diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5059.txt | 10909 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5059.zip | bin | 0 -> 135696 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/gpl5w10.txt | 10950 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/gpl5w10.zip | bin | 0 -> 139126 bytes |
7 files changed, 21875 insertions, 0 deletions
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/5059.txt b/5059.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..00ec849 --- /dev/null +++ b/5059.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10909 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Fifth Series Plays, Complete, 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: The Fifth Series Plays, Complete + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: October 27, 2006 [EBook #5059] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIFTH SERIES PLAYS, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +FIFTH SERIES PLAYS OF GALSWORTHY + +By John Galsworthy + + + +Contents: + + A Family Man + Loyalties + Windows + + + + +A FAMILY MAN + +From the 5th Series Plays + +By John Galsworthy + + + + +CHARACTERS + +JOHN BUILDER................ of the firm of Builder & Builder +JULIA....................... His Wife +ATHENE...................... His elder Daughter +MAUD........................ His younger Daughter +RALPH BUILDER............... His Brother, and Partner +GUY HERRINGHAME............. A Flying Man +ANNIE....................... A Young Person in Blue +CAMILLE..................... Mrs Builder's French Maid +TOPPING..................... Builder's Manservant +THE MAYOR................... Of Breconridge +HARRIS...................... His Secretary +FRANCIS CHANTREY............ J.P. +MOON........................ A Constable +MARTIN...................... A Police Sergeant +A JOURNALIST................ From The Comet +THE FIGURE OF A POACHER +THE VOICES AND FACES OF SMALL BOYS + + + +The action passes in the town of Breconridge, the Midlands. + + + +ACT I. + SCENE I. BUILDER'S Study. After breakfast. + SCENE II. A Studio. + +ACT II. BUILDER'S Study. Lunchtime. + +ACT III. + SCENE I. THE MAYOR'S Study. 10am the following day. + SCENE II. BUILDER'S Study. The same. Noon. + SCENE III. BUILDER'S Study. The same. Evening. + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I + + The study of JOHN BUILDER in the provincial town of Breconridge. + A panelled room wherein nothing is ever studied, except perhaps + BUILDER'S face in the mirror over the fireplace. It is, however, + comfortable, and has large leather chairs and a writing table in the + centre, on which is a typewriter, and many papers. At the back is a + large window with French outside shutters, overlooking the street, + for the house is an old one, built in an age when the homes of + doctors, lawyers and so forth were part of a provincial town, and + not yet suburban. There are two or three fine old prints on the + walls, Right and Left; and a fine, old fireplace, Left, with a + fender on which one can sit. A door, Left back, leads into the + dining-room, and a door, Right forward, into the hall. + + JOHN BUILDER is sitting in his after-breakfast chair before the fire + with The Times in his hands. He has breakfasted well, and is in + that condition of first-pipe serenity in which the affairs of the + nation seem almost bearable. He is a tallish, square, personable + man of forty-seven, with a well-coloured, jowly, fullish face, + marked under the eyes, which have very small pupils and a good deal + of light in them. His bearing has force and importance, as of a man + accustomed to rising and ownerships, sure in his opinions, and not + lacking in geniality when things go his way. Essentially a + Midlander. His wife, a woman of forty-one, of ivory tint, with a + thin, trim figure and a face so strangely composed as to be almost + like a mask (essentially from Jersey) is putting a nib into a + pen-holder, and filling an inkpot at the writing-table. + + As the curtain rises CAMILLE enters with a rather broken-down + cardboard box containing flowers. She is a young woman with a good + figure, a pale face, the warm brown eyes and complete poise of a + Frenchwoman. She takes the box to MRS BUILDER. + + +MRS BUILDER. The blue vase, please, Camille. + CAMILLE fetches a vase. MRS BUILDER puts the flowers into the vase. + CAMILLE gathers up the debris; and with a glance at BUILDER goes + out. + +BUILDER. Glorious October! I ought to have a damned good day's shooting +with Chantrey tomorrow. + +MRS BUILDER. [Arranging the flowers] Aren't you going to the office +this morning? + +BUILDER. Well, no, I was going to take a couple of days off. If you +feel at the top of your form, take a rest--then you go on feeling at the +top. [He looks at her, as if calculating] What do you say to looking up +Athene? + +MRS BUILDER. [Palpably astonished] Athene? But you said you'd done +with her? + +BUILDER. [Smiling] Six weeks ago; but, dash it, one can't have done with +one's own daughter. That's the weakness of an Englishman; he can't keep +up his resentments. In a town like this it doesn't do to have her living +by herself. One of these days it'll get out we've had a row. That +wouldn't do me any good. + +MRS BUILDER. I see. + +BUILDER. Besides, I miss her. Maud's so self-absorbed. It makes a big +hole in the family, Julia. You've got her address, haven't you? + +MRS BUILDER. Yes. [Very still] But do you think it's dignified, John? + +BUILDER. [Genially] Oh, hang dignity! I rather pride myself on knowing +when to stand on my dignity and when to sit on it. If she's still crazy +about Art, she can live at home, and go out to study. + +MRS BUILDER. Her craze was for liberty. + +BUILDER. A few weeks' discomfort soon cures that. She can't live on her +pittance. She'll have found that out by now. Get your things on and +come with me at twelve o'clock. + +MRS BUILDER. I think you'll regret it. She'll refuse. + +BUILDER. Not if I'm nice to her. A child could play with me to-day. +Shall I tell you a secret, Julia? + +MRS BUILDER. It would be pleasant for a change. + +BUILDER. The Mayor's coming round at eleven, and I know perfectly well +what he's coming for. + +MRS BUILDER. Well? + +BUILDER. I'm to be nominated for Mayor next month. Harris tipped me the +wink at the last Council meeting. Not so bad at forty-seven--h'm? I can +make a thundering good Mayor. I can do things for this town that nobody +else can. + +MRS BUILDER. Now I understand about Athene. + +BUILDER. [Good-humouredly] Well, it's partly that. But [more +seriously] it's more the feeling I get that I'm not doing my duty by her. +Goodness knows whom she may be picking up with! Artists are a loose lot. +And young people in these days are the limit. I quite believe in moving +with the times, but one's either born a Conservative, or one isn't. +So you be ready at twelve, see. By the way, that French maid of yours, +Julia-- + +MRS BUILDER. What about her? + +BUILDER. Is she--er--is she all right? We don't want any trouble with +Topping. + +MRS BUILDER. There will be none with--Topping. + [She opens the door Left.] + +BUILDER. I don't know; she strikes me as--very French. + + MRS BUILDER smiles and passes out. + + BUILDER fills his second pipe. He is just taking up the paper again + when the door from the hall is opened, and the manservant TOPPING, + dried, dark, sub-humorous, in a black cut-away, announces: + +TOPPING. The Mayor, Sir, and Mr Harris! + + THE MAYOR of Breconridge enters, He is clean-shaven, red-faced, + light-eyed, about sixty, shrewd, poll-parroty, naturally jovial, + dressed with the indefinable wrongness of a burgher; he is followed + by his Secretary HARRIS, a man all eyes and cleverness. TOPPING + retires. + +BUILDER. [Rising] Hallo, Mayor! What brings you so early? Glad to see +you. Morning, Harris! + +MAYOR. Morning, Builder, morning. + +HARRIS. Good-morning, Sir. + +BUILDER. Sit down-sit down! Have a cigar! + + The MAYOR takes a cigar HARRIS a cigarette from his own case. + +BUILDER. Well, Mayor, what's gone wrong with the works? + + He and HARRIS exchange a look. + +MAYOR. [With his first puff] After you left the Council the other day, +Builder, we came to a decision. + +BUILDER. Deuce you did! Shall I agree with it? + +MAYOR. We shall see. We want to nominate you for Mayor. You willin' to +stand? + +BUILDER. [Stolid] That requires consideration. + +MAYOR. The only alternative is Chantrey; but he's a light weight, and +rather too much County. What's your objection? + +BUILDER. It's a bit unexpected, Mayor. [Looks at HARRIS] Am I the +right man? Following you, you know. I'm shooting with Chantrey +to-morrow. What does he feel about it? + +MAYOR. What do you say, 'Arris? + +HARRIS. Mr Chantrey's a public school and University man, Sir; he's not +what I call ambitious. + +BUILDER. Nor am I, Harris. + +HARRIS. No, sir; of course you've a high sense of duty. Mr Chantrey's +rather dilettante. + +MAYOR. We want a solid man. + +BUILDER. I'm very busy, you know, Mayor. + +MAYOR. But you've got all the qualifications--big business, family man, +live in the town, church-goer, experience on the Council and the Bench. +Better say "yes," Builder. + +BUILDER. It's a lot of extra work. I don't take things up lightly. + +MAYOR. Dangerous times, these. Authority questioned all over the place. +We want a man that feels his responsibilities, and we think we've got him +in you. + +BUILDER. Very good of you, Mayor. I don't know, I'm sure. I must think +of the good of the town. + +HARRIS. I shouldn't worry about that, sir. + +MAYOR. The name John Builder carries weight. You're looked up to as a +man who can manage his own affairs. Madam and the young ladies well? + +BUILDER. First-rate. + +MAYOR. [Rises] That's right. Well, if you'd like to talk it over with +Chantrey to-morrow. With all this extremism, we want a man of principle +and common sense. + +HARRIS. We want a man that'll grasp the nettle, sir--and that's you. + +BUILDER. Hm! I've got a temper, you know. + +MAYOR. [Chuckling] We do--we do! You'll say "yes," I see. No false +modesty! Come along, 'Arris, we must go. + +BUILDER. Well, Mayor, I'll think it over, and let you have an answer. +You know my faults, and you know my qualities, such as they are. I'm +just a plain Englishman. + +MAYOR. We don't want anything better than that. I always say the great +point about an Englishman is that he's got bottom; you may knock him off +his pins, but you find him on 'em again before you can say "Jack +Robinson." He may have his moments of aberration, but he's a sticker. +Morning, Builder, morning! Hope you'll say "yes." + + He shakes hands and goes out, followed by HARRIS. + + When the door is dosed BUILDER stands a moment quite still with a + gratified smile on his face; then turns and scrutinises himself in + the glass over the hearth. While he is doing so the door from the + dining-room is opened quietly and CAMILLE comes in. BUILDER, + suddenly seeing her reflected in the mirror, turns. + +BUILDER. What is it, Camille? + +CAMILLE. Madame send me for a letter she say you have, Monsieur, from +the dyer and cleaner, with a bill. + +BUILDER. [Feeling in his pockets] Yes--no. It's on the table. + +CAMILLE goes to the writing-table and looks. That blue thing. + +CAMILLE. [Taking it up] Non, Monsieur, this is from the gas. + +BUILDER. Oh! Ah! + [He moves up to the table and turns over papers. CAMILLE stands + motionless close by with her eyes fixed on him.] +Here it is! + [He looks up, sees her looking at him, drops his own gaze, and hands + her the letter. Their hands touch. Putting his hands in his + pockets] +What made you come to England? + +CAMILLE. [Demure] It is better pay, Monsieur, and [With a smile] the +English are so amiable. + +BUILDER. Deuce they are! They haven't got that reputation. + +CAMILLE. Oh! I admire Englishmen. They are so strong and kind. + +BUILDER. [Bluffly flattered] H'm! We've no manners. + +CAMILLE. The Frenchman is more polite, but not in the 'eart. + +BUILDER. Yes. I suppose we're pretty sound at heart. + +CAMILLE. And the Englishman have his life in the family--the Frenchman +have his life outside. + +BUILDER. [With discomfort] H'm! + +CAMILLE. [With a look] Too mooch in the family--like a rabbit in a +'utch. + +BUILDER. Oh! So that's your view of us! [His eyes rest on her, +attracted but resentful]. + +CAMILLE. Pardon, Monsieur, my tongue run away with me. + +BUILDER. [Half conscious of being led on] Are you from Paris? + +CAMILLE. [Clasping her hands] Yes. What a town for pleasure--Paris! + +BUILDER. I suppose so. Loose place, Paris. + +CAMILLE. Loose? What is that, Monsieur? + +BUILDER. The opposite of strict. + +CAMILLE. Strict! Oh! certainly we like life, we other French. It is +not like England. I take this to Madame, Monsieur. [She turns as if to +go] Excuse me. + +BUILDER. I thought you Frenchwomen all married young. + +CAMILLE. I 'ave been married; my 'usband did die--en Afrique. + +BUILDER. You wear no ring. + +CAMILLE. [Smiling] I prefare to be mademoiselle, Monsieur. + +BUILDER. [Dubiously] Well, it's all the same to us. [He takes a letter +up from the table] You might take this to Mrs Builder too. [Again their +fingers touch, and there is a suspicion of encounter between their eyes.] + +CAMILLE goes out. + +BUILDER. [Turning to his chair] Don't know about that woman--she's a +tantalizer. + + He compresses his lips, and is settling back into his chair, when + the door from the hall is opened and his daughter MAUD comes in; a + pretty girl, rather pale, with fine eyes. Though her face has a + determined cast her manner at this moment is by no means decisive. + She has a letter in her hand, and advances rather as if she were + stalking her father, who, after a "Hallo, Maud!" has begun to read + his paper. + +MAUD. [Getting as far as the table] Father. + +BUILDER. [Not lowering the paper] Well? I know that tone. What do you +want--money? + +MAUD. I always want money, of course; but--but-- + +BUILDER. [Pulling out a note-abstractedly] Here's five pounds for you. + + MAUD, advancing, takes it, then seems to find what she has come for + more on her chest than ever. + +BUILDER. [Unconscious] Will you take a letter for me? + + MAUD sits down Left of table and prepares to take down the letter. + +[Dictating] "Dear Mr Mayor,--Referring to your call this morning, I have +--er--given the matter very careful consideration, and though somewhat +reluctant--" + +MAUD. Are you really reluctant, father? + +BUILDER. Go on--"To assume greater responsibilities, I feel it my duty +to come forward in accordance with your wish. The--er--honour is one of +which I hardly feel myself worthy, but you may rest assured--" + +MAUD. Worthy. But you do, you know. + +BUILDER. Look here! Are you trying to get a rise out of me?--because +you won't succeed this morning. + +MAUD. I thought you were trying to get one out of me. + +BUILDER. Well, how would you express it? + +MAUD. "I know I'm the best man for the place, and so do you--" + +BUILDER. The disrespect of you young people is something extraordinary. +And that reminds me where do you go every evening now after tea? + +MAUD. I--I don't know. + +BUILDER. Come now, that won't do--you're never in the house from six to +seven. + +MAUD. Well! It has to do with my education. + +BUILDER. Why, you finished that two years ago! + +MAUD. Well, call it a hobby, if you like, then, father. + + She takes up the letter she brought in and seems on the point of + broaching it. + +BUILDER. Hobby? Well, what is it? + +MAUD. I don't want to irritate you, father. + +BUILDER. You can't irritate me more than by having secrets. See what +that led to in your sister's case. And, by the way, I'm going to put an +end to that this morning. You'll be glad to have her back, won't you? + +MAUD. [Startled] What! + +BUILDER. Your mother and I are going round to Athene at twelve o'clock. +I shall make it up with her. She must come back here. + +MAUD. [Aghast, but hiding it] Oh! It's--it's no good, father. She +won't. + +BUILDER. We shall see that. I've quite got over my tantrum, and I +expect she has. + +MAUD. [Earnestly] Father! I do really assure you she won't; it's only +wasting your time, and making you eat humble pie. + +BUILDER. Well, I can eat a good deal this morning. It's all nonsense! +A family's a family. + +MAUD. [More and more disturbed, but hiding it] Father, if I were you, +I wouldn't-really! It's not-dignified. + +BUILDER. You can leave me to judge of that. It's not dignified for the +Mayor of this town to have an unmarried daughter as young as Athene +living by herself away from home. This idea that she's on a visit won't +wash any longer. Now finish that letter--"worthy, but you may rest +assured that I shall do my best to sustain the--er--dignity of the +office." [MAUD types desperately.] Got that? "And--er--preserve the +tradition so worthily--" No-- "so staunchly"--er--er-- + +MAUD. Upheld. + +BUILDER. Ah! "--upheld by yourself.--Faithfully yours." + +MAUD. [Finishing] Father, you thought Athene went off in a huff. It +wasn't that a bit. She always meant to go. She just got you into a rage +to make it easier. She hated living at home. + +BUILDER. Nonsense! Why on earth should she? + +MAUD. Well, she did! And so do-- [Checking herself] And so you see +it'll only make you ridiculous to go. + +BUILDER. [Rises] Now what's behind this, Maud? + +MAUD. Behind--Oh! nothing! + +BUILDER. The fact is, you girls have been spoiled, and you enjoy +twisting my tail; but you can't make me roar this morning. I'm too +pleased with things. You'll see, it'll be all right with Athene. + +MAUD. [Very suddenly] Father! + +BUILDER. [Grimly humorous] Well! Get it off your chest. What's that +letter about? + +MAUD. [Failing again and crumpling the letter behind her back] +Oh! nothing. + +BUILDER. Everything's nothing this morning. Do you know what sort of +people Athene associates with now--I suppose you see her? + +MAUD. Sometimes. + +BUILDER. Well? + +MAUD. Nobody much. There isn't anybody here to associate with. It's +all hopelessly behind the times. + +BUILDER. Oh! you think so! That's the inflammatory fiction you pick up. +I tell you what, young woman--the sooner you and your sister get rid of +your silly notions about not living at home, and making your own way, the +sooner you'll both get married and make it. Men don't like the new +spirit in women--they may say they do, but they don't. + +MAUD. You don't, father, I know. + +BUILDER. Well, I'm very ordinary. If you keep your eyes open, you'll +soon see that. + +MAUD. Men don't like freedom for anybody but themselves. + +BUILDER. That's not the way to put it. [Tapping out his pipe] Women in +your class have never had to face realities. + +MAUD. No, but we want to. + +BUILDER. [Good-humouredly] Well, I'll bet you what you like, Athene's +dose of reality will have cured her. + +MAUD. And I'll bet you--No, I won't! + +BUILDER. You'd better not. Athene will come home, and only too glad to +do it. Ring for Topping and order the car at twelve. + + As he opens the door to pass out, MAUD starts forward, but checks + herself. + +MAUD. [Looking at her watch] Half-past eleven! Good heavens! + + She goes to the bell and rings. Then goes back to the table, and + writes an address on a bit of paper. + + TOPPING enters Right. + +TOPPING. Did you ring, Miss? + +MAUD. [With the paper] Yes. Look here, Topping! Can you manage-- +on your bicycle--now at once? I want to send a message to Miss Athene +--awfully important. It's just this: "Look out! Father is coming." +[Holding out the paper] Here's her address. You must get there and away +again by twelve. Father and mother want the car then to go there. Order +it before you go. It won't take you twenty minutes on your bicycle. +It's down by the river near the ferry. But you mustn't be seen by them +either going or coming. + +TOPPING. If I should fall into their hands, Miss, shall I eat the +despatch? + +MAUD. Rather! You're a brick, Topping. Hurry up! + +TOPPING. Nothing more precise, Miss? + +MAUD. M--m--No. + +TOPPING. Very good, Miss Maud. [Conning the address] "Briary Studio, +River Road. Look out! Father is coming!" I'll go out the back way. +Any answer? + +MAUD. No. + + TOPPING nods his head and goes out. + +MAUD. [To herself] Well, it's all I can do. + + She stands, considering, as the CURTAIN falls. + + + + +SCENE II + + The Studio, to which are attached living rooms, might be rented at + eighty pounds a year--some painting and gear indeed, but an air of + life rather than of work. Things strewn about. Bare walls, a + sloping skylight, no windows; no fireplace visible; a bedroom door, + stage Right; a kitchen door, stage Left. A door, Centre back, into + the street. The door knocker is going. + +From the kitchen door, Left, comes the very young person, ANNIE, in +blotting-paper blue linen, with a white Dutch cap. She is pretty, her +cheeks rosy, and her forehead puckered. She opens the street door. +Standing outside is TOPPING. He steps in a pace or two. + +TOPPING. Miss Builder live here? + +ANNIE. Oh! no, sir; Mrs Herringhame. + +TOPPING. Mrs Herringhame? Oh! young lady with dark hair and large +expressive eyes? + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir. + +TOPPING. With an "A. B." on her linen? [Moves to table]. + +ANNIE. Yes, sir. + +TOPPING. And "Athene Builder" on her drawings? + +ANNIE. [Looking at one] Yes, sir. + +TOPPING. Let's see. [He examines the drawing] Mrs Herringhame, you +said? + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Sir. + +TOPPING. Wot oh! + +ANNIE. Did you want anything, sir? + +TOPPING. Drop the "sir," my dear; I'm the Builders' man. +Mr Herringhame in? + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Sir. + +TOPPING. Take a message. I can't wait. From Miss Maud Builder. "Look +out! Father is coming." Now, whichever of 'em comes in first--that's +the message, and don't you forget it. + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Sir. + +TOPPING. So they're married? + +ANNIE. Oh! I don't know, sir. + +TOPPING. I see. Well, it ain't known to Builder, J.P., either. That's +why there's a message. See? + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Sir. + +TOPPING. Keep your head. I must hop it. From Miss Maud Builder. +"Look out! Father is coming." + + He nods, turns and goes, pulling the door to behind him. ANNIE + stands "baff" for a moment. + +ANNIE. Ah! + + She goes across to the bedroom on the Right, and soon returns with a + suit of pyjamas, a toothbrush, a pair of slippers and a case of + razors, which she puts on the table, and disappears into the + kitchen. She reappears with a bread pan, which she deposits in the + centre of the room; then crosses again to the bedroom, and once more + reappears with a clothes brush, two hair brushes, and a Norfolk + jacket. As she stuffs all these into the bread pan and bears it + back into the kitchen, there is the sound of a car driving up and + stopping. ANNIE reappears at the kitchen door just as the knocker + sounds. + +ANNIE. Vexin' and provokin'! [Knocker again. She opens the door] Oh! + + MR and MRS BUILDER enter. + +BUILDER. Mr and Mrs Builder. My daughter in? + +ANNIE. [Confounded] Oh! Sir, no, sir. + +BUILDER. My good girl, not "Oh! Sir, no, sir." Simply: No, Sir. See? + +ANNIE. Oh! Sir, yes, Sir. + +BUILDER. Where is she? + +ANNIE. Oh! Sir, I don't know, Sir. + +BUILDER. [Fixing her as though he suspected her of banter] Will she be +back soon? + +ANNIE. No, Sir. + +BUILDER. How do you know? + +ANNIE. I d--don't, sir. + +BUILDER. They why do you say so? [About to mutter "She's an idiot!" he +looks at her blushing face and panting figure, pats her on the shoulder +and says] Never mind; don't be nervous. