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+ The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hall-Marked and Others
+ by John Galsworthy
+
+ 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: Hall-Marked and Others (From Six Short Plays)
+
+ Author: John Galsworthy
+
+ Last Updated: February 10, 2009
+ Release Date: September 26, 2004 [EBook #2920]
+
+ Language: English
+
+ Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+ *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HALL-MARKED AND OTHERS ***
+
+
+
+
+ Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+HALL-MARKED AND OTHERS
+
+From Six Short Plays
+
+By John Galsworthy
+
+
+
+CONTENTS:
+
+     HALL-MARKED
+     DEFEAT
+     THE SUN
+     PUNCH AND GO
+
+
+
+
+HALL-MARKED
+
+A Satiric Trifle
+
+
+
+    CHARACTERS
+
+    HERSELF.
+    LADY ELLA.
+    THE SQUIRE.
+    THE MAID.
+    MAUD.
+    THE RECTOR.
+    THE DOCTOR.
+    THE CABMAN.
+    HANNIBAL and EDWARD
+
+
+
+
+HALL-MARKED
+
+
+     The scene is the sitting-room and verandah of HER bungalow.
+
+     The room is pleasant, and along the back, where the verandah
+     runs, it seems all window, both French and casement.  There is a
+     door right and a door left.  The day is bright; the time
+     morning.
+
+     [HERSELF, dripping wet, comes running along the verandah,
+     through the French window, with a wet Scotch terrier in her
+     arms.  She vanishes through the door left.  A little pause, and
+     LADY ELLA comes running, dry, thin, refined, and agitated.  She
+     halts where the tracks of water cease at the door left.  A
+     little pause, and MAUD comes running, fairly dry, stolid,
+     breathless, and dragging a bull-dog, wet, breathless, and stout,
+     by the crutch end of her 'en-tout-cas'].
+
+LADY ELLA.  Don't bring Hannibal in till I know where she's put
+Edward!
+
+MAUD.  [Brutally, to HANNIBAL]  Bad dog!  Bad dog!
+
+     [HANNIBAL snuffles.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  Maud, do take him out!  Tie him up.  Here!  [She takes
+out a lace handkerchief ]  No--something stronger!  Poor darling
+Edward!  [To HANNIBAL]  You are a bad dog!
+
+     [HANNIBAL snuffles.]
+
+MAUD.  Edward began it, Ella.  [To HANNIBAL]  Bad dog!  Bad dog!
+
+     [HANNIBAL snuffles.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  Tie him up outside.  Here, take my scarf.  Where is my
+poor treasure?  [She removes her scarf]  Catch!  His ear's torn; I
+saw it.
+
+MAUD.  [Taking the scarf, to HANNIBAL]  Now!
+
+     [HANNIBAL snuffles.]
+
+     [She ties the scarf to his collar]
+
+He smells horrible.  Bad dog--getting into ponds to fight!
+
+LADY ELLA.  Tie him up, Maud.  I must try in here.
+
+     [Their husbands, THE SQUIRE and THE RECTOR, come hastening along
+     the verandah.]
+
+MAUD.  [To THE RECTOR]  Smell him, Bertie!  [To THE SQUIRE]  You
+might have that pond drained, Squire!
+
+     [She takes HANNIBAL out, and ties him to the verandah.  THE
+     SQUIRE and RECTOR Come in.  LADY ELLA is knocking on the door
+     left.]
+
+HER VOICE.  All right!  I've bound him up!
+
+LADY ELLA.  May I come in?
+
+HER VOICE.  Just a second!  I've got nothing on.
+
+     [LADY ELLA recoils.  THE SQUIRE and RECTOR make an involuntary
+     movement of approach.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  Oh!  There you are!
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Doubtfully]  I was just going to wade in----
+
+LADY ELLA.  Hannibal would have killed him, if she hadn't rushed in!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Done him good, little beast!
+
+LADY ELLA.  Why didn't you go in, Tommy?
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Well, I would--only she----
+
+LADY ELLA.  I can't think how she got Edward out of Hannibal's awful
+mouth!
+
+MAUD.  [Without--to HANNIBAL, who is snuffling on the verandah and
+straining at the scarf]  Bad dog!
+
+LADY ELLA.  We must simply thank her tremendously!  I shall never
+forget the way she ran in, with her skirts up to her waist!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  By Jove!  No.  It was topping.
+
+LADY ELLA.  Her clothes must be ruined.  That pond--ugh! [She
+wrinkles her nose]  Tommy, do have it drained.
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Dreamily]  I don't remember her face in church.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Ah!  Yes.  Who is she?  Pretty woman!
+
+LADY ELLA.  I must get the Vet. to Edward.  [To THE SQUIRE]  Tommy,
+do exert yourself!
+
+     [MAUD re-enters.]
+
+THE SQUIRE.  All right!  [Exerting himself]  Here's a bell!
+
+HER VOICE.  [Through the door]  The bleeding's stopped.  Shall I send
+him in to you?
+
+LADY ELLA.  Oh, please!  Poor darling!
+
+     [They listen.]
+
+     [LADY ELLA, prepares to receive EDWARD.  THE SQUIRE and RECTOR
+     stand transfixed.  The door opens, and a bare arm gently pushes
+     EDWARD forth.  He is bandaged with a smooth towel.  There is a
+     snuffle--HANNIBAL has broken the scarf, outside.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  [Aghast]  Look!  Hannibal's loose!  Maud--Tommy.  [To THE
+RECTOR]  You!
+
+     [The THREE rush to prevent HANNIBAL from re-entering.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  [To EDWARD]  Yes, I know--you'd like to!  You SHALL bite
+him when it's safe.  Oh!  my darling, you DO----[She sniffs].
+
+     [MAUD and THE SQUIRE re-enter.]
+
+Have you tied him properly this time?
+
+MAUD.  With Bertie's braces.
+
+LADY ELLA.  Oh! but----
+
+MAUD.  It's all right; they're almost leather.
+
+     [THE RECTOR re-enters, with a slight look of insecurity.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  Rector, are you sure it's safe?
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Hitching at his trousers]  No, indeed, LADY Ella--I----
+
+LADY ELLA.  Tommy, do lend a hand!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  All right, Ella; all right!  He doesn't mean what you
+mean!
+
+LADY ELLA.  [Transferring EDWARD to THE SQUIRE]  Hold him, Tommy.
+He's sure to smell out Hannibal!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Taking EDWARD by the collar, and holding his own nose]
+Jove!  Clever if he can smell anything but himself.  Phew!  She ought
+to have the Victoria Cross for goin' in that pond.
+
+     [The door opens, and HERSELF appears; a fine, frank, handsome
+     woman, in a man's orange-coloured motor-coat, hastily thrown on
+     over the substrata of costume.]
+
+SHE.  So very sorry--had to have a bath, and change, of course!
+
+LADY ELLA.  We're so awfully grateful to you.  It was splendid.
+
+MAUD.  Quite.
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Rather holding himself together]  Heroic!  I was just
+myself about to----
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Restraining EDWARD]  Little beast will fight--must
+apologise--you were too quick for me----
+
+     [He looks up at her.  She is smiling, and regarding the wounded
+     dog, her head benevolently on one side.]
+
+SHE.  Poor dears!  They thought they were so safe in that nice pond!
+
+LADY ELLA.  Is he very badly torn?
+
+SHE.  Rather nasty.  There ought to be a stitch or two put in his
+ear.
+
+LADY ELLA.  I thought so.  Tommy, do----
+
+THE SQUIRE.  All right.  Am I to let him go?
+
+LADY ELLA.  No.
+
+MAUD.  The fly's outside.  Bertie, run and tell Jarvis to drive in
+for the Vet.
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Gentle and embarrassed]  Run?  Well, Maud--I----
+
+SHE.  The doctor would sew it up.  My maid can go round.
+
+     [HANNIBAL.  appears at the open casement with the broken braces
+     dangling from his collar.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  Look!  Catch him!  Rector!
+
+MAUD.  Bertie!  Catch him!
+
+     [THE RECTOR seizes HANNIBAL, but is seen to be in difficulties
+     with his garments.  HERSELF, who has gone out left, returns,
+     with a leather strop in one hand and a pair of braces in the
+     other.]
+
+SHE.  Take this strop--he can't break that.  And would these be any
+good to you?
+
+     [SHE hands the braces to MAUD and goes out on to the verandah
+     and hastily away.  MAUD, transferring the braces to the RECTOR,
+     goes out, draws HANNIBAL from the casement window, and secures
+     him with the strap.  THE RECTOR sits suddenly with the braces in
+     his hands.  There is a moment's peace.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  Splendid, isn't she?  I do admire her.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  She's all there.
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Feelingly]  Most kind.
+
+     [He looks ruefully at the braces and at LADY ELLA.  A silence.
+     MAUD reappears at the door and stands gazing at the braces.]
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Suddenly]  Eh?
+
+MAUD.  Yes.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Looking at his wife]  Ah!
+
+LADY ELLA.  [Absorbed in EDWARD]  Poor darling!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Bluntly]  Ella, the Rector wants to get up!
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Gently]  Perhaps--just for a moment----
+
+LADY ELLA.  Oh!  [She turns to the wall.]
+
+     [THE RECTOR, screened by his WIFE, retires on to the verandah to
+     adjust his garments.]
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Meditating]  So she's married!
+
+LADY ELLA.  [Absorbed in EDWARD]  Why?
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Braces.
+
+LADY ELLA.  Oh!  Yes.  We ought to ask them to dinner, Tommy.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Ah!  Yes.  Wonder who they are?
+
+     [THE RECTOR and MAUD reappear.]
+
+THE RECTOR.  Really very good of her to lend her husband's--I was--
+er--quite----
+
+MAUD.  That'll do, Bertie.
+
+     [THEY see HER returning along the verandah, followed by a sandy,
+     red-faced gentleman in leather leggings, with a needle and
+     cotton in his hand.]
+
+HERSELF.  Caught the doctor just starting, So lucky!
+
+LADY ELLA.  Oh!  Thank goodness!
