I suppose that's it. + +[The COMTESSE remains in the shallows.] + +COMTESSE. But what will the ladies say, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN. They won't like it, Comtesse, but they've got to lump it. + +[Here the maid appears with a card for MAGGIE, who considers it +quietly.] + +JOHN. Any one of importance? + +MAGGIE. No. + +JOHN. Then I'm ready, Maggie. + +[This is evidently an intimation that she is to open the folding-doors, +and he makes an effective entrance into the dining-room, his thumb +in his waistcoat. There is a delicious clapping of hands from the +committee, and the door closes. Not till then does MAGGIE, who has grown +thoughtful, tell her maid to admit the visitor.] + +COMTESSE. Another lady, Mrs. Shand? + +MAGGIE. The card says 'Mr. Charles Venables.' + +[The COMTESSE is really interested at last.] + +COMTESSE. Charles Venables! Do you know him? + +MAGGIE. I think I call to mind meeting one of that name at the Foreign +Office party. + +COMTESSE. One of that name! He who is a Minister of your Cabinet. But as +you know him so little why should he call on you? + +MAGGIE. I wonder. + +[MAGGIE's glance wanders to the drawer in which she has replaced JOHN's +speech.] + +COMTESSE. Well, well, I shall take care of you, petite. + +MAGGIE. Do you know him? + +COMTESSE. Do I know him! The last time I saw him he asked me +to--to--hem!--ma cherie, it was thirty years ago. + +MAGGIE. Thirty years! + +COMTESSE. I was a pretty woman then. I dare say I shall detest him now; +but if I find I do not--let us have a little plot--I shall drop this +book; and then perhaps you will be so charming as--as not to be here for +a little while? + +[MR. VENABLES, who enters, is such a courtly seigneur that he seems to +bring the eighteenth century with him; you feel that his sedan chair is +at the door. He stoops over MAGGIE's plebeian hand.] + +VENABLES. I hope you will pardon my calling, Mrs. Shand; we had such a +pleasant talk the other evening. + +[MAGGIE, of course, is at once deceived by his gracious manner.] + +MAGGIE. I think it's kind of you. Do you know each other? The Comtesse +de la Briere. + +[He repeats the name with some emotion, and the COMTESSE, half +mischievously, half sadly, holds a hand before her face.] + +VENABLES. Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. Thirty years, Mr. Venables. + +[He gallantly removes the hand that screens her face.] + +VENABLES. It does not seem so much. + +[She gives him a similar scrutiny.] + +COMTESSE. Mon Dieu, it seems all that. + +[They smile rather ruefully. MAGGIE like a kind hostess relieves the +tension.] + +MAGGIE. The Comtesse has taken a cottage in Surrey for the summer. + +VENABLES. I am overjoyed. + +COMTESSE. No, Charles, you are not. You no longer care. Fickle one! And +it is only thirty years. + +[He sinks into a chair beside her.] + +VENABLES. Those heavenly evenings, Comtesse, on the Bosphorus. + +COMTESSE. I refuse to talk of them. I hate you. + +[But she drops the book, and MAGGIE fades from the room. It is not a +very clever departure, and the old diplomatist smiles. Then he sighs a +beautiful sigh, for he does all things beautifully.] + +VENABLES. It is moonlight, Comtesse, on the Golden Horn. + +COMTESSE. Who are those two young things in a caique? + +VENABLES. Is he the brave Leander, Comtesse, and is she Hero of the +Lamp? + +COMTESSE. No, she is the foolish wife of the French Ambassador, and +he is a good-for-nothing British attache trying to get her husband's +secrets out of her. + +VENABLES. Is it possible! They part at a certain garden gate. + +COMTESSE. Oh, Charles, Charles! + +VENABLES. But you promised to come back; I waited there till dawn. +Blanche, if you HAD come back-- + +COMTESSE. How is Mrs. Venables? + +VENABLES. She is rather poorly. I think it's gout. + +COMTESSE. And you? + +VENABLES. I creak a little in the mornings. + +COMTESSE. So do I. There is such a good man at Wiesbaden. + +VENABLES. The Homburg fellow is better. The way he patched me up last +summer--Oh, Lord, Lord! + +COMTESSE. Yes, Charles, the game is up; we are two old fogies. [They +groan in unison; then she raps him sharply on the knuckles.] Tell me, +sir, what are you doing here? + +VENABLES. Merely a friendly call. + +COMTESSE. I do not believe it. + +VENABLES. The same woman; the old delightful candour. + +COMTESSE. The same man; the old fibs. [She sees that the door is asking +a question.] Yes, come, Mrs. Shand, I have had quite enough of him; I +warn you he is here for some crafty purpose. + +MAGGIE [drawing back timidly]. Surely not? + +VENABLES. Really, Comtesse, you make conversation difficult. To show +that my intentions are innocent, Mrs. Shand, I propose that you choose +the subject. + +MAGGIE [relieved]. There, Comtesse. + +VENABLES. I hope your husband is well? + +MAGGIE. Yes, thank you. [With a happy thought] I decide that we talk +about him. + +VENABLES. If you wish it. + +COMTESSE. Be careful; HE has chosen the subject. + +MAGGIE. _I_ chose it, didn't I? + +VENABLES. You know you did. + +MAGGIE [appealingly]. You admire John? + +VENABLES. Very much. But he puzzles me a little. You Scots, Mrs. Shand, +are such a mixture of the practical and the emotional that you escape +out of an Englishman's hand like a trout. + +MAGGIE [open-eyed]. Do we? + +VENABLES. Well, not you, but your husband. I have known few men make +a worse beginning in the House. He had the most atrocious bow-wow +public-park manner--- + +COMTESSE. I remember that manner! + +MAGGIE. No, he hadn't. + +VENABLES [soothingly]. At first. But by his second session he had shed +all that, and he is now a pleasure to listen to. By the way, Comtesse, +have you found any dark intention in that? + +COMTESSE. You wanted to know whether he talks over these matter with his +wife; and she has told you that he does not. + +MAGGIE [indignantly]. I haven't said a word about it, have I? + +VENABLES. Not a word. Then, again, I admire him for his impromptu +speeches. + +MAGGIE. What is impromptu? + +VENABLES. Unprepared. They have contained some grave blunders not so +much of judgment as of taste--- + +MAGGIE [hotly]. _I_ don't think so. + +VENABLES. Pardon me. But he has righted himself subsequently in the +neatest way. I have always found that the man whose second thoughts are +good is worth watching. Well, Comtesse, I see you have something to say. + +COMTESSE. You are wondering whether she can tell you who gives him his +second thoughts. + +MAGGIE. Gives them to John? I would like to see anybody try to give +thoughts to John. + +VENABLES. Quite so. + +COMTESSE. Is there anything more that has roused your admiration +Charles? + +VENABLES [purring]. Let me see. Yes, we are all much edified by his +humour. + +COMTESSE [surprised indeed]. His humour? That man! + +MAGGIE [with hauteur]. Why not? + +VENABLES. I assure you, Comtesse, some of the neat things in +his speeches convulse the house. A word has even been coined for +them--Shandisms. + +COMTESSE [slowly recovering from a blow]. Humour! + +VENABLES. In conversation, I admit, he strikes one as +being--ah--somewhat lacking in humour. + +COMTESSE [pouncing]. You are wondering who supplies his speeches with +the humour. + +MAGGIE. Supplies John? + +VENABLES. Now that you mention it, some of his Shandisms do have a +curiously feminine quality. + +COMTESSE. You have thought it might be a woman. + +VENABLES. Really, Comtesse-- + +COMTESSE. I see it all. Charles, you thought it might be the wife! + +VENABLES [flinging up his hands]. I own up. + +MAGGIE [bewildered]. Me? + +VENABLES. Forgive me, I see I was wrong. + +MAGGIE [alarmed]. Have I been doing John any harm? + +VENABLES. On the contrary, I am relieved to know that there are no +hairpins in his speeches. If he is at home, Mrs. Shand, may I see him? I +am going to be rather charming to him. + +MAGGIE [drawn in two directions]. Yes, he is--oh yes--but-- + +VENABLES. That is to say, Comtesse, if he proves himself the man I +believe him to be. + +[This arrests MAGGIE almost as she has reached the dining-room door.] + +MAGGIE [hesitating]. He is very busy just now. + +VENABLES [smiling]. I think he will see me. + +MAGGIE. Is it something about his speech? + +VENABLES [the smile hardening]. Well, yes, it is. + +MAGGIE. Then I dare say I could tell you what you want to know without +troubling him, as I've been typing it. + +VENABLES [with a sigh]. I don't acquire information in that way. + +COMTESSE. I trust not. + +MAGGIE. There's no secret about it. He is to show it to the whips +tonight. + +VENABLES [sharply]. You are sure of that? + +COMTESSE. It is quite true, Charles. I heard him say so; and indeed he +repeated what he called the 'peroration' before me. + +MAGGIE. I know it by heart. [She plays a bold game.] 'These are the +demands of all intelligent British women, and I am proud to nail them to +my flag'-- + +COMTESSE. The very words, Mrs. Shand. + +MAGGIE [looking at her imploringly]. 