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir. Is that all, please, sir? + +MRS BUILDER. [With a side look at her husband and a faint smile] Yes; +you can go. + +ANNIE. Thank you, ma'am. + + She turns and hurries out into the kitchen, Left. BUILDER gazes + after her, and MRS BUILDER gazes at BUILDER with her faint smile. + +BUILDER. [After the girl is gone] Quaint and Dutch--pretty little +figure! [Staring round] H'm! Extraordinary girls are! Fancy Athene +preferring this to home. What? + +MRS BUILDER. I didn't say anything. + +BUILDER. [Placing a chair for his wife, and sitting down himself] Well, +we must wait, I suppose. Confound that Nixon legacy! If Athene hadn't +had that potty little legacy left her, she couldn't have done this. +Well, I daresay it's all spent by now. I made a mistake to lose my +temper with her. + +MRS BUILDER. Isn't it always a mistake to lose one's temper? + +BUILDER. That's very nice and placid; sort of thing you women who live +sheltered lives can say. I often wonder if you women realise the strain +on a business man. + +MRS BUILDER. [In her softly ironical voice] It seems a shame to add the +strain of family life. + +BUILDER. You've always been so passive. When I want a thing, I've got +to have it. + +MRS BUILDER. I've noticed that. + +BUILDER. [With a short laugh] Odd if you hadn't, in twenty-three years. +[Touching a canvas standing against the chair with his toe] Art! Just a +pretext. We shall be having Maud wanting to cut loose next. She's very +restive. Still, I oughtn't to have had that scene with Athene. I ought +to have put quiet pressure. + + MRS BUILDER Smiles. + +BUILDER. What are you smiling at? + + MRS BUILDER shrugs her shoulders. + +Look at this--Cigarettes! [He examines the brand on the box] Strong, +very--and not good! [He opens the door] Kitchen! [He shuts it, +crosses, and opens the door, Right] Bedroom! + +MRS BUILDER. [To his disappearing form] Do you think you ought, John? + + He has disappeared, and she ends with an expressive movement of her + hands, a long sigh, and a closing of her eyes. BUILDER'S peremptory + voice is heard: "Julia!" + +What now? + + She follows into the bedroom. The maid ANNIE puts her head out of + the kitchen door; she comes out a step as if to fly; then, at + BUILDER'S voice, shrinks back into the kitchen. + +BUILDER, reappearing with a razor strop in one hand and a shaving-brush +in the other, is followed by MRS BUILDER. + +BUILDER. Explain these! My God! Where's that girl? + +MRS BUILDER. John! Don't! [Getting between him and the kitchen door] +It's not dignified. + +BUILDER. I don't care a damn. + +MRS BUILDER. John, you mustn't. Athene has the tiny beginning of a +moustache, you know. + +BUILDER. What! I shall stay and clear this up if I have to wait a week. +Men who let their daughters--! This age is the limit. [He makes a +vicious movement with the strop, as though laying it across someone's +back.] + +MRS BUILDER. She would never stand that. Even wives object, nowadays. + +BUILDER. [Grimly] The war's upset everything. Women are utterly out +of hand. Why the deuce doesn't she come? + +MRS BUILDER. Suppose you leave me here to see her. + +BUILDER. [Ominously] This is my job. + +MRS BUILDER. I think it's more mine. + +BUILDER. Don't stand there opposing everything I say! I'll go and have +another look--[He is going towards the bedroom when the sound of a +latchkey in the outer door arrests him. He puts the strop and brush +behind his back, and adds in a low voice] Here she is! + + MRS BUILDER has approached him, and they have both turned towards + the opening door. GUY HERRINGHAME comes in. They are a little out + of his line of sight, and he has shut the door before he sees them. + When he does, his mouth falls open, and his hand on to the knob of + the door. He is a comely young man in Harris tweeds. Moreover, he + is smoking. He would speak if he could, but his surprise is too + excessive. BUILDER. Well, sir? + +GUY. [Recovering a little] I was about to say the same to you, sir. + +BUILDER. [Very red from repression] These rooms are not yours, are +they? + +GUY. Nor yours, sir? + +BUILDER. May I ask if you know whose they are? + +GUY. My sister's. + +BUILDER. Your--you--! + +MRS BUILDER. John! + +BUILDER. Will you kindly tell me why your sister signs her drawings by +the name of my daughter, Athene Builder--and has a photograph of my wife +hanging there? + + The YOUNG MAN looks at MRS BUILDER and winces, but recovers himself. + +GUY. [Boldly] As a matter of fact this is my sister's studio; she's in +France--and has a friend staying here. + +BUILDER. Oh! And you have a key? + +GUY. My sister's. + +BUILDER. Does your sister shave? + +GUY. I--I don't think so. + +BUILDER. No. Then perhaps you'll tell me what these mean? [He takes +out the strop and shaving stick]. + +GUY. Oh! Ah! Those things? + +BUILDER. Yes. Now then? + +GUY. [Addressing MRS BUILDER] Need we go into this in your presence, +ma'am? It seems rather delicate. + +BUILDER. What explanation have you got? + +GUY. Well, you see-- + +BUILDER. No lies; out with it! + +GUY. [With decision] I prefer to say nothing. + +BUILDER. What's your name? + +GUY. Guy Herringhame. + +BUILDER. Do you live here? + + Guy makes no sign. + +MRS BUILDER. [To Guy] I think you had better go. + +BUILDER. Julia, will you leave me to manage this? + +MRS BUILDER. [To Guy] When do you expect my daughter in? + +GUY. Now--directly. + +MRS BUILDER. [Quietly] Are you married to her? + +GUY. Yes. That is--no--o; not altogether, I mean. + +BUILDER. What's that? Say that again! + +GUY. [Folding his arms] I'm not going to say another word. + +BUILDER. I am. + +MRS BUILDER. John--please! + +BUILDER. Don't put your oar in! I've had wonderful patience so far. +[He puts his boot through a drawing] Art! This is what comes of it! Are +you an artist? + +GUY. No; a flying man. The truth is-- + +BUILDER. I don't want to hear you speak the truth. I'll wait for my +daughter. + +GUY. If you do, I hope you'll be so very good as to be gentle. If you +get angry I might too, and that would be awfully ugly. + +BUILDER. Well, I'm damned! + +GUY. I quite understand that, sir. But, as a man of the world, I hope +you'll take a pull before she comes, if you mean to stay. + +BUILDER. If we mean to stay! That's good! + +GUY. Will you have a cigarette? + +BUILDER. I--I can't express-- + +GUY. [Soothingly] Don't try, sir. [He jerks up his chin, listening] I +think that's her. [Goes to the door] Yes. Now, please! [He opens the +door] Your father and mother, Athene. + +ATHENE enters. She is flushed and graceful. Twenty-two, with a short +upper lip, a straight nose, dark hair, and glowing eyes. She wears +bright colours, and has a slow, musical voice, with a slight lisp. + +ATHENE. Oh! How are you, mother dear? This is rather a surprise. +Father always keeps his word, so I certainly didn't expect him. [She +looks steadfastly at BUILDER, but does not approach]. + +BUILDER. [Controlling himself with an effort] Now, Athene, what's this? + +ATHENE. What's what? + +BUILDER. [The strop held out] Are you married to this--this--? + +ATHENE. [Quietly] To all intents and purposes. + +BUILDER. In law? + +ATHENE. No. + +BUILDER. My God! You--you--! + +ATHENE. Father, don't call names, please. + +BUILDER. Why aren't you married to him? + +ATHENE. Do you want a lot of reasons, or the real one? + +BUILDER. This is maddening! [Goes up stage]. + +ATHENE. Mother dear, will you go into the other room with Guy? [She +points to the door Right]. + +BUILDER. Why? + +ATHENE. Because I would rather she didn't hear the reason. + +GUY. [To ATHENE, sotto voce] He's not safe. + +ATHENE. Oh! yes; go on. + + Guy follows MRS BUILDER, and after hesitation at the door they go + out into the bedroom. + +BUILDER. Now then! + +ATHENE. Well, father, if you want to know the real reason, it's--you. + +BUILDER. What on earth do you mean? + +ATHENE. Guy wants to marry me. In fact, we--But I had such a stunner of +marriage from watching you at home, that I-- + +BUILDER. Don't be impudent! My patience is at breaking-point, I warn +you. + +ATHENE. I'm perfectly serious, Father. I tell you, we meant to marry, +but so far I haven't been able to bring myself to it. You never noticed +how we children have watched you. + +BUILDER. Me? + +ATHENE. Yes. You and mother, and other things; all sorts of things-- + +BUILDER. [Taking out a handkerchief and wiping his brow] I really think +you're mad. + +ATHENE. I'm sure you must, dear. + +BUILDER. Don't "dear" me! What have you noticed? D'you mean I'm not a +good husband and father? + +ATHENE. Look at mother. I suppose you can't, now; you're too used to +her. + +BUILDER. Of course I'm used to her. What else is marrying for? + +ATHENE. That; and the production of such as me. And it isn't good +enough, father. You shouldn't have set us such a perfect example. + +BUILDER. You're talking the most arrant nonsense I ever heard. [He +lifts his hands] I've a good mind to shake it out of you. + +ATHENE. Shall I call Guy? + + He drops his hands. + +Confess that being a good husband and father has tried you terribly. It +has us, you know. + +BUILDER. [Taking refuge in sarcasm] When you've quite done being funny, +perhaps you'll tell me why you've behaved like a common street flapper. + +ATHENE. [Simply] I couldn't bear to think of Guy as a family man. +That's all--absolutely. It's not his fault; he's been awfully anxious to +be one. + +BUILDER. You've disgraced us, then; that's what it comes to. + +ATHENE. I don't want to be unkind, but you've brought it on yourself. + +BUILDER. [Genuinely distracted] I can't even get a glimmer of what you +mean. I've never been anything but firm. Impatient, perhaps. I'm not +an angel; no ordinary healthy man is. I've never grudged you girls any +comfort, or pleasure. + +ATHENE. Except wills of our own. + +BUILDER. What do you want with wills of your own till you're married? + +ATHENE. You forget mother! + +BUILDER. What about her? + +ATHENE. She's very married. Has she a will of her own? + +BUILDER. [Sullenly] She's learnt to know when I'm in the right. + +ATHENE. I don't ever mean to learn to know when Guy's in the right. +Mother's forty-one, and twenty-three years of that she's been your wife. +It's a long time, father. Don't you ever look at her face? + +BUILDER. [Troubled in a remote way] Rubbish! + +ATHENE. I didn't want my face to get like that. + +BUILDER. With such views about marriage, what business had you to go +near a man? Come, now! + +ATHENE. Because I fell in love. + +BUILDER. Love leads to marriage--and to nothing else, but the streets. +What an example to your sister! + +ATHENE. You don't know Maud any more than you knew me. She's got a will +of her own too, I can tell you. + +BUILDER. Now, look here, Athene. It's always been my way to face +accomplished facts. What's done can't be undone; but it can be remedied. +You must marry this young----at once, before it gets out. He's behaved +like a ruffian: but, by your own confession, you've behaved worse. +You've been bitten by this modern disease, this--this, utter lack of +common decency. There's an eternal order in certain things, and marriage +is one of them; in fact, it's the chief. Come, now. Give me a promise, +and I'll try my utmost to forget the whole thing. + +ATHENE. When we quarrelled, father, you said you didn't care what became +of me. + +BUILDER. I was angry. + +ATHENE. So you are now. + +BUILDER. Come, Athene, don't be childish! Promise me! + +ATHENE. [With a little shudder] No! We were on the edge of it. But now +I've seen you again--Poor mother! + +BUILDER. [Very angry] This is simply blasphemous. What do you mean by +harping on your mother? If you think that--that--she doesn't--that she +isn't-- + +ATHENE. Now, father! + +BUILDER. I'm damned if I'll sit down under this injustice. Your mother +is--is pretty irritating, I can tell you. She--she--Everything +suppressed. And--and no--blood in her! + +ATHENE. I knew it! + +BUILDER. [Aware that he has confirmed some thought in her that he had no +intention of confirming] What's that? + +ATHENE. Don't you ever look at your own face, father? When you shave, +for instance. + +BUILDER. Of course I do. + +ATHENE. It isn't satisfied, is it? + +BUILDER. I don't know what on earth you mean. + +ATHENE. You can't help it, but you'd be ever so much happier if you were +a Mohammedan, and two or three, instead of one, had--had learned to know +when you were in the right. + +BUILDER. 'Pon my soul! This is outrageous! + +ATHENE. Truth often is. + +BUILDER. Will you be quiet? + +ATHENE. I don't ever want to feel sorry for Guy in that way. + +BUILDER. I think you're the most immodest--I'm ashamed that you're my +daughter. If your another had ever carried on as you are now-- + +ATHENE. Would you have been firm with her? + +BUILDER. [Really sick at heart at this unwonted mockery which meets him +at every turn] Be quiet, you----! + +ATHENE. Has mother never turned? + +BUILDER. You're an unnatural girl! Go your own way to hell! + +ATHENE. I am not coming back home, father. + +BUILDER. [Wrenching open the door, Right] Julia! Come! We can't stay +here. + + MRS BUILDER comes forth, followed by GUY. + +As for you, sir, if you start by allowing a woman to impose her crazy +ideas about marriage on you, all I can say is--I despise you. [He +crosses to the outer door, followed by his wife. To ATHENE] I've done +with you! + + He goes out. + + MRS BUILDER, who has so far seemed to accompany him, shuts the door + quickly and remains in the studio. She stands there with that faint + smile on her face, looking at the two young people. + +ATHENE. Awfully sorry, mother; but don't you see what a stunner father's +given me? + +MRS BUILDER. My dear, all men are not alike. + +GUY. I've always told her that, ma'am. + +ATHENE. [Softly] Oh! mother, I'm so sorry for you. + + The handle of the door is rattled, a fist is beaten on it. + +[She stamps, and covers her ears] Disgusting! + +GUY. Shall I--? + +MRS BUILDER. [Shaking her head] I'm going in a moment. [To ATHENE] You +owe it to me, Athene. + +ATHENE. Oh! if somebody would give him a lesson! + + BUILDER's voice: "Julia!" + +Have you ever tried, mother? + + MRS BUILDER looks at the YOUNG MAN, who turns away out of hearing. + +MRS BUILDER. Athene, you're mistaken. I've always stood up to him in my +own way. + +ATHENE. Oh! but, mother--listen! + + The beating and rattling have recommenced, and the voice: "Are you + coming?" + +[Passionately] And that's family life! Father was all right before he +married, I expect. And now it's like this. How you survive--! + +MRS BUILDER. He's only in a passion, my dear. + +ATHENE. It's wicked. + +MRS BUILDER. It doesn't work otherwise, Athene. + + A single loud bang on the door. + +ATHENE. If he beats on that door again, I shall scream. + + MRS BUILDER smiles, shakes her head, and turns to the door. + +MRS BUILDER. Now, my dear, you're going to be sensible, to please me. +It's really best. If I say so, it must be. It's all comedy, Athene. + +ATHENE. Tragedy! + +GUY. [Turning to them] Look here! Shall I shift him? + + MRS BUILDER shakes her head and opens the door. BUILDER stands + there, a furious figure. + +BUILDER. Will you come, and leave that baggage and her cad? + +MRS BUILDER steps quickly out and the door is closed. Guy makes an angry +movement towards it. + +ATHENE. Guy! + +GUY. [Turning to her] That puts the top hat on. So persuasive! [He +takes out of his pocket a wedding ring, and a marriage licence] Well! +What's to be done with these pretty things, now? + +ATHENE. Burn them! + +GUY. [Slowly] Not quite. You can't imagine I should ever be like that, +Athene? + +ATHENE. Marriage does wonders. + +GUY. Thanks. + +ATHENE. Oh! Guy, don't be horrid. I feel awfully bad. + +GUY. Well, what do you think I feel? "Cad!" + + They turn to see ANNIE in hat and coat, with a suit-case in her + hand, coming from the door Left. + +ANNIE. Oh! ma'am, please, Miss, I want to go home. + +GUY. [Exasperated!] She wants to go home--she wants to go home! + +ATHENE. Guy! All right, Annie. + +ANNIE. Oh! thank you, Miss. [She moves across in front of them]. + +ATHENE. [Suddenly] Annie! + + ANNIE stops and turns to her. + +What are you afraid of? + +ANNIE. [With comparative boldness] I--I might catch it, Miss. + +ATHENE. From your people? + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Miss; from you. You see, I've got a young man that wants +to marry me. And if I don't let him, I might get into trouble meself. + +ATHENE. What sort of father and mother have you got, Annie? + +ANNIE. I never thought, Miss. And of course I don't want to begin. + +ATHENE. D'you mean you've never noticed how they treat each other? + +ANNIE. I don't think they do, Miss. + +ATHENE. Exactly. + +ANNIE. They haven't time. Father's an engine driver. + +GUY. And what's your young man, Annie? + +ANNIE. [Embarrassed] Somethin' like you, sir. But very respectable. + +ATHENE. And suppose you marry him, and he treats you like a piece of +furniture? + +ANNIE. I--I could treat him the same, Miss. + +ATHENE. Don't you believe that, Annie! + +ANNIE. He's very mild. + +ATHENE. That's because he wants you. You wait till he doesn't. + + ANNIE looks at GUY. + +GUY. Don't you believe her, Annie; if he's decent-- + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir. + +ATHENE. [Suppressing a smile] Of course--but the point is, Annie, that +marriage makes all the difference. + +ANNIE. Yes, Miss; that's what I thought. + +ATHENE. You don't see. What I mean is that when once he's sure of you, +he may change completely. + +ANNIE. [Slowly, looking at her thumb] Oh! I don't--think--he'll hammer +me, Miss. Of course, I know you can't tell till you've found out. + +ATHENE. Well, I've no right to influence you. + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Miss; that's what I've been thinking. + +-GUY. You're quite right, Annie=-this is no place for you. + +ANNIE. You see, we can't be married; sir, till he gets his rise. So +it'll be a continual temptation to me. + +ATHENE. Well, all right, Annie. I hope you'll never regret it. + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Miss. + +GUY. I say, Annie, don't go away thinking evil of us; we didn't realise +you knew we weren't married. + +ATHENE. We certainly did not. + +ANNIE. Oh! I didn't think it right to take notice. + +GUY. We beg your pardon. + +ANNIE. Oh! no, sir. Only, seein' Mr and Mrs Builder so upset, brought +it 'ome like. And father can be 'andy with a strap. + +ATHENE. There you are! Force majeure! + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Miss. + +ATHENE. Well, good-bye, Annie. What are you going to say to your +people? + +ANNIE. Oh! I shan't say I've been livin' in a family that wasn't a +family, Miss. It wouldn't do no good. + +ATHENE. Well, here are your wages. + +ANNIE. Oh! I'm puttin' you out, Miss. [She takes the money]. + +ATHENE. Nonsense, Annie. And here's your fare home. + +ANNIE. Oh! thank you, Miss. I'm very sorry. Of course if you was to +change your mind--[She stops, embarrassed]. + +ATHENE. I don't think-- + +GUY. [Abruptly] Good-bye, Annie. Here's five bob for the movies. + +ANNIE. Oh! good-bye, sir, and thank you. I was goin' there now with my +young man. He's just round the corner. + +GUY. Be very careful of him. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir, I will. Good-bye, sir. Goodbye, Miss. + + She goes. + +GUY. So her father has a firm hand too. But it takes her back to the +nest. How's that, Athene? + +ATHENE. [Playing with a leathern button on his coat] If you'd watched +it ever since you could watch anything, seen it kill out all--It's having +power that does it. I know Father's got awfully good points. + +GUY. Well, they don't stick out. + +ATHENE. He works fearfully hard; he's upright, and plucky. He's not +stingy. But he's smothered his animal nature-and that's done it. I +don't want to see you smother anything, Guy. + +GUY. [Gloomily] I suppose one never knows what one's got under the lid. +If he hadn't come here to-day--[He spins the wedding ring] He certainly +gives one pause. Used he to whack you? + +ATHENE. Yes. + +GUY. Brute! + +ATHENE. With the best intentions. You see, he's a Town Councillor, and +a magistrate. I suppose they have to be "firm." Maud and I sneaked in +once to listen to him. There was a woman who came for protection from +her husband. If he'd known we were there, he'd have had a fit. + +GUY. Did he give her the protection? + +ATHENE. Yes; he gave her back to the husband. Wasn't it--English? + +GUY. [With a grunt] Hang it! We're not all like that. + +ATHENE. [Twisting his button] I think it's really a sense of property +so deep that they don't know they've got it. Father can talk about +freedom like a--politician. + +GUY. [Fitting the wedding ring on her finger] Well! Let's see how it +looks, anyway. + +ATHENE. Don't play with fire, Guy. + +GUY. There's something in atavism, darling; there really is. I like it +--I do. + + A knock on the door. + +ATHENE. That sounds like Annie again. Just see. + +GUY. [Opening the door] It is. Come in, Annie. What's wrong now? + +ANNIE. [Entering in confusion] Oh! sir, please, sir--I've told my +young man. + +ATHENE. Well, what does he say? + +ANNIE. 'E was 'orrified, Miss. + +GUY. The deuce he was! At our conduct? + +ANNIE. Oh! no, sir--at mine. + +ATHENE. But you did your best; you left us. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Miss; that's why 'e's horrified. + +GUY. Good for your young man. + +ANNIE. [Flattered] Yes, sir. 'E said I 'ad no strength of mind. + +ATHENE. So you want to come back? + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Miss. + +ATHENE. All right. + +GUY. But what about catching it? + +ANNIE. Oh, sir, 'e said there was nothing like Epsom salts. + +GUY. He's a wag, your young man. + +ANNIE. He was in the Army, sir. + +GUY. You said he was respectable. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir; but not so respectable as that. + +ATHENE. Well, Annie, get your things off, and lay lunch. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Miss. + + She makes a little curtsey and passes through into the kitchen. + +GUY. Strength of mind! Have a little, Athene won't you? [He holds out +the marriage licence before her]. + +ATHENE. I don't know--I don't know! If--it turned out-- + +GUY. It won't. Come on. Must take chances in this life. + +ATHENE. [Looking up into his face] Guy, promise me--solemnly that you'll +never let me stand in your way, or stand in mine! + +GUY. Right! That's a bargain. [They embrace.] + + ATHENE quivers towards him. They embrace fervently as ANNIE enters + with the bread pan. They spring apart. + +ANNIE. Oh! + +GUY. It's all right, Annie. There's only one more day's infection +before you. We're to be married to-morrow morning. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir. Won't Mr Builder be pleased? + +GUY. H'm! That's not exactly our reason. + +ANNIE. [Right] Oh! no, sir. Of course you can't be a family without, +can you? + +GUY. What have you got in that thing? + + ANNIE is moving across with the bread pan. She halts at the bedroom + door. + +ANNIE. Oh! please, ma'am, I was to give you a message--very important-- +from Miss Maud Builder "Lookout! Father is coming!" + + She goes out. + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + +ACT II + + BUILDER'S study. At the table, MAUD has just put a sheet of paper + into a typewriter. She sits facing the audience, with her hands + stretched over the keys. + +MAUD. [To herself] I must get that expression. + + Her face assumes a furtive, listening look. Then she gets up, + whisks to the mirror over the fireplace, scrutinises the expression + in it, and going back to the table, sits down again with hands + outstretched above the keys, and an accentuation of the expression. + The door up Left is opened, and TOPPING appears. He looks at MAUD, + who just turns her eyes. + +TOPPING. Lunch has been ready some time, Miss Maud. + +MAUD. I don't want any lunch. Did you give it? + +TOPPING. Miss Athene was out. I gave the message to a young party. She +looked a bit green, Miss. I hope nothing'll go wrong with the works. +Shall I keep lunch back? + +MAUD. If something's gone wrong, they won't have any appetite, Topping. + +TOPPING. If you think I might risk it, Miss, I'd like to slip round to +my dentist. [He lays a finger on his cheek]. + +MAUD. [Smiling] Oh! What race is being run this afternoon, then, +Topping? + +TOPPING. [Twinkling, and shifting his finger to the side of his nose] +Well, I don't suppose you've 'eard of it, Miss; but as a matter of fact +it's the Cesarwitch. + +MAUD. Got anything on? + +TOPPING. Only my shirt, Miss. + +MAUD. Is it a good thing, then? + +TOPPING. I've seen worse roll up. [With a touch of enthusiasm] Dark +horse, Miss Maud, at twenty to one. + +MAUD. Put me ten bob on, Topping. I want all the money I can get, just +now. + +TOPPING. You're not the first, Miss. + +MAUD. I say, Topping, do you know anything about the film? + +TOPPING. [Nodding] Rather a specialty of mine, Miss. + +MAUD. Well, just stand there, and give me your opinion of this. + + TOPPING moves down Left. She crouches over the typewriter, lets her + hands play on the keys; stops; assumes that listening, furtive look; + listens again, and lets her head go slowly round, preceded by her + eyes; breaks it off, and says: + +What should you say I was? + +TOPPING. Guilty, Miss. + +MAUD. [With triumph] There! Then you think I've got it? + +TOPPING. Well, of course, I couldn't say just what sort of a crime you'd +committed, but I should think pretty 'ot stuff. + +MAUD. Yes; I've got them here. [She pats her chest]. + +TOPPING. Really, Miss. + +MAUD. Yes. There's just one point, Topping; it's psychological. + +TOPPING. Indeed, Miss? + +MAUD. Should I naturally put my hand on them; or would there be a +reaction quick enough to stop me? You see, I'm alone--and the point is +whether the fear of being seen would stop me although I knew I couldn't +be seen. It's rather subtle. + +TOPPING. I think there's be a rehaction, Miss. + +MAUD. So do I. To touch them [She clasps her chest] is a bit obvious, +isn't it? + +TOPPING. If the haudience knows you've got 'em there. + +MAUD. Oh! yes, it's seen me put them. Look here, I'll show you that +too. + + She opens an imaginary drawer, takes out some bits of sealing-wax, + and with every circumstance of stealth in face and hands, conceals + them in her bosom. + +All right? + +TOPPING. [Nodding] Fine, Miss. You have got a film face. What are +they, if I may ask? + +MAUD. [Reproducing the sealing-wax] The Fanshawe diamonds. There's +just one thing here too, Topping. + +In real life, which should I naturally do--put them in here [She touches +her chest] or in my bag? + +TOPPING. [Touching his waistcoat--earnestly] Well! To put 'em in here, +Miss, I should say is more--more pishchological. + +MAUD. [Subduing her lips] Yes; but-- + +TOPPING. You see, then you've got 'em on you. + +MAUD. But that's just the point. Shouldn't I naturally think: Safer in +my bag; then I can pretend somebody put them there. You see, nobody +could put them on me. + +TOPPING. Well, I should say that depends on your character. Of course I +don't know what your character is. + +MAUD. No; that's the beastly part of it--the author doesn't, either. +It's all left to me. + +TOPPING. In that case, I should please myself, Miss. To put 'em in +'ere's warmer. + +MAUD. Yes, I think you're right. It's more human. + +TOPPING. I didn't know you 'ad a taste this way, Miss Maud. + +MAUD. More than a taste, Topping--a talent. + +TOPPING. Well, in my belief, we all have a vice about us somewhere. But +if I were you, Miss, I wouldn't touch bettin', not with this other on +you. You might get to feel a bit crowded. + +MAUD. Well, then, only put the ten bob on if you're sure he's going to +win. You can post the money on after me. I'll send you an address, +Topping, because I shan't be here. + +TOPPING. [Disturbed] What! You're not going, too, Miss Maud? + +MAUD. To seek my fortune. + +TOPPING. Oh! Hang it all, Miss, think of what you'll leave behind. +Miss Athene's leavin' home has made it pretty steep, but this'll touch +bottom--this will. + +MAUD. Yes; I expect you'll find it rather difficult for a bit when I'm +gone. Miss Baldini, you know. I've been studying with her. She's got +me this chance with the movie people. I'm going on trial as the guilty +typist in "The Heartache of Miranda." + +TOPPING. [Surprised out of politeness] Well, I never! That does sound +like 'em! Are you goin' to tell the guv'nor, Miss? + + MAUD nods. In that case, I think I'll be gettin' off to my dentist + before the band plays. + +MAUD. All