+
+DOCTOR.  How do, Lady Ella?  How do, Squire?--how do, Rector?  [To
+MAUD]  How de do?  This the beastie?  I see.  Quite!  Who'll hold him
+for me?
+
+LADY ELLA.  Oh!  I!
+
+HERSELF.  D'you know, I think I'd better.  It's so dreadful when it's
+your own, isn't it?  Shall we go in here, doctor?  Come along, pretty
+boy!
+
+     [She takes EDWARD, and they pass into the room, left.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  I dreaded it.  She is splendid!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Dogs take to her.  That's a sure sign.
+
+THE RECTOR.  Little things--one can always tell.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Something very attractive about her--what!  Fine build
+of woman.
+
+MAUD.  I shall get hold of her for parish work.
+
+THE RECTOR.  Ah!  Excellent--excellent!  Do!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Wonder if her husband shoots?  She seems
+quite-er--quite----
+
+LADY ELLA.  [Watching the door]  Quite!  Altogether charming; one of
+the nicest faces I ever saw.
+
+     [THE DOCTOR comes out alone.]
+
+Oh!  Doctor--have you? is it----?
+
+DOCTOR.  Right as rain!  She held him like an angel--he just licked
+her, and never made a sound.
+
+LADY ELLA.  Poor darling!  Can I----
+
+     [She signs toward the door.]
+
+DOCTOR.  Better leave 'em a minute.  She's moppin' 'im off.  [He
+wrinkles his nose]  Wonderful clever hands!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  I say--who is she?
+
+DOCTOR.  [Looking from face to face with a dubious and rather
+quizzical expression]  Who?  Well--there you have me!  All I know is
+she's a first-rate nurse--been helpin' me with a case in Ditch Lane.
+Nice woman, too--thorough good sort!  Quite an acquisition here.
+H'm!  [Again that quizzical glance]  Excuse me hurryin' off--very
+late.  Good-bye, Rector.  Good-bye, Lady Ella.  Good-bye!
+
+     [He goes.  A silence.]
+
+THE SQUIRE.  H'm!  I suppose we ought to be a bit careful.
+
+     [JARVIS, flyman of the old school, has appeared on the
+     verandah.]
+
+JARVIS.  [To THE RECTOR]  Beg pardon, sir.  Is the little dog all
+right?
+
+MAUD.  Yes.
+
+JARVIS.  [Touching his hat]  Seein' you've missed your train, m'm,
+shall I wait, and take you 'ome again?
+
+MAUD.  No.
+
+JARVIS.  Cert'nly, m'm.  [He touches his hat with a circular gesture,
+and is about to withdraw.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  Oh, Jarvis--what's the name of the people here?
+
+JARVIS.  Challenger's the name I've driven 'em in, my lady.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Challenger?  Sounds like a hound.  What's he like?
+
+JARVIS.  [Scratching his head]  Wears a soft 'at, sir.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  H'm!  Ah!
+
+JARVIS.  Very nice gentleman, very nice lady.  'Elped me with my old
+mare when she 'ad the 'ighsteria last week--couldn't 'a' been kinder
+if they'd 'a' been angels from 'eaven.  Wonderful fond o' dumb
+animals, the two of 'em.  I don't pay no attention to gossip, meself.
+
+MAUD.  Gossip?  What gossip?
+
+JARVIS.  [Backing]  Did I make use of the word, m'm?  You'll excuse
+me, I'm sure.  There's always talk where there's newcomers.  I takes
+people as I finds 'em.
+
+
+THE RECTOR.  Yes, yes, Jarvis--quite--quite right!
+
+JARVIS.  Yes, sir.  I've--I've got a 'abit that way at my time o'
+life.
+
+MAUD.  [Sharply]  How long have they been here, Jarvis?
+
+JARVIS.  Well---er--a matter of three weeks, m'm.
+
+     [A slight involuntary stir.]
+
+[Apologetic]  Of course, in my profession I can't afford to take
+notice of whether there's the trifle of a ring between 'em, as the
+sayin' is.  'Tisn't 'ardly my business like.
+
+     [A silence.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  [Suddenly]  Er--thank you, Jarvis; you needn't wait.
+
+JARVIS.  No, m'lady.  Your service, sir--service, m'm.
+
+     [He goes.  A silence.]
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Drawing a little closer]  Three weeks?  I say--er--
+wasn't there a book?
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Abstracted]  Three weeks----I certainly haven't seen
+them in church.
+
+MAUD.  A trifle of a ring!
+
+LADY ELLA.  [Impulsively]  Oh, bother!  I'm sure she's all right.
+And if she isn't, I don't care.  She's been much too splendid.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Must think of the village.  Didn't quite like the
+doctor's way of puttin' us off.
+
+LADY ELLA.  The poor darling owes his life to her.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  H'm!  Dash it!  Yes!  Can't forget the way she ran into
+that stinkin' pond.
+
+MAUD.  Had she a wedding-ring on?
+
+     [They look at each other, but no one knows.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  Well, I'm not going to be ungrateful.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  It'd be dashed awkward--mustn't take a false step, Ella.
+
+THE RECTOR.  And I've got his braces!  [He puts his hand to his
+waist.]
+
+MAUD.  [Warningly]  Bertie!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  That's all right, Rector--we're goin' to be perfectly
+polite, and--and--thank her, and all that.
+
+LADY ELLA.  We can see she's a good sort.  What does it matter?
+
+MAUD.  My dear Ella!  "What does it matter!"  We've got to know.
+
+THE RECTOR.  We do want light.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  I'll ring the bell.  [He rings.]
+
+     [They look at each other aghast.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  What did you ring for, Tommy?
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Flabbergasted]  God knows!
+
+MAUD.  Somebody'll come.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Rector--you--you've got to----
+
+MAUD.  Yes, Bertie.
+
+THE RECTOR.  Dear me!  But--er--what--er----How?
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Deeply-to himself]  The whole thing's damn delicate.
+
+     [The door right is opened and a MAID appears.  She is a
+     determined-looking female.  They face her in silence.]
+
+THE RECTOR.  Er--er----your master is not in?
+
+THE MAID.  No.  'E's gone up to London.
+
+THE RECTOR.  Er----Mr Challenger, I think?
+
+THE MAID.  Yes.
+
+THE RECTOR.  Yes!  Er----quite so
+
+THE MAID.  [Eyeing them]  D'you want--Mrs Challenger?
+
+THE RECTOR.  Ah! Not precisely----
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [To him in a low, determined voice]  Go on.
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Desperately]  I asked because there was a--a--Mr.
+Challenger I used to know in the 'nineties, and I thought--you
+wouldn't happen to know how long they've been married?  My friend
+marr----
+
+THE MAID.  Three weeks.
+
+THE RECTOR.  Quite so--quite so!  I shall hope it will turn out to
+be----Er--thank you--Ha!
+
+LADY ELLA.  Our dog has been fighting with the Rector's, and Mrs
+Challenger rescued him;  she's bathing his ear.  We're waiting to
+thank her.  You needn't----
+
+THE MAID.  [Eyeing them]  No.
+
+     [She turns and goes out.]
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Phew!  What a gorgon!  I say, Rector, did you really
+know a Challenger in the 'nineties?
+
+THE RECTOR.  [Wiping his brow]  No.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Ha!  Jolly good!
+
+LADY ELLA.  Well, you see!--it's all right.
+
+THE RECTOR.  Yes, indeed.  A great relief!
+
+LADY ELLA.  [Moving to the door]  I must go in now.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Hold on!  You goin' to ask 'em to--to--anything?
+
+LADY ELLA.  Yes.
+
+MAUD.  I shouldn't.
+
+LADY ELLA.  Why not?  We all like the look of her.
+
+THE RECTOR.  I think we should punish ourselves for entertaining that
+uncharitable thought.
+
+LADY ELLA.  Yes.  It's horrible not having the courage to take people
+as they are.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  As they are?  H'm!  How can you till you know?
+
+LADY ELLA.  Trust our instincts, of course.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  And supposing she'd turned out not married--eh!
+
+LADY ELLA!  She'd still be herself, wouldn't she?
+
+MAUD.  Ella!
+
+THE SQUIRE.  H'm!  Don't know about that.
+
+LADY ELLA.  Of course she would, Tommy.
+
+THE RECTOR.  [His hand stealing to his waist]  Well!  It's a great
+weight off my----!
+
+LADY ELLA.  There's the poor darling snuffling.  I must go in.
+
+     [She knocks on the door.  It is opened, and EDWARD comes out
+     briskly, with a neat little white pointed ear-cap on one ear.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  Precious!
+
+     [SHE HERSELF Comes out, now properly dressed in flax-blue
+     linen.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  How perfectly sweet of you to make him that!
+
+SHE.  He's such a dear.  And the other poor dog?
+
+MAUD.  Quite safe, thanks to your strop.
+
+     [HANNIBAL appears at the window, with the broken strop dangling.
+     Following her gaze, they turn and see him.]
+
+MAUD.  Oh!  There, he's broken it.  Bertie!
+
+SHE.  Let me!  [She seizes HANNIBAL.]
+
+THE SQUIRE.  We're really most tremendously obliged to you.  Afraid
+we've been an awful nuisance.
+
+SHE.  Not a bit.  I love dogs.
+
+THE SQUIRE.  Hope to make the acquaintance of Mr----of your husband.
+
+LADY ELLA.  [To EDWARD, who is straining]
+
+     [Gently, darling!  Tommy, take him.]
+
+     [THE SQUIRE does so.]
+
+MAUD.  [Approaching HANNIBAL.]  Is he behaving?
+
+     [She stops short, and her face suddenly shoots forward at HER
+     hands that are holding HANNIBAL'S neck.]
+
+SHE.  Oh!  yes--he's a love.
+
+MAUD.  [Regaining her upright position, and pursing her lips; in a
+peculiar voice]  Bertie, take Hannibal.
+
+THE RECTOR takes him.