'And I don't care how they may +embarrass the Government.' [The COMTESSE is bereft of speech, so +suddenly has she been introduced to the real MAGGIE SHAND]. 'If the +right honourable gentleman will give us his pledge to introduce a +similar Bill this session I will willingly withdraw mine; but otherwise +I solemnly warn him that I will press the matter now to a division.' + +[She turns her face from the great man; she has gone white.] + +VENABLES [after a pause]. Capital. + +[The blood returns to MAGGIE's heart.] + +COMTESSE [who is beginning to enjoy herself very much]. Then you are +pleased to know that he means to, as you say, go to a division? + +VENABLES. Delighted. The courage of it will be the making of him. + +COMTESSE. I see. + +VENABLES. Had he been to hedge we should have known that he was a +pasteboard knight and have disregarded him. + +COMTESSE. I see. + +[She desires to catch the eye of MAGGIE, but it is carefully turned from +her.] + +VENABLES. Mrs. Shand, let us have him in at once. + +COMTESSE. Yes, yes, indeed. + +[MAGGIE's anxiety returns, but she has to call JOHN in.] + +JOHN [impressed]. Mr. Venables! This is an honour. + +VENABLES. How are you, Shand? + +JOHN. Sit down, sit down. [Becoming himself again.] I can guess what you +have come about. + +VENABLES. Ah, you Scotsmen. + +JOHN. Of course I know I'm harassing the Government a good deal-- + +VENABLES [blandly]. Not at all, Shand. The Government are very pleased. + +JOHN. You don't expect me to believe that? + +VENABLES. I called here to give you the proof of it. You may know that +we are to have a big meeting at Leeds on the 24th, when two Ministers +are to speak. There is room for a third speaker, and I am authorised to +offer that place to you. + +JOHN. To me! + +VENABLES. Yes. + +JOHN [swelling]. It would be--the Government taking me up. + +VENABLES. Don't make too much of it; it would be an acknowledgment that +they look upon you as one of their likely young men. + +MAGGIE. John! + +JOHN [not found wanting in a trying hour]. It's a bribe. You are +offering me this on condition that I don't make my speech. How can you +think so meanly of me as to believe that I would play the women's cause +false for the sake of my own advancement. I refuse your bribe. + +VENABLES [liking him for the first time]. Good. But you are wrong. +There are no conditions, and we want you to make your speech. Now do you +accept? + +JOHN [still suspicious]. If you make me the same offer after you have +read it. I insist on your reading it first. + +VENABLES [sighing]. By all means. + +[MAGGIE is in an agony as she sees JOHN hand the speech to his leader. +On the other hand, the COMTESSE thrills.] + +But I assure you we look on the speech as a small matter. The important +thing is your intention of going to a division; and we agree to that +also. + +JOHN [losing his head]. What's that? + +VENABLES. Yes, we agree. + +JOHN. But--but--why, you have been threatening to excommunicate me if I +dared. + +VENABLES. All done to test you, Shand. + +JOHN. To test me? + +VENABLES. We know that a division on your Bill can have no serious +significance; we shall see to that. And so the test was to be whether +you had the pluck to divide the House. Had you been intending to talk +big in this speech, and then hedge, through fear of the Government, they +would have had no further use for you. + +JOHN [heavily]. I understand. [But there is one thing he cannot +understand, which is, why VENABLES should be so sure that he is not to +hedge.] + +VENABLES [turning over the pages carelessly]. Any of your good things in +this, Shand? + +JOHN [whose one desire is to get the pages back]. No, I--no--it isn't +necessary you should read it now. + +VENABLES [from politeness only]. Merely for my own pleasure. I shall +look through it this evening. [He rolls up the speech to put it in his +pocket. JOHN turns despairingly to MAGGIE, though well aware that no +help can come from her.] + +MAGGIE. That's the only copy there is, John. [To VENABLES] Let me make a +fresh one, and send it to you in an hour or two. + +VENABLES [good-naturedly]. I could not put you to that trouble, Mrs. +Shand. I will take good care of it. + +MAGGIE. If anything were to happen to you on the way home, wouldn't +whatever is in your pocket be considered to be the property of your +heirs? + +VENABLES [laughing]. Now there is forethought! Shand, I think that +after that--! [He returns the speech to JOHN, whose hand swallows it +greedily.] She is Scotch too, Comtesse. + +COMTESSE [delighted]. Yes, she is Scotch too. + +VENABLES. Though the only persons likely to do for me in the street, +Shand, are your ladies' committee. Ever since they took the horse out of +my brougham, I can scent them a mile away. + +COMTESSE. A mile? Charles, peep in there. + +[He softly turns the handle of the dining-room door, and realises that +his scent is not so good as he had thought it. He bids his hostess and +the COMTESSE good-bye in a burlesque whisper and tiptoes off to safer +places. JOHN having gone out with him, MAGGIE can no longer avoid the +COMTESSE's reproachful eye. That much injured lady advances upon her +with accusing finger.] + +COMTESSE. So, madam! + +[MAGGIE is prepared for her.] + +MAGGIE. I don't know what you mean. + +COMTESSE. Yes, you do. I mean that there IS some one who 'helps' our Mr. +Shand. + +MAGGIE. There's not. + +COMTESSE. And it IS a woman, and it's you. + +MAGGIE. I help in the little things. + +COMTESSE. The little things! You are the Pin he picked up and that is +to make his fortune. And now what I want to know is whether your John is +aware that you help at all. + +[JOHN returns, and at once provides the answer.] + +JOHN. Maggie, Comtesse, I've done it again! + +MAGGIE. I'm so glad, John. + +[The COMTESSE is in an ecstasy.] + +COMTESSE. And all because you were not to hedge, Mr. Shand. + +[His appeal to her with the wistfulness of a schoolboy makes him rather +attractive.] + +JOHN. You won't tell on me, Comtesse! [He thinks it out.] They had just +guessed I would be firm because they know I'm a strong man. You little +saw, Maggie, what a good turn you were doing me when you said you wanted +to make another copy of the speech. + +[She is dense.] + +MAGGIE. How, John? + +JOHN. Because now I can alter the end. + +[She is enlightened.] + +MAGGIE. So you can! + +JOHN. Here's another lucky thing, Maggie: I hadn't told the ladies' +committee that I was to hedge, and so they need never know. Comtesse, I +tell you there's a little cherub who sits up aloft and looks after the +career of John Shand. + +[The COMTESSE looks not aloft but toward the chair at present occupied +by MAGGIE.] + +COMTESSE. Where does she sit, Mr. Shand? + +[He knows that women are not well read.] + +JOHN. It's just a figure of speech. + +[He returns airily to his committee room; and now again you may hear +the click of MAGGIE's needles. They no longer annoy the COMTESSE; she is +setting them to music.] + +COMTESSE. It is not down here she sits, Mrs. Shand, knitting a stocking. + +MAGGIE. No, it isn't. + +COMTESSE. And when I came in I gave him credit for everything; even for +the prettiness of the room! + +MAGGIE. He has beautiful taste. + +COMTESSE. Good-bye, Scotchy. + +MAGGIE. Good-bye, Comtesse, and thank you for coming. + +COMTESSE. Good-bye--Miss Pin. + +[MAGGIE rings genteelly.] + +MAGGIE. Good-bye. + +[The COMTESSE is now lost in admiration of her.] + +COMTESSE. You divine little wife. He can't be worthy of it, no man could +be worthy of it. Why do you do it? + +[MAGGIE shivers a little.] + +MAGGIE. He loves to think he does it all himself; that's the way of +men. I'm six years older than he is. I'm plain, and I have no charm. I +shouldn't have let him marry me. I'm trying to make up for it. + +[The COMTESSE kisses her and goes away. MAGGIE, somewhat foolishly, +resumes her knitting.] + +[Some days later this same room is listening--with the same +inattention--to the outpouring of JOHN SHAND's love for the lady of the +hiccoughs. We arrive--by arrangement--rather late; and thus we miss some +of the most delightful of the pangs. + +One can see that these two are playing no game, or, if they are, that +they little know it. The wonders of the world [so strange are the +instruments chosen by Love] have been revealed to JOHN in hiccoughs; he +shakes in SYBIL's presence; never were more swimming eyes; he who has +been of a wooden face till now, with ways to match, has gone on flame +like a piece of paper; emotion is in flood in him. We may be almost fond +of JOHN for being so worshipful of love. Much has come to him that we +had almost despaired of his acquiring, including nearly all the divine +attributes except that sense of humour. The beautiful SYBIL has always +possessed but little of it also, and what she had has been struck from +her by Cupid's flail. Naked of the saving grace, they face each other in +awful rapture.] + +JOHN. In a room, Sybil, I go to you as a cold man to a fire. You fill me +like a peal of bells in an empty house. + +[She is being brutally treated by the dear impediment, for which +hiccough is such an inadequate name that even to spell it is an +abomination though a sign of ability. How to describe a sound that is +noiseless? Let us put it thus, that when SYBIL wants to say something +very much there are little obstacles in her way; she falters, falls +perhaps once, and then is over, the while her appealing orbs beg you +not to be angry with her. We may express those sweet pauses in precious +dots, which some clever person can afterwards string together and make a +pearl necklace of them.] + +SYBIL. I should not ... let you say it, ... but ... you ... say it so +beautifully. + +JOHN. You must have guessed. + +SYBIL. I dreamed ... I feared ... but you were ... Scotch, and I didn't +know what to think. + +JOHN. Do you know what first attracted me to you, Sybil? It was your +insolence. I thought, 'I'll break her insolence for her.' + +SYBIL. And I thought... 