right, Topping; hope you won't lose a tooth. + +TOPPING. [With a grin] It's on the knees of the gods, Miss, as they say +in the headlines. + + He goes. MAUD stretches herself and listens. + +MAUD. I believe that's them. Shivery funky. + + She runs off up Left. + +BUILDER. [Entering from the hall and crossing to the fireplace] +Monstrous! Really monstrous! + + CAMILLE enters from the hall. She has a little collecting book in + her hand. + +BUILDER. Well, Camille? + +CAMILLE. A sistare from the Sacred 'Eart, Monsieur--her little book for +the orphan children. + +BUILDER. I can't be bothered--What is it? + +CAMILLE. Orphan, Monsieur. + +BUILDER. H'm! Well! [Feeling in his breast pocket] Give her that. + + He hands her a five-pound note. + +CAMILLE. I am sure she will be veree grateful for the poor little +beggars. Madame says she will not be coming to lunch, Monsieur. + +BUILDER. I don't want any, either. Tell Topping I'll have some coffee. + +CAMILLE. Topping has gone to the dentist, Monsieur; 'e 'as the +toothache. + +BUILDER. Toothache--poor devil! H'm! I'm expecting my brother, but I +don't know that I can see him. + +CAMILLE. No, Monsieur? + +BUILDER. Ask your mistress to come here. + + He looks up, and catching her eye, looks away. + +CAMILLE. Yes, Monsieur. + + As she turns he looks swiftly at her, sweeping her up and down. She + turns her head and catches his glance, which is swiftly dropped. + Will Monsieur not 'ave anything to eat? + +BUILDER. [Shaking his head-abruptly] No. Bring the coffee! + +CAMILLE. Is Monsieur not well? + +BUILDER. Yes--quite well. + +CAMILLE. [Sweetening her eyes] A cutlet soubise? No? + +BUILDER. [With a faint response in his eyes, instantly subdued] Nothing! +nothing! + +CAMILLE. And Madame nothing too--Tt! Tt! With her hand on the door she +looks back, again catches his eyes in an engagement instantly broken off, +and goes out. + +BUILDER. [Stock-still, and staring at the door] That girl's a continual +irritation to me! She's dangerous! What a life! I believe that girl-- + + The door Left is opened and MRS BUILDER comes in. + +BUILDER. There's some coffee coming; do your head good. Look here, +Julia. I'm sorry I beat on that door. I apologize. I was in a towering +passion. I wish I didn't get into these rages. But--dash it all--! I +couldn't walk away and leave you there. + +MRS BUILDER. Why not? + +BUILDER. You keep everything to yourself, so; I never have any notion +what you're thinking. What did you say to her? + +MRS BUILDER. Told her it would never work. + +BUILDER. Well, that's something. She's crazy. D'you suppose she was +telling the truth about that young blackguard wanting to marry her? + +MRS BUILDER. I'm sure of it. + +BUILDER. When you think of how she's been brought up. You would have +thought that religion alone-- + +MRS BUILDER. The girls haven't wanted to go to church for years. +They've always said they didn't see why they should go to keep up your +position. I don't know if you remember that you once caned them for +running off on a Sunday morning. + +BUILDER. Well? + +MRS BUILDER. They've never had any religion since. + +BUILDER. H'm! [He takes a short turn up the room] What's to be done +about Athene? + +MRS BUILDER. You said you had done with her. + +BUILDER. You know I didn't mean that. I might just as well have said +I'd done with you! Apply your wits, Julia! At any moment this thing may +come out. In a little town like this you can keep nothing dark. How can +I take this nomination for Mayor? + +MRS BUILDER. Perhaps Ralph could help. + +BUILDER. What? His daughters have never done anything disgraceful, and +his wife's a pattern. + +MRS BUILDER. Yes; Ralph isn't at all a family man. + +BUILDER. [Staring at her] I do wish you wouldn't turn things upside +down in that ironical way. It isn't--English. + +MRS BUILDER. I can't help having been born in Jersey. + +BUILDER. No; I suppose it's in your blood. The French-- [He stops +short]. + +MRS BUILDER. Yes? + +BUILDER. Very irritating sometimes to a plain Englishman--that's all. + +MRS BUILDER. Shall I get rid of Camille? + +BUILDER. [Staring at her, then dropping his glance] Camille? What's +she got to do with it? + +MRS BUILDER. I thought perhaps you found her irritating. + +BUILDER. Why should I? + + CAMILLE comes in from the dining-room with the coffee. + +Put it there. I want some brandy, please. + +CAMILLE. I bring it, Monsieur. + + She goes back demurely into the dining-room. + +BUILDER. Topping's got toothache, poor chap! [Pouring out the coffee] +Can't you suggest any way of making Athene see reason? Think of the +example! Maud will be kicking over next. I shan't be able to hold my +head up here. + +MRS BUILDER. I'm afraid I can't do that for you. + +BUILDER. [Exasperated] Look here, Julia! That wretched girl said +something to me about our life together. What--what's the matter with +that? + +MRS BUILDER. It is irritating. + +BUILDER. Be explicit. + +MRS BUILDER. We have lived together twenty-three years, John. No talk +will change such things. + +BUILDER. Is it a question of money? You can always have more. You know +that. [MRS BUILDER smiles] Oh! don't smile like that; it makes me feel +quite sick! + + CAMILLE enters with a decanter and little glasses, from the + dining-room. + +CAMILLE. The brandy, sir. Monsieur Ralph Builder has just come. + +MRS BUILDER. Ask him in, Camille. + +CAMILLE. Yes, Madame. + + She goes through the doorway into the hall. MRS BUILDER, following + towards the door, meets RALPH BUILDER, a man rather older than + BUILDER and of opposite build and manner. He has a pleasant, + whimsical face and grizzled hair. + +MRS BUILDER. John wants to consult you, Ralph. + +RALPH. That's very gratifying. + + She passes him and goes out, leaving the two brothers eyeing one + another. + +About the Welsh contract? + +BUILDER. No. Fact is, Ralph, something very horrible's happened. + +RALPH. Athene gone and got married? + +BUILDER. No. It's--it's that she's gone and--and not got married. + + RALPH utters a sympathetic whistle. + +Jolly, isn't it? + +RALPH. To whom? + +BUILDER. A young flying bounder. + +RALPH. And why? + +BUILDER. Some crazy rubbish about family life, of all things. + +RALPH. Athene's a most interesting girl. All these young people are so +queer and delightful. + +BUILDER. By George, Ralph, you may thank your stars you haven't got a +delightful daughter. Yours are good, decent girls. + +RALPH. Athene's tremendously good and decent, John. I'd bet any money +she's doing this on the highest principles. + +BUILDER. Behaving like a-- + +RALPH. Don't say what you'll regret, old man! Athene always took things +seriously--bless her! + +BUILDER. Julia thinks you might help. You never seem to have any +domestic troubles. + +RALPH. No--o. I don't think we do. + +BUILDER. How d'you account for it? + +RALPH. I must ask at home. + +BUILDER. Dash it! You must know! + +RALPH. We're all fond of each other. + +BUILDER. Well, I'm fond of my girls too; I suppose I'm not amiable +enough. H'm? + +RALPH. Well, old man, you do get blood to the head. But what's Athene's +point, exactly? + +BUILDER. Family life isn't idyllic, so she thinks she and the young man +oughtn't to have one. + +RALPH. I see. Home experience? + +BUILDER. Hang it all, a family's a family! There must be a head. + +RALPH. But no tail, old chap. + +BUILDER. You don't let your women folk do just as they like? + +RALPH. Always. + +BUILDER. What happens if one of your girls wants to do an improper +thing? [RALPH shrugs his shoulders]. You don't stop her? + +RALPH. Do you? + +BUILDER. I try to. + +RALPH. Exactly. And she does it. I don't and she doesn't. + +BUILDER. [With a short laugh] Good Lord! I suppose you'd have me eat +humble pie and tell Athene she can go on living in sin and offending +society, and have my blessing to round it off. + +RALPH. I think if you did she'd probably marry him. + +BUILDER. You've never tested your theory, I'll bet. + +RALPH. Not yet. + +BUILDER. There you are. + +RALPH. The 'suaviter in modo' pays, John. The times are not what they +were. + +BUILDER. Look here! I want to get to the bottom of this. Do you tell +me I'm any stricter than nine out of ten men? + +RALPH. Only in practice. + +BUILDER. [Puzzled] How do you mean? + +RALPH. Well, you profess the principles of liberty, but you practise the +principles of government. + +BUILDER. H'm! [Taking up the decanter] Have some? + +RALPH. No, thank you. + + BUILDER fills and raises his glass. + +CAMILLE. [Entering] Madame left her coffee. + + She comes forward, holds out a cup for BUILDER to pour into, takes + it and goes out. BUILDER'S glass remains suspended. He drinks the + brandy off as she shuts the door. + +BUILDER. Life isn't all roses, Ralph. + +RALPH. Sorry, old man. + +BUILDER. I sometimes think I try myself too high. Well, about that +Welsh contract? + +RALPH. Let's take it. + +BUILDER. If you'll attend to it. Frankly, I'm too upset. + + As they go towards the door into the hall, MAUD comes in from the + dining-room, in hat and coat. + +RALPH. [Catching sight of her] Hallo! All well in your cosmogony, Maud? + +MAUD. What is a cosmogony, Uncle? + +RALPH. My dear, I--I don't know. + + He goes out, followed by BUILDER. MAUD goes quickly to the table, + sits down and rests her elbows on it, her chin on her hands, looking + at the door. + +BUILDER. [Re-entering] Well, Maud! You'd have won your bet! + +MAUD. Oh! father, I--I've got some news for you. + +BUILDER. [Staring at her] News--what? + +MAUD. I'm awfully sorry, but I-I've got a job. + +BUILDER. Now, don't go saying you're going in for Art, too, because I +won't have it. + +MAUD. Art? Oh! no! It's the--[With a jerk]--the Movies. + + BUILDER. who has taken up a pipe to fill, puts it down. + +BUILDER. [Impressively] I'm not in a joking mood. + +MAUD. I'm not joking, father. + +BUILDER. Then what are you talking about? + +MAUD. You see, I--I've got a film face, and-- + +BUILDER. You've what? [Going up to his daughter, he takes hold of her +chin] Don't talk nonsense! Your sister has just tried me to the limit. + +MAUD. [Removing his hand from her chin] Don't oppose it, father, please! +I've always wanted to earn my own living. + +BUILDER. Living! Living! + +MAUD. [Gathering determination] You can't stop me, father, because I +shan't need support. I've got quite good terms. + +BUILDER. [Almost choking, but mastering himself] Do you mean to say +you've gone as far as that? + +MAUD. Yes. It's all settled. + +BUILDER. Who put you up to this? + +MAUD. No one. I've been meaning to, ever so long. I'm twenty-one, you +know. + +BUILDER. A film face! Good God! Now, look here! I will not have a +daughter of mine mixed up with the stage. I've spent goodness knows what +on your education--both of you. + +MAUD. I don't want to be ungrateful; but I--I can't go on living at +home. + +BUILDER. You can't--! Why? You've every indulgence. + +MAUD. [Clearly and coldly] I can remember occasions when your +indulgence hurt, father. [She wriggles her shoulders and back] We never +forgot or forgave that. + +BUILDER. [Uneasily] That! You were just kids. + +MAUD. Perhaps you'd like to begin again? + +BUILDER. Don't twist my tail, Maud. I had the most painful scene with +Athene this morning. Now come! Give up this silly notion! It's really +too childish! + +MAUD. [Looking at him curiously] I've heard you say ever so many times +that no man was any good who couldn't make his own way, father. Well, +women are the same as men, now. It's the law of the country. I only +want to make my own way. + +BUILDER. [Trying to subdue his anger] Now, Maud, don't be foolish. +Consider my position here--a Town Councillor, a Magistrate, and Mayor +next year. With one daughter living with a man she isn't married to-- + +MAUD. [With lively interest] Oh! So you did catch them out? + +BUILDER. D'you mean to say you knew? + +MAUD. Of course. + +BUILDER. My God! I thought we were a Christian family. + +MAUD. Oh! father. + +BUILDER. Don't sneer at Christianity! + +MAUD. There's only one thing wrong with Christians--they aren't! + +BUILDER Seizes her by the shoulders and shakes her vigorously. When he +drops her shoulders, she gets up, gives him a vicious look, and suddenly +stamps her foot on his toe with all her might. + +BUILDER. [With a yowl of pain] You little devil! + +MAUD. [Who has put the table between them] I won't stand being shaken. + +BUILDER. [Staring at her across the table] You've got my temper up and +you'll take the consequences. I'll make you toe the line. + +MAUD. If you knew what a Prussian expression you've got! + + BUILDER passes his hand across his face uneasily, as if to wipe + something off. + +No! It's too deep! + +BUILDER. Are you my daughter or are you not? + +MAUD. I certainly never wanted to be. I've always disliked you, father, +ever since I was so high. I've seen through you. Do you remember when +you used to come into the nursery because Jenny was pretty? You think we +didn't notice that, but we did. And in the schoolroom--Miss Tipton. And +d'you remember knocking our heads together? No, you don't; but we do. +And-- + +BUILDER. You disrespectful monkey! Will you be quiet? + +MAUD. No; you've got to hear things. You don't really love anybody but +yourself, father. What's good for you has to be good for everybody. +I've often heard you talk about independence, but it's a limited company +and you've got all the shares. + +BUILDER. Rot; only people who can support themselves have a right to +independence. + +MAUD. That's why you don't want me to support myself. + +BUILDER. You can't! Film, indeed! You'd be in the gutter in a year. +Athene's got her pittance, but you--you've got nothing. + +MAUD. Except my face. + +BUILDER. It's the face that brings women to ruin, my girl. + +MAUD. Well, when I'm there I won't come to you to rescue me. + +BUILDER. Now, mind--if you leave my house, I've done with you. + +MAUD. I'd rather scrub floors now, than stay. + +BUILDER. [Almost pathetically] Well, I'm damned! Look here, Maud-- +all this has been temper. You got my monkey up. I'm sorry I shook you; +you've had your revenge on my toes. Now, come! Don't make things worse +for me than they are. You've all the liberty you can reasonably want +till you marry. + +MAUD. He can't see it--he absolutely can't! + +BUILDER. See what? + +MAUD. That I want to live a life of my own. + + He edges nearer to her, and she edges to keep her distance. + +BUILDER. I don't know what's bitten you. + +MAUD. The microbe of freedom; it's in the air. + +BUILDER. Yes, and there it'll stay--that's the first sensible word +you've uttered. Now, come! Take your hat off, and let's be friends! + +MAUD looks at him and slowly takes off her hat. + +BUILDER. [Relaxing his attitude, with a sigh of relief] That's right! +[Crosses to fireplace]. + +MAUD. [Springing to the door leading to the hall] Good-bye, father! + +BUILDER. [Following her] Monkey! + + At the sound of a bolt shot, BUILDER goes up to the window. There + is a fumbling at the door, and CAMILLE appears. + +BUILDER. What's the matter with that door? CAMILLE. It was bolted, +Monsieur. + +BUILDER. Who bolted it? + +CAMILLE. [Shrugging her shoulders] I can't tell, Monsieur. + + She collects the cups, and halts close to him. [Softly] Monsieur + is not 'appy. + +BUILDER. [Surprised] What? No! Who'd be happy in a household like +mine? + +CAMILLE. But so strong a man--I wish I was a strong man, not a weak +woman. + +BUILDER. [Regarding her with reluctant admiration] Why, what's the +matter with you? + +CAMILLE. Will Monsieur have another glass of brandy before I take it? + +BUILDER. No! Yes--I will. + + She pours it out, and he drinks it, hands her the glass and sits + down suddenly in an armchair. CAMILLE puts the glass on a tray, and + looks for a box of matches from the mantelshelf. + +CAMILLE. A light, Monsieur? + +BUILDER. Please. + +CAMILLE. [She trips over his feet and sinks on to his knee] Oh! +Monsieur! + + BUILDER flames up and catches her in his arms + +Oh! Monsieur-- + +BUILDER. You little devil! + + She suddenly kisses him, and he returns the kiss. While they are + engaged in this entrancing occupation, MRS BUILDER opens the door + from the hall, watches unseen for a few seconds, and quietly goes + out again. + +BUILDER. [Pushing her back from him, whether at the sound of the door or +of a still small voice] What am I doing? + +CAMILLE. Kissing. + +BUILDER. I--I forgot myself. + + They rise. + +CAMILLE. It was na-ice. + +BUILDER. I didn't mean to. You go away--go away! + +CAMILLE. Oh! Monsieur, that spoil it. + +BUILDER. [Regarding her fixedly] It's my opinion you're a temptation of +the devil. You know you sat down on purpose. + +CAMILLE. Well, perhaps. + +BUILDER. What business had you to? I'm a family man. + +CAMILLE. Yes. What a pity! But does it matter? + +BUILDER. [Much beset] Look here, you know! This won't do! It won't +do! I--I've got my reputation to think of! + +CAMILLE. So 'ave I! But there is lots of time to think of it in +between. + +BUILDER. I knew you were dangerous. I always knew it. + +CAMILLE. What a thing to say of a little woman! + +BUILDER. We're not in Paris. + +CAMILLE. [Clasping her hands] Oh! 'Ow I wish we was! + +BUILDER. Look here--I can't stand this; you've got to go. Out with you! +I've always kept a firm hand on myself, and I'm not going to-- + +CAMILLE. But I admire you so! + +BUILDER. Suppose my wife had come in? + +CAMILLE. Oh! Don't suppose any such a disagreeable thing! If you were +not so strict, you would feel much 'appier. + +BUILDER. [Staring at her] You're a temptress! + +CAMILLE. I lofe pleasure, and I don't get any. And you 'ave such a +duty, you don't get any sport. Well, I am 'ere! + + She stretches herself, and BUILDER utters a deep sound. + +BUILDER. [On the edge of succumbing] It's all against my--I won't do +it! It's--it's wrong! + +CAMILLE. Oh! La, la! + +BUILDER. [Suddenly revolting] No! If you thought it a sin--I--might. +But you don't; you're nothing but a--a little heathen. + +CAMILLE. Why should it be better if I thought it a sin? + +BUILDER. Then--then I should know where I was. As it is-- + +CAMILLE. The English 'ave no idea of pleasure. They make it all so +coarse and virtuous. + +BUILDER. Now, out you go before I--! Go on! + + He goes over to the door and opens it. His wife is outside in a hat + and coat. She comes in. + +[Stammering] Oh! Here you are--I wanted you. + + CAMILLE, taking up the tray, goes out Left, swinging her hips a very + little. + +BUILDER. Going out? + +MRS BUILDER. Obviously. + +BUILDER. Where? + +MRS BUILDER. I don't know at present. + +BUILDER. I wanted to talk to you about Maud. + +MRS BUILDER. It must wait. + +BUILDER. She's-she's actually gone and-- + +MRS BUILDER. I must tell you that I happened to look in a minute ago. + +BUILDER. [In absolute dismay] You! You what? + +MRS BUILDER. Yes. I will put no obstacle in the way of your pleasures. + +BUILDER. [Aghast] Put no obstacle? What do you mean? Julia, how can +you say a thing like that? Why, I've only just-- + +MRS BUILDER. Don't! I saw. + +BUILDER. The girl fell on my knees. Julia, she did. She's--she's a +little devil. I--I resisted her. I give you my word there's been +nothing beyond a kiss, under great provocation. I--I apologise. + +MRS BUILDER. [Bows her head] Thank you! I quite understand. But you +must forgive my feeling it impossible to remain a wet blanket any longer. + +BUILDER. What! Because of a little thing like that--all over in two +minutes, and I doing my utmost. + +MRS BUILDER. My dear John, the fact that you had to do your utmost is +quite enough. I feel continually humiliated in your house, and I want to +leave it--quite quietly, without fuss of any kind. + +BUILDER. But--my God! Julia, this is awful--it's absurd! How can you? +I'm your husband. Really--your saying you don't mind what I do--it's not +right; it's immoral! + +MRS BUILDER. I'm afraid you don't see what goes on in those who live +with you. So, I'll just go. Don't bother! + +BUILDER. Now, look here, Julia, you can't mean this seriously. You +can't! Think of my position! You've never set yourself up against me +before. + +MRS BUILDER. But I do now. + +BUILDER. [After staring at her] I've given you no real reason. I'll +send the girl away. You ought to thank me for resisting a temptation +that most men would have yielded to. After twenty-three years of married +life, to kick up like this--you ought to be ashamed of yourself. + +MRS BUILDER. I'm sure you must think so. + +BUILDER. Oh! for heaven's sake don't be sarcastic! You're my wife, and +there's an end of it; you've no legal excuse. Don't be absurd! + +MRS BUILDER. Good-bye! + +BUILDER. D'you realise that you're encouraging me to go wrong? That's a +pretty thing for a wife to do. You ought to keep your husband straight. + +MRS BUILDER. How beautifully put! + +BUILDER. [Almost pathetically] Don't rile me Julia! I've had an awful +day. First Athene--then Maud--then that girl--and now you! All at once +like this! Like a swarm of bees about one's head. [Pleading] Come, +now, Julia, don't be so--so im practicable! You'll make us the +laughing-stock of the whole town. A man in my position, and can't +keep his own family; it's preposterous! + +MRS BUILDER. Your own family have lives and thoughts and feelings of +their own. + +BUILDER. Oh! This damned Woman's business! I knew how it would be when +we gave you the vote. You and I are married, and our daughters are our +daughters. Come, Julia. Where's your commonsense? After twenty-three +years! You know I can't do without you! + +MRS BUILDER. You could--quite easily. You can tell people what you +like. + +BUILDER. My God! I never heard anything so immoral in all my life from +the mother of two grownup girls. No wonder they've turned out as they +have! What is it you want, for goodness sake? + +MRS BUILDER. We just want to be away from you, that's all. I assure you +it's best. When you've shown some consideration for our feelings and +some real sign that we exist apart from you--we could be friends again-- +perhaps--I don't know. + +BUILDER. Friends! Good heavens! With one's own wife and daughters! +[With great earnestness] Now, look here, Julia, you haven't lived with +me all this time without knowing that I'm a man of strong passions; I've +been a faithful husband to you--yes, I have. And that means resisting +all sorts of temptations you know nothing of. If you withdraw from my +society I won't answer for the consequences. In fact, I can't have you +withdrawing. I'm not going to see myself going to the devil and losing +the good opinion of everybody round me. A bargain's a bargain. And +until I've broken my side of it, and I tell you I haven't--you've no +business to break yours. That's flat. So now, put all that out of your +head. + +MRS BUILDER. No. + +BUILDER. [Intently] D'you realise that I've supported you in luxury and +comfort? + +MRS BUILDER. I think I've earned it. + +BUILDER. And how do you propose to live? I shan't give you a penny. +Come, Julia, don't be such an idiot! Fancy letting a kiss which no man +could have helped, upset you like this! + +MRS BUILDER. The Camille, and the last straw! + +BUILDER. [Sharply] I won't have it. So now you know. + + But MRS BUILDER has very swiftly gone. + +Julia, I tell you-- [The outer door is heard being closed] Damnation! +I will not have it! They're all mad! Here--where's my hat? + + He looks distractedly round him, wrenches open the door, and a + moment later the street door is heard to shut with a bang. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + +SCENE I + + Ten o'clock the following morning, in the study of the Mayor of + Breconridge, a panelled room with no window visible, a door Left + back and a door Right forward. The entire back wall is furnished + with books from floor to ceiling; the other walls are panelled and + bare. Before the fireplace, Left, are two armchairs, and other + chairs are against the walls. On the Right is a writing-bureau at + right angles to the footlights, with a chair behind it. At its back + corner stands HARRIS, telephoning. + +HARRIS. What--[Pause] Well, it's infernally awkward, Sergeant. . . . +The Mayor's in a regular stew. . . . [Listens] New constable? +I should think so! Young fool! Look here, Martin, the only thing to do +is to hear the charge here at once. I've sent for Mr Chantrey; he's on +his way. Bring Mr Builder and the witnesses round sharp. See? And, I +say, for God's sake keep it dark. Don't let the Press get on to it. Why +you didn't let him go home--! Black eye? The constable? Well, serve +him right. Blundering young ass! I mean, it's undermining all +authority. . . . Well, you oughtn't--at least, I . . . Damn it +all!--it's a nine days' wonder if it gets out--! All right! As soon as +you can. [He hangs up the receiver, puts a second chair behind the +bureau, and other chairs facing it.] [To himself] Here's a mess! Johnny +Builder, of all men! What price Mayors! + + The telephone rings. + +Hallo? . . . Poaching charge? Well, bring him too; only, I say, keep +him back till the other's over. By the way, Mr Chantrey's going +shooting. He'll want to get off by eleven. What? . . . Righto ! + + As he hangs up the receiver the MAYOR enters. He looks worried, and + is still dressed with the indefinable wrongness of a burgher. + +MAYOR. Well, 'Arris? + +HARRIS. They'll be over in five minutes, Mr Mayor. + +MAYOR. Mr Chantrey? + +HARRIS. On his way, sir. + +MAYOR. I've had some awkward things to deal with in my time, 'Arris, but +this is just about the [Sniffs] limit. + +HARRIS. Most uncomfortable, Sir; most uncomfortable! + +MAYOR. Put a book on the chair, 'Arris; I like to sit 'igh. + + HARRIS puts a volume of Eneyclopaedia on the Mayor's chair behind + the bureau. + +[Deeply] Our fellow-magistrate! A family man! In my shoes next year. +I suppose he won't be, now. You can't keep these things dark. + +HARRIS. I've warned Martin, sir, to use the utmost discretion. Here's +Mr Chantrey. + + By the door Left, a pleasant and comely gentleman has entered, + dressed with indefinable rightness in shooting clothes. + +MAYOR. Ah, Chantrey! + +CHANTREY. How de do, Mr Mayor? [Nodding to HARRIS] This is +extraordinarily unpleasant. + + The MAYOR nods. + +What on earth's he been doing? + +HARRIS. Assaulting one of his own daughters with a stick; and resisting +the police. + +CHANTREY. [With a low whistle] Daughter! Charity begins at home. + +HARRIS. There's a black eye. + +MAYOR. Whose? + +HARRIS. The constable's. + +CHANTREY. How did the police come into it? + +HARRIS. I don't know, sir. The worst of it is he's been at the police +station since four o'clock yesterday. The Superintendent's away, and +Martin never will take responsibility. + +CHANTREY. By George! he will be mad. John Builder's a choleric fellow. + +MAYOR. [Nodding] He is. 