+
+LADY ELLA.  [Producing a card]  I can't be too grateful for all
+you've done for my poor darling.  This is where we live.  Do come--
+and see----
+
+     [MAUD, whose eyes have never left those hands, tweaks LADY
+     ELLA's dress.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  That is--I'm--I----
+
+     [HERSELF looks at LADY ELLA in surprise.]
+
+THE SQUIRE.  I don't know if your husband shoots, but if----
+
+     [MAUD, catching his eye, taps the third finger of her left
+     hand.]
+
+--er--he--does--er--er----
+
+     [HERSELF looks at THE SQUIRE surprised.]
+
+MAUD.  [Turning to her husband, repeats the gesture with the low and
+simple word]  Look!
+
+THE RECTOR.  [With round eyes, severely]  Hannibal!  [He lifts him
+bodily and carries him away.]
+
+MAUD.  Don't squeeze him, Bertie!
+
+     [She follows through the French window.]
+
+THE SQUIRE.  [Abruptly--of the unoffending EDWARD]  That dog'll be
+forgettin' himself in a minute.
+
+     [He picks up EDWARD and takes him out.]
+
+     [LADY ELLA is left staring.]
+
+LADY ELLA.  [At last]  You mustn't think, I----You mustn't think, we
+----Oh!  I must just see they--don't let Edward get at Hannibal.
+
+     [She skims away.]
+
+     [HERSELF is left staring after LADY ELLA, in surprise.]
+
+SHE.  What is the matter with them?
+
+     [The door is opened.]
+
+THE MAID.  [Entering and holding out a wedding-ring--severely]  You
+left this, m'm, in the bathroom.
+
+SHE.  [Looking, startled, at her finger]  Oh! [Taking it]  I hadn't
+missed it.  Thank you, Martha.
+
+     [THE MAID goes.]
+
+     [A hand, slipping in at the casement window, softly lays a pair
+     of braces on the windowsill.  SHE looks at the braces, then at
+     the ring.  HER lip curls.]
+
+Sue.  [Murmuring deeply]  Ah!
+
+
+                              CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+DEFEAT
+
+A Tiny Drama
+
+
+
+     CHARACTERS
+
+     THE OFFICER.
+     THE GIRL.
+
+
+                  DURING THE GREAT WAR.  EVENING.
+
+
+
+     An empty room.  The curtains drawn and gas turned low.  The
+     furniture and walls give a colour-impression as of greens and
+     beetroot.  There is a prevalence of plush.  A fireplace on the
+     Left, a sofa, a small table; the curtained window is at the
+     back.  On the table, in a common pot, stands a little plant of
+     maidenhair fern, fresh and green.
+
+     Enter from the door on the Right, a GIRL and a YOUNG OFFICER in
+     khaki.  The GIRL wears a discreet dark dress, hat, and veil, and
+     stained yellow gloves.  The YOUNG OFFICER is tall, with a fresh
+     open face, and kindly eager blue eyes; he is a little lame.  The
+     GIRL, who is evidently at home, moves towards the gas jet to
+     turn it up, then changes her mind, and going to the curtains,
+     draws them apart and throws up the window.  Bright moonlight
+     comes flooding in.  Outside are seen the trees of a little
+     Square.  She stands gazing out, suddenly turns inward with a
+     shiver.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  I say; what's the matter?  You were crying when I spoke
+to you.
+
+GIRL.  [With a movement of recovery]  Oh!  nothing.  The beautiful
+evening-that's all.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Looking at her]  Cheer up!
+
+GIRL.  [Taking of hat and veil; her hair is yellowish and crinkly]
+Cheer up!  You are not lonelee, like me.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Limping to the window--doubtfully]  I say, how did you
+how did you get into this?  Isn't it an awfully hopeless sort of
+life?
+
+GIRL.  Yees, it ees.  You haf been wounded?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Just out of hospital to-day.
+
+GIRL.  The horrible war--all the misery is because of the war.  When
+will it end?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Leaning against the window-sill, looking at her
+attentively]  I say, what nationality are you?
+
+GIRL.  [With a quick look and away]  Rooshian.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Really!  I never met a Russian girl.  [The GIRL gives him
+another quick look]  I say, is it as bad as they make out?
+
+GIRL.  [Slipping her hand through his arm]  Not when I haf anyone as
+ni-ice as you; I never haf had, though.  [She smiles, and her smile,
+like her speech, is slow and confining]  You stopped because I was
+sad, others stop because I am gay.  I am not fond of men at all.
+When you know--you are not fond of them.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Well, you hardly know them at their best, do you?  You
+should see them in the trenches.  By George!  They're simply
+splendid--officers and men, every blessed soul.  There's never been
+anything like it--just one long bit of jolly fine self-sacrifice;
+it's perfectly amazing.
+
+GIRL.  [Turning her blue-grey eyes on him]  I expect you are not the
+last at that.  You see in them what you haf in yourself, I think.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Oh, not a bit; you're quite out!  I assure you when we
+made the attack where I got wounded there wasn't a single man in my
+regiment who wasn't an absolute hero.  The way they went in--never
+thinking of themselves--it was simply ripping.
+
+GIRL.  [In a queer voice]  It is the same too, perhaps, with--the
+enemy.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Oh, yes!  I know that.
+
+GIRL.  Ah!  You are not a mean man.  How I hate mean men!
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Oh! they're not mean really--they simply don't
+understand.
+
+GIRL.  Oh!  You are a babee--a good babee aren't you?
+
+     [The YOUNG OFFICER doesn't like this, and frowns.  The GIRL
+     looks a little scared.]
+
+GIRL.  [Clingingly]  But I li-ke you for it.  It is so good to find a
+ni-ice man.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Abruptly]  About being lonely?  Haven't you any Russian
+friends?
+
+GIRL.  [Blankly]  Rooshian?  No.  [Quickly]  The town is so beeg.
+Were you at the concert before you spoke to me?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Yes.
+
+GIRL.  I too.  I lofe music.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  I suppose all Russians do.
+
+GIRL.  [With another quick look tat him]  I go there always when I
+haf the money.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  What!  Are you as badly on the rocks as that?
+
+GIRL.  Well, I haf just one shilling now!
+
+     [She laughs bitterly.  The laugh upsets him; he sits on the
+     window-sill, and leans forward towards her.]
+
+YOUNG OFF.  I say, what's your name?
+
+GIRL.  May.  Well, I call myself that.  It is no good asking yours.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [With a laugh]  You're a distrustful little soul; aren't
+you?
+
+GIRL.  I haf reason to be, don't you think?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Yes.  I suppose you're bound to think us all brutes.
+
+GIRL.  [Sitting on a chair close to the window where the moonlight
+falls on one powdered cheek]  Well, I haf a lot of reasons to be
+afraid all my time.  I am dreadfully nervous now; I am not trusding
+anybody.  I suppose you haf been killing lots of Germans?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  We never know, unless it happens to be hand to hand; I
+haven't come in for that yet.
+
+GIRL.  But you would be very glad if you had killed some.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Oh, glad?  I don't think so.  We're all in the same boat,
+so far as that's concerned.  We're not glad to kill each other--not
+most of us.  We do our job--that's all.
+
+GIRL.  Oh!  It is frightful.  I expect I haf my brothers killed.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Don't you get any news ever?
+
+GIRL.  News?  No indeed, no news of anybody in my country.  I might
+not haf a country; all that I ever knew is gone; fader, moder,
+sisters, broders, all;  never any more I shall see them, I suppose,
+now.  The war it breaks and breaks, it breaks hearts.  [She gives a
+little snarl]  Do you know what I was thinking when you came up to
+me?  I was thinking of my native town, and the river in the
+moonlight.  If I could see it again I would be glad.  Were you ever
+homeseeck?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Yes, I have been--in the trenches.  But one's ashamed
+with all the others.
+
+GIRL.  Ah!  Yees!  Yees!  You are all comrades there.  What is it
+like for me here, do you think, where everybody hates and despises
+me, and would catch me and put me in prison, perhaps.  [Her breast
+heaves.]
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Leaning forward and patting her knee]  Sorry--sorry.
+
+GIRL.  [In a smothered voice]  You are the first who has been kind to
+me for so long!  I will tell you the truth--I am not Rooshian at all
+--I am German.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Staring]  My dear girl, who cares.   We aren't fighting
+against women.
+
+GIRL.  [Peering at him]  Another man said that to me.  But he was
+thinkin' of his fun.  You are a veree ni-ice boy; I am so glad I met
+you.  You see the good in people, don't you?  That is the first thing
+in the world--because--there is really not much good in people, you
+know.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Smiling]  You are a dreadful little cynic!  But of
+course you are!
+
+GIRL.  Cyneec?  How long do you think I would live if I was not a
+cyneec?  I should drown myself to-morrow.  Perhaps there are good
+people, but, you see, I don't know them.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  I know lots.
+
+GIRL.  [Leaning towards him]  Well now--see, ni-ice boy--you haf
+never been in a hole, haf you?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  I suppose not a real hole.
+
+GIRL.  No, I should think not, with your face.  Well, suppose I am
+still a good girl, as I was once, you know; and you took me to your
+mother and your sisters and you said: "Here is a little German girl
+that has no work, and no money, and no friends."  They will say: "Oh!
+how sad!  A German girl!"  And they will go and wash their hands.
+
+     [The OFFICER, is silent, staring at her.]
+
+GIRL.  You see.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Muttering]  I'm sure there are people.
+
+GIRL.  No.  They would not take a German, even if she was good.
+Besides, I don't want to be good any more--I am not a humbug; I have
+learned to be bad.  Aren't you going to kees me, ni-ice boy?
+
+She puts her face close to his.  Her eyes trouble him; he draws back.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Don't.  I'd rather not, if you don't mind.  [She looks at
+him fixedly, with a curious inquiring stare]  It's stupid.  I don't
+know--but you see, out there, and in hospital, life's different.
+It's--it's--it isn't mean, you know.  Don't come too close.
+
+GIRL.  Oh!  You are fun----[She stops]  Doesn't it light.  No Zeps
+to-night.  When they burn--what a 'orrble death!  And all the people
+cheer.  It is natural.   Do you hate us veree much?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Turning sharply]  Hate?  I don't know.