'I'll break his str...ength!' + +JOHN. And now your cooing voice plays round me; the softness of you, +Sybil, in your pretty clothes makes me think of young birds. [The +impediment is now insurmountable; she has to swim for it, she swims +toward him.] It is you who inspire my work. + +[He thrills to find that she can be touched without breaking.] + +SYBIL. I am so glad... so proud... + +JOHN. And others know it, Sybil, as well as I. Only yesterday the +Comtesse said to me, 'No man could get on so fast unaided. Cherchez la +femme, Mr. Shand.' + +SYBIL. Auntie said that? + +JOHN. I said 'Find her yourself, Comtesse.' + +SYBIL. And she? + +JOHN. She said 'I have found her,' and I said in my blunt way, 'You mean +Lady Sybil,' and she went away laughing. + +SYBIL. Laughing? + +JOHN. I seem to amuse the woman. + +[Sybil grows sad.] + +SYBIL. If Mrs. Shand--It is so cruel to her. Whom did you say she had +gone to the station to meet? + +JOHN. Her father and brothers. + +SYBIL. It is so cruel to them. We must think no more of this. It is +mad... ness. + +JOHN. It's fate. Sybil, let us declare our love openly. + +SYBIL. You can't ask that, now in the first moment that you tell me of +it. + +JOHN. The one thing I won't do even for you is to live a life of +underhand. + +SYBIL. The... blow to her. + +JOHN. Yes. But at least she has always known that I never loved her. + +SYBIL. It is asking me to give... up everything, every one, for you. + +JOHN. It's too much. + +[JOHN is humble at last.] + +SYBIL. To a woman who truly loves, even that is not too much. Oh! it is +not I who matter--it is you. + +JOHN. My dear, my dear. + +SYBIL. So gladly would I do it to save you; but, oh, if it were to bring +you down! + +JOHN. Nothing can keep me down if I have you to help me. + +SYBIL. I am dazed, John, I... + +JOHN. My love, my love. + +SYBIL. I... oh... here... + +JOHN. Be brave, Sybil, be brave. + +SYBIL. .......... + +[In this bewilderment of pearls she melts into his arms. MAGGIE happens +to open the door just then; but neither fond heart hears her.] + +JOHN. I can't walk along the streets, Sybil, without looking in all the +shop windows for what I think would become you best. [As awkwardly as +though his heart still beat against corduroy, he takes from his pocket +a pendant and its chain. He is shy, and she drops pearls over the beauty +of the ruby which is its only stone.] It is a drop of my blood, Sybil. + +[Her lovely neck is outstretched, and he puts the chain round it. MAGGIE +withdraws as silently as she had come; but perhaps the door whispered +'d--n' as it closed, for SYBIL wakes out of Paradise.] + +SYBIL. I thought---Did the door shut? + +JOHN. It was shut already. + +[Perhaps it is only that SYBIL is bewildered to find herself once again +in a world that has doors.] + +SYBIL. It seemed to me--- + +JOHN. There was nothing. But I think I hear voices; they may have +arrived. + +[Some pretty instinct makes SYBIL go farther from him. MAGGIE kindly +gives her time for this by speaking before opening the door.] + +MAGGIE. That will do perfectly, David. The maid knows where to put them. +[She comes in.] They've come, John; they WOULD help with the luggage. +[JOHN goes out. MAGGIE is agreeably surprised to find a visitor.] How do +you do, Lady Sybil? This is nice of you. + +SYBIL. I was so sorry not to find you in, Mrs. Shand. + +[The impediment has run away. It is only for those who love it.] + +MAGGIE. Thank you. You'll sit down? + +SYBIL. I think not; your relatives--- + +MAGGIE. They will be so proud to see that you are my friend. + +[If MAGGIE were less simple her guest would feel more comfortable. She +tries to make conversation.] + +SYBIL. It is their first visit to London? + +[Instead of relieving her anxiety on this point, MAGGIE has a long look +at the gorgeous armful.] + +MAGGIE. I'm glad you are so beautiful, Lady Sybil. + +[The beautiful one is somehow not flattered. She pursues her +investigations with growing uneasiness.] + +SYBIL. One of them is married now, isn't he? [Still there is no answer; +MAGGIE continues looking at her, and shivers slightly.] Have they +travelled from Scotland to-day? Mrs. Shand, why do you look at me so? +The door did open! [MAGGIE nods.] What are you to do? + +MAGGIE. That would be telling. Sit down, my pretty. + +[As SYBIL subsides into what the Wylies with one glance would call the +best chair, MAGGIE's men-folk are brought in by JOHN, all carrying silk +hats and looking very active after their long rest in the train. They +are gazing about them. They would like this lady, they would like JOHN, +they would even like MAGGIE to go away for a little and leave them to +examine the room. Is that linen on the walls, for instance, or just +paper? Is the carpet as thick as it feels, or is there brown paper +beneath it? Had MAGGIE got anything off that bookcase on account of the +worm-hole? DAVID even discovers that we were simpletons when we said +there was nothing in the room that pretended to be what it was not. He +taps the marble mantelpiece, and is favourably impressed by the tinny +sound.] + +DAVID. Very fine imitation. It's a capital house, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. I'm so glad you like it. Do you know one another? This is my +father and my brothers, Lady Sybil. + +[The lovely form inclines towards them. ALICK and DAVID remain firm on +their legs, but JAMES totters.] + +JAMES. A ladyship! Well done, Maggie. + +ALICK [sharply]. James! I remember you, my lady. + +MAGGIE. Sit down, father. This is the study. + +[JAMES wanders round it inquisitively until called to order.] + +SYBIL. You must be tired after your long journey. + +DAVID [drawing the portraits of himself and partners in one lightning +sketch]. Tired, your ladyship? We sat on cushioned seats the whole way. + +JAMES [looking about him for the chair you sit on]. Every seat in this +room is cushioned. + +MAGGIE. You may say all my life is cushioned now, James, by this dear +man of mine. + +[She gives JOHN'S shoulder a loving pressure, which SYBIL feels is a +telegraphic communication to herself in a cypher that she cannot read. +ALICK and the BROTHERS bask in the evidence of MAGGIE's happiness.] + +JOHN [uncomfortably]. And is Elizabeth hearty, James? + +JAMES [looking down his nose in the manner proper to young husbands when +addressed about their wives]. She's very well, I thank you kindly. + +MAGGIE. James is a married man now, Lady Sybil. + +[SYBIL murmurs her congratulations.] + +JAMES. I thank you kindly. [Courageously] Yes, I'm married. [He looks at +DAVID and ALICK to see if they are smiling; and they are.] It wasn't a +case of being catched; it was entirely of my own free will. [He looks +again; and the mean fellows are smiling still.] Is your ladyship +married? + +SYBIL. Alas! no. + +DAVID. James! [Politely.] You will be yet, my lady. + +[SYBIL indicates that he is kind indeed.] + +JOHN. Perhaps they would like you to show them their rooms, Maggie? + +DAVID. Fine would we like to see all the house as well as the sleeping +accommodation. But first--[He gives his father the look with which +chairmen call on the next speaker.] + +ALICK. I take you, David. [He produces a paper parcel from a roomy +pocket.] It wasn't likely, Mr. Shand, that we should forget the day. + +JOHN. The day? + +DAVID. The second anniversary of your marriage. We came purposely for +the day. + +JAMES [his fingers itching to take the parcel from his father]. It's a +lace shawl, Maggie, from the three of us, a pure Tobermory; you would +never dare wear it if you knew the cost. + +[The shawl in its beauty is revealed, and MAGGIE hails it with