'Ot temper, and an 'igh sense of duty. + +HARRIS. There's one other charge, Mr Mayor--poaching. I told them to +keep that back till after. + +CHANTREY. Oh, well, we'll make short work of that. I want to get off by +eleven, Harris. I shall be late for the first drive anyway. John +Builder! I say, Mayor--but for the grace of God, there go we! + +MAYOR. Harris, go out and bring them in yourself; don't let the +servants-- + + HARRIS goes out Left. The MAYOR takes the upper chair behind the + bureau, sitting rather higher because of the book than CHANTREY, who + takes the lower. Now that they are in the seats of justice, a sort + of reticence falls on them, as if they were afraid of giving away + their attitudes of mind to some unseen presence. + +MAYOR. [Suddenly] H'm! + +CHANTREY. Touch of frost. Birds ought to come well to the guns--no +wind. I like these October days. + +MAYOR. I think I 'ear them. H'm. + + CHANTREY drops his eyeglass and puts on a pair of "grandfather" + spectacles. The MAYOR clears his throat and takes up a pen. They + neither of them look up as the door is opened and a little + procession files in. First HARRIS; then RALPH BUILDER, ATHENE, + HERRINGHAME, MAUD, MRS BUILDER, SERGEANT MARTIN, carrying a heavy + Malacca cane with a silver knob; JOHN BUILDER and the CONSTABLE + MOON, a young man with one black eye. No funeral was ever attended + by mutes so solemn and dejected. They stand in a sort of row. + +MAYOR. [Without looking up] Sit down, ladies; sit down. + + HARRIS and HERRINGHAME succeed in placing the three women in chairs. + RALPH BUILDER also sits. HERRINGHAME stands behind. JOHN BUILDER + remains standing between the two POLICEMEN. His face is unshaved + and menacing, but he stands erect staring straight at the MAYOR. + HARRIS goes to the side of the bureau, Back, to take down the + evidence. + +MAYOR. Charges! + +SERGEANT. John Builder, of The Cornerways, Breconridge, Contractor and +Justice of the Peace, charged with assaulting his daughter Maud Builder +by striking her with a stick in the presence of Constable Moon and two +other persons; also with resisting Constable Moon in the execution of his +duty, and injuring his eye. Constable Moon! + +MOON. [Stepping forward-one, two--like an automaton, and saluting] In +River Road yesterday afternoon, Your Worship, about three-thirty p.m., I +was attracted by a young woman callin' "Constable" outside a courtyard. +On hearing the words "Follow me, quick," I followed her to a painter's +studio inside the courtyard, where I found three persons in the act of +disagreement. No sooner 'ad I appeared than the defendant, who was +engaged in draggin' a woman towards the door, turns to the young woman +who accompanied me, with violence. "You dare, father," she says; +whereupon he hit her twice with the stick the same which is produced, in +the presence of myself and the two other persons, which I'm given to +understand is his wife and other daughter. + +MAYOR. Yes; never mind what you're given to understand. + +MOON. No, sir. The party struck turns to me and says, "Come in. I give +this man in charge for assault." I moves accordingly with the words: +"I saw you. Come along with me." The defendant turns to me sharp and +says: "You stupid lout--I'm a magistrate." "Come off it," I says to the +best of my recollection. "You struck this woman in my presence," I says, +"and you come along!" We were then at close quarters. The defendant +gave me a push with the words: "Get out, you idiot!" "Not at all," I +replies, and took 'old of his arm. A struggle ensues, in the course of +which I receives the black eye which I herewith produce. [He touches his +eye with awful solemnity.] + + The MAYOR clears his throat; CHANTREY'S eyes goggle; HARRIS bends + over and writes rapidly. + +During the struggle, Your Worship, a young man has appeared on the scene, +and at the instigation of the young woman, the same who was assaulted, +assists me in securing the prisoner, whose language and resistance was +violent in the extreme. We placed him in a cab which we found outside, +and I conveyed him to the station. + +CHANTREY. What was his--er--conduct in the--er--cab? + +MOON. He sat quiet. + +CHANTREY. That seems-- + +MOON. Seein' I had his further arm twisted behind him. + +MAYOR [Looking at BUILDER] Any questions to ask him? + + BUILDER makes not the faintest sign, and the MAYOR drops his glance. + +MAYOR. Sergeant? + + MOON steps back two paces, and the SERGEANT steps two paces forward. + +SERGEANT. At ten minutes to four, Your Worship, yesterday afternoon, +Constable Moon brought the defendant to the station in a four-wheeled +cab. On his recounting the circumstances of the assault, they were +taken down and read over to the defendant with the usual warning. The +defendant said nothing. In view of the double assault and the condition +of the constable's eye, and in the absence of the Superintendent, +I thought it my duty to retain the defendant for the night. + +MAYOR. The defendant said nothing? + +SERGEANT. He 'as not opened his lips to my knowledge, Your Worship, from +that hour to this. + +MAYOR. Any questions to ask the Sergeant? + +BUILDER continues to stare at the MAYOR without a word. + +MAYOR. Very well! + + The MAYOR and CHANTREY now consult each other inaudibly, and the + Mayor nods. + +MAYOR. Miss Maud Builder, will you tell us what you know of this--er-- +occurrence? + +MAUD. [Rising; with eyes turning here and there] Must I? + +MAYOR. I'm afraid you must. + +MAUD. [After a look at her father, who never turns his eyes from the +MAYOR's face] I--I wish to withdraw the charge of striking me, please. +I--I never meant to make it. I was in a temper--I saw red. + +MAYOR. I see. A--a domestic disagreement. Very well, that charge is +withdrawn. You do not appear to have been hurt, and that seems to me +quite proper. Now, tell me what you know of the assault on the +constable. Is his account correct? + +MAUD. [Timidly] Ye-yes. Only-- + +MAYOR. Yes? Tell us the truth. + +MAUD. [Resolutely] Only, I don't think my father hit the constable. +I think the stick did that. + +MAYOR. Oh, the stick? But--er--the stick was in 'is 'and, wasn't it? + +MAUD. Yes; but I mean, my father saw red, and the constable saw red, and +the stick flew up between them and hit him in the eye. + +CHANTREY. And then he saw black? + +MAYOR. [With corrective severity] But did 'e 'it 'im with the stick? + +MAUD. No--no. I don't think he did. + +MAYOR. Then who supplied the--er--momentum? + +MAUD. I think there was a struggle for the cane, and it flew up. + +MAYOR. Hand up the cane. + + The SERGEANT hands up the cane. The MAYOR and CHANTREY examine it. +MAYOR. Which end--do you suggest--inflicted this injury? + +MAUD. Oh! the knob end, sir. + +MAYOR. What do you say to that, constable? + +MOON. [Stepping the mechanical two paces] I don't deny there was a +struggle, Your Worship, but it's my impression I was 'it. + +CHANTREY. Of course you were bit; we can see that. But with the cane or +with the fist? + +MOON. [A little flurried] I--I--with the fist, sir. + +MAYOR. Be careful. Will you swear to that? + +MOON. [With that sudden uncertainty which comes over the most honest in +such circumstances] Not--not so to speak in black and white, Your +Worship; but that was my idea at the time. + +MAYOR. You won't swear to it? + +MOON. I'll swear he called me an idiot and a lout; the words made a deep +impression on me. + +CHANTREY. [To himself] Mort aux vaches! + +MAYOR. Eh? That'll do, constable; stand back. Now, who else saw the +struggle? Mrs Builder. You're not obliged to say anything unless you +like. That's your privilege as his wife. + + While he is speaking the door has been opened, and HARRIS has gone + swiftly to it, spoken to someone and returned. He leans forward to + the MAYOR. + +Eh? Wait a minute. Mrs Builder, do you wish to give evidence? + +MRS BUILDER. [Rising] No, Mr Mayor. + + MRS BUILDER Sits. + +MAYOR. Very good. [To HARRIS] Now then, what is it? + +HARRIS says something in a low and concerned voice. The MAYOR'S face +lengthens. He leans to his right and consults CHANTREY, who gives a +faint and deprecating shrug. A moment's silence. + +MAYOR. This is an open Court. The Press have the right to attend if +they wish. + + HARRIS goes to the door and admits a young man in glasses, of a + pleasant appearance, and indicates to him a chair at the back. At + this untimely happening BUILDER's eyes have moved from side to side, + but now he regains his intent and bull-like stare at his + fellow-justices. + +MAYOR. [To Maud] You can sit down, Miss Builder. + + MAUD resumes her seat. + +Miss Athene Builder, you were present, I think? + +ATHENE. [Rising] Yes, Sir. + +MAYOR. What do you say to this matter? + +ATHENE. I didn't see anything very clearly, but I think my sister's +account is correct, sir. + +MAYOR. Is it your impression that the cane inflicted the injury? + +ATHENE. [In a low voice] Yes. + +MAYOR. With or without deliberate intent? + +ATHENE. Oh! without. + +BUILDER looks at her. + +MAYOR. But you were not in a position to see very well? + +ATHENE. No, Sir. + +MAYOR. Your sister having withdrawn her charge, we needn't go into that. +Very good! + + He motions her to sit down. ATHENE, turning her eyes on her + Father's impassive figure, sits. + +MAYOR. Now, there was a young man. [Pointing to HERRINGHAME] Is this +the young man? + +MOON. Yes, Your Worship. + +MAYOR. What's your name? + +GUY. Guy Herringhame. + +MAYOR. Address? + +GUY. Er--the Aerodrome, Sir. MAYOR. Private, I mean? + + The moment is one of considerable tension. + +GUY. [With an effort] At the moment, sir, I haven't one. I've just +left my diggings, and haven't yet got any others. + +MAYOR. H'm! The Aerodrome. How did you come to be present? + +GUY. I--er + + BUILDER's eyes go round and rest on him for a moment. + +It's in my sister's studio that Miss Athene Builder is at present +working, sir. I just happened to--to turn up. + +MAYOR. Did you appear on the scene, as the constable says, during the +struggle? + +GUY. Yes, sir. + +MAYOR. Did he summon you to his aid? + +GUY. Yes--No, sir. Miss Maud Builder did that. + +MAYOR. What do you say to this blow? + +GUY. [Jerking his chin up a little] Oh! I saw that clearly. + +MAYOR. Well, let us hear. + +GUY. The constable's arm struck the cane violently and it flew up and +landed him in the eye. + +MAYOR. [With a little grunt] You are sure of that? + +GUY. Quite sure, sir. + +MAYOR. Did you hear any language? + +GUY. Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. One or two damns and blasts. + +MAYOR. You call that ordinary? + +GUY. Well, he's a--magistrate, sir. + + The MAYOR utters a profound grunt. CHANTREY smiles. There is a + silence. Then the MAYOR leans over to CHANTREY for a short + colloquy. + +CHANTREY. Did you witness any particular violence other than a +resistance to arrest? + +GUY. No, sir. + +MAYOR. [With a gesture of dismissal] Very well, That seems to be the +evidence. Defendant John Builder--what do you say to all this? + +BUILDER. [In a voice different from any we have heard from him] Say! +What business had he to touch me, a magistrate? I gave my daughter two +taps with a cane in a private house, for interfering with me for taking +my wife home-- + +MAYOR. That charge is not pressed, and we can't go into the +circumstances. What do you wish to say about your conduct towards +the constable? + +BUILDER. [In his throat] Not a damned thing! + +MAYOR. [Embarrassed] I--I didn't catch. + +CHANTREY. Nothing--nothing, he said, Mr Mayor. + +MAYOR. [Clearing his throat] I understand, then, that you do not wish to +offer any explanation? + +BUILDER. I consider myself abominably treated, and I refuse to say +another word. + +MAYOR. [Drily] Very good. Miss Maud Builder. + + MAUD stands up. + + +MAYOR. When you spoke of the defendant seeing red, what exactly did you +mean? + +MAUD. I mean that my father was so angry that he didn't know what he was +doing. + +CHANTREY. Would you say as angry as he--er--is now? + +MAUD. [With a faint smile] Oh! much more angry. + +RALPH BUILDER stands up. + +RALPH. Would you allow me to say a word, Mr Mayor? + +MAYOR. Speaking of your own knowledge, Mr Builder? + +RALPH. In regard to the state of my brother's mind--yes, Mr Mayor. He +was undoubtedly under great strain yesterday; certain circumstances, +domestic and otherwise-- + +MAYOR. You mean that he might have been, as one might say, beside +himself? + +RALPH. Exactly, Sir. + +MAYOR. Had you seen your brother? + +RALPH. I had seen him shortly before this unhappy business. + + The MAYOR nods and makes a gesture, so that MAUD and RALPH sit down; + then, leaning over, he confers in a low voice with CHANTREY. The + rest all sit or stand exactly as if each was the only person in the + room, except the JOURNALIST, who is writing busily and rather + obviously making a sketch of BUILDER. + +MAYOR. Miss Athene Builder. + + ATHENE stands up. + +This young man, Mr Herringhame, I take it, is a friend of the family's? + + A moment of some tension. + +ATHENE. N--no, Mr Mayor, not of my father or mother. + +CHANTREY. An acquaintance of yours? + +ATHENE. Yes. + +MAYOR. Very good. [He clears his throat] As the defendant, wrongly, we +think, refuses to offer his explanation of this matter, the Bench has to +decide on the evidence as given. There seems to be some discrepancy as +to the blow which the constable undoubtedly received. In view of this, +we incline to take the testimony of Mr-- + + HARRIS prompts him. + +Mr 'Erringhame--as the party least implicated personally in the affair, +and most likely to 'ave a cool and impartial view. That evidence is to +the effect that the blow was accidental. There is no doubt, however, +that the defendant used reprehensible language, and offered some +resistance to the constable in the execution of his duty. Evidence 'as +been offered that he was in an excited state of mind; and it is possible +--I don't say that this is any palliation--but it is possible that he may +have thought his position as magistrate made him--er-- + +CHANTREY. [Prompting] Caesar's wife. + +MAYOR. Eh? We think, considering all the circumstances, and the fact +that he has spent a night in a cell, that justice will be met by--er-- +discharging him with a caution. + +BUILDER. [With a deeply muttered] The devil you do! + + Walks out of the room. The JOURNALIST, grabbing his pad, starts up + and follows. The BUILDERS rise and huddle, and, with HERRINGHAME, + are ushered out by HARRIS. + +MAYOR. [Pulling out a large handkerchief and wiping his forehead] +My Aunt! + +CHANTREY. These new constables, Mayor! I say, Builder'll have to go! +Damn the Press, how they nose everything out! The Great Unpaid!-- +We shall get it again! [He suddenly goes off into a fit of laughter] +"Come off it," I says, "to the best of my recollection." Oh! Oh! +I shan't hit a bird all day! That poor devil Builder! It's no joke for +him. You did it well, Mayor; you did it well. British justice is safe +in your hands. He blacked the fellow's eye all right. "Which I herewith +produce." Oh! my golly! It beats the band! + + His uncontrollable laughter and the MAYOR'S rueful appreciation are + exchanged with lightning rapidity for a preternatural solemnity, as + the door opens, admitting SERGEANT MARTIN and the lugubrious object + of their next attentions. + +MAYOR. Charges. + + SERGEANT steps forward to read the charge as + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + +SCENE II + + Noon the same day. + + BUILDER'S study. TOPPING is standing by the open window, looking up + and down the street. A newspaper boy's voice is heard calling the + first edition of his wares. It approaches from the Right. + +TOPPING. Here! + +BOY'S VOICE. Right, guv'nor! Johnny Builder up before the beaks! +[A paper is pushed up]. + +TOPPING. [Extending a penny] What's that you're sayin'? You take care! + +BOY'S VOICE. It's all 'ere. Johnny Builder--beatin' his wife! +Dischawged. + +TOPPING. Stop it, you young limb! + +BOY'S VOICE. 'Allo! What's the matter wiv you? Why, it's Johnny +Builder's house! [Gives a cat-call] 'Ere, buy anuvver! 'E'll want to +read about 'isself. [Appealing] Buy anuvver, guv'nor! + +TOPPING. Move on! + + He retreats from the window, opening the paper. + +BOY'S VOICE. [Receding] Payper! First edition! J.P. chawged! Payper! + +TOPPING. [To himself as he reads] Crimes! Phew! That accounts for them +bein' away all night. + + While he is reading, CAMILLE enters from the hall. Here! Have you + seen this, Camel--in the Stop Press? + +CAMILLE. No. + + They read eagerly side by side. + +TOPPING. [Finishing aloud] "Tried to prevent her father from forcing her +mother to return home with him, and he struck her for so doing. She did +not press the charge. The arrested gentleman, who said he acted under +great provocation, was discharged with a caution." Well, I'm blowed! +He has gone and done it! + +CAMILLE. A black eye! + +TOPPING. [Gazing at her] Have you had any hand in this? I've seen you +making your lovely black eyes at him. You foreigners--you're a loose +lot! + +CAMILLE. You are drunk! + +TOPPING. Not yet, my dear. [Reverting to the paper; philosophically] +Well, this little lot's bust up! The favourites will fall down. Johnny +Builder! Who'd have thought it? + +CAMILLE. He is an obstinate man. + +TOPPING. Ah! He's right up against it now. Comes of not knowin' when +to stop bein' firm. If you meet a wall with your 'ead, it's any odds on +the wall, Camel. Though, if you listened to some, you wouldn't think it. +What'll he do now, I wonder? Any news of the mistress? + +CAMILLE. [Shaking her head] I have pack her tr-runks. + +TOPPING. Why? + +CAMILLE. Because she take her jewels yesterday. + +TOPPING. Deuce she did! They generally leave 'em. Take back yer gifts! +She throws the baubles at 'is 'ead. [Again staring at her] You're a +deep one, you know! + + There is the sound of a cab stopping. + +Wonder if that's him! [He goes towards the hall. CAMILLE watchfully +shifts towards the diningroom door. MAUD enters.] + +MAUD. Is my father back, Topping? + +TOPPING. Not yet, Miss. + +MAUD. I've come for mother's things. + +CAMILLE. They are r-ready. + +MAUD. [Eyeing her] Topping, get them down, please. + + TOPPING, after a look at them both, goes out into the hall. + +Very clever of you to have got them ready. + +CAMILLE. I am clevare. + +MAUD. [Almost to herself] Yes--father may, and he may not. + +CAMILLE. Look! If you think I am a designing woman, you are mistook. +I know when things are too 'ot. I am not sorry to go. + +MAUD. Oh! you are going? + +CAMILLE. Yes, I am going. How can I stay when there is no lady in the +'ouse? + +MAUD. Not even if you're asked to? + +CAMILLE. Who will ask me? + +MAUD. That we shall see. + +CAMILLE. Well, you will see I have an opinion of my own. + +MAUD. Oh! yes, you're clear-headed enough. + +CAMILLE. I am not arguing. Good-morning! + + Exits up Left. + +MAUD regards her stolidly as she goes out into the dining-room, then +takes up the paper and reads. + +MAUD. Horrible! + + TOPPING re-enters from the hall. + +TOPPING. I've got 'em on the cab, Miss. I didn't put your ten bob on +yesterday, because the animal finished last. You cant depend on horses. + +MAUD. [Touching the newspaper] This is a frightful business, Topping. + +TOPPING. Ah! However did it happen, Miss Maud? + +MAUD. [Tapping the newspaper] It's all true. He came after my mother +to Miss Athene's, and I--I couldn't stand it. I did what it says here; +and now I'm sorry. Mother's dreadfully upset. You know father as well +as anyone, Topping; what do you think he'll do now? + +TOPPING. [Sucking in his cheeks] Well, you see, Miss, it's like this: +Up to now Mr Builder's always had the respect of everybody-- + + MAUD moves her head impatiently. + +outside his own house, of course. Well, now he hasn't got it. +Pishchologically that's bound to touch him. + +MAUD. Of course; but which way? Will he throw up the sponge, or try and +stick it out here? + +TOPPING. He won't throw up the sponge, Miss; more likely to squeeze it +down the back of their necks. + +MAUD. He'll be asked to resign, of course. + + The NEWSPAPER BOY'S VOICE is heard again approaching: "First + edition! Great sensation! Local magistrate before the Bench! + Pay-per!" + +Oh, dear! I wish I hadn't! But I couldn't see mother being-- + +TOPPING. Don't you fret, Miss; he'll come through. His jaw's above his +brow, as you might say. + +MAUD. What? + +TOPPING. [Nodding] Phreenology, Miss. I rather follow that. When the +jaw's big and the brow is small, it's a sign of character. I always +think the master might have been a Scotchman, except for his fishionomy. + +MAUD. A Scotsman? + +TOPPING. So down on anything soft, Miss. Haven't you noticed whenever +one of these 'Umanitarians writes to the papers, there's always a +Scotchman after him next morning. Seems to be a fact of 'uman nature, +like introducin' rabbits into a new country and then weasels to get rid +of 'em. And then something to keep down the weasels. But I never can +see what could keep down a Scotchman! You seem to reach the hapex there! + +MAUD. Miss Athene was married this morning, Topping. We've just come +from the Registrar's. + +TOPPING. [Immovably] Indeed, Miss. I thought perhaps she was about to +be. + +MAUD. Oh! + +TOPPING. Comin' events. I saw the shadder yesterday. + +MAUD. Well, it's all right. She's coming on here with my uncle. + + A cab is heard driving up. + +That's them, I expect. We all feel awful about father. + +TOPPING. Ah! I shouldn't be surprised if he feels awful about you, +Miss. + +MAUD. [At the window] It is them. + + TOPPING goes out into the hall; ATHENE and RALPH enter Right. + +MAUD. Where's father, Uncle Ralph? + +RALPH. With his solicitor. + +ATHENE. We left Guy with mother at the studio. She still thinks she +ought to come. She keeps on saying she must, now father's in a hole. + +MAUD. I've got her things on the cab; she ought to be perfectly free to +choose. + +RALPH. You've got freedom on the brain, Maud. + +MAUD. So would you, Uncle Ralph, if you had father about. + +RALPH. I'm his partner, my dear. + +MAUD. Yes; how do you manage him? + +RALPH. I've never yet given him in charge. + +ATHENE. What do you do, Uncle Ralph? + +RALPH. Undermine him when I can. + +MAUD. And when you can't? + +RALPH. Undermine the other fellow. You can't go to those movie people +now, Maud. They'd star you as the celebrated Maud Builder who gave her +father into custody. Come to us instead, and have perfect freedom, till +all this blows over. + +MAUD. Oh! what will father be like now? + +ATHENE. It's so queer you and he being brothers, Uncle Ralph. + +RALPH. There are two sides to every coin, my dear. John's the head-and +I'm the tail. He has the sterling qualities. Now, you girls have got to +smooth him down, and make up to him. You've tried him pretty high. + +MAUD. [Stubbornly] I never wanted him for a father, Uncle. + +RALPH. They do wonderful things nowadays with inherited trouble. Come, +are you going to be nice to him, both of you? + +ATHENE. We're going to try. + +RALPH. Good! I don't even now understand how it happened. + +MAUD. When you went out with Guy, it wasn't three minutes before he +came. Mother had just told us about--well, about something beastly. +Father wanted us to go, and we agreed to go out for five minutes while he +talked to mother. We went, and when we came back he told me to get a cab +to take mother home. Poor mother stood there looking like a ghost, and +he began hunting and hauling her towards the door. I saw red, and +instead of a cab I fetched that policeman. Of course father did black +his eye. Guy was splendid. + +ATHENE. You gave him the lead. + +MAUD. I couldn't help it, seeing father standing there all dumb. + +ATHENE. It was awful! Uncle, why didn't you come back with Guy? + +MAUD. Oh, yes! why didn't you, Uncle? + +ATHENE. When Maud had gone for the cab, I warned him not to use force. +I told him it was against the law, but he only said: "The law be damned!" + +RALPH. Well, it all sounds pretty undignified. + +MAUD. Yes; everybody saw red. + + They have not seen the door opened from the hall, and BUILDER + standing there. He is still unshaven, a little sunken in the face, + with a glum, glowering expression. He has a document in his hand. + He advances a step or two and they see him. + +ATHENE and MAUD. [Aghast] Father! + +BUILDER. Ralph, oblige me! See them off the premises! + +RALPH. Steady, John! + +BUILDER. Go! + +MAUD. [Proudly] All right! We thought you might like to know that +Athene's married, and that I've given up the movies. Now we'll go. + + BUILDER turns his back on them, and, sitting down at his + writing-table, writes. + + After a moment's whispered conversation with their Uncle, the two + girls go out. + + RALPH BUILDER stands gazing with whimsical commiseration at his + brother's back. As BUILDER finishes writing, he goes up and puts + his hand on his brother's shoulder. + +RALPH. This is an awful jar, old man! + +BUILDER. Here's what I've said to that fellow: "MR MAYOR,--You had the +effrontery to-day to discharge me with a caution--forsooth!--your fellow +--magistrate. I've consulted my solicitor as to whether an action will +lie for false imprisonment. I'm informed that it won't. I take this +opportunity of saying that justice in this town is a travesty. I have no +wish to be associated further with you or your fellows; but you are +vastly mistaken if you imagine that I shall resign my position on the +Bench or the Town Council.