+
+GIRL.  I don't hate even the English--I despise them.  I despise my
+people too; even more, because they began this war.  Oh! I know that.
+I despise all the peoples.  Why haf they made the world so miserable
+--why haf they killed all our lives--hundreds and thousands and
+millions of lives--all for noting?  They haf made a bad world--
+everybody hating, and looking for the worst everywhere.  They haf
+made me bad, I know.  I believe no more in anything.  What is there
+to believe in?  Is there a God?  No!  Once I was teaching little
+English children their prayers--isn't that funnee?  I was reading to
+them about Christ and love.  I believed all those things.  Now I
+believe noting at all--no one who is not a fool or a liar can
+believe.  I would like to work in a 'ospital; I would like to go and
+'elp poor boys like you.  Because I am a German they would throw me
+out a 'undred times, even if I was good.  It is the same in Germany,
+in France, in Russia, everywhere.  But do you think I will believe in
+Love and Christ and God and all that--Not I!  I think we are animals
+--that's all!  Oh, yes! you fancy it is because my life has spoiled
+me.  It is not that at all--that is not the worst thing in life.  The
+men I take are not ni-ice, like you, but it's their nature; and--they
+help me to live, which is something for me, anyway.  No, it is the
+men who think themselves great and good and make the  war with their
+talk and their hate, killing us all--killing all the boys like you,
+and keeping poor People in prison, and telling us to go on hating;
+and all these dreadful cold-blood creatures who write in the papers
+--the same in my country--just the same; it is because of all of them
+that I think we are only animals.
+
+     [The YOUNG OFFICER gets up, acutely miserable.]
+
+     [She follows him with her eyes.]
+
+GIRL.  Don't mind me talkin', ni-ice boy.  I don't know anyone to
+talk to.  If you don't like it, I can be quiet as a mouse.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Oh, go on!  Talk away; I'm not obliged to believe you,
+and I don't.
+
+     [She, too, is on her feet now, leaning against the wall; her
+     dark dress and white face just touched by the slanting
+     moonlight.  Her voice comes again, slow and soft and bitter.]
+
+GIRL.  Well, look here, ni-ice boy, what sort of world is it, where
+millions are being tortured, for no fault of theirs, at all?  A
+beautiful world, isn't it?  'Umbog!  Silly rot, as you boys call it.
+You say it is all "Comrades" and braveness out there at the front,
+and people don't think of themselves.  Well, I don't think of myself
+veree much.  What does it matter?  I am lost now, anyway.  But I
+think of my people at 'ome; how they suffer and grieve.  I think of
+all the poor people there, and here, how lose those they love, and
+all the poor prisoners.  Am I not to think of them?  And if I do, how
+am I to believe it a beautiful world, ni-ice boy?
+
+     [He stands very still, staring at her.]
+
+GIRL.  Look here!  We haf one life each, and soon it is over.  Well,
+I think that is lucky.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  No!  There's more than that.
+
+GIRL.  [Softly]  Ah!  You think the war is fought for the future; you
+are giving your lives for a better world, aren't you?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  We must fight till we win.
+
+GIRL.  Till you win.  My people think that too.  All the peoples
+think that if they win the world will be better.  But it will not,
+you know; it will be much worse, anyway.
+
+     [He turns away from her, and catches up his cap.  Her voice
+     follows him.]
+
+GIRL.  I don't care which win.  I don't care if my country is beaten.
+I despise them all--animals--animals.  Ah!  Don't go, ni-ice boy; I
+will be quiet now.
+
+     [He has taken some notes from his tunic pocket; he puts then on
+     the table and goes up to her.]
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Good-night.
+
+GIRL.  [Plaintively]  Are you really going?  Don't you like me
+enough?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Yes, I like you.
+
+GIRL.  It is because I am German, then?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  No.
+
+GIRL.  Then why won't you stay?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [With a shrug]  If you must know--because you upset me.
+
+GIRL.  Won't you kees me once?
+
+     [He bends, puts his lips to her forehead.  But as he takes them
+     away she throws her head back, presses her mouth to his, and
+     clings to him.]
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Sitting down suddenly]  Don't!  I don't want to feel a
+brute.
+
+GIRL.  [Laughing]  You are a funny boy; but you are veree good.  Talk
+to me a little, then.  No one talks to me.  Tell me, haf you seen
+many German prisoners?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [Sighing]  A good many.
+
+GIRL.  Any from the Rhine?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Yes, I think so.
+
+GIRL.  Were they veree sad?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Some were; some were quite glad to be taken.
+
+GIRL.  Did you ever see the Rhine?  It will be wonderful to-night.
+The moonlight will be the same there, and in Rooshia too, and France,
+everywhere; and the trees will look the same as here, and people will
+meet under them and make love just as here.  Oh! isn't it stupid, the
+war?  As if it were not good to be alive!
+
+YOUNG OFF.  You can't tell how good it is to be alive till you're
+facing death.  You don't live till then.  And when a whole lot of you
+feel like that--and are ready to give their lives for each other,
+it's worth all the rest of life put together.
+
+     [He stops, ashamed of such, sentiment before this girl, who
+     believes in nothing.]
+
+GIRL.  [Softly]  How were you wounded, ni-ice boy?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Attacking across open ground: four machine bullets got me
+at one go off.
+
+GIRL.  Weren't you veree frightened when they ordered you to attack?
+
+     [He shakes his head and laughs.]
+
+YOUNG OFF.  It was great.  We did laugh that morning.  They got me
+much too soon, though--a swindle.
+
+GIRL.  [Staring at him]  You laughed?
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Yes.  And what do you think was the first thing I was
+conscious of next morning?  My old Colonel bending over me and giving
+me a squeeze of lemon.  If you knew my Colonel you'd still believe in
+things.  There is something, you know, behind all this evil.  After
+all, you can only die once, and, if it's for your country--all the
+better!
+
+     [Her face, in the moonlight, with, intent eyes touched up with
+     black, has a most strange, other-world look.]
+
+GIRL.  No; I believe in nothing, not even in my country.  My heart is
+dead.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Yes; you think so, but it isn't, you know, or you
+wouldn't have 'been crying when I met you.
+
+GIRL.  If it were not dead, do you think I could live my life-walking
+the streets every night, pretending to like strange men; never
+hearing a kind word; never talking, for fear I will be known for a
+German?  Soon I shall take to drinking; then I shall be "Kaput" veree
+quick.  You see, I am practical; I see things clear.  To-night I am a
+little emotional; the moon is funny, you know.  But I live for myself
+only, now.  I don't care for anything or anybody.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  All the same; just now you were pitying your folk at
+home, and prisoners and that.
+
+GIRL.  Yees; because they suffer.  Those who suffer are like me--I
+pity myself, that's all; I am different from your English women.  I
+see what I am doing; I do not let my mind become a turnip just
+because I am no longer moral.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  Nor your heart either, for all you say.
+
+GIRL.  Ni-ice boy, you are veree obstinate.  But all that about love
+is 'umbog.  We love ourselves, noting more.
+
+     At that intense soft bitterness in her voice, he gets up,
+     feeling stifled, and stands at the window.  A newspaper boy some
+     way off is calling his wares.  The GIRL's fingers slip between
+     his own, and stay unmoving.  He looks round into her face.  In
+     spite of make-up it has a queer, unholy, touching beauty.
+
+YOUNG OFF.  [With an outburst]  No; we don't only love ourselves;
+there is more.  I can't explain, but there's something great; there's
+kindness--and--and-----
+
+     [The shouting of newspaper boys grows louder and their cries,
+     passionately vehement, clash into each other and obscure each
+     word.  His head goes up to listen; her hand tightens within his
+     arm--she too is listening.  The cries come nearer, hoarser, more
+     shrill and clamorous; the empty moonlight outside seems suddenly
+     crowded with figures, footsteps, voices, and a fierce distant
+     cheering.  "Great victory--great victory!  Official!  British!
+     'Eavy defeat of the 'Uns!  Many thousand prisoners!  'Eavy
+     defeat!" It speeds by, intoxicating, filling him with a fearful
+     joy; he leans far out, waving his cap and cheering like a
+     madman; the night seems to flutter and vibrate and answer.  He
+     turns to rush down into the street, strikes against something
+     soft, and recoils.  The GIRL stands with hands clenched, and
+     face convulsed, panting.  All confused with the desire to do
+     something, he stoops to kiss her hand.  She snatches away her
+     fingers, sweeps up the notes he has put down, and holds them out
+     to him.]
+
+GIRL.  Take them--I will not haf your English money--take them.
+
+     Suddenly she tears them across, twice, thrice, lets the bits.
+     flutter to the floor, and turns her back on him.  He stands
+     looking at her leaning against the plush-covered table, her head
+     down, a dark figure in a dark room, with the moonlight
+     sharpening her outline.  Hardly a moment he stays, then makes
+     for the door.  When he is gone, she still stands there, her chin
+     on her breast, with the sound in her ears of cheering, of
+     hurrying feet, and voices crying: "'Eavy Defeat!" stands, in the
+     centre of a pattern made by the fragments of the torn-up notes,
+     staring out unto the moonlight, seeing not this hated room and
+     the hated Square outside, but a German orchard, and herself, a
+     little girl, plucking apples, a big dog beside her; and a
+     hundred other pictures, such as the drowning see.  Then she
+     sinks down on the floor, lays her forehead on the dusty carpet,
+     and presses her body to it.  Mechanically, she sweeps together
+     the scattered fragments of notes, assembling them with the dust
+     into a little pile, as of fallen leaves, and dabbling in it with
+     her fingers, while the tears run down her cheeks.
+
+GIRL.  Defeat!  Der Vaterland!  Defeat!....  One shillin'!
+
+     [Then suddenly, in the moonlight, she sits up, and begins to
+     sing with all her might "Die Wacht am Rhein."  And outside men
+     pass, singing: "Rule, Britannia!"]