little +cries of joy. She rushes at the donors and kisses each of them just as +if she were a pretty woman. They are much pleased and give expression to +their pleasure in a not very dissimilar manner.] + +ALICK. Havers. + +DAVID. Havers. + +JAMES. Havers. + +JOHN. It's a very fine shawl. + +[He should not have spoken, for he has set JAMES'S volatile mind +working.] + +JAMES. You may say so. What did you give her, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN [suddenly deserted by God and man]. Me? + +ALICK. Yes, yes, let's see it. + +JOHN. Oh--I-- + +[He is not deserted by MAGGIE, but she can think of no way out.] + +SYBIL [prompted by the impediment, which is in hiding, quite close]. Did +he ... forget? + +[There is more than a touch of malice in the question. It is a +challenge, and the Wylies as a family are almost too quick to accept a +challenge.] + +MAGGIE [lifting the gage of battle]. John forget? Never! It's a pendant, +father. + +[The impediment bolts. JOHN rises.] + +ALICK. A pendant? One of those things on a chain? + +[He grins, remembering how once, about sixty years ago, he and a lady +and a pendant--but we have no time for this.] + +MAGGIE. Yes. + +DAVID [who has felt the note of antagonism and is troubled]. You were +slow in speaking of it, Mr. Shand. + +MAGGIE [This is her fight.] He was shy, because he thought you might +blame him for extravagance. + +DAVID [relieved]. Oh, that's it. + +JAMES [licking his lips]. Let's see it. + +MAGGIE [a daughter of the devil]. Where did you put it, John? + +[JOHN's mouth opens but has nothing to contribute.] + +SYBIL [the impediment has stolen back again]. Perhaps it has been ... +mislaid. + +[The BROTHERS echo the word incredulously.] + +MAGGIE. Not it. I can't think where we laid it down, John. It's not on +that table, is it, James? [The Wylies turn to look, and MAGGIE's hand +goes out to LADY SYBIL: JOHN SHAND, witness. It is a very determined +hand, and presently a pendant is placed in it.] Here it is! [ALICK and +the BROTHERS cluster round it, weigh it and appraise it.] + +ALICK. Preserve me. Is that stone real, Mr. Shand? + +JOHN [who has begun to look his grimmest]. Yes. + +MAGGIE [who is now ready, if he wishes it, to take him on too]. John +says it's a drop of his blood. + +JOHN [wishing it]. And so it is. + +DAVID. Well said, Mr. Shand. + +MAGGIE [scared]. And now, if you'll come with me, I think John has +something he wants to talk over with Lady Sybil. [Recovering and taking +him on.] Or would you prefer, John, to say it before us all? + +SYBIL [gasping]. No! + +JOHN [flinging back his head]. Yes, I prefer to say it before you all. + +MAGGIE [flinging back hers]. Then sit down again. + +[The WYLIES wonderingly obey.] + +SYBIL. Mr. Shand, Mr. Shand!-- + +JOHN. Maggie knows, and it was only for her I was troubled. Do you think +I'm afraid of them? [With mighty relief] Now we can be open. + +DAVID [lowering]. What is it? What's wrong, John Shand? + +JOHN [facing him squarely]. It was to Lady Sybil I gave the pendant, +and all my love with it. [Perhaps JAMES utters a cry, but the silence of +ALICK and DAVID is more terrible.] + +SYBIL [whose voice is smaller than we had thought]. What are you to do? + +[It is to MAGGIE she is speaking.] + +DAVID. She'll leave it for us to do. + +JOHN. That's what I want. + +[The lords of creation look at the ladies.] + +MAGGIE [interpreting]. You and I are expected to retire, Lady Sybil, +while the men decide our fate. [SYBIL is ready to obey the law, but +MAGGIE remains seated.] Man's the oak, woman's the ivy. Which of us is +it that's to cling to you, John? + +[With three stalwarts glaring at him, JOHN rather grandly takes SYBIL'S +hand. They are two against the world.] + +SYBIL [a heroine]. I hesitated, but I am afraid no longer; whatever he +asks of me I will do. + +[Evidently the first thing he asks of her is to await him in the +dining-room.] + +It will mean surrendering everything for him. I am glad it means all +that. [She passes into the dining-room looking as pretty as a kiss.] + +MAGGIE. So that settles it. + +ALICK. I'm thinking that doesn't settle it. + +DAVID. No, by God! [But his love for MAGGIE steadies him. There is even +a note of entreaty in his voice.] Have you nothing to say to her, man? + +JOHN. I have things to say to her, but not before you. + +DAVID [sternly]. Go away, Maggie. Leave him to us. + +JAMES [who thinks it is about time that he said something]. Yes, leave +him to us. + +MAGGIE. No, David, I want to hear what is to become of me; I promise not +to take any side. + +[And sitting by the fire she resumes her knitting. The four regard her +as on an evening at The Pans a good many years ago.] + +DAVID [barking]. How long has this been going on? + +JOHN. If you mean how long has that lady been the apple of my eye, I'm +not sure; but I never told her of it until today. + +MAGGIE [thoughtfully and without dropping a stitch]. I think it wasn't +till about six months ago, John, that she began to be very dear to you. +At first you liked to bring in her name when talking to me, so that I +could tell you of any little things I might have heard she was doing. +But afterwards, as she became more and more to you, you avoided +mentioning her name. + +JOHN [surprised]. Did you notice that? + +MAGGIE [in her old-fashioned way]. Yes. + +JOHN. I tried to be done with it for your sake. I've often had a sore +heart for you, Maggie. + +JAMES. You're proving it! + +MAGGIE. Yes, James, he had. I've often seen him looking at me very +sorrowfully of late because of what was in his mind; and many a kindly +little thing he has done for me that he didn't use to do. + +JOHN. You noticed that too! + +MAGGIE. Yes. + +DAVID [controlling himself]. Well, we won't go into that; the thing to +be thankful for is that it's ended. + +ALICK [who is looking very old]. Yes, yes, that's the great thing. + +JOHN. All useless, sir, it's not ended; it's to go on. + +DAVID. There's a devil in you, John Shand. + +JOHN [who is an unhappy man just now]. I dare say there is. But do you +think he had a walk over, Mr. David? + +JAMES. Man, I could knock you down! + +MAGGIE. There's not one of you could knock John down. + +DAVID [exasperated]. Quiet, Maggie. One would think you were taking his +part. + +MAGGIE. Do you expect me to desert him at the very moment that he needs +me most? + +DAVID. It's him that's deserting you. + +JOHN. Yes, Maggie, that's what it is. + +ALICK. Where's your marriage vow? And your church attendances? + +JAMES [with terrible irony]. And your prize for moral philosophy? + +JOHN [recklessly]. All gone whistling down the wind. + +DAVID. I suppose you understand that you'll have to resign your seat. + +JOHN [his underlip much in evidence]. There are hundreds of seats, but +there's only one John Shand. + +MAGGIE [but we don't hear her]. That's how I like to hear him speak. + +DAVID [the ablest person in the room]. Think, man, I'm old by you, and +for long I've had a pride in you. It will be beginning the world again +with more against you than there was eight years ago. + +JOHN. I have a better head to begin it with than I had eight years ago. + +ALICK [hoping this will bite]. She'll have her own money, David! + +JOHN. She's as poor as a mouse. + +JAMES [thinking possibly of his Elizabeth's mother]. We'll go to her +friends, and tell them all. They'll stop it. + +JOHN. She's of age. + +JAMES. They'll take her far away. + +JOHN. I'll follow, and tear her from them. + +ALICK. Your career--- + +JOHN [to his credit]. To hell with my career. Do you think I don't +know I'm on the rocks? What can you, or you, or you, understand of the +passions of a man! I've fought, and I've given in. When a ship founders, +as I suppose I'm foundering, it's not a thing to yelp at. Peace, all of +you. [He strides into the dining-room, where we see him at times pacing +the floor.] + +DAVID [to JAMES, who gives signs of a desire to take off his coat]. Let +him be. We can't budge him. [With bitter wisdom] It's true what he says, +true at any rate about me. What do I know of the passions of a man! I'm +up against something I don't understand. + +ALICK. It's something wicked. + +DAVID. I dare say it is, but it's something big. + +JAMES. It's that damned charm. + +MAGGIE [still by the fire]. That's it. What was it that made you fancy +Elizabeth, James? + +JAMES [sheepishly]. I can scarcely say. + +MAGGIE. It was her charm. + +DAVID. HER charm! + +JAMES [pugnaciously]. Yes, HER charm. + +MAGGIE. She had charm for James. + +[This somehow breaks them up. MAGGIE goes from one to another with an +odd little smile flickering on her face.] + +DAVID. Put on your things, Maggie, and we'll leave his house. + +MAGGIE [patting his kind head]. Not me, David. + +[This is a MAGGIE they have known but forgotten; all three brighten.] + +DAVID. You haven't given in! + +[The smile