--Yours, + "JOHN BUILDER." + +RALPH. I say--keep your sense of humour, old boy. + +BUILDER. [Grimly] Humour? I've spent a night in a cell. See this! +[He holds out the document] It disinherits my family. + +RALPH. John! + +BUILDER. I've done with those two ladies. As to my wife--if she doesn't +come back--! When I suffer, I make others suffer. + +RALPH. Julia's very upset, my dear fellow; we all are. The girls came +here to try and-- + +BUILDER. [Rising] They may go to hell! If that lousy Mayor thinks I'm +done with--he's mistaken! [He rings the bell] I don't want any soft +sawder. I'm a fighter. + +RALPH. [In a low voice] The enemy stands within the gate, old chap. + +BUILDER. What's that? + +RALPH. Let's boss our own natures before we boss those of other people. +Have a sleep on it, John, before you do anything. + +BUILDER. Sleep? I hadn't a wink last night. If you'd passed the night +I had-- + +RALPH. I hadn't many myself. + + TOPPING enters. + +BUILDER. Take this note to the Mayor with my compliments, and don't +bring back an answer. TOPPING. Very good, sir. There's a gentleman +from the "Comet" in the hall, sir. Would you see him for a minute, he +says. + +BUILDER. Tell him to go to-- + + A voice says, "Mr Builder!" BUILDER turns to see the figure of the + JOURNALIST in the hall doorway. TOPPING goes out. + +JOURNALIST. [Advancing with his card] Mr Builder, it's very good of you +to see me. I had the pleasure this morning--I mean--I tried to reach you +when you left the Mayor's. I thought you would probably have your own +side of this unfortunate matter. We shall be glad to give it every +prominence. + + TOPPING has withdrawn, and RALPH BUILDER, at the window, stands + listening. + +BUILDER. [Drily, regarding the JOURNALIST, who has spoken in a pleasant +and polite voice] Very good of you! + +JOURNALIST. Not at all, sir. We felt that you would almost certainly +have good reasons of your own which would put the matter in quite a +different light. + +BUILDER. Good reasons? I should think so! I tell you--a very little +more of this liberty--licence I call it--and there isn't a man who'll be +able to call himself head of a family. + +JOURNALIST. [Encouragingly] Quite! + +BUILDER. If the law thinks it can back up revolt, it's damned well +mistaken. I struck my daughter--I was in a passion, as you would have +been. + +JOURNALIST. [Encouraging] I'm sure-- + +BUILDER. [Glaring at him] Well, I don't know that you would; you look a +soft sort; but any man with any blood in him. + +JOURNALIST. Can one ask what she was doing, sir? We couldn't get that +point quite clear. + +BUILDER. Doing? I just had my arm round my wife, trying to induce her +to come home with me after a little family tiff, and this girl came at +me. I lost my temper, and tapped her with my cane. And--that policeman +brought by my own daughter--a policeman! If the law is going to enter +private houses and abrogate domestic authority, where the hell shall we +be? + +JOURNALIST. [Encouraging] No, I'm sure--I'm sure! + +BUILDER. The maudlin sentimentality in these days is absolutely rotting +this country. A man can't be master in his own house, can't require his +wife to fulfil her duties, can't attempt to control the conduct of his +daughters, without coming up against it and incurring odium. A man can't +control his employees; he can't put his foot down on rebellion anywhere, +without a lot of humanitarians and licence-lovers howling at him. + +JOURNALIST. Excellent, Sir; excellent! + +BUILDER. Excellent? It's damnable. Here am I--a man who's always tried +to do his duty in private life and public--brought up before the Bench-- +my God! because I was doing that duty; with a little too much zeal, +perhaps--I'm not an angel! + +JOURNALIST. No! No! of course. + +BUILDER. A proper Englishman never is. But there are no proper +Englishmen nowadays. + + He crosses the room in his fervour. + +RALPH. [Suddenly] As I look at faces-- + +BUILDER. [Absorbed] What! I told this young man I wasn't an angel. + +JOURNALIST. [Drawing him on] Yes, Sir; I quite understand. + +BUILDER. If the law thinks it can force me to be one of your weak-kneed +sentimentalists who let everybody do what they like-- + +RALPH. There are a good many who stand on their rights left, John. + +BUILDER. [Absorbed] What! How can men stand on their rights left? + +JOURNALIST. I'm afraid you had a painful experience, sir. + +BUILDER. Every kind of humiliation. I spent the night in a stinking +cell. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday. Did they think I was +going to eat the muck they shoved in? And all because in a moment of +anger--which I regret, I regret!--I happened to strike my daughter, who +was interfering between me and my wife. The thing would be funny if it +weren't so disgusting. A man's house used to be sanctuary. What is it +now? With all the world poking their noses in? + +He stands before the fire with his head bent, excluding as it were his +interviewer and all the world. + +JOURNALIST. [Preparing to go] Thank you very much, Mr Builder. I'm +sure I can do you justice. Would you like to see a proof? + +BUILDER. [Half conscious of him] What? + +JOURNALIST. Or will you trust me? + +BUILDER. I wouldn't trust you a yard. + +JOURNALIST. [At the door] Very well, sir; you shall have a proof, I +promise. Good afternoon, and thank you. + +BUILDER. Here! + + But he is gone, and BUILDER is left staring at his brother, on whose + face is still that look of whimsical commiseration. + +RALPH. Take a pull, old man! Have a hot bath and go to bed. + +BUILDER. They've chosen to drive me to extremes, now let them take the +consequences. I don't care a kick what anybody thinks. + +RALPH. [Sadly] Well, I won't worry you anymore, now. + +BUILDER. [With a nasty laugh] No; come again to-morrow! + +RALPH. When you've had a sleep. For the sake of the family name, John, +don't be hasty. + +BUILDER. Shut the stable door? No, my boy, the horse has gone. + +RALPH. Well, Well! + + With a lingering look at his brother, who has sat down sullenly at + the writing table, he goes out into the hall. + + BUILDER remains staring in front of him. The dining-room door + opens, and CAMILLE's head is thrust in. Seeing him, she draws back, + but he catches sight of her. + +BUILDER. Here! + +CAMILLE comes doubtfully up to the writing table. Her forehead is +puckered as if she were thinking hard. + +BUILDER. [Looking at her, unsmiling] So you want to be my mistress, +do you? + + CAMILLE makes a nervous gesture. + +Well, you shall. Come here. + +CAMILLE. [Not moving] You f--frighten me. + +BUILDER. I've paid a pretty price for you. But you'll make up for it; +you and others. + +CAMILLE. [Starting back] No; I don't like you to-day! No! + +BUILDER. Come along! [She is just within reach and he seizes her arm] +All my married life I've put a curb on myself for the sake of +respectability. I've been a man of principle, my girl, as you saw +yesterday. Well, they don't want that! [He draws her close] You can sit +on my knee now. + +CAMILLE. [Shrinking] No; I don't want to, to-day. + +BUILDER. But you shall. They've asked for it! + +CAMILLE. [With a supple movement slipping away from him] They? What is +all that? I don't want any trouble. No, no; I am not taking any. + + She moves back towards the door. BUILDER utters a sardonic laugh. + +Oh! you are a dangerous man! No, no! Not for me! Good-bye, sare! + + She turns swiftly and goes out. BUILDER again utters his glum + laugh. And then, as he sits alone staring before him, perfect + silence reigns in the room. Over the window-sill behind him a BOY'S + face is seen to rise; it hangs there a moment with a grin spreading + on it. + +BOY'S VOICE. [Sotto] Johnny Builder! + + As BUILDER turns sharply, it vanishes. + +'Oo beat 'is wife? + + BUILDER rushes to the window. + +BOY'S VOICE. [More distant and a little tentative] Johnny Builder! + +BUILDER. You little devil! If I catch you, I'll wring your blasted +little neck! + +BOY'S VOICE. [A little distant] 'Oo blacked the copper's eye? + + BUILDER, in an ungovernable passion, seizes a small flower-pot from + the sill and dings it with all his force. The sound of a crash. + +BOY'S VOICE. [Very distant] Ya-a-ah! Missed! + + BUILDER stands leaning out, face injected with blood, shaking his + fist. + + The CURTAIN falls for a few seconds. + + + + +SCENE III + +Evening the same day. + + BUILDER's study is dim and neglected-looking; the window is still + open, though it has become night. A street lamp outside shines in, + and the end of its rays fall on BUILDER asleep. He is sitting in a + high chair at the fireside end of the writing-table, with his elbows + on it, and his cheek resting on his hand. He is still unshaven, and + his clothes unchanged. A Boy's head appears above the level of the + window-sill, as if beheaded and fastened there. + +BOY'S VOICE. [In a forceful whisper] Johnny Builder! + + BUILDER stirs uneasily. The Boy's head vanishes. BUILDER, raising + his other hand, makes a sweep before his face, as if to brush away a + mosquito. He wakes. Takes in remembrance, and sits a moment + staring gloomily before him. The door from the hall is opened and + TOPPING comes in with a long envelope in his hand. + +TOPPING. [Approaching] From the "Comet," sir. Proof of your interview, +sir; will you please revise, the messenger says; he wants to take it back +at once. + +BUILDER. [Taking it] All right. I'll ring. + +TOPPING. Shall I close in, sir? + +BUILDER. Not now. + + TOPPING withdraws. BUILDER turns up a standard lamp on the table, + opens the envelope, and begins reading the galley slip. The signs + of uneasiness and discomfort grow on him. + + +BUILDER. Did I say that? Muck! Muck! [He drops the proof, sits a +moment moving his head and rubbing one hand uneasily on the surface of +the table, then reaches out for the telephone receiver] Town, 245. +[Pause] The "Comet"? John Builder. Give me the Editor. [Pause] That +you, Mr Editor? John Builder speaking. That interview. I've got the +proof. It won't do. Scrap the whole thing, please. I don't want to say +anything. [Pause] Yes. I know I said it all; I can't help that. +[Pause] No; I've changed my mind. Scrap it, please. [Pause] No, +I will not say anything. [Pause] You can say what you dam' well please. +[Pause] I mean it; if you put a word into my mouth, I'll sue you for +defamation of character. It's undignified muck. I'm tearing it up. +Good-night. [He replaces the receiver, and touches a bell; then, taking +up the galley slip, he tears it viciously across into many pieces, and +rams them into the envelope.] + + TOPPING enters. + +Here, give this to the messenger-sharp, and tell him to run with it. + +TOPPING. [Whose hand can feel the condition of the contents, with a +certain surprise] Yes, sir. + + He goes, with a look back from the door. + +The Mayor is here, sir. I don't know whether you would wish + + BUILDER, rising, takes a turn up and down the room. + +BUILDER. Nor do I. Yes! I'll see him. + + TOPPING goes out, and BUILDER stands over by the fender, with his + head a little down. + +TOPPING. [Re-entering] The Mayor, sir. + + He retires up Left. The MAYOR is overcoated, and carries, of all + things, a top hat. He reaches the centre of the room before he + speaks. + +MAYOR. [Embarrassed] Well, Builder? + +BUILDER. Well? + +MAYOR. Come! That caution of mine was quite parliamentary. I 'ad to +save face, you know. + +BUILDER. And what about my face? + +MAYOR. Well, you--you made it difficult for me. 'Ang it all! Put +yourself into my place! + +BUILDER. [Grimly] I'd rather put you into mine, as it was last night. + +MAYOR. Yes, yes! I know; but the Bench has got a name to keep up--must +stand well in the people's eyes. As it is, I sailed very near the wind. +Suppose we had an ordinary person up before us for striking a woman? + +BUILDER. I didn't strike a woman--I struck my daughter. + +MAYOR. Well, but she's not a child, you know. And you did resist the +police, if no worse. Come! You'd have been the first to maintain +British justice. Shake 'ands! + +BUILDER. Is that what you came for? + +MAYOR. [Taken aback] Why--yes; nobody can be more sorry than I-- + +BUILDER. Eye-wash! You came to beg me to resign. + +MAYOR. Well, it's precious awkward, Builder. We all feel-- + +BUILDER. Save your powder, Mayor. I've slept on it since I wrote you +that note. Take my resignations. + +MAYOR. [In relieved embarrassment] That's right. We must face your +position. + +BUILDER. [With a touch of grim humour] I never yet met a man who +couldn't face another man's position. + +MAYOR. After all, what is it? + +BUILDER. Splendid isolation. No wife, no daughters, no Councillorship, +no Magistracy, no future--[With a laugh] not even a French maid. And +why? Because I tried to exercise a little wholesome family authority. +That's the position you're facing, Mayor. + +MAYOR. Dear, dear! You're devilish bitter, Builder. It's unfortunate, +this publicity. But it'll all blow over; and you'll be back where you +were. You've a good sound practical sense underneath your temper. [A +pause] Come, now! [A pause] Well, I'll say good-night, then. + +BUILDER. You shall have them in writing tomorrow. + +MAYOR. [With sincerity] Come! Shake 'ands. + +BUILDER, after a long look, holds out his hand. The two men exchange a +grip. + + The MAYOR, turning abruptly, goes out. + + BUILDER remains motionless for a minute, then resumes his seat at + the side of the writing table, leaning his head on his hands. + + The Boy's head is again seen rising above the level of the + window-sill, and another and another follows, till the three, + as if decapitated, heads are seen in a row. + +BOYS' VOICES. [One after another in a whispered crescendo] Johnny +Builder! Johnny Builder! Johnny Builder! + + BUILDER rises, turns and stares at them. The THREE HEADS disappear, + and a Boy's voice cries shrilly: "Johnny Builder!" BUILDER moves + towards the window; voices are now crying in various pitches and + keys: "Johnny Builder!" "Beatey Builder!" "Beat 'is wife-er!" + "Beatey Builder!" + + BUILDER stands quite motionless, staring, with the street lamp + lighting up a queer, rather pitiful defiance on his face. The + voices swell. There comes a sudden swish and splash of water, and + broken yells of dismay. + +TOPPING'S VOICE. Scat! you young devils! + + The sound of scuffling feet and a long-drawnout and distant + "Miaou!" + + BUILDER stirs, shuts the window, draws the curtains, goes to the + armchair before the fireplace and sits down in it. + + TOPPING enters with a little tray on which is a steaming jug of + fluid, some biscuits and a glass. He comes stealthily up level with + the chair. BUILDER stirs and looks up at him. + +TOPPING. Excuse me, sir, you must 'ave digested yesterday morning's +breakfast by now--must live to eat, sir. + +BUILDER. All right. Put it down. + +TOPPING. [Putting the tray down on the table and taking up BUILDER'S +pipe] I fair copped those young devils. + +BUILDER. You're a good fellow. + +TOPPING. [Filling the pipe] You'll excuse me, sir; the Missis--has come +back, sir-- + + BUILDER stares at him and TOPPING stops. He hands BUILDER the + filled pipe and a box of matches. + +BUILDER. [With a shiver] Light the fire, Topping. I'm chilly. + + While TOPPING lights the fire BUILDER puts the pipe in his mouth and + applies a match to it. TOPPING, having lighted the fire, turns to + go, gets as far as half way, then comes back level with the table + and regards the silent brooding figure in the chair. + +BUILDER. [Suddenly] Give me that paper on the table. No; the other +one--the Will. + + TOPPING takes up the Will and gives it to him. + +TOPPING. [With much hesitation] Excuse me, sir. It's pluck that get's +'em 'ome, sir--begging your pardon. + + BUILDER has resumed his attitude and does not answer. + +[In a voice just touched with feeling] Good-night, sir. + +BUILDER. [Without turning his head] Good-night. + + TOPPING has gone. BUILDER sits drawing at his pipe between the + firelight and the light from the standard lamp. He takes the pipe + out of his mouth and a quiver passes over his face. With a half + angry gesture he rubs the back of his hand across his eyes. + +BUILDER. [To himself] Pluck! Pluck! [His lips quiver again. He +presses them hard together, puts his pipe back into his mouth, and, +taking the Will, thrusts it into the newly-lighted fire and holds it +there with a poker.] + + + While he is doing this the door from the hall is opened quietly, and + MRS BUILDER enters without his hearing her. She has a work bag in + her hand. She moves slowly to the table, and stands looking at him. + Then going up to the curtains she mechanically adjusts them, and + still keeping her eyes on BUILDER, comes down to the table and pours + out his usual glass of whisky toddy. BUILDER, who has become + conscious of her presence, turns in his chair as she hands it to + him. He sits a moment motionless, then takes it from her, and + squeezes her hand. MRS BUILDER goes silently to her usual chair + below the fire, and taking out some knitting begins to knit. + BUILDER makes an effort to speak, does not succeed, and sits drawing + at his pipe. + + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + + + +LOYALTIES + +From the 5th Series Plays + +By John Galsworthy + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +In the Order of Appearance + +CHARLES WINSOR.................. Owner of Meldon Court, near Newmarket +LADY ADELA...................... His Wife +FERDINAND DE LEVIS.............. Young, rich, and new +TREISURE........................ Winsor's Butler +GENERAL CANYNGE................. A Racing Oracle +MARGARET ORME................... A Society Girl +CAPTAIN RONALD DANDY, D.S.O..... Retired +MABEL........................... His Wife +INSPECTOR DEDE.................. Of the County Constabulary +ROBERT.......................... Winsor's Footman +A CONSTABLE..................... Attendant on Dede +AUGUSTUS BOBBING................ A Clubman +LORD ST ERTH.................... A Peer of the Realm +A FOOTMAN....................... Of the Club +MAJOR COLFORD................... A Brother Officer of Dancy's +EDWARD GRAVITER................. A Solicitor +A YOUNG CLERK................... Of Twisden & Graviter's +GILMAN.......................... A Large Grocer +JACOB TWISDEN................... Senior Partner of Twisden & Graviter +RICARDOS........................ An Italian, in Wine + + + +ACT I. + SCENE I. CHARLES WINSOR's dressing-room at Meldon Court, near + Newmarket, of a night in early October. + SCENE II. DE LEVIS'S Bedroom at Meldon Court, a few minutes later. + +ACT II. + SCENE I. The Card Room of a London Club between four and five in + the afternoon, three weeks later. + SCENE II. The Sitting-room of the DANCYS' Flat, the following + morning. + +ACT III. + SCENE I. OLD MR JACOB TWISDEN'S Room at TWISDEN & GRAVITER'S in + Lincoln's Inn Fields, at four in the afternoon, three + months later. + SCENE II. The same, next morning at half-past ten. + SCENE III. The Sitting-room of the DANCYS' Flat, an hour later. + + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I + + The dressing-room of CHARLES WINSOR, owner of Meldon Court, near + Newmarket; about eleven-thirty at night. The room has pale grey + walls, unadorned; the curtains are drawn over a window Back Left + Centre. A bed lies along the wall, Left. An open door, Right Back, + leads into LADY ADELA's bedroom; a door, Right Forward, into a long + corridor, on to which abut rooms in a row, the whole length of the + house's left wing. WINSOR's dressing-table, with a light over it, + is Stage Right of the curtained window. Pyjamas are laid out on the + bed, which is turned back. Slippers are handy, and all the usual + gear of a well-appointed bed-dressing-room. CHARLES WINSOR, a tall, + fair, good-looking man about thirty-eight, is taking off a smoking + jacket. + +WINSOR. Hallo! Adela! + +V. OF LADY A. [From her bedroom] Hallo! + +WINSOR. In bed? + +V. OF LADY A. No. + + She appears in the doorway in under-garment and a wrapper. She, + too, is fair, about thirty-five, rather delicious, and suggestive + of porcelain. + +WINSOR. Win at Bridge? + +LADY A. No fear. + +WINSOR. Who did? + +LADY A. Lord St Erth and Ferdy De Levis. + +WINSOR. That young man has too much luck--the young bounder won two +races to-day; and he's as rich as Croesus. + +LADY A. Oh! Charlie, he did look so exactly as if he'd sold me a carpet +when I was paying him. + +WINSOR. [Changing into slippers] His father did sell carpets, +wholesale, in the City. + +LADY A. Really? And you say I haven't intuition! [With a finger on her +lips] Morison's in there. + +WINSOR. [Motioning towards the door, which she shuts] Ronny Dancy took +a tenner off him, anyway, before dinner. + +LADY A. No! How? + +WINSOR. Standing jump on to a bookcase four feet high. De Levis had to +pay up, and sneered at him for making money by parlour tricks. That +young Jew gets himself disliked. + +LADY A. Aren't you rather prejudiced? + +WINSOR. Not a bit. I like Jews. That's not against him--rather the +contrary these days. But he pushes himself. The General tells me he's +deathly keen to get into the Jockey Club. [Taking off his tie] It's +amusing to see him trying to get round old St Erth. + +LADY A. If Lord St Erth and General Canynge backed him he'd get in if he +did sell carpets! + +WINSOR. He's got some pretty good horses. [Taking off his waistcoat] +Ronny Dancy's on his bones again, I'm afraid. He had a bad day. When a +chap takes to doing parlour stunts for a bet--it's a sure sign. What +made him chuck the Army? + +LADY A. He says it's too dull, now there's no fighting. + +WINSOR. Well, he can't exist on backing losers. + +LADY A. Isn't it just like him to get married now? He really is the +most reckless person. + +WINSOR. Yes. He's a queer chap. I've always liked him, but I've never +quite made him out. What do you think of his wife? + +LADY A. Nice child; awfully gone on him. + +WINSOR. Is he? + +LADY A. Quite indecently--both of them. [Nodding towards the wall, +Left] They're next door. + +WINSOR. Who's beyond them? + +LADY A. De Levis; and Margaret Orme at the end. Charlie, do you realise +that the bathroom out there has to wash those four? + +WINSOR. I know. + +LADY A. Your grandfather was crazy when he built this wing; six rooms in +a row with balconies like an hotel, and only one bath--if we hadn't put +ours in. + +WINSOR. [Looking at his watch] Half-past eleven. [Yawns] Newmarket +always makes me sleepy. You're keeping Morison up. + + LADY ADELA goes to the door, blowing a kiss. CHARLES goes up to his + dressing-table and begins to brush his hair, sprinkling on essence. + There is a knock on the corridor door. + +Come in. + + DE LEVIS enters, clad in pyjamas and flowered dressing-gown. He is + a dark, good-looking, rather Eastern young man. His face is long + and disturbed. + +Hallo! De Levis! Anything I can do for you? + +DE LEVIS. [In a voice whose faint exoticism is broken by a vexed +excitement] I say, I'm awfully sorry, Winsor, but I thought I'd better +tell you at once. I've just had--er--rather a lot of money stolen. + +WINSOR. What! [There is something of outrage in his tone and glance, as +who should say: "In my house?"] How do you mean stolen? + +DE LEVIS. I put it under my pillow and went to have a bath; when I came +back it was gone. + +WINSOR. Good Lord! How much? + +DE LEVIS. Nearly a thousand-nine hundred and seventy, I think. + +WINSOR. Phew! [Again the faint tone of outrage, that a man should have +so much money about him]. + +DE LEVIS. I sold my Rosemary filly to-day on the course to Bentman the +bookie, and he paid me in notes. + +WINSOR. What? That weed Dancy gave you in the Spring? + +DE LEVIS. Yes. But I tried her pretty high the other day; and she's in +the Cambridgeshire. I was only out of my room a quarter of an hour, and +I locked my door. + +WINSOR. [Again outraged] You locked-- + +DE LEVIS. [Not seeing the fine shade] Yes, and had the key here. [He +taps his pocket] Look here! [He holds out a pocket-book] It's been +stuffed with my shaving papers. + +WINSOR. [Between feeling that such things don't happen, and a sense that +he will have to clear it up] This is damned awkward, De Levis. + +DE LEVIS. [With steel in his voice] Yes. I should like it back. + +WINSOR. Have you got the numbers of the notes? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +WINSOR. What were they? + +DE LEVIS. One hundred, three fifties, and the rest tens and fives. + +WINSOR. What d'you want me to do? + +DE LEVIS. Unless there's anybody you think-- + +WINSOR. [Eyeing him] Is it likely? + +DE Levis. Then I think the police ought to see my room. It's a lot of +money. + +WINSOR. Good Lord! We're not in Town; there'll be nobody nearer than +Newmarket at this time of night--four miles. + + The door from the bedroom is suddenly opened and LADY ADELA appears. + She has on a lace cap over her finished hair, and the wrapper. + +LADY A. [Closing the door] What is it? Are you ill, Mr De Levis? + +WINSOR. Worse; he's had a lot of money stolen. Nearly a thousand +pounds. + +LADY A. Gracious! Where? + +DE LEVIS. From under my pillow, Lady Adela--my door was locked--I was in +the bath-room. + +LADY A. But how fearfully thrilling! + +WINSOR. Thrilling! What's to be done? He wants it back. + +LADY A. Of course! [With sudden realisation] Oh! But Oh! it's quite +too unpleasant! + +WINSOR. Yes! What am I to do? Fetch the servants out of their rooms? +Search the grounds? It'll make the devil of a scandal. + +DE LEVIS. Who's next to me? + +LADY A. [Coldly] Oh! Mr De Levis! + +WINSOR. Next to you? The Dancys on this side, and Miss Orme on the +other. What's that to do with it? + +DE LEVIS. They may have heard something. + +WINSOR. Let's get them. But Dancy was down stairs when I came up. Get +Morison, Adela! No. Look here! When was this exactly? Let's have as +many alibis as we can. + +DE LEVIS. Within the last twenty minutes, certainly. + +WINSOR. How long has Morison been up with you? + +LADY A. I came up at eleven, and rang for her at once. + +WINSOR. [Looking at his watch] Half an hour. Then she's all right. +Send her for Margaret and the Dancys--there's nobody else in this wing. +No; send her to bed. We don't want gossip. D'you mind going yourself, +Adela? + +LADY A. Consult General Canynge, Charlie. + +WINSOR. Right. Could you get him too? D'you really want the police, +De Levis? + +DE LEVIS. [Stung by the faint contempt in his tone of voice] Yes, I do. + +WINSOR. Then, look here, dear! Slip into my study and telephone to the +police at Newmarket. There'll be somebody there; they're sure to have +drunks. I'll have Treisure up, and speak to him. [He rings the bell]. + + LADY ADELA goes out into her room and closes the door. + +WINSOR. Look here, De Levis! This isn't an hotel. It's the sort of +thing that doesn't happen in a decent house. Are you sure you're not +mistaken, and didn't have them stolen on the course? + +DE LEVIS. Absolutely. I counted them just before putting them under my +pillow; then I locked the door and had the key here. There's only one +door, you know. + +WINSOR. How was your window? + +DE LEVIS. Open. + +WINSOR. [Drawing back the curtains of his own window] You've got a +balcony like this. Any sign of a ladder or anything? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +WINSOR. It must have been done from the window, unless someone had a +skeleton key. Who knew you'd got that money? Where did Kentman pay you? + +DE LEVIS. Just round the corner in the further paddock. + +WINSOR. Anybody about? + +DE LEVIS. Oh, yes! + +WINSOR. Suspicious? + +DE LEVIS. I didn't notice anything. + +WINSOR. You must have been marked down and followed here. + +DE LEVIS. How would they know my room? + +WINSOR. Might have got it somehow. [A knock from the corridor] Come in. + + TREISURE, the Butler, appears, a silent, grave man of almost + supernatural conformity. DE LEVIS gives him a quick, hard look, + noted and resented by WINSOR. + +TREISURE. [To WINSOR] Yes, sir? + +WINSOR. Who valets Mr De Levis? + +TREISURE. Robert, Sir. + +WINSOR. When was he up last? + +TREISURE. In the ordinary course of things, about ten o'clock, sir. + +WINSOR. When did he go to bed? + +TREISURE. I dismissed at eleven. + +WINSOR. But did he go? + +TREISURE. To the best of my knowledge. Is there anything I can do, sir? + +WINSOR. [Disregarding a sign from DE LEVIS] Look here, Treisure, +Mr De Levis has had a large sum of money taken from his bedroom within +the last half hour. + +TREISURE. Indeed, Sir! + +WINSOR. Robert's quite all right, isn't he? + +TREISURE. He is, sir. + +DE LEVIS. How do you know? + + TREISURE's eyes rest on DE LEVIS. + +TREISURE. I am a pretty good judge of character, sir, if you'll excuse +me. + +WINSOR. Look here, De Levis, eighty or ninety notes must have been +pretty bulky. You didn't have them on you at dinner? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +WINSOR. Where did you put them? + +DE LEVIS. In a boot, and the boot in my suitcase, and locked it. + + TREISURE smiles faintly. + +WINSOR. [Again slightly outraged by such precautions in his house] And +you found it locked--and took them from there to put under your pillow? + +DE LEVIS. Yes. + +WINSOR. Run your mind over things, Treisure--has any stranger been +about? + +TREISURE. No, Sir. + +WINSOR. This seems to have happened between 11.15 and 11.30. Is that +right? [DE LEVIS nods] Any noise-anything outside-anything suspicious +anywhere? + +TREISURE. [Running his mind--very still] No, sir. + +WINSOR. What time did you shut up? + +TREISURE. I should say about eleven-fifteen, sir. As soon as Major +Colford and Captain Dancy had finished billiards. What was Mr De Levis +doing out of his room, if I may ask, sir? + +WINSOR. Having a bath; with his room locked and the key in his pocket. + +TREISURE. Thank you, sir. + +DE LEVIS. [Conscious of indefinable suspicion] Damn it! What do you +mean? I WAS! + +TREISURE. I beg your pardon, sir. + +WINSOR. [Concealing a smile] Look here, Treisure, it's infernally +awkward for everybody. + +TREISURE. It is, sir. + +WINSOR. What do you suggest? + +TREISURE. The proper thing, sir, I suppose, would be a cordon and a +complete search--in our interests. + +WINSOR. I entirely refuse to suspect anybody. + +TREISURE. But if Mr De Levis feels otherwise, sir? + +DE LEVIS. [Stammering] I? All I know is--the money was there, and it's +gone. + +WINSOR. [Compunctious] Quite! It's pretty sickening for you. But so +it is for anybody else. However, we must do our best to get it back for +you. + + A knock on the door. + +WINSOR. Hallo! + + TREISURE opens the door, and GENERAL. CANYNGE enters. + +Oh! It's you, General. Come in. Adela's told you? + + GENERAL CANYNGE nods. He is a slim man of about sixty, very well + preserved, intensely neat and self-contained, and still in evening + dress. His eyelids droop slightly, but his eyes are keen and his + expression astute. + +WINSOR. Well, General, what's the first move? + +CANYNGE. [Lifting his eyebrows] Mr De Levis presses the matter? + +DE Levis. [Flicked again] Unless you think it's too plebeian of me, +General Canynge--a thousand pounds. + +CANYNGE. [Drily] Just so! Then we must wait for the police, WINSOR. +Lady Adela has got through to them. What height are these rooms from the +ground, Treisure? + +TREISURE. Twenty-three feet from the terrace, sir. + +CANYNGE. Any ladders near? + +TREISURE. One in the stables, Sir, very heavy. No others within three +hundred yards. + +CANYNGE. Just slip down, and see whether that's been moved. + +TREISURE. Very good, General. [He goes out.] + +DE LEVIS. [Uneasily] Of course, he--I suppose you-- + +WINSOR. We do. + +CANYNGE. You had better leave this in our hands, De Levis. + +DE LEVIS. Certainly; only, the way he-- + +WINSOR. [Curtly] Treisure has been here since he was a boy. I should as +soon suspect myself. + +DE LEVIS. [Looking from one to the other--with sudden anger] You seem +to think--! What was I to do? Take it lying down and let whoever it is +get clear off? I suppose it's natural to want my money back? + + CANYNGE looks at his nails; WINSOR out of the window. + +WINSOR. [Turning] Of course, De Levis! + +DE LEVIS. [Sullenly] Well, I'll go to my room. When the police come, +perhaps you'll let me know. He goes out. + +WINSOR. Phew! Did you ever see such a dressing-gown? + + The door is opened. LADY ADELA and MARGARET ORME come in. The + latter is a vivid young lady of about twenty-five in a vivid + wrapper; she is smoking a cigarette. + +LADY A. I've told the Dancys--she was in bed. And I got through to +Newmarket, Charles, and Inspector Dede is coming like the wind on a motor +cycle. + +MARGARET. Did he say "like the wind," Adela? He must have imagination. +Isn't this gorgeous? Poor little Ferdy! + +WINSOR. [Vexed] You might take it seriously, Margaret; it's pretty +beastly for us all. What time did you come up? + +MARGARET. I came up with Adela. Am I suspected, Charles? How +thrilling! + +WINSOR. Did you hear anything? + +MARGARET. Only little Ferdy splashing. + +WINSOR. And saw nothing? + +MARGARET. Not even that, alas! + +LADY A. [With a finger held up] Leste! Un peu leste! Oh! Here are the +Dancys. Come in, you two! + + MABEL and RONALD DANCY enter. She is a pretty young woman with + bobbed hair, fortunately, for she has just got out of bed, and is in + her nightgown and a wrapper. DANCY is in his smoking jacket. He + has a pale, determined face with high cheekbones, small, deep-set + dark eyes, reddish crisp hair, and looks like a horseman. + +WINSOR. Awfully sorry to disturb you, Mrs Dancy; but I suppose you and +Ronny haven't heard anything. De Levis's room is just beyond Ronny's +dressing-room, you know. + +MABEL. I've been asleep nearly half an hour, and Ronny's only just come +up. + +CANYNGE. Did you happen to look out of your window, Mrs Dancy? + +MABEL. Yes. I stood there quite five minutes. + +CANYNGE. When? + +MABEL. Just about eleven, I should think. It was raining hard then. + +CANYNGE. Yes, it's just stopped. You saw nothing? + +MABEL. No. + +DANCY. What time does he say the money was taken? + +WINSOR. Between the quarter and half past. He'd locked his door and had +the key with him. + +MARGARET. How quaint! Just like an hotel. Does he put his boots out? + +LADY A. Don't be so naughty, Meg. + +CANYNGE. When exactly did you come up, Dance? + +DANCY. About ten minutes ago. I'd only just got into my dressing-room +before Lady Adela came. I've been writing letters in the hall since +Colford and I finished billiards. + +CANYNGE. You weren't up for anything in between? + +DANCY. No. + +MARGARET. The mystery of the grey room. + +DANCY. Oughtn't the grounds to be searched for footmarks? + +CANYNGE. That's for the police. + +DANCY. The deuce! Are they coming? + +CANYNGE. Directly. [A knock] Yes? + + TREISURE enters. + +Well? + +TREISURE. The ladder has not been moved, General. There isn't a sign. + +WINSOR. All right. Get Robert up, but don't say anything to him. By +the way, we're expecting the police. + +TREISURE. I trust they will not find a mare's nest, sir, if I may say +so. + + He goes. + +WINSOR. De Levis has got wrong with Treisure. [Suddenly] But, I say, +what would any of us have done if we'd been in his shoes? + +MARGARET. A thousand pounds? I can't even conceive having it. + +DANCY. We probably shouldn't have found it out. + +LADY A. No--but if we had. + +DANCY. Come to you--as he did. + +WINSOR. Yes; but there's a way of doing things. + +CANYNGE. We shouldn't have wanted the police. + +MARGARET. No. That's it. The hotel touch. + +LADY A. Poor young man; I think we're rather hard on him. + +WINSOR. He sold that weed you gave him, Dancy, to Kentman, the bookie, +and these were the proceeds. + +DANCY. Oh! + +WINSOR. He'd tried her high, he said. + +DANCY. [Grimly] He would. + +MABEL. Oh! Ronny, what bad luck! + +WINSOR. He must have been followed here. [At the window] After rain +like that, there ought to be footmarks. + + The splutter of a motor cycle is heard. + +MARGARET. Here's the wind! + +WINSOR. What's the move now, General? + +CANYNGE. You and I had better see the Inspector in De Levis's room, +WINSOR. [To the others] If you'll all be handy, in case he wants to put +questions for himself. + +MARGARET. I hope he'll want me; it's just too thrilling. + +DANCY. I hope he won't want me; I'm dog-tired. Come on, Mabel. [He +puts his arm in his wife's]. + +CANYNGE. Just a minute, Charles. + + He draws dose to WINSOR as the others are departing to their rooms. + +WINSOR. Yes, General? + +CANYNGE. We must be careful with this Inspector fellow. If he pitches +hastily on somebody in the house it'll be very disagreeable. + +WINSOR. By Jove! It will. + +CANYNGE. We don't want to rouse any ridiculous suspicion. + +WINSOR. Quite. [A knock] Come in! + +TREISURE enters. + +TREISURE. Inspector Dede, Sir. + +WINSOR. Show him in. + +TREISURE. Robert is in readiness, sir; but I could swear he knows +nothing about it. + +WINSOR. All right. + + TREISURE re-opens the door, and says "Come in, please." The + INSPECTOR enters, blue, formal, moustachioed, with a peaked cap in + his hand. + +WINSOR. Good evening, Inspector. Sorry to have brought you out at this +time of night. + +INSPECTOR. Good evenin', sir. Mr WINSOR? You're the owner here, I +think? + +WINSOR. Yes. General Canynge. + +INSPECTOR. Good evenin', General. I understand, a large sum of money? + +WINSOR. Yes. Shall we go straight to the room it was taken from? One +of my guests, Mr De Levis. It's the third room on the left. + +CANYNGE. We've not been in there yet, Inspector; in fact, we've done +nothing, except to find out that the stable ladder has not been moved. +We haven't even searched the grounds. + +INSPECTOR. Right, sir; I've brought a man with me. + + They go out. + + + CURTAIN. And interval of a Minute. + + + + +SCENE II + + [The same set is used for this Scene, with the different arrangement + of furniture, as specified.] + + The bedroom of DE LEVIS is the same in shape as WINSOR'S + dressing-room, except that there is only one door--to the + corridor. The furniture, however, is differently arranged; a + small four-poster bedstead stands against the wall, Right Back, + jutting into the room. A chair, on which DE LEVIS's clothes are + thrown, stands at its foot. There is a dressing-table against the + wall to the left of the open windows, where the curtains are + drawn back and a stone balcony is seen. Against the wall to the + right of the window is a chest of drawers, and a washstand is + against the wall, Left. On a small table to the right of the bed + an electric reading lamp is turned up, and there is a light over + the dressing-table. The INSPECTOR is standing plumb centre + looking at the bed, and DE LEVIS by the back of the chair at the + foot of the bed. WINSOR and CANYNGE are close to the door, Right + Forward. + +INSPECTOR. [Finishing a note] Now, sir, if this is the room as you left +it for your bath, just show us exactly what you did after takin' the +pocket-book from the suit case. Where was that, by the way? + +DE LEVIS. [Pointing] Where it is now--under the dressing-table. + + He comes forward to the front of the chair, opens the pocket-book, + goes through the pretence of counting his shaving papers, closes the + pocket-book, takes it to the head of the bed and slips it under the + pillow. Makes the motion of taking up his pyjamas, crosses below + the INSPECTOR to the washstand, takes up a bath sponge, crosses to + the door, takes out the key, opens the door. + +INSPECTOR. [Writing]. We now have the room as it was when the theft was +committed. Reconstruct accordin' to 'uman nature, gentlemen--assumin' +the thief to be in the room, what would he try first?--the clothes, the +dressin'-table, the suit case, the chest of drawers, and last the bed. + + He moves accordingly, examining the glass on the dressing-table, the + surface of the suit cases, and the handles of the drawers, with a + spy-glass, for finger-marks. + +CANYNGE. [Sotto voce to WINSOR] The order would have been just the +other way. + + The INSPECTOR goes on hands and knees and examines the carpet + between the window and the bed. + +DE LEVIS. Can I come in again? + +INSPECTOR. [Standing up] Did you open the window, sir, or was it open +when you first came in? + +DE LEVIS. I opened it. + +INSPECTOR. Drawin' the curtains back first? + +DE LEVIS. Yes. + +INSPECTOR. [Sharply] Are you sure there was nobody in the room already? + +DE LEVIS. [Taken aback] I don't know. I never thought. I didn't look +under the bed, if you mean that. + +INSPECTOR. [Jotting] Did not look under bed. Did you look under it +after the theft? + +DE LEVIS. No. I didn't. + +INSPECTOR. Ah! Now, what did you do after you came back from your bath? +Just give us that precisely. + +DE LEVIS. Locked the door and left the key in. Put back my sponge, and +took off my dressing-gown and put it there. [He points to the footrails +of the bed] Then I drew the curtains, again. + +INSPECTOR. Shutting the window? + +DE LEVIS. No. I got into bed, felt for my watch to see the time. My +hand struck the pocket-book, and somehow it felt thinner. I took it out, +looked into it, and found the notes gone, and these shaving papers +instead. + +INSPECTOR. Let me have a look at those, sir. [He applies the +spy-glasses] And then? + +DE LEVIS. I think I just sat on the bed. + +INSPECTOR. Thinkin' and cursin' a bit, I suppose. Ye-es? + +DE LEVIS. Then I put on my dressing-gown and went straight to Mr WINSOR. + +INSPECTOR. Not lockin' the door? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +INSPECTOR. Exactly. [With a certain finality] Now, sir, what time did +you come up? + +DE LEVIS. About eleven. + +INSPECTOR. Precise, if you can give it me. + +DE LEVIS. Well, I know it was eleven-fifteen when I put my watch under +my pillow, before I went to the bath, and I suppose I'd been about a +quarter of an hour undressing. I should say after eleven, if anything. + +INSPECTOR. Just undressin'? Didn't look over your bettin' book? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +INSPECTOR. No prayers or anything? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +INSPECTOR. Pretty slippy with your undressin' as a rule? + +DE LEVIS. Yes. Say five past eleven. + +INSPECTOR. Mr WINSOR, what time did the gentleman come to you? + +WINSOR. Half-past eleven. + +INSPECTOR. How do you fix that, sir? + +WINSOR. I'd just looked at the time, and told my wife to send her maid +off. + +INSPECTOR. Then we've got it fixed between 11.15 and 11.30. [Jots] Now, +sir, before we go further I'd like to see your butler and the footman +that valets this gentleman. + +WINSOR. [With distaste] Very well, Inspector; only--my butler has been +with us from a boy. + +INSPECTOR. Quite so. This is just clearing the ground, sir. + +WINSOR. General, d'you mind touching that bell? + +CANYNGE rings a bell by the bed. + +INSPECTOR. Well, gentlemen, there are four possibilities. Either the +thief was here all the time, waiting under the bed, and slipped out after +this gentleman had gone to Mr WINSOR. Or he came in with a key that fits +the lock; and I'll want to see all the keys in the house. Or he came in +with a skeleton key and out by the window, probably droppin' from the +balcony. Or he came in by the window with a rope or ladder and out the +same way. [Pointing] There's a footmark here from a big boot which has +been out of doors since it rained. + +CANYNGE. Inspector--you er--walked up to the window when you first came +into the room. + +INSPECTOR. [Stiffly] I had not overlooked that, General. + +CANYNGE. Of course. + + A knock on the door relieves a certain tension, + +WINSOR. Come in. + + The footman ROBERT, a fresh-faced young man, enters, followed by + TREISURE. + +INSPECTOR. You valet Mr--Mr De Levis, I think? + +ROBERT. Yes, sir. + +INSPECTOR. At what time did you take his clothes and boots? + +ROBERT. Ten o'clock, sir. + +INSPECTOR. [With a pounce] Did you happen to look under his bed? + +ROBERT. No, sir. + +INSPECTOR. Did you come up again, to bring the clothes back? + +ROBERT. No, sir; they're still downstairs. + +INSPECTOR. Did you come up again for anything? + +ROBERT. No, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. What time did you go to bed? + +ROBERT. Just after eleven, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. [Scrutinising him] Now, be careful. Did you go to bed at +all? + +ROBERT. No, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. Then why did you say you did? There's been a theft here, and +anything you say may be used against you. + +ROBERT. Yes, Sir. I meant, I went to my room. + +INSPECTOR. Where is your room? + +ROBERT. On the ground floor, at the other end of the right wing, sir. + +WINSOR. It's the extreme end of the house from this, Inspector. He's +with the other two footmen. + +INSPECTOR. Were you there alone? + +ROBERT. No, Sir. Thomas and Frederick was there too. + +TREISURE. That's right; I've seen them. + +INSPECTOR. [Holding up his hand for silence] Were you out of the room +again after you went in? + +ROBERT. No, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. What were you doing, if you didn't go to bed? + +ROBERT. [To WINSOR] Beggin' your pardon, Sir, we were playin' Bridge. + +INSPECTOR. Very good. You can go. I'll see them later on. + +ROBERT. Yes, Sir. They'll say the same as me. He goes out, leaving a +smile on the face of all except the INSPECTOR and DE LEVIS. + +INSPECTOR. [Sharply] Call him back. + + TREISURE calls "Robert," and the FOOTMAN re-enters. + +ROBERT. Yes, Sir? + +INSPECTOR. Did you notice anything particular about Mr De Levis's +clothes? + +ROBERT. Only that they were very good, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. I mean--anything peculiar? + +ROBERT. [After reflection] Yes, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. Well? + +ROBERT. A pair of his boots this evenin' was reduced to one, sir. + +INSPECTOR. What did you make of that? + +ROBERT. I thought he might have thrown the other at a cat or something. + +INSPECTOR. Did you look for it? + +ROBERT. No, Sir; I meant to draw his attention to it in the morning. + +INSPECTOR. Very good. + +ROBERT. Yes, Sir. [He goes again.] + +INSPECTOR. [Looking at DE LEVIS] Well, sir, there's your story +corroborated. + +DE LEVIS. [Stifly] I don't know why it should need corroboration, +Inspector. + +INSPECTOR. In my experience, you can never have too much of that. [To +WINSOR] I understand there's a lady in the room on this side [pointing +Left] and a gentleman on this [pointing Right] Were they in their rooms? + +WINSOR. Miss Orme was; Captain Dancy not. + +INSPECTOR. Do they know of the affair? + +WINSOR. Yes. + +INSPECTOR. Well, I'd just like the keys of their doors for a minute. My +man will get them. + + He goes to the door, opens it, and speaks to a constable in the + corridor. + +[To TREISURE] You can go with him. + + TREISURE goes Out. + +In the meantime I'll just examine the balcony. + + He goes out on the balcony, followed by DE LEVIS. + +WINSOR. [To CANYNGE] Damn De Levis and his money! It's deuced +invidious, all this, General. + +CANYNGE. The Inspector's no earthly. + + There is a simultaneous re-entry of the INSPECTOR from the balcony + and of TREISURE and the CONSTABLE from the corridor. + +CONSTABLE. [Handing key] Room on the left, Sir. [Handing key] Room on +the right, sir. + + The INSPECTOR tries the keys in the door, watched with tension by + the others. The keys fail. + +INSPECTOR. Put them back. + + Hands keys to CONSTABLE, who goes out, followed by TREISURE. + +I'll have to try every key in the house, sir. + +WINSOR. Inspector, do you really think it necessary to disturb the whole +house and knock up all my guests? It's most disagreeable, all this, you +know. The loss of the money is not such a great matter. Mr De Levis has +a very large income. + +CANYNGE. You could get the numbers of the notes from Kentman the +bookmaker, Inspector; he'll probably have the big ones, anyway. + +INSPECTOR. [Shaking his head] A bookie. I don't suppose he will, sir. +It's come and go with them, all the time. + +WINSOR. We don't want a Meldon Court scandal, Inspector. + +INSPECTOR. Well, Mr WINSOR, I've formed my theory. + + As he speaks, DE LEVIS comes in from the balcony. + +And I don't say to try the keys is necessary to it; but strictly, I ought +to exhaust the possibilities. + +WINSOR. What do you say, De Levis? D'you want everybody in the house +knocked up so that their keys can be tried? + +DE LEVIS. [Whose face, since his return, expresses a curious excitement] +No, I don't. + +INSPECTOR. Very well, gentlemen. In my opinion the thief walked in +before the door was locked, probably during dinner; and was under the +bed. He escaped by dropping from the balcony--the creeper at that corner +[he points stage Left] has been violently wrenched. I'll go down now, +and examine the grounds, and I'll see you again Sir. [He makes another +entry in his note-book] Goodnight, then, gentlemen! + +CANYNGE. Good-night! + +WINSOR. [With relief] I'll come with you, Inspector. + + He escorts him to the door, and they go out. + +DE LEVIS. [Suddenly] General, I know who took them. + +CANYNGE. The deuce you do! Are you following the Inspector's theory? + +DE LEVIS. [Contemptuously] That ass! [Pulling the shaving papers out +of the case] No! The man who put those there was clever and cool enough +to wrench that creeper off the balcony, as a blind. Come and look here, +General. [He goes to the window; the GENERAL follows. DE LEVIS points +stage Right] See the rail of my balcony, and the rail of the next? [He +holds up the cord of his dressing-gown, stretching his arms out] I've +measured it with this. Just over seven feet, that's all! If a man can +take a standing jump on to a narrow bookcase four feet high and balance +there, he'd make nothing of that. And, look here! [He goes out on the +balcony and returns with a bit of broken creeper in his hand, and holds +it out into the light] Someone's stood on that--the stalk's crushed--the +inner corner too, where he'd naturally stand when he took his jump back. + +CANYNGE. [After examining it--stiffly] That other balcony is young +Dancy's, Mr De Levis; a soldier and a gentleman. This is an +extraordinary insinuation. + +DE LEVIS. Accusation. + +CANYNGE. What! + +DE LEVIS. I have intuitions, General; it's in my blood. I see the whole +thing. Dancy came up, watched me into the bathroom, tried my door, +slipped back into his dressing-room, saw my window was open, took that +jump, sneaked the notes, filled the case up with these, wrenched the +creeper there [He points stage Left] for a blind, jumped back, and +slipped downstairs again. It didn't take him four minutes altogether. + +CANYNGE. [Very gravely] This is outrageous, De Levis. Dancy says he +was downstairs all the time. You must either withdraw unreservedly, +or I must confront you with him. + +DE LEVIS. If he'll return the notes and apologise, I'll do nothing-- +except cut him in future. He gave me that filly, you know, as a hopeless +weed, and he's been pretty sick ever since, that he was such a flat as +not to see how good she was. Besides, he's hard up, I know. + +CANYNGE. [After a vexed turn up and down the room] It's mad, sir, to +jump to conclusions like this. + +DE LEVIS. Not so mad as the conclusion Dancy jumped to when he lighted +on my balcony. + +CANYNGE. Nobody could have taken this money who did not know you had it. + +DE LEVIS. How do you know that he didn't? + +CANYNGE. Do you know that he did? + +DE LEVIS. I haven't the least doubt of it. + +CANYNGE. Without any proof. This is very ugly, De Levis. I must tell +WINSOR. + +DE LEVIS. [Angrily] Tell the whole blooming lot. You think I've no +feelers, but I've felt the atmosphere here, I can tell you, General. If +I were in Dancy's shoes and he in mine, your tone to me would be very +different. + +CANYNGE. [Suavely frigid] I'm not aware of using any tone, as you call +it. But this is a private house, Mr De Levis, and something is due to +our host and to the esprit de corps that exists among gentlemen. + +DE LEVIS. Since when is a thief a gentleman? Thick as thieves--a good +motto, isn't it? + +CANYNGE. That's enough! [He goes to the door, but stops before opening +it] Now, look here! I have some knowledge of the world. Once an +accusation like this passes beyond these walls no one can foresee the +consequences. Captain Dancy is a gallant fellow, with a fine record as a +soldier; and only just married. If he's as innocent as--Christ--mud will +stick to him, unless the real thief is found. In the old days of swords, +either you or he would not have gone out of this room alive. It you +persist in this absurd accusation, you will both of you go out of this +room dead in the eyes of Society: you for bringing it, he for being the +object of it. + +DE LEVIS. Society! Do you think I don't know that I'm only tolerated +for my money? Society can't add injury to insult and have my money as +well, that's all. If the notes are restored I'll keep my mouth shut; if +they're not, I shan't. I'm certain I'm right. I ask nothing better than +to be confronted with Dancy; but, if you prefer it, deal with him in your +own way--for the sake of your esprit de corps. + +CANYNGE. 