+
+
+                              CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE SUN
+
+A Scene
+
+
+
+
+     CHARACTERS
+
+     THE GIRL.
+     THE MAN.
+     THE SOLDIER.
+
+
+                              THE SUN
+
+     A Girl, sits crouched over her knees on a stile close to a
+     river.  A MAN with a silver badge stands beside her, clutching
+     the worn top plank.  THE GIRL'S level brows are drawn together;
+     her eyes see her memories.  THE MAN's eyes see THE GIRL; he has
+     a dark, twisted face.  The bright sun shines; the quiet river
+     flows; the Cuckoo is calling; the mayflower is in bloom along
+     the hedge that ends in the stile on the towing-path.
+
+THE GIRL.  God knows what 'e'll say, Jim.
+
+THE MAN.  Let 'im.  'E's come too late, that's all.
+
+THE GIRL.  He couldn't come before.  I'm frightened.  'E was fond o'
+me.
+
+THE MAN.  And aren't I fond of you?
+
+THE GIRL.  I ought to 'a waited, Jim; with 'im in the fightin'.
+
+THE MAN.  [Passionately]  And what about me?  Aren't I been in the
+fightin'--earned all I could get?
+
+THE GIRL.  [Touching him]  Ah!
+
+THE MAN.  Did you--?  [He cannot speak the words.]
+
+THE GIRL.  Not like you, Jim--not like you.
+
+THE MAN.  Have a spirit, then.
+
+THE GIRL.  I promised him.
+
+THE MAN.  One man's luck's another's poison.
+
+THE GIRL.  I ought to 'a waited.  I never thought he'd come back from
+the fightin'.
+
+THE MAN.  [Grimly]  Maybe 'e'd better not 'ave.
+
+THE GIRL.  [Looking back along the tow-path]  What'll he be like, I
+wonder?
+
+THE MAN.  [Gripping her shoulder]  Daisy, don't you never go back on
+me, or I should kill you, and 'im too.
+
+     [THE GIRL looks at him, shivers, and puts her lips to his.]
+
+THE GIRL.  I never could.
+
+THE MAN.  Will you run for it?  'E'd never find us!
+
+     [THE GIRL shakes her head.]
+
+THE MAN [Dully]  What's the good o' stayin'?  The world's wide.
+
+THE GIRL.  I'd rather have it off me mind, with him home.
+
+THE MAN.  [Clenching his hands]  It's temptin' Providence.
+
+THE GIRL.  What's the time, Jim?
+
+THE MAN.  [Glancing at the sun]  'Alf past four.
+
+THE GIRL.  [Looking along the towing-path]  He said four o'clock.
+Jim, you better go.
+
+THE MAN.  Not I.  I've not got the wind up.  I've seen as much of
+hell as he has, any day.  What like is he?
+
+THE GIRL.  [Dully]  I dunno, just.  I've not seen him these three
+years.  I dunno no more, since I've known you.
+
+THE MAN.  Big or little chap?
+
+THE GIRL.  'Bout your size.  Oh! Jim, go along!
+
+THE MAN.  No fear!  What's a blighter like that to old Fritz's
+shells?  We didn't shift when they was comin'.  If you'll go, I'll
+go; not else.
+
+     [Again she shakes her head.]
+
+THE GIRL.  Jim, do you love me true?
+
+     [For answer THE MAN takes her avidly in his arms.]
+
+I ain't ashamed--I ain't ashamed.  If 'e could see me 'eart.
+
+THE MAN.  Daisy!  If I'd known you out there, I never could 'a stuck
+it.  They'd 'a got me for a deserter.  That's how I love you!
+
+THE GIRL.  Jim, don't lift your hand to 'im!  Promise!
+
+THE MAN.  That's according.
+
+THE GIRL.  Promise!
+
+THE MAN.  If 'e keeps quiet, I won't.  But I'm not accountable--not
+always, I tell you straight--not since I've been through that.
+
+THE GIRL.  [With a shiver]  Nor p'raps he isn't.
+
+THE MAN.  Like as not.  It takes the lynch pins out, I tell you.
+
+THE GIRL.  God 'elp us!
+
+THE MAN.  [Grimly]  Ah!  We said that a bit too often.  What we want
+we take, now; there's no one else to give it us, and there's no
+fear'll stop us; we seen the bottom of things.
+
+THE GIRL.  P'raps he'll say that too.
+
+THE MAN.  Then it'll be 'im or me.
+
+THE GIRL.  I'm frightened:
+
+THE MAN.  [Tenderly]  No, Daisy, no!  The river's handy.  One more or
+less.  'E shan't 'arm you; nor me neither.  [He takes out a knife.]
+
+THE GIRL.  [Seizing his hand]  Oh, no!  Give it to me, Jim!
+
+THE MAN.  [Smiling]  No fear!  [He puts it away]  Shan't 'ave no need
+for it like as not.  All right, little Daisy; you can't be expected
+to see things like what we do.  What's life, anyway?  I've seen a
+thousand lives taken in five minutes.  I've seen dead men on the
+wires like flies on a flypaper.  I've been as good as dead meself a
+hundred times.  I've killed a dozen men.  It's nothin'.  He's safe,
+if 'e don't get my blood up.  If he does, nobody's safe; not 'im, nor
+anybody else; not even you.  I'm speakin' sober.
+
+THE GIRL.  [Softly]  Jim, you won't go fightin' in the sun, with the
+birds all callin'?
+
+THE MAN.  That depends on 'im.  I'm not lookin' for it.  Daisy, I
+love you.  I love your hair.  I love your eyes.  I love you.
+
+THE GIRL.  And I love you, Jim.  I don't want nothin' more than you
+in all the world.
+
+THE MAN.  Amen to that, my dear.  Kiss me close!
+
+     The sound of a voice singing breaks in on their embrace.  THE
+     GIRL starts from his arms, and looks behind her along the
+     towing-path.  THE MAN draws back against, the hedge, fingering
+     his side, where the knife is hidden.  The song comes nearer.
+
+
+                   "I'll be right there to-night,
+                    Where the fields are snowy white;
+                    Banjos ringing, darkies singing,
+                    All the world seems bright."
+
+THE GIRL.  It's him!
+
+THE MAN.  Don't get the wind up, Daisy.  I'm here!
+
+     [The singing stops.  A man's voice says "Christ!  It's Daisy;
+     it's little Daisy 'erself!"  THE GIRL stands rigid.  The figure
+     of a soldier appears on the other side of the stile.  His cap is
+     tucked into his belt, his hair is bright in the sunshine; he is
+     lean, wasted, brown, and laughing.]
+
+SOLDIER.  Daisy!  Daisy!  Hallo, old pretty girl!
+
+     [THE GIRL does not move, barring the way, as it were.]
+
+THE GIRL.  Hallo, Jack! [Softly]  I got things to tell you!
+
+SOLDIER.  What sort o' things, this lovely day?  Why, I got things
+that'd take me years to tell.  Have you missed me, Daisy?
+
+THE GIRL.  You been so long.
+
+SOLDIER.  So I 'ave.  My Gawd!  It's a way they 'ave in the Army.  I
+said when I got out of it I'd laugh.  Like as the sun itself I used
+to think of you, Daisy, when the trumps was comin' over, and the wind
+was up.  D'you remember that last night in the wood?  "Come back and
+marry me quick, Jack."  Well, here I am--got me pass to heaven.  No
+more fightin', no more drillin', no more sleepin' rough.  We can get
+married now, Daisy.  We can live soft an' 'appy.  Give us a kiss, my
+dear.
+
+THE GIRL.  [Drawing back]  No.
+
+SOLDIER.  [Blankly]  Why not?
+
+     [THE MAN, with a swift movement steps along the hedge to THE
+     GIRL'S side.]
+
+THE MAN.  That's why, soldier.
+
+SOLDIER.  [Leaping over the stile]  'Oo are you, Pompey?  The sun
+don't shine in your inside, do it?  'Oo is he, Daisy?
+
+THE GIRL.  My man.
+
+SOLDIER.  Your-man!  Lummy!  "Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a
+thief!"  Well, mate!  So you've been through it, too.  I'm laughin'
+this mornin' as luck will 'ave it.  Ah!  I can see your knife.
+
+THE MAN.  [Who has half drawn his knife]  Don't laugh at me, I tell
+you.
+
+SOLDIER.  Not at you, not at you.  [He looks from one to the other]
+I'm laughin' at things in general.  Where did you get it, mate?
+
+THE MAN.  [Watchfully]  Through the lung.
+
+SOLDIER.  Think o' that!  An' I never was touched.  Four years an'
+never was touched.  An' so you've come an' took my girl!  Nothin'
+doin'!  Ha!  [Again he looks from one to the other-then away]  Well!
+The world's before me!  [He laughs]  I'll give you Daisy for a lung
+protector.
+
+THE MAN.  [Fiercely]  You won't.  I've took her.
+
+SOLDIER.  That's all right, then.  You keep 'er.  I've got a laugh in
+me you can't put out, black as you look!  Good-bye, little Daisy!
+
+     [THE GIRL makes a movement towards him.]
+
+THE MAN.  Don't touch 'im!
+
+     [THE GIRL stands hesitating, and suddenly bursts into tears.]
+
+SOLDIER.  Look 'ere, mate; shake 'ands!  I don't want to see a girl
+cry, this day of all, with the sun shinin'.  I seen too much of
+sorrer.  You and me've been at the back of it.  We've 'ad our whack.
+Shake!
+
+THE MAN.  Who are you kiddin'?  You never loved 'er!
+
+SOLDIER.  [After a long moment's pause]  Oh!  I thought I did.
+
+THE MAN.  I'll fight you for her.
+
+     [He drops his knife. ]
+
+SOLDIER.  [Slowly]  Mate, you done your bit, an' I done mine.  It's
+took us two ways, seemin'ly.
+
+THE GIRL.  [Pleading]  Jim!
+
+THE MAN.  [With clenched fists]  I don't want 'is charity.  I only
+want what I can take.
+
+SOLDIER.  Daisy, which of us will you 'ave?