flickers and expires.] + +MAGGIE. I want you all to go upstairs, and let me have my try now. + +JAMES. Your try? + +ALICK. Maggie, you put new life into me. + +JAMES. And into me. + +[DAVID says nothing; the way he grips her shoulder says it for him.] + +MAGGIE. I'll save him, David, if I can. + +DAVID. Does he deserve to be saved after the way he has treated you? + +MAGGIE. You stupid David. What has that to do with it. + +[When they have gone, JOHN comes to the door of the dining-room. There +is welling up in him a great pity for MAGGIE, but it has to subside a +little when he sees that the knitting is still in her hand. No man likes +to be so soon supplanted. SYBIL follows, and the two of them gaze at the +active needles.] + +MAGGIE [perceiving that she has visitors]. Come in, John. Sit down, Lady +Sybil, and make yourself comfortable. I'm afraid we've put you about. + +[She is, after all, only a few years older than they and scarcely looks +her age; yet it must have been in some such way as this that the little +old woman who lived in a shoe addressed her numerous progeny.] + +JOHN. I'm mortal sorry, Maggie. + +SYBIL [who would be more courageous if she could hold his hand]. And I +also. + +MAGGIE [soothingly]. I'm sure you are. But as it can't be helped I see +no reason why we three shouldn't talk the matter over in a practical +way. + +[SYBIL looks doubtful, but JOHN hangs on desperately to the word +practical.] + +JOHN. If you could understand, Maggie, what an inspiration she is to me +and my work. + +SYBIL. Indeed, Mrs. Shand, I think of nothing else. + +MAGGIE. That's fine. That's as it should be. + +SYBIL [talking too much]. Mrs. Shand, I think you are very kind to take +it so reasonably. + +MAGGIE. That's the Scotch way. When were you thinking of leaving me, +John? + +[Perhaps this is the Scotch way also; but SYBIL is English, and from the +manner in which she starts you would say that something has fallen on +her toes.] + +JOHN [who has heard nothing fall]. I think, now that it has come to +a breach, the sooner the better. [His tone becomes that of JAMES when +asked after the health of his wife.] When it is convenient to you, +Maggie. + +MAGGIE [making a rapid calculation]. It couldn't well be before +Wednesday. That's the day the laundry comes home. + +[SYBIL has to draw in her toes again.] + +JOHN. And it's the day the House rises. [Stifling a groan] It may be my +last appearance in the House. + +SYBIL [her arms yearning for him]. No, no, please don't say that. + +MAGGIE [surveying him sympathetically]. You love the House, don't you, +John, next to her? It's a pity you can't wait till after your speech at +Leeds. Mr. Venables won't let you speak at Leeds, I fear, if you leave +me. + +JOHN. What a chance it would have been. But let it go. + +MAGGIE. The meeting is in less than a month. Could you not make it such +a speech that they would be very loth to lose you? + +JOHN [swelling]. That's what was in my mind. + +SYBIL [with noble confidence]. And he could have done it. + +MAGGIE. Then we've come to something practical. + +JOHN [exercising his imagination with powerful effect]. No, it wouldn't +be fair to you if I was to stay on now. + +MAGGIE. Do you think I'll let myself be considered when your career is +at stake. A month will soon pass for me; I'll have a lot of packing to +do. + +JOHN. It's noble of you, but I don't deserve it, and I can't take it +from you. + +MAGGIE. Now's the time, Lady Sybil, for you to have one of your +inspiring ideas. + +SYBIL [ever ready]. Yes, yes--but what? + +[It is odd that they should both turn to MAGGIE at this moment.] + +MAGGIE [who has already been saying it to herself]. What do you think of +this: I can stay on here with my father and brothers; and you, John, can +go away somewhere and devote yourself to your speech? + +SYBIL. Yes. + +JOHN. That might be. [Considerately] Away from both of you. Where could +I go? + +SYBIL [ever ready]. Where? + +MAGGIE. I know. + +[She has called up a number on the telephone before they have time to +check her.] + +JOHN [on his dignity]. Don't be in such a hurry, Maggie. + +MAGGIE. Is this Lamb's Hotel? Put me on to the Comtesse de la Briere, +please. + +SYBIL [with a sinking]. What do you want with Auntie? + +MAGGIE. Her cottage in the country would be the very place. She invited +John and me. + +JOHN. Yes, but-- + +MAGGIE [arguing]. And Mr. Venables is to be there. Think of the +impression you could make on HIM, seeing him daily for three weeks. + +JOHN. There's something in that. + +MAGGIE. Is it you, Comtesse? I'm Maggie Shand. + +SYBIL. You are not to tell her that--? + +MAGGIE. No. [To the COMTESSE] Oh, I'm very well, never was better. Yes, +yes; you see I can't, because my folk have never been in London before, +and I must take them about and show them the sights. But John could come +to you alone; why not? + +JOHN [with proper pride]. If she's not keen to have me, I won't go. + +MAGGIE. She's very keen. Comtesse, I could come for a day by and by +to see how you are getting on. Yes--yes--certainly. [To JOHN] She says +she'll be delighted. + +JOHN [thoughtfully]. You're not doing this, Maggie, thinking that my +being absent from Sybil for a few weeks can make any difference? Of +course it's natural you should want us to keep apart, but-- + +MAGGIE [grimly]. I'm founding no hope on keeping you apart, John. + +JOHN. It's what other wives would do. + +MAGGIE. I promised to be different. + +JOHN [his position as a strong man assured]. Then tell her I accept. [He +wanders back into the dining-room.] + +SYBIL. I think--[she is not sure what she thinks]--I think you are very +wonderful. + +MAGGIE. Was that John calling to you? + +SYBIL. Was it? [She is glad to join him in the dining-room.] + +MAGGIE. Comtesse, hold the line a minute. [She is alone, and she has +nearly reached the end of her self-control. She shakes emotionally and +utters painful little cries; there is something she wants to do, and she +is loth to do it. But she does it.] Are you there, Comtesse? There's one +other thing, dear Comtesse; I want you to invite Lady Sybil also; yes, +for the whole time that John is there. No, I'm not mad; as a great +favour to me; yes, I have a very particular reason, but I won't tell you +what it is; oh, call me Scotchy as much as you like, but consent; do, +do, do. Thank you, thank you, good-bye. + +[She has control of herself now, and is determined not to let it +slip from her again. When they reappear the stubborn one is writing a +letter.] + +JOHN. I thought I heard the telephone again. + +MAGGIE [looking up from her labours]. It was the Comtesse; she says +she's to invite Lady Sybil to the cottage at the same time. + +SYBIL. Me! + +JOHN. To invite Sybil? Then of course I won't go, Maggie. + +MAGGIE [wondering seemingly at these niceties]. What does it matter? Is +anything to be considered except the speech? [It has been admitted that +she was a little devil.] And, with Sybil on the spot, John, to help you +and inspire you, what a speech it will be! + +JOHN [carried away]. Maggie, you really are a very generous woman. + +SYBIL [convinced at last]. She is indeed. + +JOHN. And you're queer too. How many women in the circumstances would +sit down to write a letter? + +MAGGIE. It's a letter to you, John. + +JOHN. To me? + +MAGGIE. I'll give it to you when it's finished, but I ask you not to +open it till your visit to the Comtesse ends. + +JOHN. What is it about? + +MAGGIE. It's practical. + +SYBIL [rather faintly]. Practical? [She has heard the word so frequently +to-day that it is beginning to have a Scotch sound. She feels she ought +to like MAGGIE, but that she would like her better if they were farther +apart. She indicates that the doctors are troubled about her heart, and +murmuring her adieux she goes. JOHN, who is accompanying her, pauses at +the door.] + +JOHN [with a queer sort of admiration for his wife]. Maggie, I wish I +was fond of you. + +MAGGIE [heartily]. I wish you were, John. + +[He goes, and she resumes her letter. The stocking is lying at hand, and +she pushes it to the floor. She is done for a time with knitting.] + + + + +ACT IV + +[Man's most pleasant invention is the lawn-mower. All the birds know +this, and that is why, when it is at rest, there is always at least one +of them sitting on the handle with his head cocked, wondering how the +delicious whirring sound is made. When they find out, they will change +their note. As it is, you must sometimes have thought that you heard the +mower very early in the morning, and perhaps you peeped in neglige from +your lattice window to see who was up so early. It was really the birds +trying to get the note. + +On this broiling morning, however, we are at noon, and whoever looks +will see that the whirring is done by Mr. Venables. He is in a linen +suit with the coat discarded (the bird