'Pon my soul, Mr De Levis, you go too far. + +DE LEVIS. Not so far as I shall go, General Canynge, if those notes +aren't given back. + +WINSOR comes in. + +WINSOR. Well, De Levis, I'm afraid that's all we can do for the present. +So very sorry this should have happened in my house. + +CANYNGE. [Alter a silence] There's a development, WINSOR. Mr De Levis +accuses one of your guests. + +WINSOR. What? + +CANYNGE. Of jumping from his balcony to this, taking the notes, and +jumping back. I've done my best to dissuade him from indulging the +fancy--without success. Dancy must be told. + +DE LEVIS. You can deal with Dancy in your own way. All I want is the +money back. + +CANYNGE. [Drily] Mr De Levis feels that he is only valued for his +money, so that it is essential for him to have it back. + +WINSOR. Damn it! This is monstrous, De Levis. I've known Ronald Dancy +since he was a boy. + +CANYNGE. You talk about adding injury to insult, De Levis. What do you +call such treatment of a man who gave you the mare out of which you made +this thousand pounds? + +DE LEVIS. I didn't want the mare; I took her as a favour. + +CANYNGE. With an eye to possibilities, I venture to think--the principle +guides a good many transactions. + +DE LEVIS. [As if flicked on a raw spot] In my race, do you mean? + +CANYNGE. [Coldly] I said nothing of the sort. + +DE LEVIS. No; you don't say these things, any of you. + +CANYNGE. Nor did I think it. + +DE LEVIS. Dancy does. + +WINSOR. Really, De Levis, if this is the way you repay hospitality-- + +DE LEVIS. Hospitality that skins my feelings and costs me a thousand +pounds! + +CANYNGE. Go and get Dancy, WINSOR; but don't say anything to him. + + WINSOR goes out. + +CANYNGE. Perhaps you will kindly control yourself, and leave this to me. + + DE LEVIS turns to the window and lights a cigarette. WINSOR comes + back, followed by DANCY. + +CANYNGE. For WINSOR's sake, Dancy, we don't want any scandal or fuss +about this affair. We've tried to make the police understand that. To +my mind the whole thing turns on our finding who knew that De Levis had +this money. It's about that we want to consult you. + +WINSOR. Kentman paid De Levis round the corner in the further paddock, +he says. + + DE LEVIS turns round from the window, so that he and DANCY are + staring at each other. + +CANYNGE. Did you hear anything that throws light, Dancy? As it was your +filly originally, we thought perhaps you might. + +DANCY. I? No. + +CANYNGE. Didn't hear of the sale on the course at all? + +DANCY. No. + +CANYNGE. Then you can't suggest any one who could have known? Nothing +else was taken, you see. + +DANCY. De Levis is known to be rolling, as I am known to be stony. + +CANYNGE. There are a good many people still rolling, besides Mr De +Levis, but not many people with so large a sum in their pocket-books. + +DANCY. He won two races. + +DE LEVIS. Do you suggest that I bet in ready money? + +DANCY. I don't know how you bet, and I don't care. + +CANYNGE. You can't help us, then? + +DANCY. No. I can't. Anything else? [He looks fixedly at DE LEVIS]. + +CANYNGE. [Putting his hand on DANCY's arm] Nothing else, thank you, +Dancy. + + DANCY goes. CANYNGE puts his hand up to his face. A moment's + silence. + +WINSOR. You see, De Levis? He didn't even know you'd got the money. + +DE LEVIS. Very conclusive. + +WINSOR. Well! You are--! + + There is a knock on the door, and the INSPECTOR enters. + +INSPECTOR. I'm just going, gentlemen. The grounds, I'm sorry to say, +have yielded nothing. It's a bit of a puzzle. + +CANYNGE. You've searched thoroughly? + +INSPECTOR. We have, General. I can pick up nothing near the terrace. + +WINSOR. [After a look at DE LEVIS, whose face expresses too much] H'm! +You'll take it up from the other end, then, Inspector? + +INSPECTOR. Well, we'll see what we can do with the bookmakers about the +numbers, sir. Before I go, gentlemen--you've had time to think it over-- +there's no one you suspect in the house, I suppose? + + DE LEVIS's face is alive and uncertain. CANYNGE is staring at him + very fixedly. + +WINSOR. [Emphatically] No. + + DE LEVIS turns and goes out on to the balcony. + +INSPECTOR. If you're coming in to the racing to-morrow, sir, you might +give us a call. I'll have seen Kentman by then. + +WINSOR. Right you are, Inspector. Good night, and many thanks. + +INSPECTOR. You're welcome, sir. [He goes out.] + +WINSOR. Gosh! I thought that chap [With a nod towards the balcony] +was going to--! Look here, General, we must stop his tongue. Imagine it +going the rounds. They may never find the real thief, you know. It's +the very devil for Dancy. + +CANYNGE. WINSOR! Dancy's sleeve was damp. + +WINSOR. How d'you mean? + +CANYNGE. Quite damp. It's been raining. + + The two look at each other. + +WINSOR. I--I don't follow-- [His voice is hesitative and lower, showing +that he does]. + +CANYNGE. It was coming down hard; a minute out in it would have been +enough--[He motions with his chin towards the balcony]. + +WINSOR. [Hastily] He must have been out on his balcony since. + +CANYNGE. It stopped before I came up, half an hour ago. + +WINSOR. He's been leaning on the wet stone, then. + +CANYNGE. With the outside of the upper part of the arm? + +WINSOR. Against the wall, perhaps. There may be a dozen explanations. +[Very low and with great concentration] I entirely and absolutely refuse +to believe anything of the sort against Ronald Dancy in my house. Dash +it, General, we must do as we'd be done by. It hits us all--it hits us +all. The thing's intolerable. + +CANYNGE. I agree. Intolerable. [Raising his voice] Mr De Levis! + +DE LEVIS returns into view, in the centre of the open window. + +CANYNGE. [With cold decision] Young Dancy was an officer and is a +gentleman; this insinuation is pure supposition, and you must not make +it. Do you understand me? + +DE LEVIS. My tongue is still mine, General, if my money isn't! + +CANYNGE. [Unmoved] Must not. You're a member of three Clubs, you want +to be member of a fourth. No one who makes such an insinuation against a +fellow-guest in a country house, except on absolute proof, can do so +without complete ostracism. Have we your word to say nothing? + +DE LEVIS. Social blackmail? H'm! + +CANYNGE. Not at all--simple warning. If you consider it necessary in +your interests to start this scandal-no matter how, we shall consider it +necessary in ours to dissociate ourselves completely from one who so +recklessly disregards the unwritten code. + +DE LEVIS. Do you think your code applies to me? Do you, General? + +CANYNGE. To anyone who aspires to be a gentleman, Sir. + +DE LEVIS. Ah! But you haven't known me since I was a boy. + +CANYNGE. Make up your mind. + + A pause. + +DE LEVIS. I'm not a fool, General. I know perfectly well that you can +get me outed. + +CANYNGE. [Icily] Well? + +DE LEVIS. [Sullenly] I'll say nothing about it, unless I get more +proof. + +CANYNGE. Good! We have implicit faith in Dancy. + + There is a moment's encounter of eyes; the GENERAL'S steady, shrewd, + impassive; WINSOR'S angry and defiant; DE LEVIS's mocking, a little + triumphant, malicious. Then CANYNGE and WINSOR go to the door, and + pass out. + +DE LEVIS. [To himself] Rats! + + + CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE I + + Afternoon, three weeks later, in the card room of a London Club. A + fire is burning, Left. A door, Right, leads to the billiard-room. + Rather Left of Centre, at a card table, LORD ST ERTH, an old John + Bull, sits facing the audience; to his right is GENERAL CANYNGE, to + his left AUGUSTUS BORRING, an essential Clubman, about thirty-five + years old, with a very slight and rather becoming stammer or click + in his speech. The fourth Bridge player, CHARLES WINSOR, stands + with his back to the fire. + +BORRING. And the r-rub. + +WINSOR. By George! You do hold cards, Borring. + +ST ERTH. [Who has lost] Not a patch on the old whist--this game. Don't +know why I play it--never did. + +CANYNGE. St Erth, shall we raise the flag for whist again? + +WINSOR. No go, General. You can't go back on pace. No getting a man to +walk when he knows he can fly. The young men won't look at it. + +BORRING. Better develop it so that t-two can sit out, General. + +ST ERTH. We ought to have stuck to the old game. Wish I'd gone to +Newmarket, Canynge, in spite of the weather. + +CANYNGE. [Looking at his watch] Let's hear what's won the +Cambridgeshire. Ring, won't you, WINSOR? [WINSOR rings.] + +ST ERTH. By the way, Canynge, young De Levis was blackballed. + +CANYNGE. What! + +ST ERTH. I looked in on my way down. + + CANYNGE sits very still, and WINSOR utters a disturbed sound. + +BORRING. But of c-course he was, General. What did you expect? + + A FOOTMAN enters. + +FOOTMAN. Yes, my lord? + +ST ERTH. What won the Cambridgeshire? + +FOOTMAN. Rosemary, my lord. Sherbet second; Barbizon third. Nine to +one the winner. + +WINSOR. Thank you. That's all. + + FOOTMAN goes. + +BORRING. Rosemary! And De Levis sold her! But he got a good p-price, I +suppose. + + The other three look at him. + +ST ERTH. Many a slip between price and pocket, young man. + +CANYNGE. Cut! [They cut]. + +BORRING. I say, is that the yarn that's going round about his having had +a lot of m-money stolen in a country house? By Jove! He'll be pretty +s-sick. + +WINSOR. You and I, Borring. + + He sits down in CANYNGE'S chair, and the GENERAL takes his place by + the fire. + +BORRING. Phew! Won't Dancy be mad! He gave that filly away to save her +keep. He was rather pleased to find somebody who'd take her. Bentman +must have won a p-pot. She was at thirty-threes a fortnight ago. + +ST ERTH. All the money goes to fellows who don't know a horse from a +haystack. + +CANYNGE. [Profoundly] And care less. Yes! We want men racing to whom +a horse means something. + +BORRING. I thought the horse m-meant the same to everyone, General-- +chance to get the b-better of one's neighbour. + +CANYNGE. [With feeling] The horse is a noble animal, sir, as you'd know +if you'd owed your life to them as often as I have. + +BORRING. They always try to take mine, General. I shall never belong to +the noble f-fellowship of the horse. + +ST ERTH. [Drily] Evidently. Deal! + + As BORRING begins to deal the door is opened and MAJOR COLFORD + appears--a lean and moustached cavalryman. + +BORRING. Hallo, C-Colford. + +COLFORD. General! + + Something in the tone of his voice brings them all to a standstill. + +COLFORD. I want your advice. Young De Levis in there [He points to the +billiard-room from which he has just come] has started a blasphemous +story-- + +CANYNGE. One moment. Mr Borring, d'you mind-- + +COLFORD. It makes no odds, General. Four of us in there heard him. +He's saying it was Ronald Dancy robbed him down at WINSOR's. The +fellow's mad over losing the price of that filly now she's won the +Cambridgeshire. + +BORRING. [All ears] Dancy! Great S-Scott! + +COLFORD. Dancy's in the Club. If he hadn't been I'd have taken it on +myself to wring the bounder's neck. + + WINSOR and BORRING have risen. ST ERTH alone remains seated. + +CANYNGE. [After consulting ST ERTH with a look] Ask De Levis to be good +enough to come in here. Borring, you might see that Dancy doesn't leave +the Club. We shall want him. Don't say anything to him, and use your +tact to keep people off. + + BORRING goes out, followed by COLFORD. WINSOR. Result of hearing + he was black-balled--pretty slippy. + +CANYNGE. St Erth, I told you there was good reason when I asked you to +back young De Levis. WINSOR and I knew of this insinuation; I wanted to +keep his tongue quiet. It's just wild assertion; to have it bandied +about was unfair to Dancy. The duel used to keep people's tongues in +order. + +ST ERTH. H'm! It never settled anything, except who could shoot +straightest. + +COLFORD. [Re-appearing] De Levis says he's nothing to add to what he +said to you before, on the subject. + +CANYNGE. Kindly tell him that if he wishes to remain a member of this +Club he must account to the Committee for such a charge against a +fellow-member. Four of us are here, and form a quorum. + + COLFORD goes out again. + +ST ERTH. Did Kentman ever give the police the numbers of those notes, +WINSOR? + +WINSOR. He only had the numbers of two--the hundred, and one of the +fifties. + +ST ERTH. And they haven't traced 'em? + +WINSOR. Not yet. + + As he speaks, DE LEVIS comes in. He is in a highly-coloured, not to + say excited state. COLFORD follows him. + +DE LEVIS. Well, General Canynge! It's a little too strong all this-- +a little too strong. [Under emotion his voice is slightly more exotic]. + +CANYNGE. [Calmly] It is obvious, Mr De Levis, that you and Captain +Dancy can't both remain members of this Club. We ask you for an +explanation before requesting one resignation or the other. + +DE LEVIS. You've let me down. + +CANYNGE. What! + +DE LEVIS. Well, I shall tell people that you and Lord St Erth backed me +up for one Club, and asked me to resign from another. + +CANYNGE. It's a matter of indifference to me, sir, what you tell people. + +ST ERTH. [Drily] You seem a venomous young man. + +DE LEVIS. I'll tell you what seems to me venomous, my lord--chasing a +man like a pack of hounds because he isn't your breed. + +CANYNGE. You appear to have your breed on the brain, sir. Nobody else +does, so far as I know. + +DE LEVIS. Suppose I had robbed Dancy, would you chase him out for +complaining of it? + +COLFORD. My God! If you repeat that-- + +CANYNGE. Steady, Colford! + +WINSOR. You make this accusation that Dancy stole your money in my house +on no proof--no proof; and you expect Dancy's friends to treat you as if +you were a gentleman! That's too strong, if you like! + +DE LEVIS. No proof? Bentman told me at Newmarket yesterday that Dancy +did know of the sale. He told Goole, and Goole says that he himself +spoke of it to Dancy. + +WINSOR. Well--if he did? + +DE LEVIS. Dancy told you he didn't know of it in General Canynge's +presence, and mine. [To CANYNGE] You can't deny that, if you want to. + +CANYNGE. Choose your expressions more nicely, please! + +DE LEVIS. Proof! Did they find any footmarks in the grounds below that +torn creeper? Not a sign! You saw how he can jump; he won ten pounds +from me that same evening betting on what he knew was a certainty. +That's your Dancy--a common sharper! + +CANYNGE. [Nodding towards the billiard-room] Are those fellows still in +there, Colford? + +COLFORD. Yes. + +CANYNGE. Then bring Dancy up, will you? But don't say anything to him. + +COLFORD. [To DE LEVIS] You may think yourself damned lucky if he doesn't +break your neck. + + He goes out. The three who are left with DE LEVIS avert their eyes + from him. + +DE LEVIS. [Smouldering] I have a memory, and a sting too. Yes, my +lord--since you are good enough to call me venomous. [To CANYNGE] I +quite understand--I'm marked for Coventry now, whatever happens. Well, +I'll take Dancy with me. + +ST ERTH. [To himself] This Club has always had a decent, quiet name. + +WINSOR. Are you going to retract, and apologise in front of Dancy and +the members who heard you? + +DE LEVIS. No fear! + +ST ERTH. You must be a very rich man, sir. A jury is likely to take the +view that money can hardly compensate for an accusation of that sort. + + DE LEVIS stands silent. CANYNGE. Courts of law require proof. + +ST ERTH. He can make it a criminal action. + +WINSOR. Unless you stop this at once, you may find yourself in prison. +If you can stop it, that is. + +ST ERTH. If I were young Dancy, nothing should induce me. + +DE LEVIS. But you didn't steal my money, Lord St Erth. + +ST ERTH. You're deuced positive, sir. So far as I could understand it, +there were a dozen ways you could have been robbed. It seems to me you +value other men's reputations very lightly. + +DE LEVIS. Confront me with Dancy and give me fair play. + +WINSOR. [Aside to CANYNGE] Is it fair to Dancy not to let him know? + +CANYNGE. Our duty is to the Club now, WINSOR. We must have this cleared +up. + + COLFORD comes in, followed by BORRING and DANCY. + +ST ERTH. Captain Dancy, a serious accusation has been made against you +by this gentleman in the presence of several members of the Club. + +DANCY. What is it? + +ST ERTH. That you robbed him of that money at WINSOR's. + +DANCY. [Hard and tense] Indeed! On what grounds is he good enough to +say that? + +DE LEVIS. [Tense too] You gave me that filly to save yourself her keep, +and you've been mad about it ever since; you knew from Goole that I had +sold her to Kentman and been paid in cash, yet I heard you myself deny +that you knew it. You had the next room to me, and you can jump like a +cat, as we saw that evening; I found some creepers crushed by a weight on +my balcony on that side. When I went to the bath your door was open, and +when I came back it was shut. + +CANYNGE. That's the first we have heard about the door. + +DE LEVIS. I remembered it afterwards. + +ST ERTH. Well, Dancy? + +DANCY. [With intense deliberation] I'll settle this matter with any +weapons, when and where he likes. + +ST ERTH. [Drily] It can't be settled that way--you know very well. +You must take it to the Courts, unless he retracts. + +DANCY. Will you retract? + +DE LEVIS. Why did you tell General Canynge you didn't know Kentman had +paid me in cash? + +DANCY. Because I didn't. + +DE LEVIS. Then Kentman and Goole lied--for no reason? + +DANCY. That's nothing to do with me. + +DE LEVIS. If you were downstairs all the time, as you say, why was your +door first open and then shut? + +DANCY. Being downstairs, how should I know? The wind, probably. + +DE LEVIS. I should like to hear what your wife says about it. + +DANCY. Leave my wife alone, you damned Jew! + +ST ERTH. Captain Dancy! + +DE LEVIS. [White with rage] Thief! + +DANCY. Will you fight? + +DE LEVIS. You're very smart-dead men tell no tales. No! Bring your +action, and we shall see. + + DANCY takes a step towards him, but CANYNGE and WINSOR interpose. + +ST ERTH. That'll do, Mr De Levis; we won't keep you. [He looks round] +Kindly consider your membership suspended till this matter has been +threshed out. + +DE LEVIS. [Tremulous with anger] Don't trouble yourselves about my +membership. I resign it. [To DANCY] You called me a damned Jew. My +race was old when you were all savages. I am proud to be a Jew. Au +revoir, in the Courts. + + He goes out, and silence follows his departure. + +ST ERTH. Well, Captain Dancy? + +DANCY. If the brute won't fight, what am I to do, sir? + +ST ERTH. We've told you--take action, to clear your name. + +DANCY. Colford, you saw me in the hall writing letters after our game. + +COLFORD. Certainly I did; you were there when I went to the +smoking-room. + +CANYNGE. How long after you left the billiard-room? + +COLFORD. About five minutes. + +DANCY. It's impossible for me to prove that I was there all the time. + +CANYNGE. It's for De Levis to prove what he asserts. You heard what he +said about Goole? + +DANCY. If he told me, I didn't take it in. + +ST ERTH. This concerns the honour of the Club. Are you going to take +action? + +DANCY. [Slowly] That is a very expensive business, Lord St Erth, and +I'm hard up. I must think it over. [He looks round from face to face] +Am I to take it that there is a doubt in your minds, gentlemen? + +COLFORD. [Emphatically] No. + +CANYNGE. That's not the question, Dancy. This accusation was overheard +by various members, and we represent the Club. If you don't take action, +judgment will naturally go by default. + +DANCY. I might prefer to look on the whole thing as beneath contempt. + + He turns and goes out. When he is gone there is an even longer + silence than after DE LEVIS's departure. + +ST ERTH. [Abruptly] I don't like it. + +WINSOR. I've known him all his life. + +COLFORD. You may have my head if he did it, Lord St Erth. He and I have +been in too many holes together. By Gad! My toe itches for that +fellow's butt end. + +BORRING. I'm sorry; but has he t-taken it in quite the right way? I +should have thought--hearing it s-suddenly-- + +COLFORD. Bosh! + +WINSOR. It's perfectly damnable for him. + +ST ERTH. More damnable if he did it, WINSOR. + +BORRING. The Courts are b-beastly distrustful, don't you know. + +COLFORD. His word's good enough for me. + +CANYNGE. We're as anxious to believe Dancy as you, Colford, for the +honour of the Army and the Club. + +WINSOR. Of course, he'll bring a case, when he's thought it over. + +ST ERTH. What are we to do in the meantime? + +COLFORD. If Dancy's asked to resign, you may take my resignation too. + +BORRING. I thought his wanting to f-fight him a bit screeny. + +COLFORD. Wouldn't you have wanted a shot at the brute? A law court? +Pah! + +WINSOR. Yes. What'll be his position even if he wins? + +BORRING. Damages, and a stain on his c-character. + +WINSOR. Quite so, unless they find the real thief. People always +believe the worst. + +COLFORD. [Glaring at BORRING] They do. + +CANYNGE. There is no decent way out of a thing of this sort. + +ST ERTH. No. [Rising] It leaves a bad taste. I'm sorry for young Mrs +Dancy--poor woman! + +BORRING. Are you going to play any more? + +ST ERTH. [Abruptly] No, sir. Good night to you. Canynge, can I give +you a lift? + + He goes out, followed by CANYNGE. BORRING. + +[After a slight pause] Well, I shall go and take the t-temperature of +the Club. + + He goes out. + +COLFORD. Damn that effeminate stammering chap! What can we do for +Dancy, WINSOR? + +WINSOR. Colford! [A slight pause] The General felt his coat sleeve +that night, and it was wet. + +COLFORD. Well! What proof's that? No, by George! An old +school-fellow, a brother officer, and a pal. + +WINSOR. If he did do it-- + +COLFORD. He didn't. But if he did, I'd stick to him, and see him +through it, if I could. + + WINSOR walks over to the fire, stares into it, turns round and + stares at COLFORD, who is standing motionless. + +COLFORD. Yes, by God! + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +SCENE II + [NOTE.--This should be a small set capable of being set quickly + within that of the previous scene.] + + Morning of the following day. The DANCYS' flat. In the + sitting-room of this small abode MABEL DANCY and MARGARET ORME + are sitting full face to the audience, on a couch in the centre + of the room, in front of the imaginary window. There is a + fireplace, Left, with fire burning; a door below it, Left; and a + door on the Right, facing the audience, leads to a corridor and + the outer door of the flat, which is visible. Their voices are + heard in rapid exchange; then as the curtain rises, so does + MABEL. + +MABEL. But it's monstrous! + +MARGARET. Of course! [She lights a cigarette and hands the case to +MABEL, who, however, sees nothing but her own thoughts] De Levis might +just as well have pitched on me, except that I can't jump more than six +inches in these skirts. + +MABEL. It's wicked! Yesterday afternoon at the Club, did you say? +Ronny hasn't said a word to me. Why? + +MARGARET. [With a long puff of smoke] Doesn't want you bothered. + +MABEL. But----Good heavens!----Me! + +MARGARET. Haven't you found out, Mabel, that he isn't exactly +communicative? No desperate character is. + +MABEL. Ronny? + +MARGARET. Gracious! Wives are at a disadvantage, especially early on. +You've never hunted with him, my dear. I have. He takes more sudden +decisions than any man I ever knew. He's taking one now, I'll bet. + +MABEL. That beast, De Levis! I was in our room next door all the time. + +MARGARET. Was the door into Ronny's dressing-room open? + +MABEL. I don't know; I--I think it was. + +MARGARET. Well, you can say so in Court any way. Not that it matters. +Wives are liars by law. + +MABEL. [Staring down at her] What do you mean--Court? + +MARGARET. My dear, he'll have to bring an action for defamation of +character, or whatever they call it. + +MABEL. Were they talking of this last night at the WINSOR's? + +MARGARET. Well, you know a dinner-table, Mabel--Scandal is heaven-sent +at this time of year. + +MABEL. It's terrible, such a thing--terrible! + +MARGARET. [Gloomily] If only Ronny weren't known to be so broke. + +MABEL. [With her hands to her forehead] I can't realise--I simply can't. +If there's a case would it be all right afterwards? + +MARGARET. Do you remember St Offert--cards? No, you wouldn't--you were +in high frocks. Well, St Offert got damages, but he also got the hoof, +underneath. He lives in Ireland. There isn't the slightest connection, +so far as I can see, Mabel, between innocence and reputation. Look at +me! + +MABEL. We'll fight it tooth and nail! + +MARGARET. Mabel, you're pure wool, right through; everybody's sorry for +you. + +MABEL. It's for him they ought-- + +MARGARET. [Again handing the cigarette case] Do smoke, old thing. + + MABEL takes a cigarette this time, but does not light it. + +It isn't altogether simple. General Canynge was there last night. You +don't mind my being beastly frank, do you? + +MABEL. No. I want it. + +MARGARET. Well, he's all for esprit de corps and that. But he was +awfully silent. + +MABEL. I hate half-hearted friends. Loyalty comes before everything. + +MARGARET. Ye-es; but loyalties cut up against each other sometimes, you +know. + +MABEL. I must see Ronny. D'you mind if I go and try to get him on the +telephone? + +MARGARET. Rather not. + + MABEL goes out by the door Left. + +Poor kid! + + She curls herself into a corner of the sofa, as if trying to get + away from life. The bell rings. MARGARET stirs, gets up, and goes + out into the corridor, where she opens the door to LADY ADELA + WINSOR, whom she precedes into the sitting-room. + +Enter the second murderer! D'you know that child knew nothing? + +LADY A. Where is she? + +MARGARET. Telephoning. Adela, if there's going to be an action, we +shall be witnesses. I shall wear black georgette with an ecru hat. Have +you ever given evidence? + +LADY A. Never. + +MARGARET. It must be too frightfully thrilling. + +LADY A. Oh! Why did I ever ask that wretch De Levis? I used to think +him pathetic. Meg did you know----Ronald Dancy's coat was wet? The +General happened to feel it. + +MARGARET. So that's why he was so silent. + +LADY A. Yes; and after the scene in the Club yesterday he went to see +those bookmakers, and Goole--what a name!