+
+THE GIRL.  [Covering her face]  Oh!  Him!
+
+SOLDIER.  You see, mate!  Put your 'ands down.  There's nothin' for
+it but a laugh.  You an' me know that.  Laugh, mate!
+
+THE MAN.  You blarsted----!
+
+     [THE GIRL springs to him and stops his mouth.]
+
+SOLDIER.  It's no use, mate.  I can't do it.  I said I'd laugh
+to-day, and laugh I will.  I've come through that, an' all the stink
+of it; I've come through sorrer.  Never again!  Cheerio, mate!  The
+sun's a-shinin'!  He turns away.
+
+THE GIRL.  Jack, don't think too 'ard of me!
+
+SOLDIER.  [Looking back]  No fear, my dear!  Enjoy your fancy!  So
+long!  Gawd bless you both!
+
+He sings, and goes along the path, and the song fades away.
+
+              "I'll be right there to-night
+               Where the fields are snowy white;
+               Banjos ringing, darkies singing
+               All the world seems bright!"
+
+
+
+THE MAN.  'E's mad!
+
+THE GIRL. [Looking down the path with her hands clasped]  The sun has
+touched 'im, Jim!
+
+
+                         CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH AND GO
+
+A Little Comedy
+
+     "Orpheus with his lute made trees
+     And the mountain tope that freeze....."
+
+
+
+
+     PERSONS OF THE PLAY
+
+     JAMES G. FRUST..............The Boss
+     E. BLEWITT VANE.............The Producer
+     MR. FORESON.................The Stage Manager
+     "ELECTRICS"..................The Electrician
+     "PROPS".....................The Property Man
+     HERBERT.....................The Call Boy
+
+
+
+
+     OF THE PLAY WITHIN THE PLAY
+
+     GUY TOONE...................The Professor
+     VANESSA HELLGROVE...........The Wife
+     GEORGE FLEETWAY.............Orpheus
+     MAUDE HOPKINS...............The Faun
+
+
+
+SCENE: The Stage of a Theatre.
+
+Action continuous, though the curtain is momentarily lowered
+according to that action.
+
+
+
+                         PUNCH AND GO
+
+     The Scene is the stage of the theatre set for the dress
+     rehearsal of the little play: "Orpheus with his Lute." The
+     curtain is up and the audience, though present, is not supposed
+     to be.  The set scene represents the end section of a room, with
+     wide French windows, Back Centre, fully opened on to an apple
+     orchard in bloom.  The Back Wall with these French windows, is
+     set only about ten feet from the footlights, and the rest of the
+     stage is orchard.  What is visible of the room would indicate
+     the study of a writing man of culture.  ( Note.--If found
+     advantageous for scenic purposes, this section of room can be
+     changed to a broad verandah or porch with pillars supporting its
+     roof.) In the wall, Stage Left, is a curtained opening, across
+     which the curtain is half drawn.  Stage Right of the French
+     windows is a large armchair turned rather towards the window,
+     with a book rest attached, on which is a volume of the
+     Encyclopedia Britannica, while on a stool alongside are writing
+     materials such as a man requires when he writes with a pad on
+     his knees.  On a little table close by is a reading-lamp with a
+     dark green shade.  A crude light from the floats makes the stage
+     stare; the only person on it is MR FORESON, the stage manager,
+     who is standing in the centre looking upwards as if waiting for
+     someone to speak.  He is a short, broad man, rather blank, and
+     fatal.  From the back of the auditorium, or from an empty box,
+     whichever is most convenient, the producer, MR BLEWITT VANE, a
+     man of about thirty four, with his hair brushed back, speaks.
+
+VANE.  Mr Foreson?
+
+FORESON.  Sir?
+
+VANE.  We'll do that lighting again.
+
+     [FORESON walks straight of the Stage into the wings Right.]
+
+     [A pause.]
+
+Mr Foreson!  [Crescendo]  Mr Foreson.
+
+     [FORESON walks on again from Right and shades his eyes.]
+
+VANE.  For goodness sake, stand by!  We'll do that lighting again.
+Check your floats.
+
+FORESON.  [Speaking up into the prompt wings]  Electrics!
+
+VOICE OF ELECTRICS.  Hallo!
+
+FORESON.  Give it us again.  Check your floats.
+
+     [The floats go down, and there is a sudden blinding glare of
+     blue lights, in which FORESON looks particularly ghastly.]
+
+VANE.  Great Scott!  What the blazes!  Mr Foreson!
+
+     [FORESON walks straight out into the wings Left.  Crescendo.]
+
+Mr Foreson!
+
+FORESON.  [Re-appearing]  Sir?
+
+VANE.  Tell Miller to come down.
+
+FORESON.  Electrics!  Mr Blewitt Vane wants to speak to you.  Come
+down!
+
+VANE.  Tell Herbert to sit in that chair.
+
+     [FORESON walks straight out into the Right wings.]
+
+Mr Foreson!
+
+FORESON.  [Re-appearing]  Sir?
+
+VANE.  Don't go off the stage.  [FORESON mutters.]
+
+     [ELECTRICS appears from the wings, Stage Left.  He is a dark,
+     thin-faced man with rather spikey hair.]
+
+ELECTRICS.  Yes, Mr Vane?
+
+VANE.  Look!
+
+ELECTRICS.  That's what I'd got marked, Mr Vane.
+
+VANE.  Once for all, what I want is the orchard in full moonlight,
+and the room dark except for the reading lamp.  Cut off your front
+battens.
+
+     [ELECTRICS withdraws Left.  FORESON walks off the Stage into the
+     Right wings.]
+
+Mr Foreson!
+
+FORESON.  [Re-appearing]  Sir?
+
+VANE.  See this marked right.  Now, come on with it!  I want to get
+some beauty into this!
+
+     [While he is speaking, HERBERT, the call boy, appears from the
+     wings Right, a mercurial youth of about sixteen with a wide
+     mouth.]
+
+FORESON.  [Maliciously]  Here you are, then, Mr Vane.  Herbert, sit
+in that chair.
+
+     [HERBERT sits an the armchair, with an air of perfect peace.]
+
+VANE.  Now!  [All the lights go out.  In a wail]  Great Scott!
+
+     [A throaty chuckle from FORESON in the darkness.  The light
+     dances up, flickers, shifts, grows steady, falling on the
+     orchard outside.  The reading lamp darts alight and a piercing
+     little glare from it strikes into the auditorium away from
+     HERBERT.]
+
+[In a terrible voice]  Mr Foreson.
+
+FORESON.  Sir?
+
+VANE.  Look--at--that--shade!
+
+     [FORESON mutters, walks up to it and turns it round so that the
+     light shines on HERBERT'S legs.]
+
+On his face, on his face!
+
+     [FORESON turns the light accordingly.]
+
+FORESON.  Is that what you want, Mr Vane?
+
+VANE.  Yes.  Now, mark that!
+
+FORESON.  [Up into wings Right]  Electrics!
+
+ELECTRICS.  Hallo!
+
+FORESON.  Mark that!
+
+VANE.  My God!
+
+     [The blue suddenly becomes amber.]
+
+     [The blue returns.  All is steady.  HERBERT is seen diverting
+     himself with an imaginary cigar.]
+
+Mr Foreson.
+
+FORESON.  Sir?
+
+VANE.  Ask him if he's got that?
+
+FORESON.  Have you got that?
+
+ELECTRICS.  Yes.
+
+VANE.  Now pass to the change.  Take your floats off altogether.
+
+FORESON.  [Calling up]  Floats out.  [They go out.]
+
+VANE.  Cut off that lamp.  [The lamp goes out]  Put a little amber in
+your back batten.  Mark that!  Now pass to the end.  Mr Foreson!
+
+FORESON.  Sir?
+
+VANE.  Black out
+
+FORESON.  [Calling up]  Black out!
+
+     [The lights go out.]
+
+VANE.  Give us your first lighting-lamp on.  And then the two
+changes.  Quick as you can.   Put some pep into it.  Mr Foreson!
+
+FORESON.  Sir?
+
+VANE.  Stand for me where Miss Hellgrove comes in.  FORESON crosses
+to the window.  No, no!--by the curtain.
+
+     [FORESON takes his stand by the curtain; and suddenly the three
+     lighting effects are rendered quickly and with miraculous
+     exactness.]
+
+Good!  Leave it at that.  We'll begin.  Mr Foreson, send up to Mr
+Frust.
+
+     [He moves from the auditorium and ascends on to the Stage, by
+     some steps Stage Right.]
+
+FORESON.  Herb!  Call the boss, and tell beginners to stand by.
+Sharp, now!
+
+     [HERBERT gets out of the chair, and goes off Right.]
+
+     [FORESON is going off Left as VANE mounts the Stage.]
+
+VANE.  Mr Foreson.
+
+FORESON.  [Re-appearing]  Sir?
+
+VANE.  I want "Props."
+
+FORESON.  [In a stentorian voice]  "Props!"
+
+     [Another moth-eaten man appears through the French windows.]
+
+VANE.  Is that boulder firm?
+
+PROPS.  [Going to where, in front of the back-cloth, and apparently
+among its apple trees, lies the counterfeitment of a mossy boulder;
+he puts his foot on it]  If, you don't put too much weight on it,
+sir.
+
+VANE.  It won't creak?
+
+PROPS.  Nao.  [He mounts on it, and a dolorous creaking arises.]
+
+VANE.  Make that right.  Let me see that lute.
+
+     [PROPS produces a property lute.  While they scrutinize it, a
+     broad man with broad leathery clean-shaven face and small mouth,
+     occupied by the butt end of a cigar, has come on to the stage
+     from Stage Left, and stands waiting to be noticed.]
+
+PROPS.  [Attracted by the scent of the cigar]  The Boss, Sir.
+
+VANE.  [Turning to "PROPS"]  That'll do, then.
+
+     ["PROPS" goes out through the French windows.]
+
+VANE.  [To FRUST]  Now, sir, we're all ready for rehearsal of
+"Orpheus with his Lute."