is sitting on it), and he comes +and goes across the Comtesse's lawns, pleasantly mopping his face. We +see him through a crooked bowed window generously open, roses intruding +into it as if to prevent its ever being closed at night; there are other +roses in such armfuls on the tables that one could not easily say where +the room ends and the garden begins. + +In the Comtesse's pretty comic drawing-room (for she likes the comic +touch when she is in England) sits John Shand with his hostess, on +chairs at a great distance from each other. No linen garments for John, +nor flannels, nor even knickerbockers; he envies the English way of +dressing for trees and lawns, but is too Scotch to be able to imitate +it; he wears tweeds, just as he would do in his native country where +they would be in kilts. Like many another Scot, the first time he ever +saw a kilt was on a Sassenach; indeed kilts were perhaps invented, like +golf, to draw the English north. John is doing nothing, which again is +not a Scotch accomplishment, and he looks rather miserable and dour. The +Comtesse is already at her Patience cards, and occasionally she smiles +on him as if not displeased with his long silence. At last she speaks:] + +COMTESSE. I feel it rather a shame to detain you here on such a lovely +day, Mr. Shand, entertaining an old woman. + +JOHN. I don't pretend to think I'm entertaining you, Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. But you ARE, you know. + +JOHN. I would be pleased to be told how? + +[She shrugs her impertinent shoulders, and presently there is another +heavy sigh from JOHN.] + +COMTESSE. Again! Why do not you go out on the river? + +JOHN. Yes, I can do that. [He rises.] + +COMTESSE. And take Sybil with you. [He sits again.] No? + +JOHN. I have been on the river with her twenty times. + +COMTESSE. Then take her for a long walk through the Fairloe woods. + +JOHN. We were there twice last week. + +COMTESSE. There is a romantically damp little arbour at the end of what +the villagers call the Lovers' Lane. + +JOHN. One can't go there every day. I see nothing to laugh at. + +COMTESSE. Did I laugh? I must have been translating the situation into +French. + +[Perhaps the music of the lawn-mower is not to JOHN's mood, for he +betakes himself to another room. MR. VENABLES pauses in his labours to +greet a lady who has appeared on the lawn, and who is MAGGIE. She is as +neat as if she were one of the army of typists [who are quite the nicest +kind of women], and carries a little bag. She comes in through the +window, and puts her hands over the COMTESSE's eyes.] + +COMTESSE. They are a strong pair of hands, at any rate. + +MAGGIE. And not very white, and biggish for my size. Now guess. + +[The COMTESSE guesses, and takes both the hands in hers as if she valued +them. She pulls off MAGGIE's hat as if to prevent her flying away.] + +COMTESSE. Dear abominable one, not to let me know you were coming. + +MAGGIE. It is just a surprise visit, Comtesse. I walked up from +the station. [For a moment MAGGIE seems to have borrowed SYBIL'S +impediment.] How is--everybody? + +COMTESSE. He is quite well. But, my child, he seems to me to be a most +unhappy man. + +[This sad news does not seem to make a most unhappy woman of the child. +The COMTESSE is puzzled, as she knows nothing of the situation save what +she has discovered for herself.] + +Why should that please you, O heartless one? + +MAGGIE. I won't tell you. + +COMTESSE. I could take you and shake you, Maggie. Here have I put my +house at your disposal for so many days for some sly Scotch purpose, and +you will not tell me what it is. + +MAGGIE. No. + +COMTESSE. Very well, then, but I have what you call a nasty one for you. +[The COMTESSE lures MR. VENABLES into the room by holding up what might +be a foaming glass of lemon squash.] Alas, Charles, it is but a flower +vase. I want you to tell Mrs. Shand what you think of her husband's +speech. + +[MR. VENABLES gives his hostess a reproachful look.] + +VENABLES. Eh--ah--Shand will prefer to do that himself. I promised the +gardener--I must not disappoint him--excuse me-- + +COMTESSE. You must tell her, Charles. + +MAGGIE. Please, Mr. Venables, I should like to know. + +[He sits down with a sigh and obeys.] + +VENABLES. Your husband has been writing the speech here, and by his own +wish he read it to me three days ago. The occasion is to be an important +one; and, well, there are a dozen young men in the party at present, all +capable of filling a certain small ministerial post. [He looks longingly +at the mower, but it sends no message to his aid.] And as he is one +of them I was anxious that he should show in this speech of what he is +capable. + +MAGGIE. And hasn't he? + +[Not for the first time MR. VENABLES wishes that he was not in +politics.] + +VENABLES. I am afraid he has. + +COMTESSE. What is wrong with the speech, Charles? + +VENABLES. Nothing--and he can still deliver it. It is a powerful, +well-thought-out piece of work, such as only a very able man could +produce. But it has no SPECIAL QUALITY of its own--none of the little +touches that used to make an old stager like myself want to pat Shand +on the shoulder. [The COMTESSE's mouth twitches, but MAGGIE declines to +notice it.] He pounds on manfully enough, but, if I may say so, with a +wooden leg. It is as good, I dare say, as the rest of them could have +done; but they start with such inherited advantages, Mrs. Shand, that he +had to do better. + +MAGGIE. Yes, I can understand that. + +VENABLES. I am sorry, Mrs. Shand, for he interested me. His career has +set me wondering whether if _I_ had begun as a railway porter I might +not still be calling out, 'By your leave.' + +[MAGGIE thinks it probable but not important] + +MAGGIE. Mr. Venables, now that I think of it, surely John wrote to +me that you were dissatisfied with his first speech, and that he was +writing another. + +[The COMTESSE's eyes open very wide indeed.] + +VENABLES. I have heard nothing of that, Mrs. Shand. [He shakes his wise +head.] And in any case, I am afraid--[He still hears the wooden leg.] + +MAGGIE. But you said yourself that his second thoughts were sometimes +such an improvement on the first. + +[The COMTESSE comes to the help of the baggage.] + +COMTESSE. I remember you saying that, Charles. + +VENABLES. Yes, that has struck me. [Politely] Well, if he has anything +to show me--In the meantime-- + +[He regains the lawn, like one glad to escape attendance at JOHN'S +obsequies. The COMTESSE is brought back to speech by the sound of the +mower--nothing wooden in it.] + +COMTESSE. What are you up to now, Miss Pin? You know as well as I do +that there is no such speech. + +[MAGGIE's mouth tightens.] + +MAGGIE. I do not. + +COMTESSE. It is a duel, is it, my friend? + +[The COMTESSE rings the bell and MAGGIE's guilty mind is agitated.] + +MAGGIE. What are you ringing for? + +COMTESSE. As the challenged one, Miss Pin, I have the choice of weapons. +I am going to send for your husband to ask him if he has written such a +speech. After which, I suppose, you will ask me to leave you while you +and he write it together. + +[MAGGIE wrings her hands.] + +MAGGIE. You are wrong, Comtesse; but please don't do that. + +COMTESSE. You but make me more curious, and my doctor says that I +must be told everything. [The COMTESSE assumes the pose of her sex +in melodrama.] Put your cards on the table, Maggie Shand, or--[She +indicates that she always pinks her man. MAGGIE dolefully produces a +roll of paper from her bag.] What precisely is that? + +[The reply is little more than a squeak.] + +MAGGIE. John's speech. + +COMTESSE. You have written it yourself! + +[MAGGIE is naturally indignant.] + +MAGGIE. It's typed. + +COMTESSE. You guessed that the speech he wrote unaided would not +satisfy, and you prepared this to take its place! + +MAGGIE. Not at all, Comtesse. It is the draft of his speech that he left +at home. That's all. + +COMTESSE. With a few trivial alterations by yourself, I swear. Can you +deny it? + +[No wonder that MAGGIE is outraged. She replaces JOHN's speech in the +bag with becoming hauteur.] + +MAGGIE. Comtesse, these insinuations are unworthy of you. May I ask +where is my husband? + +[The COMTESSE drops her a curtsey.] + +COMTESSE. I believe your Haughtiness may find him in the Dutch garden. +Oh, I see through you. You are not to show him your speech. But you are +to get him to write another one, and somehow all your additions will be +in it. Think not, creature, that you can deceive one so old in iniquity +as the Comtesse de la Briere. + +[There can be but one reply from a good wife to such a charge, and at +once the COMTESSE is left alone with her shame. Anon a footman appears. +You know how they come and go.] + +FOOTMAN. You rang, my lady? + +COMTESSE. Did I? Ah, yes, but why? [He is but lately from the +ploughshare and cannot help her. In this quandary her eyes alight upon +the bag. She is unfortunately too abandoned to feel her shame; she still +thinks that she has the choice of weapons. She takes the speech from the +bag and bestows it on her servitor.] Take this to Mr. Venables, please, +and say it is from Mr. Shand. [THOMAS--but in the end we shall probably +call him JOHN--departs with the dangerous papers; and when MAGGIE +returns she finds that the COMTESSE is once more engaged in her +interrupted game of Patience.] You did not find him? + +[All the bravery has dropped from MAGGIE's face.] + +MAGGIE. I didn't see him, but I heard him. SHE is with him. I think they +are coming here. + +[The COMTESSE is suddenly kind again.] + +COMTESSE. Sybil? Shall I get rid of her? + +MAGGIE. No, I want her to be here, too. Now I shall know. + +[The COMTESSE twists the little thing round.] + +COMTESSE. Know what? + +MAGGIE. As soon as I look into his face I shall know. + +[A delicious scent ushers in the fair SYBIL, who is as sweet as a +milking stool. She greets MRS. SHAND with some alarm.] + +MAGGIE. How do you do, Lady Sybil? How pretty you look in that frock. +[SYBIL rustles uncomfortably.] You are a feast to the eye. + +SYBIL. Please, I wish you would not. + +[Shall we describe SYBIL'S frock, in which she looks like a great +strawberry that knows it ought to be plucked; or would it be easier to +watch the coming of JOHN? Let us watch JOHN.] + +JOHN. You, Maggie! You never wrote that you were coming. + +[No, let us watch MAGGIE. As soon as she looked into his face she was to +know something of importance.] + +MAGGIE [not dissatisfied with what she sees]. No, John, it's a surprise +visit. I just ran down to say good-bye. + +[At this his face falls, which does not seem to pain her.] + +SYBIL [foreseeing another horrible Scotch scene]. To say good-bye? + +COMTESSE [thrilling with expectation]. To whom, Maggie? + +SYBIL [deserted by the impediment, which is probably playing with rough +boys in the Lovers' Lane]. Auntie, do leave us, won't you? + +COMTESSE. Not I. It is becoming far too interesting. + +MAGGIE. I suppose there's no reason the Comtesse shouldn't be told, as +she will know so soon at any rate? + +JOHN. That's so. [SYBIL sees with discomfort that he is to be practical +also.] + +MAGGIE. It's so simple. You see, Comtesse, John and Lady Sybil have +fallen in love with one another, and they are to go off as soon as the +meeting at Leeds has taken place. + +[The COMTESSE's breast is too suddenly introduced to Caledonia and its +varied charms.] + +COMTESSE. Mon Dieu! + +MAGGIE. I think that's putting it correctly, John. + +JOHN. In a sense. But I'm not to attend the meeting at Leeds. My speech +doesn't find favour. [With a strange humility] There's something wrong +with it. + +COMTESSE. I never expected to hear you say that, Mr. Shand. + +JOHN [wondering also]. I never expected it myself. I meant to make it +the speech of my career. But somehow my hand seems to have lost its +cunning. + +COMTESSE. And you don't know how? + +JOHN. It's inexplicable. My brain was never clearer. + +COMTESSE. You might have helped him, Sybil. + +SYBIL [quite sulkily]. I did. + +COMTESSE. But I thought she was such an inspiration to you, Mr. Shand. + +JOHN [going bravely to SYBIL'S side]. She slaved at it with me. + +COMTESSE. Strange. [Wickedly becoming practical also] So now there is +nothing to detain you. Shall I send for a fly, Sybil? + +SYBIL [with a cry of the heart]. Auntie, do leave us. + +COMTESSE. I can understand your impatience to be gone, Mr. Shand. + +JOHN [heavily]. I promised Maggie to wait till the 24th, and I'm a man +of my word. + +MAGGIE. But I give you back your word, John. You can go now. + +[JOHN looks at SYBIL, and SYBIL looks at JOHN, and the impediment +arrives in time to take a peep at both of them.] + +SYBIL [groping for the practical, to which we must all come in the end]. +He must make satisfactory arrangements about you first. I insist on +that. + +MAGGIE [with no more imagination than a hen]. Thank you, Lady Sybil, but +I have made all my arrangements. + +JOHN [stung]. Maggie, that was my part. + +MAGGIE. You see, my brothers feel they can't be away from their business +any longer; and so, if it would be convenient to you, John, I could +travel north with them by the night train on Wednesday. + +SYBIL. I--I----The way you put things---! + +JOHN. This is just the 21st. + +MAGGIE. My things are all packed. I think you'll find the house in good +order, Lady Sybil. I have had the vacuum cleaners in. I'll give you the +keys of the linen and the silver plate; I have them in that bag. The +carpet on the upper landing is a good deal frayed, but--- + +SYBIL. Please, I don't want to hear any more. + +MAGGIE. The ceiling of the dining-room would be the better of a new lick +of paint--- + +SYBIL [stamping her foot, small fours]. Can't you stop her? + +JOHN [soothingly]. She's meaning well. Maggie, I know it's natural to +you to value those things, because your outlook on life is bounded by +them; but all this jars on me. + +MAGGIE. Does it? + +JOHN. Why should you be so ready to go? + +MAGGIE. I promised not to stand in your way. + +JOHN [stoutly]. You needn't be in such a hurry. There are three days +to run yet. [The French are so different from us that we shall probably +never be able to understand why the COMTESSE laughed aloud here.] It's +just a joke to the Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. It seems to be no joke to you, Mr. Shand. Sybil, my pet, are +you to let him off? + +SYBIL [flashing]. Let him off? If he wishes it. Do you? + +JOHN [manfully]. I want it to go on. [Something seems to have caught in +his throat: perhaps it is the impediment trying a temporary home.] It's +the one wish of my heart. If you come with me, Sybil, I'll do all in a +man's power to make you never regret it. + +[Triumph of the Vere de Veres.] + +MAGGIE [bringing them back to earth with a dump]. And I can make my +arrangements for Wednesday? + +SYBIL [seeking the COMTESSE's protection]. No, you can't. Auntie, I am +not going on with this. I'm very sorry for you, John, but I see now--I +couldn't face it--- + +[She can't face anything at this moment except the sofa pillows.] + +COMTESSE [noticing JOHN'S big sigh of relief]. So THAT is all right, Mr. +Shand! + +MAGGIE. Don't you love her any more, John? Be practical. + +SYBIL [to the pillows]. At any rate I have tired of him. Oh, best to +tell the horrid truth. I am ashamed of myself. I have been crying my +eyes out over it--I thought I was such a different kind of woman. But I +am weary of him. I think him--oh, so dull. + +JOHN [his face lighting up]. Are you sure that is how you have come to +think of me? + +SYBIL. I'm sorry; [with all her soul] but yes--yes--yes. + +JOHN. By God, it's more than I deserve. + +COMTESSE. Congratulations to you both. + +[SYBIL runs away; and in the fulness of time she married successfully in +cloth of silver, which was afterwards turned into a bed-spread.] + +MAGGIE. You haven't read my letter yet, John, have you? + +JOHN. No. + +COMTESSE [imploringly]. May I know to what darling letter you refer? + +MAGGIE. It's a letter I wrote to him before he left London. I gave it to +him closed, not to be opened until his time here was ended. + +JOHN [as his hand strays to his pocket]. Am I to read it now? + +MAGGIE. Not before her. Please go away, Comtesse. + +COMTESSE. Every word you say makes me more determined to remain. + +MAGGIE. It will hurt you, John. [Distressed] Don't read it; tear it up. + +JOHN. You make me very curious, Maggie. And yet I don't see what can be +in it. + +COMTESSE. But you feel a little nervous? Give ME the dagger. + +MAGGIE [quickly]. No. [But the COMTESSE has already got it.] + +COMTESSE. May I? [She must have thought they said Yes, for she opens the +letter. She shares its contents with them.] 'Dearest John, It is at my +request that the Comtesse is having Lady Sybil at the cottage at the +same time as yourself.' + +JOHN. What? + +COMTESSE. Yes, she begged me to invite you together. + +JOHN. But why? + +MAGGIE. I promised you not to behave as other wives would do. + +JOHN. It's not understandable. + +COMTESSE. 'You may ask why I do this, John, and my reason is, I think +that after a few weeks of Lady Sybil, every day, and all day, you will +become sick to death of her. I am also giving her the chance to help you +and inspire you with your work, so that you may both learn what her +help and her inspiration amount to. Of course, if your love is the great +strong passion you think it, then those weeks will make you love her +more than ever and I can only say good-bye. But if, as I suspect, you +don't even now know what true love is, then by the next time we meet, +dear John, you will have had enough of her.--Your affectionate wife, +Maggie.' Oh, why was not Sybil present at the reading of the will! And +now, if you two will kindly excuse me, I think I must go and get that +poor sufferer the eau de Cologne. + +JOHN. It's almost enough to make a man lose faith in himself. + +COMTESSE. Oh, don't say that, Mr. Shand. + +MAGGIE [defending him]. You mustn't hurt him. If you haven't loved deep +and true, that's just because you have never met a woman yet, John, +capable of inspiring it. + +COMTESSE [putting her hand on MAGGIE's shoulder]. Have you not, Mr. +Shand? + +JOHN. I see what you mean. But Maggie wouldn't think better of me for +any false pretences. She knows my feelings for her now are neither more +nor less than what they have always been. + +MAGGIE [who sees that he is looking at her as solemnly as a volume of +sermons printed by request]. I think no one could be fond of me that +can't laugh a little at me. + +JOHN. How could that help? + +COMTESSE [exasperated]. Mr. Shand, I give you up. + +MAGGIE. I admire his honesty. + +COMTESSE. Oh, I give you up also. Arcades ambo. Scotchies both. + +JOHN [when she has gone]. But this letter, it's not like you. By Gosh, +Maggie, you're no fool. + +[She beams at this, as any wife would.] + +But how could I have made such a mistake? It's not like a strong man. +[Evidently he has an inspiration.] + +MAGGIE. What is it? + +JOHN [the inspiration]. AM I a strong man? + +MAGGIE. You? Of course you are. And self-made. Has anybody ever helped +you in the smallest way? + +JOHN [thinking it out again]. No, nobody. + +MAGGIE. Not even Lady Sybil? + +JOHN. I'm beginning to doubt it. It's very curious, though, Maggie, that +this speech should be disappointing. + +MAGGIE. It's just that Mr. Venables hasn't the brains to see how good it +is. + +JOHN. That must be it. [But he is too good a man to rest satisfied with +this.] No, Maggie, it's not. Somehow I seem to have lost my neat way of +saying things. + +MAGGIE [almost cooing]. It will come back to you. + +JOHN [forlorn]. If you knew how I've tried. + +MAGGIE [cautiously]. Maybe if you were to try again; and I'll just come +and sit beside you, and knit. I think the click of the needles sometimes +put you in the mood. + +JOHN. Hardly that; and yet many a Shandism have I knocked off while you +were sitting beside me knitting. I suppose it was the quietness. + +MAGGIE. Very likely. + +JOHN [with another inspiration]. Maggie! + +MAGGIE [again]. What is it, John? + +JOHN. What if it was you that put those queer ideas into my head! + +MAGGIE. Me? + +JOHN. Without your knowing it, I mean. + +MAGGIE. But how? + +JOHN. We used to talk bits over; and it may be that you dropped the +seed, so to speak. + +MAGGIE. John, could it be this, that I sometimes had the idea in a rough +womanish sort of way and then you polished it up till it came out a +Shandism? + +JOHN [slowly slapping his knee]. I believe you've hit it, Maggie: to +think that you may have been helping me all the time--and neither of us +knew it! + +[He has so nearly reached a smile that no one can say what might have +happened within the next moment if the COMTESSE had not reappeared.] + +COMTESSE. Mr. Venables wishes to see you, Mr. Shand. + +JOHN [lost, stolen, or strayed a smile in the making]. Hum! + +COMTESSE. He is coming now. + +JOHN [grumpy]. Indeed! + +COMTESSE [sweetly]. It is about your speech. + +JOHN. He has said all he need say on that subject, and more. + +COMTESSE [quaking a little]. I think it is about the second speech. + +JOHN. What second speech? + +[MAGGIE runs to her bag and opens it.] + +MAGGIE [horrified]. Comtesse, you have given it to him! + +COMTESSE [impudently]. Wasn't I meant to? + +JOHN. What is it? What second speech? + +MAGGIE. Cruel, cruel. [Willing to go on her knees] You had left +the first draft of your speech at home, John, and I brought it here +with--with a few little things I've added myself. + +JOHN [a seven-footer]. What's that? + +MAGGIE [four foot ten at most]. Just trifles--things I was to suggest to +you--while I was knitting--and then, if you liked any of them you could +have polished them--and turned them into something good. John, John--and +now she has shown it to Mr. Venables. + +JOHN [thundering]. As my work, Comtesse? + +[But the COMTESSE is not of the women who are afraid of thunder.] + +MAGGIE. It is your work--nine-tenths of it. + +JOHN [in the black cap]. You presumed, Maggie Shand! Very well, then, +here he comes, and now we'll see to what extent you've helped me. + +VENABLES. My dear fellow. My dear Shand, I congratulate you. Give me +your hand. + +JOHN. The speech? + +VENABLES. You have improved it out of knowledge. It is the same speech, +but those new touches make all the difference. [JOHN sits down heavily.] +Mrs. Shand, be proud of him. + +MAGGIE. I am. I am, John. + +COMTESSE. You always said that his second thoughts were best, Charles. + +VENABLES [pleased to be reminded of it]. Didn't I, didn't I? Those +delicious little touches! How good that is, Shand, about the flowing +tide. + +COMTESSE. The flowing tide? + +VENABLES. In the first speech it was something like this--'Gentlemen, +the Opposition are calling to you to vote for them and the flowing tide, +but I solemnly warn you to beware lest the flowing tide does not engulf +you.' The second way is much better. + +COMTESSE. What is the second way, Mr. Shand? + +[JOHN does not tell her.] + +VENABLES. This is how he puts it now. [JOHN cannot help raising his head +to listen.] 'Gentlemen, the Opposition are calling to you to vote for +them and the flowing tide, but I ask you cheerfully to vote for us and +DAM the flowing tide.' + +[VENABLES and his old friend the COMTESSE laugh heartily, but for +different reasons.] + +COMTESSE. It IS better, Mr. Shand. + +MAGGIE. _I_ don't think so. + +VENABLES. Yes, yes, it's so virile. Excuse me, Comtesse, I'm off to +read the whole thing again. [For the first time he notices that JOHN is +strangely quiet.] I think this has rather bowled you over, Shand. + +[JOHN's head sinks lower.] + +Well, well, good news doesn't kill. + +MAGGIE [counsel for the defence]. Surely the important thing about the +speech is its strength and knowledge and eloquence, the things that were +in the first speech as well as in the second. + +VENABLES. That of course is largely true. The wit would not be enough +without them, just as they were not enough without the wit. It is the +combination that is irresistible. [JOHN's head rises a little.] Shand, +you are our man, remember that, it is emphatically the best thing you +have ever done. How this will go down at Leeds! + +[He returns gaily to his hammock; but lower sinks JOHN'S head, and even +the COMTESSE has the grace to take herself off. MAGGIE's arms flutter +near her husband, not daring to alight.] + +MAGGIE. You heard what he said, John. It's the combination. Is it so +terrible to you to find that my love for you had made me able to help +you in the little things? + +JOHN. The little things! It seems strange to me to hear you call me by +my name, Maggie. It's as if I looked on you for the first time. + +MAGGIE. Look at me, John, for the first time. What do you see? + +JOHN. I see a woman who has brought her husband low. + +MAGGIE. Only that? + +JOHN. I see the tragedy of a man who has found himself out. Eh, I can't +live with you again, Maggie. + +[He shivers.] + +MAGGIE. Why did you shiver, John? + +JOHN. It was at myself for saying that I couldn't live with you again, +when I should have been wondering how for so long you have lived with +me. And I suppose you have forgiven me all the time. [She nods.] And +forgive me still? [She nods again.] Dear God! + +MAGGIE. John, am I to go? or are you to keep me on? [She is now a little +bundle near his feet.] I'm willing to stay because I'm useful to you, if +it can't be for a better reason. [His hand feels for her, and the bundle +wriggles nearer.] It's nothing unusual I've done, John. Every man who +is high up loves to think that he has done it all himself; and the wife +smiles, and lets it go at that. It's our only joke. Every woman knows +that. [He stares at her in hopeless perplexity.] Oh, John, if only you +could laugh at me. + +JOHN. I can't laugh, Maggie. + +[But as he continues to stare at her a strange disorder appears in his +face. MAGGIE feels that it is to be now or never.] + +MAGGIE. Laugh, John, laugh. Watch me; see how easy it is. + +[A terrible struggle is taking place within him. He creaks. Something +that may be mirth forces a passage, at first painfully, no more joy in +it than in the discoloured water from a spring that has long been dry. +Soon, however, he laughs loud and long. The spring water is becoming +clear. MAGGIE claps her hands. He is saved.] + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's What Every Woman Knows, by James M. 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