+
+FRUST.  [In a cosmopolitan voice]  "Orphoos with his loot!"  That his
+loot, Mr Vane?  Why didn't he pinch something more precious?  Has
+this high-brow curtain-raiser of yours got any "pep" in it?
+
+VANE.  It has charm.
+
+FRUST.  I'd thought of "Pop goes the Weasel" with little Miggs.  We
+kind of want a cock-tail before "Louisa loses," Mr Vane.
+
+VANE.  Well, sir, you'll see.
+
+FRUST.  This your lighting?  It's a bit on the spiritool side.  I've
+left my glass.  Guess I'll sit in the front row.  Ha'f a minute.  Who
+plays this Orphoos?
+
+VANE.  George Fleetway.
+
+FRUST.  Has he got punch?
+
+VANE.  It's a very small part.
+
+FRUST.  Who are the others?
+
+VANE.  Guy Toone plays the Professor; Vanessa Hellgrove his wife;
+Maude Hopkins the faun.
+
+FRUST.  H'm!  Names don't draw.
+
+VANE.  They're not expensive, any of them.  Miss Hellgrove's a find,
+I think.
+
+FRUST.  Pretty?
+
+VANE.  Quite.
+
+FRUST.  Arty?
+
+VANE.  [Doubtfully]  No.  [With resolution]  Look here, Mr FRUST,
+it's no use your expecting another "Pop goes the Weasel."
+
+FRUST.  We-ell, if it's got punch and go, that'll be enough for me.
+Let's get to it!
+
+     [He extinguishes his cigar and descends the steps and sits in
+     the centre of the front row of the stalls.]
+
+VANE.  Mr Foreson?
+
+FORESON.  [Appearing through curtain, Right]  Sir?
+
+VANE.  Beginners.  Take your curtain down.
+
+     [He descends the steps and seats himself next to FRUST.  The
+     curtain goes down.]
+
+     [A woman's voice is heard singing very beautifully Sullivan's
+     song: "Orpheus with his lute, with his lute made trees and the
+     mountain tops that freeze'." etc.]
+
+FRUST.  Some voice!
+
+     The curtain rises. In the armchair the PROFESSOR is yawning,
+     tall, thin, abstracted, and slightly grizzled in the hair.  He
+     has a pad of paper over his knee, ink on the stool to his right
+     and the Encyclopedia volume on the stand to his left-barricaded
+     in fact by the article he is writing.  He is reading a page over
+     to himself, but the words are drowned in the sound of the song
+     his WIFE is singing in the next room, partly screened off by the
+     curtain.  She finishes, and stops.  His voice can then be heard
+     conning the words of his article.
+
+PROF.  "Orpheus symbolized the voice of Beauty, the call of life,
+luring us mortals with his song back from the graves we dig for
+ourselves.  Probably the ancients realized this neither more nor less
+than we moderns.  Mankind has not changed.  The civilized being still
+hides the faun and the dryad within its broadcloth and its silk.  And
+yet"--[He stops, with a dried-up air-rather impatiently]  Go on, my
+dear!  It helps the atmosphere.
+
+     [The voice of his WIFE begins again, gets as far as "made them
+     sing" and stops dead, just as the PROFESSOR's pen is beginning
+     to scratch.  And suddenly, drawing the curtain further aside]
+
+     [SHE appears.  Much younger than the PROFESSOR, pale, very
+     pretty, of a Botticellian type in face, figure, and in her
+     clinging cream-coloured frock.  She gazes at her abstracted
+     husband; then swiftly moves to the lintel of the open window,
+     and stands looking out.]
+
+THE WIFE.  God!  What beauty!
+
+PROF.  [Looking Up]  Umm?
+
+THE WIFE.  I said: God!  What beauty!
+
+PROF.  Aha!
+
+THE WIFE.  [Looking at him]  Do you know that I have to repeat
+everything to you nowadays?
+
+PROF.  What?
+
+THE WIFE.  That I have to repeat----
+
+PROF.  Yes; I heard.  I'm sorry.  I get absorbed.
+
+THE WIFE.  In all but me.
+
+PROF.  [Startled]  My dear, your song was helping me like anything to
+get the mood.  This paper is the very deuce--to balance between the
+historical and the natural.
+
+THE WIFE.  Who wants the natural?
+
+PROF.  [Grumbling]  Umm!  Wish I thought that!  Modern taste!
+History may go hang; they're all for tuppence-coloured sentiment
+nowadays.
+
+THE WIFE.  [As if to herself]  Is the Spring sentiment?
+
+PROF.  I beg your pardon, my dear; I didn't catch.
+
+WIFE.  [As if against her will--urged by some pent-up force]  Beauty,
+beauty!
+
+PROF.  That's what I'm, trying to say here.  The Orpheus legend
+symbolizes to this day the call of Beauty!  [He takes up his pen,
+while she continues to stare out at the moonlight.  Yawning]  Dash
+it!  I get so sleepy; I wish you'd tell them to make the after-dinner
+coffee twice as strong.
+
+WIFE.  I will.
+
+PROF.  How does this strike you?  [Conning]  "Many Renaissance
+pictures, especially those of Botticelli, Francesca and Piero di
+Cosimo were inspired by such legends as that of Orpheus, and we owe a
+tiny gem--like Raphael 'Apollo and Marsyas' to the same Pagan
+inspiration."
+
+WIFE.  We owe it more than that--rebellion against the dry-as-dust.
+
+PROF.  Quite.  I might develop that: "We owe it our revolt against
+the academic; or our disgust at 'big business,' and all the grossness
+of commercial success.  We owe----".  [His voice peters out.]
+
+WIFE.  It--love.
+
+PROF.  [Abstracted]  Eh!
+
+WIFE.  I said: We owe it love.
+
+PROF.  [Rather startled]  Possibly.  But--er  [With a dry smile]
+I mustn't say that here--hardly!
+
+WIFE.  [To herself and the moonlight]  Orpheus with his lute!
+
+PROF.  Most people think a lute is a sort of flute.  [Yawning
+heavily]  My dear, if you're not going to sing again, d'you mind
+sitting down?  I want to concentrate.
+
+WIFE.  I'm going out.
+
+PROF.  Mind the dew!
+
+WIFE.  The Christian virtues and the dew.
+
+PROF.  [With a little dry laugh]  Not bad!  Not bad!  The Christian
+virtues and the dew.  [His hand takes up his pen, his face droops
+over his paper, while his wife looks at him with a very strange face]
+"How far we can trace the modern resurgence against the Christian
+virtues to the symbolic figures of Orpheus, Pan, Apollo, and Bacchus
+might be difficult to estimate, but----"
+
+     [During those words his WIFE has passed through the window into
+     the moonlight, and her voice rises, singing as she goes:
+     "Orpheus with his lute, with his lute made trees..."]
+
+PROF.  [Suddenly aware of something]  She'll get her throat bad.
+[He is silent as the voice swells in the distance]  Sounds queer at
+night-H'm!  [He is silent--Yawning.  The voice dies away.  Suddenly
+his head nods; he fights his drowsiness; writes a word or two, nods
+again, and in twenty seconds is asleep.]
+
+     [The Stage is darkened by a black-out.  FRUST's voice is heard
+     speaking.]
+
+FRUST.  What's that girl's name?
+
+VANE.  Vanessa Hellgrove.
+
+FRUST.  Aha!
+
+     [The Stage is lighted up again.  Moonlight bright on the
+     orchard; the room in darkness where the PROFESSOR'S figure is
+     just visible sleeping in the chair, and screwed a little more
+     round towards the window.  From behind the mossy boulder a
+     faun-like figure uncurls itself and peeps over with ears
+     standing up and elbows leaning on the stone, playing a rustic
+     pipe; and there are seen two rabbits and a fox sitting up and
+     listening.  A shiver of wind passes, blowing petals from the
+     apple-trees.]
+
+     [The FAUN darts his head towards where, from Right, comes slowly
+     the figure of a Greek youth, holding a lute or lyre which his
+     fingers strike, lifting out little wandering strains as of wind
+     whinnying in funnels and odd corners.  The FAUN darts down
+     behind the stone, and the youth stands by the boulder playing
+     his lute.  Slowly while he plays the whitened trunk of an
+     apple-tree is seen, to dissolve into the body of a girl with
+     bare arms and feet, her dark hair unbound, and the face of the
+     PROFESSOR'S WIFE.  Hypnotized, she slowly sways towards him,
+     their eyes fixed on each other, till she is quite close.  Her
+     arms go out to him, cling round his neck and, their lips meet.
+     But as they meet there comes a gasp and the PROFESSOR with
+     rumpled hair is seen starting from his chair, his hands thrown
+     up; and at his horrified "Oh!" the Stage is darkened with a
+     black-out.]
+
+     [The voice of FRUST is heard speaking.]
+
+FRUST.  Gee!
+
+     The Stage is lighted up again, as in the opening scene.  The
+     PROFESSOR is seen in his chair, with spilt sheets of paper round
+     him, waking from a dream.  He shakes himself, pinches his leg,
+     stares heavily round into the moonlight, rises.
+
+PROF.  Phew!  Beastly dream!  Boof!  H'm!  [He moves to the window
+and calls.]  Blanche!  Blanche!  [To himself]  Made trees-made trees!
+[Calling]  Blanche!
+
+WIFE's VOICE.  Yes.
+
+PROF.  Where are you?
+
+WIFE.  [Appearing by the stone with her hair down]  Here!
+
+PROF.  I say--I---I've been asleep--had a dream.  Come in.  I'll tell
+you.
+
+     [She comes, and they stand in the window.]
+
+PROF.  I dreamed I saw a-faun on that boulder blowing on a pipe.  [He
+looks nervously at the stone]  With two damned little rabbits and a
+fox sitting up and listening.  And then from out there came our
+friend Orpheus playing on his confounded lute, till he actually
+turned that tree there into you.  And gradually he-he drew you like a
+snake till you--er--put your arms round his neck and--er--kissed him.
+Boof!  I woke up.  Most unpleasant.  Why!  Your hair's down!
+
+WIFE.  Yes.
+
+PROF.  Why?
+
+WIFE.  It was no dream.  He was bringing me to life.
+
+PROF.  What on earth?
+
+WIFE.  Do you suppose I am alive?  I'm as dead as Euridice.
+
+PROF.  Good heavens, Blanche, what's the matter with you to-night?
+
+WIFE.  [Pointing to the litter of papers]  Why don't we live, instead
+of writing of it?  [She points out unto the moonlight]  What do we
+get out of life?  Money, fame, fashion, talk, learning?  Yes.  And
+what good are they?  I want to live!
+
+PROF.  [Helplessly]  My dear, I really don't know what you mean.
+
+WIFE.  [Pointing out into the moonlight]  Look!  Orpheus with his
+lute, and nobody can see him.  Beauty, beauty, beauty--we let it go.
+[With sudden passion]  Beauty, love, the spring.  They should be in
+us, and they're all outside.
+
+PROF.  My dear, this is--this is--awful.  [He tries to embrace her.]
+
+WIFE.  [Avoiding him--an a stilly voice]  Oh!  Go on with your
+writing!
+
+PROF.  I'm--I'm upset.  I've never known you so--so----
+
+WIFE.  Hysterical?  Well!  It's over.  I'll go and sing.
+
+PROF.  [Soothingly]  There, there!  I'm sorry, darling; I really am.
+You're kipped--you're kipped.  [He gives and she accepts a kiss]
+Better?
+
+     [He gravitates towards his papers.]
+
+All right, now?
+
+WIFE.  [Standing still and looking at him]  Quite!
+
+PROF.  Well, I'll try and finish this to-night; then, to-morrow we
+might have a jaunt.  How about a theatre?  There's a thing--they say
+--called "Chinese Chops," that's been running years.
+
+WIFE.  [Softly to herself as he settles down into his chair]  Oh!
+God!
+
+     [While he takes up a sheet of paper and adjusts himself, she
+     stands at the window staring with all her might at the boulder,
+     till from behind it the faun's head and shoulders emerge once
+     more.]
+
+PROF.  Very queer the power suggestion has over the mind.  Very
+queer!  There's nothing really in animism, you know, except the
+curious shapes rocks, trees and things take in certain lights--effect
+they have on our imagination.  [He looks up]  What's the matter now?
+
+WIFE.  [Startled]  Nothing!  Nothing!
+
+     [Her eyes waver to him again, and the FAUN vanishes.  She turns
+     again to look at the boulder; there is nothing there; a little
+     shiver of wind blows some petals off the trees.  She catches one
+     of them, and turning quickly, goes out through the curtain.]
+
+PROF.  [Coming to himself and writing]  "The Orpheus legend is the--
+er--apotheosis of animism.  Can we accept----" [His voice is lost in
+the sound of his WIFE'S voice beginning again: "Orpheus with his
+lute--with his lute made trees----" It dies in a sob.  The PROFESSOR
+looks up startled, as the curtain falls].
+
+FRUST.  Fine!  Fine!
+
+VANE.  Take up the curtain.  Mr Foreson?
+
+     [The curtain goes up.]
+
+FORESON.  Sir?
+
+VANE.  Everybody on.
+
+     [He and FRUST leave their seats and ascend on to the Stage, on
+     which are collecting the four Players.]
+
+VANE.  Give us some light.
+
+FORESON.  Electrics!  Turn up your floats!
+
+     [The footlights go up, and the blue goes out; the light is crude
+     as at the beginning.]
+
+FRUST.  I'd like to meet Miss Hellgrove.  [She comes forward eagerly
+and timidly.  He grasps her hand]  Miss Hellgrove, I want to say I
+thought that fine--fine.  [Her evident emotion and pleasure warm him
+so that he increases his grasp and commendation]  Fine.  It quite got
+my soft spots.  Emotional.  Fine!
+
+MISS H.  Oh!  Mr Frust; it means so much to me.  Thank you!
+
+FRUST.  [A little balder in the eye, and losing warmth]  Er--fine!
+[His eye wanders]  Where's Mr Flatway?
+
+VANE.  Fleetway.
+
+     [FLEETWAY comes up.]
+
+FRUST.  Mr Fleetway, I want to say I thought your Orphoos very
+remarkable.  Fine.
+
+FLEETWAY.  Thank you, sir, indeed--so glad you liked it.
+
+FRUST.  [A little balder in the eye]  There wasn't much to it, but
+what there was was fine.  Mr Toone.
+
+     [FLEETWAY melts out and TOONE is precipitated.]
+
+Mr Toone, I was very pleased with your Professor--quite a
+character-study.  [TOONE bows and murmurs]  Yes, sir!  I thought it
+fine.  [His eye grows bald]  Who plays the goat?
+
+MISS HOPK.  [Appearing suddenly between the windows]  I play the
+faun, Mr Frost.
+
+FORESON.  [Introducing]  Miss Maude 'Opkins.
+
+FRUST.  Miss Hopkins, I guess your fawn was fine.
+
+MISS HOPK.  Oh! Thank you, Mr Frost.  How nice of you to say so.  I
+do so enjoy playing him.
+
+FRUST.  [His eye growing bald]  Mr Foreson, I thought the way you
+fixed that tree was very cunning; I certainly did.  Got a match?
+
+     [He takes a match from FORESON, and lighting a very long cigar,
+     walks up Stage through the French windows followed by FORESON,
+     and examines the apple-tree.]
+
+     [The two Actors depart, but Miss HELLGROVE runs from where she
+     has been lingering, by the curtain, to VANE, Stage Right.]
+
+MISS H.  Oh!  Mr Vane--do you think?  He seemed quite--Oh!  Mr Vane
+[ecstatically]  If only----
+
+VANE.  [Pleased and happy]  Yes, yes.  All right--you were splendid.
+He liked it.  He quite----
+
+MISS H.  [Clasping her hand]  How wonderful Oh, Mr Vane, thank you!
+
+     [She clasps his hands; but suddenly, seeing that FRUST is coming
+     back, fits across into the curtain and vanishes.]
+
+     [The Stage, in the crude light, as empty now save for FRUST,
+     who, in the French windows, Centre, is mumbling his cigar; and
+     VANE, Stage Right, who is looking up into the wings, Stage
+     Left.]
+
+VANE.  [Calling up]  That lighting's just right now, Miller.  Got it
+marked carefully?
+
+ELECTRICS.  Yes, Mr Vane.
+
+VANE.  Good.  [To FRUST who as coming down]  Well, sir?  So glad----
+
+FRUST.  Mr Vane, we got little Miggs on contract?
+
+VANE.  Yes.
+
+FRUST.  Well, I liked that little pocket piece fine.  But I'm blamed
+if I know what it's all about.
+
+VANE.  [A little staggered]  Why!  Of course it's a little allegory.
+The tragedy of civilization--all real feeling for Beauty and Nature
+kept out, or pent up even in the cultured.
+
+FRUST.  Ye-ep.  [Meditatively]  Little Miggs'd be fine in "Pop goes
+the Weasel."
+
+VANE.  Yes, he'd be all right, but----
+
+FRUST.  Get him on the 'phone, and put it into rehearsal right now.
+
+VANE.  What!  But this piece--I--I----!
+
+FRUST.  Guess we can't take liberties with our public, Mr Vane.  They
+want pep.
+
+VANE.  [Distressed]  But it'll break that girl's heart.  I--really--I
+can't----
+
+FRUST.  Give her the part of the 'tweeny in "Pop goes".
+
+VANE.  Mr Frust, I--I beg.  I've taken a lot of trouble with this
+little play.  It's good.  It's that girl's chance--and I----
+
+FRUST.  We-ell!  I certainly thought she was fine.  Now, you 'phone
+up Miggs, and get right along with it.  I've only one rule, sir!
+Give the Public what it wants; and what the Public wants is punch and
+go.  They've got no use for Beauty, Allegory, all that high-brow
+racket.  I know 'em as I know my hand.
+
+     [During this speech MISS HELLGROVE is seen listening by the
+     French window, in distress, unnoticed by either of them.]
+
+VANE.  Mr Frost, the Public would take this, I'm sure they would; I'm
+convinced of it.  You underrate them.
+
+FRUST.  Now, see here, Mr Blewitt Vane, is this my theatre?  I tell
+you, I can't afford luxuries.
+
+VANE.  But it--it moved you, sir; I saw it.  I was watching.
+
+FRUST.  [With unmoved finality]  Mr Vane, I judge I'm not the average
+man.  Before "Louisa Loses" the Public'll want a stimulant.  "Pop
+goes the Weasel" will suit us fine.  So--get right along with it.
+I'll go get some lunch.
+
+     [As he vanishes into the wings, Left, MISS HELLGROVE covers her
+     face with her hands.  A little sob escaping her attracts VANE'S
+     attention.  He takes a step towards her, but she flies.]
+
+VANE.  [Dashing his hands through his hair till it stands up]
+Damnation!
+
+     [FORESON walks on from the wings, Right.]
+
+FORESON.  Sir?
+
+VANE.  "Punch and go!" That superstition!
+
+     [FORESON walks straight out into the wings, Left.]
+
+VANE.  Mr Foreson!
+
+FORESON.  [Re-appearing]  Sir?
+
+VANE.  This is scrapped.  [With savagery]  Tell 'em to set the first
+act of "Louisa Loses," and put some pep into it.
+
+     [He goes out through the French windows with the wind still in
+     his hair.]
+
+FORESON.  [In the centre of the Stage]  Electrics!
+
+ELECTRICS.  Hallo!
+
+FORESON.  Where's Charlie?
+
+ELECTRICS.  Gone to his dinner.
+
+FORESON.  Anybody on the curtain?
+
+A VOICE.  Yes, Mr Foreson.
+
+FORESON.  Put your curtain down.
+
+     [He stands in the centre of the Stage with eyes uplifted as the
+     curtain descends.]
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hall-Marked and Others (Six Short
+ Plays), by John Galsworthy
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