--is sure he told Dancy about +the sale. + +MARGARET. [Suddenly] I don't care. He's my third cousin. Don't you +feel you couldn't, Adela? + +LADY A. Couldn't--what? + +MARGARET. Stand for De Levis against one of ourselves? + +LADY A. That's very narrow, Meg. + +MARGARET. Oh! I know lots of splendid Jews, and I rather liked little +Ferdy; but when it comes to the point--! They all stick together; why +shouldn't we? It's in the blood. Open your jugular, and see if you +haven't got it. + +LADY A. My dear, my great grandmother was a Jewess. I'm very proud of +her. + +MARGARET. Inoculated. [Stretching herself] Prejudices, Adela--or are +they loyalties--I don't know--cris-cross--we all cut each other's throats +from the best of motives. + +LADY A. Oh! I shall remember that. Delightful! [Holding up a finger] +You got it from Bergson, Meg. Isn't he wonderful? + +MARGARET. Yes; have you ever read him? + +LADY A. Well--No. [Looking at the bedroom door] That poor child! I +quite agree. I shall tell every body it's ridiculous. You don't really +think Ronald Dancy--? + +MARGARET. I don't know, Adela. There are people who simply can't live +without danger. I'm rather like that myself. They're all right when +they're getting the D.S.O. or shooting man-eaters; but if there's no +excitement going, they'll make it--out of sheer craving. I've seen Ronny +Dancy do the maddest things for no mortal reason except the risk. He's +had a past, you know. + +LADY A. Oh! Do tell! + +MARGARET. He did splendidly in the war, of course, because it suited +him; but--just before--don't you remember--a very queer bit of riding? + +LADY A. No. + +MARGARET. Most dare-devil thing--but not quite. You must remember-- +it was awfully talked about. And then, of course, right up to his +marriage--[She lights a cigarette.] + +LADY A. Meg, you're very tantalising! + +MARGARET. A foreign-looking girl--most plummy. Oh! Ronny's got charm +--this Mabel child doesn't know in the least what she's got hold of! + +LADY A. But they're so fond of each other! + +MARGARET. That's the mistake. The General isn't mentioning the coat, is +he? + +LADY A. Oh, no! It was only to Charles. + + MABEL returns. + +MARGARET. Did you get him? + +MABEL. No; he's not at Tattersall's, nor at the Club. + + LADY ADELA rises and greets her with an air which suggests + bereavement. + +LADY A. Nobody's going to believe this, my dear. + +MABEL. [Looking straight at her] Nobody who does need come here, or +trouble to speak to us again. + +LADY A. That's what I was afraid of; you're going to be defiant. Now +don't! Just be perfectly natural. + +MABEL. So easy, isn't it? I could kill anybody who believes such a +thing. + +MARGARET. You'll want a solicitor, Mabel, Go to old Mr Jacob Twisden. + +LADY A. Yes; he's so comforting. + +MARGARET. He got my pearls back once--without loss of life. A +frightfully good fireside manner. Do get him here, Mabel, and have a +heart-to-heart talk, all three of you! + +MABEL. [Suddenly] Listen! There's Ronny! + + DANCY comes in. + +DANCY. [With a smile] Very good of you to have come. + +MARGARET. Yes. We're just going. Oh! Ronny, this is quite too-- +[But his face dries her up; and sidling past, she goes]. + +LADY A. Charles sent his-love--[Her voice dwindles on the word, and she, +too, goes]. + +DANCY. [Crossing to his wife] What have they been saying? + +MABEL. Ronny! Why didn't you tell me? + +DANCY. I wanted to see De Levis again first. + +MABEL. That wretch! How dare he? Darling! [She suddenly clasps and +kisses him. He does not return the kiss, but remains rigid in her arms, +so that she draws away and looks at him] It's hurt you awfully, I know. + +DANCY. Look here, Mabel! Apart from that muck--this is a ghastly +tame-cat sort of life. Let's cut it and get out to Nairobi. I can scare +up the money for that. + +MABEL. [Aghast] But how can we? Everybody would say-- + +RONNY. Let them! We shan't be here. + +MABEL. I couldn't bear people to think-- + +DANCY. I don't care a damn what people think monkeys and cats. I never +could stand their rotten menagerie. Besides, what does it matter how I +act; if I bring an action and get damages--if I pound him to a jelly-- +it's all no good! I can't prove it. There'll be plenty of people +unconvinced. + +MABEL. But they'll find the real thief. + +DANCY. [With a queer little smile] Will staying here help them to do +that? + +MABEL. [In a sort of agony] Oh! I couldn't--it looks like running +away. We must stay and fight it! + +DANCY. Suppose I didn't get a verdict--you never can tell. + +MABEL. But you must--I was there all the time, with the door open. + +DANCY. Was it? + +MABEL. I'm almost sure. + +DANCY. Yes. But you're my wife. + +MABEL. [Bewildered] Ronny, I don't understand--suppose I'd been accused +of stealing pearls! + +DANCY. [Wincing] I can't. + +MABEL. But I might--just as easily. What would you think of me if I ran +away from it? + +DANCY. I see. [A pause] All right! You shall have a run for your +money. I'll go and see old Twisden. + +MABEL. Let me come! [DANCY shakes his head] Why not? I can't be happy +a moment unless I'm fighting this. + + DANCY puts out his hand suddenly and grips hers. + +DANCY. You are a little brick! + +MABEL. [Pressing his hand to her breast and looking into his face] +Do you know what Margaret called you? + +RONNY. No. + +MABEL. A desperate character. + +DANCY. Ha! I'm not a tame cat, any more than she. + + The bell rings. MABEL goes out to the door and her voice is heard + saying coldly. + +MABEL. Will you wait a minute, please? Returning. It's De Levis--to +see you. [In a low voice] Let me see him alone first. Just for a +minute! Do! + +DANCY. [After a moment's silence] Go ahead! He goes out into the +bedroom. + +MABEL. [Going to the door, Right] Come in. + + DE LEVIS comes in, and stands embarrassed. + +Yes? + +DE LEVIS. [With a slight bow] Your husband, Mrs Dancy? + +MABEL. He is in. Why do you want to see him? + +DE LEVIS. He came round to my rooms just now, when I was out. He +threatened me yesterday. I don't choose him to suppose I'm afraid of +him. + +MABEL. [With a great and manifest effort at self-control] Mr De Levis, +you are robbing my husband of his good name. + +DE LEVIS. [Sincerely] I admire your trustfulness, Mrs Dancy. + +MABEL. [Staring at him] How can you do it? What do you want? What's +your motive? You can't possibly believe that my husband is a thief! + +DE LEVIS. Unfortunately. + +MABEL. How dare you? How dare you? Don't you know that I was in our +bedroom all the time with the door open? Do you accuse me too? + +DE LEVIS. No, Mrs Dancy. + +MABEL. But you do. I must have seen, I must have heard. + +DE LEVIS. A wife's memory is not very good when her husband is in +danger. + +MABEL. In other words, I'm lying. + +DE LEVIS. No. Your wish is mother to your thought, that's all. + +MABEL. [After staring again with a sort of horror, turns to get control +of herself. Then turning back to him] Mr De Levis, I appeal to you as a +gentleman to behave to us as you would we should behave to you. Withdraw +this wicked charge, and write an apology that Ronald can show. + +DE LEVIS. Mrs Dancy, I am not a gentleman, I am only a--damned Jew. +Yesterday I might possibly have withdrawn to spare you. But when my race +is insulted I have nothing to say to your husband, but as he wishes to +see me, I've come. Please let him know. + +MABEL. [Regarding him again with that look of horror--slowly] I think +what you are doing is too horrible for words. + + DE LEVIS gives her a slight bow, and as he does so DANCY comes + quickly in, Left. The two men stand with the length of the sofa + between them. MABEL, behind the sofa, turns her eyes on her + husband, who has a paper in his right hand. + +DE LEVIS. You came to see me. + +DANCY. Yes. I want you to sign this. + +DE LEVIS. I will sign nothing. + +DANCY. Let me read it: "I apologise to Captain Dancy for the reckless +and monstrous charge I made against him, and I retract every word of it." + +DE LEVIS. Not much! + +DANCY. You will sign. + +DE LEVIS. I tell you this is useless. I will sign nothing. The charge +is true; you wouldn't be playing this game if it weren't. I'm going. +You'll hardly try violence in the presence of your wife; and if you try +it anywhere else--look out for yourself. + +DANCY. Mabel, I want to speak to him alone. + +MABEL. No, no! + +DE LEVIS. Quite right, Mrs Dancy. Black and tan swashbuckling will only +make things worse for him. + +DANCY. So you shelter behind a woman, do you, you skulking cur! + + DE LEVIS takes a step, with fists clenched and eyes blazing. DANCY, + too, stands ready to spring--the moment is cut short by MABEL going + quickly to her husband. + +MABEL. Don't, Ronny. It's undignified! He isn't worth it. + + DANCY suddenly tears the paper in two, and flings it into the fire. + +DANCY. Get out of here, you swine! + + DE LEVIS stands a moment irresolute, then, turning to the door, he + opens it, stands again for a moment with a smile on his face, then + goes. MABEL crosses swiftly to the door, and shuts it as the outer + door closes. Then she stands quite still, looking at her husband + --her face expressing a sort of startled suspense. + +DANCY. [Turning and looking at her] Well! Do you agree with him? + +MABEL. What do you mean? + +DANCY. That I wouldn't be playing this game unless-- + +MABEL. Don't! You hurt me! + +DANCY. Yes. You don't know much of me, Mabel. + +MABEL. Ronny! + +DANCY. What did you say to that swine? + +MABEL. [Her face averted] That he was robbing us. [Turning to him +suddenly] Ronny--you--didn't? I'd rather know. + +DANCY. Ha! I thought that was coming. + +MABEL. [Covering her face] Oh! How horrible of me--how horrible! + +DANCY. Not at all. The thing looks bad. + +MABEL. [Dropping her hands] If I can't believe in you, who can? +[Going to him, throwing her arms round him, and looking up into his face] +Ronny! If all the world--I'd believe in you. You know I would. + +DANCY. That's all right, Mabs! That's all right! [His face, above her +head, is contorted for a moment, then hardens into a mask] Well, what +shall we do? Let's go to that lawyer--let's go-- + +MABEL. Oh! at once! + +DANCY. All right. Get your hat on. + + MABEL passes him, and goes into the bedroom, Left. DANCY, left + alone, stands quite still, staring before him. With a sudden shrug + of his shoulders he moves quickly to his hat and takes it up just as + MABEL returns, ready to go out. He opens the door; and crossing + him, she stops in the doorway, looking up with a clear and trustful + gaze as + + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + +ACT III + +SCENE I + + Three months later. Old MR JACOB TWISDEN's Room, at the offices of + Twisden & Graviter, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, is spacious, with two + large windows at back, a fine old fireplace, Right, a door below it, + and two doors, Left. Between the windows is a large table sideways + to the window wall, with a chair in the middle on the right-hand + side, a chair against the wall, and a client's chair on the + left-hand side. + + GRAVITER, TWISDEN'S much younger partner, is standing in front of + the right-hand window looking out on to the Fields, where the lamps + are being lighted, and a taxi's engine is running down below. He + turns his sanguine, shrewd face from the window towards a + grandfather dock, between the doors, Left, which is striking "four." + The door, Left Forward, is opened. + +YOUNG CLERK. [Entering] A Mr Gilman, sir, to see Mr Twisden. + +GRAVITER. By appointment? + +YOUNG CLERK. No, sir. But important, he says. + +GRAVITER. I'll see him. + + The CLERK goes. GRAVITER sits right of table. The CLERK returns, + ushering in an oldish MAN, who looks what he is, the proprietor of a + large modern grocery store. He wears a dark overcoat and carries a + pot hat. His gingery-grey moustache and mutton-chop whiskers give + him the expression of a cat. + +GRAVITER. [Sizing up his social standing] Mr Gilman? Yes. + +GILMAN. [Doubtfully] Mr Jacob Twisden? + +GRAVITER. [Smiling] His partner. Graviter my name is. + +GILMAN. Mr Twisden's not in, then? + +GRAVITER. No. He's at the Courts. They're just up; he should be in +directly. But he'll be busy. + +GILMAN. Old Mr Jacob Twisden--I've heard of him. + +GRAVITER. Most people have. + +GILMAN. It's this Dancy-De Levis case that's keepin' him at the Courts, +I suppose? + + GRAVITER nods. + +Won't be finished for a day or two? + + GRAVITER shakes his head. No. + +Astonishin' the interest taken in it. + +GRAVITER. As you say. + +GILMAN. The Smart Set, eh? This Captain Dancy got the D.S.O., didn't +he? + + GRAVITER nods. + +Sad to have a thing like that said about you. I thought he gave his +evidence well; and his wife too. Looks as if this De Levis had got some +private spite. Searchy la femme, I said to Mrs Gilman only this morning, +before I-- + +GRAVITER. By the way, sir, what is your business? + +GILMAN. Well, my business here--No, if you'll excuse me, I'd rather +wait and see old Mr Jacob Twisden. It's delicate, and I'd like his +experience. + +GRAVITER. [With a shrug] Very well; then, perhaps, you'll go in there. +[He moves towards the door, Left Back]. + +GILMAN. Thank you. [Following] You see, I've never been mixed up with +the law-- + +GRAVITER. [Opening the door] No? + +GILMAN. And I don't want to begin. When you do, you don't know where +you'll stop, do you? You see, I've only come from a sense of duty; and +--other reasons. + +GRAVITER. Not uncommon. + +GILMAN. [Producing card] This is my card. Gilman's--several branches, +but this is the 'ead. + +GRAVITER. [Scrutinising card] Exactly. + +GILMAN. Grocery--I daresay you know me; or your wife does. They say old +Mr Jacob Twisden refused a knighthood. If it's not a rude question, why +was that? + +GRAVITER. Ask him, sir; ask him. + +GILMAN. I said to my wife at the time, "He's holdin' out for a +baronetcy." + + GRAVITER Closes the door with an exasperated smile. + +YOUNG CLERK. [Opening the door, Left Forward] Mr WINSOR, sir, and Miss +Orme. + + They enter, and the CLERK withdraws. + +GRAVITER. How d'you do, Miss Orme? How do you do, WINSOR? + +WINSOR. Twisden not back, Graviter? + +GRAVITER. Not yet. + +WINSOR. Well, they've got through De Levis's witnesses. Sir Frederick +was at the very top of his form. It's looking quite well. But I hear +they've just subpoenaed Canynge after all. His evidence is to be taken +to-morrow. + +GRAVITER. Oho! + +WINSOR. I said Dancy ought to have called him. + +GRAVITER. We considered it. Sir Frederic decided that he could use him +better in cross-examination. + +WINSOR. Well! I don't know that. Can I go and see him before he gives +evidence to-morrow? + +GRAVITER. I should like to hear Mr Jacob on that, WINSOR. He'll be in +directly. + +WINSOR. They had Kentman, and Goole, the Inspector, the other bobby, my +footman, Dancy's banker, and his tailor. + +GRAVITER. Did we shake Kentman or Goole? + +WINSOR. Very little. Oh! by the way, the numbers of those two notes +were given, and I see they're published in the evening papers. I suppose +the police wanted that. I tell you what I find, Graviter--a general +feeling that there's something behind it all that doesn't come out. + +GRAVITER. The public wants it's money's worth--always does in these +Society cases; they brew so long beforehand, you see. + +WINSOR. They're looking for something lurid. + +MARGARET. When I was in the bog, I thought they were looking for me. +[Taking out her cigarette case] I suppose I mustn't smoke, Mr Graviter? + +GRAVITER. Do! + +MARGARET. Won't Mr Jacob have a fit? + +GRAVITER. Yes, but not till you've gone. + +MARGARET. Just a whiff. [She lights a cigarette]. + +WINSOR. [Suddenly] It's becoming a sort of Dreyfus case--people taking +sides quite outside the evidence. + +MARGARET. There are more of the chosen in Court every day. Mr Graviter, +have you noticed the two on the jury? + +GRAVITER. [With a smile] No; I can't say-- + +MARGARET. Oh! but quite distinctly. Don't you think they ought to have +been challenged? + +GRAVITER. De Levis might have challenged the other ten, Miss Orme. + +MARGARET. Dear me, now! I never thought of that. + + As she speaks, the door Left Forward is opened and old MR JACOB + TWISDEN comes in. He is tallish and narrow, sixty-eight years old, + grey, with narrow little whiskers curling round his narrow ears, and + a narrow bow-ribbon curling round his collar. He wears a long, + narrow-tailed coat, and strapped trousers on his narrow legs. His + nose and face are narrow, shrewd, and kindly. He has a way of + narrowing his shrewd and kindly eyes. His nose is seen to twitch + and snig. + +TWISDEN. Ah! How are you, Charles? How do you do, my dear? + +MARGARET. Dear Mr Jacob, I'm smoking. Isn't it disgusting? But they +don't allow it in Court, you know. Such a pity! The Judge might have a +hookah. Oh! wouldn't he look sweet--the darling! + +TWISDEN. [With a little, old-fashioned bow] It does not become everybody +as it becomes you, Margaret. + +MARGARET. Mr Jacob, how charming! [With a slight grimace she puts out +her cigarette]. + +GRAVITER. Man called Gilman waiting in there to see you specially. + +TWISDEN. Directly. Turn up the light, would you, Graviter? + +GRAVITER. [Turning up the light] Excuse me. + + He goes. + +WINSOR. Look here, Mr Twisden-- + +TWISDEN. Sit down; sit down, my dear. + + And he himself sits behind the table, as a cup of tea is brought in + to him by the YOUNG CLERK, with two Marie biscuits in the saucer. + +Will you have some, Margaret? + +MARGARET. No, dear Mr Jacob. + +TWISDEN. Charles? + +WINSOR. No, thanks. The door is closed. + +TWISDEN. [Dipping a biscuit in the tea] Now, then? + +WINSOR. The General knows something which on the face of it looks rather +queer. Now that he's going to be called, oughtn't Dancy to be told of +it, so that he may be ready with his explanation, in case it comes out? + +TWISDEN. [Pouring some tea into the saucer] Without knowing, I can't +tell you. + + WINSOR and MARGARET exchange looks, and TWISDEN drinks from the + saucer. MARGARET. Tell him, Charles. + +WINSOR. Well! It rained that evening at Meldon. The General happened +to put his hand on Dancy's shoulder, and it was damp. + + TWISDEN puts the saucer down and replaces the cup in it. They both + look intently at him. + +TWISDEN. I take it that General Canynge won't say anything he's not +compelled to say. + +MARGARET. No, of course; but, Mr Jacob, they might ask; they know it +rained. And he is such a George Washington. + +TWISDEN. [Toying with a pair of tortoise-shell glasses] They didn't ask +either of you. Still-no harm in your telling Dancy. + +WINSOR. I'd rather you did it, Margaret. + +MARGARET. I daresay. [She mechanically takes out her cigarette-case, +catches the lift of TWISDEN'S eyebrows, and puts it back]. + +WINSOR. Well, we'll go together. I don't want Mrs Dancy to hear. + +MARGARET. Do tell me, Mr Jacob; is he going to win? + +TWISDEN. I think so, Margaret; I think so. + +MARGARET. It'll be too--frightful if he doesn't get a verdict, after all +this. But I don't know what we shall do when it's over. I've been +sitting in that Court all these three days, watching, and it's made me +feel there's nothing we like better than seeing people skinned. Well, +bye-bye, bless you! + + TWISDEN rises and pats her hand. + +WINSOR. Half a second, Margaret. Wait for me. She nods and goes out. +Mr Twisden, what do you really think? + +TWISDEN. I am Dancy's lawyer, my dear Charles, as well as yours. + +WINSOR. Well, can I go and see Canynge? + +TWISDEN. Better not. + +WINSOR. If they get that out of him, and recall me, am I to say he told +me of it at the time? + +TWISDEN. You didn't feel the coat yourself? And Dancy wasn't present? +Then what Canynge told you is not evidence--he'll stop your being asked. + +WINSOR. Thank goodness. Good-bye! + + WINSOR goes out. + + TWISDEN, behind his table, motionless, taps his teeth with the + eyeglasses in his narrow, well-kept hand. After a long shake of his + head and a shrug of his rather high shoulders he snips, goes to the + window and opens it. Then crossing to the door, Left Back, he + throws it open and says + +TWISDEN. At your service, sir. + + GILMAN comes forth, nursing his pot hat. + +Be seated. + + TWISDEN closes the window behind him, and takes his seat. + +GILMAN. [Taking the client's chair, to the left of the table] Mr +Twisden, I believe? My name's Gilman, head of Gilman's Department +Stores. You have my card. + +TWISDEN. [Looking at the card] Yes. What can we do for you? + +GILMAN. Well, I've come to you from a sense of duty, sir, and also a +feelin' of embarrassment. [He takes from his breast pocket an evening +paper] You see, I've been followin' this Dancy case--it's a good deal +talked of in Putney--and I read this at half-past two this afternoon. To +be precise, at 2.25. [He rises and hands the paper to TWISDEN, and with +a thick gloved forefinger indicates a passage] When I read these numbers, +I 'appened to remember givin' change for a fifty-pound note--don't often +'ave one in, you know--so I went to the cash-box out of curiosity, to see +that I 'adn't got it. Well, I 'ad; and here it is. [He draws out from +his breast pocket and lays before TWISDEN a fifty-pound banknote] It was +brought in to change by a customer of mine three days ago, and he got +value for it. Now, that's a stolen note, it seems, and you'd like to +know what I did. Mind you, that customer of mine I've known 'im--well-- +eight or nine years; an Italian he is--wine salesman, and so far's I +know, a respectable man-foreign-lookin', but nothin' more. Now, this was +at 'alf-past two, and I was at my head branch at Putney, where I live. +I want you to mark the time, so as you'll see I 'aven't wasted a minute. +I took a cab and I drove straight to my customer's private residence in +Putney, where he lives with his daughter--Ricardos his name is, Paolio +Ricardos. They tell me there that he's at his business shop in the City. +So off I go in the cab again, and there I find him. Well, sir, I showed +this paper to him and I produced the note. "Here," I said, "you brought +this to me and you got value for it." Well, that man was taken aback. +If I'm a judge, Mr Twisden, he was taken aback, not to speak in a guilty +way, but he was, as you might say, flummoxed. "Now," I said to him, +"where did you get it--that's the point?" He took his time to answer, +and then he said: "Well, Mr Gilman," he said, "you know me; I am an +honourable man. I can't tell you offhand, but I am above the board." +He's foreign, you know, in his expressions. "Yes," I said, "that's all +very well," I said, "but here I've got a stolen note and you've got the +value for it. Now I tell you," I said, "what I'm going to do; I'm going +straight with this note to Mr Jacob Twisden, who's got this Dancy-De +Levis case in 'and. He's a well-known Society lawyer," I said, "of great +experience." "Oh!" he said, "that is what you do?"--funny the way he +speaks! "Then I come with you!"--And I've got him in the cab below. +I want to tell you everything before he comes up. On the way I tried to +get something out of him, but I couldn't--I could not. "This is very +awkward," I said at last. "It is, Mr Gilman," was his reply; and he +began to talk about his Sicilian claret--a very good wine, mind you; but +under the circumstances it seemed to me uncalled for. Have I made it +clear to you? + +TWISDEN. [Who has listened with extreme attention] Perfectly, Mr Gilman. +I'll send down for him. [He touches a hand-bell]. + + The YOUNG CLERK appears at the door, Left Forward. + +A gentleman in a taxi-waiting. Ask him to be so good as to step up. Oh! +and send Mr Graviter here again. + + The YOUNG CLERK goes out. + +GILMAN. As I told you, sir, I've been followin' this case. It's what +you might call piquant. And I should be very glad if it came about that +this helped Captain Dancy. I take an interest, because, to tell you the +truth, [Confidentially] I don't like--well, not to put too fine a point +upon it 'Ebrews. They work harder; they're more sober; they're honest; +and they're everywhere. I've nothing against them, but the fact is--they +get on so. + +TWISDEN. [Cocking an eye] A thorn in the flesh, Mr Gilman. + +GILMAN. Well, I prefer my own countrymen, and that's the truth of it. + + As he speaks, GRAVITER comes in by the door Left Forward. + +TWISDEN. [Pointing to the newspaper and the note] Mr Gilman has brought +this, of which he is holder for value. His customer, who changed it +three days ago, is coming up. + +GRAVITER. The fifty-pounder. I see. [His face is long and reflective]. + +YOUNG CLERK. [Entering] Mr Ricardos, sir. + + He goes out. RICARDOS is a personable, Italian-looking man in a + frock coat, with a dark moustachioed face and dark hair a little + grizzled. He looks anxious, and bows. + +TWISDEN. Mr Ricardos? My name is Jacob Twisden. My partner. [Holding +up a finger, as RICARDOS would speak] Mr Gilman has told us about this +note. You took it to him, he says, three days ago; that is, on Monday, +and received cash for it? + +RICARDOS. Yes, sare. + +TWISDEN. You were not aware that it was stolen? + +RICARDOS. [With his hand to his breast] Oh! no, sare. + +TWISDEN. You received it from--? + +RICARDOS. A minute, sare; I would weesh to explain--[With an expressive +shrug] in private. + +TWISDEN. [Nodding] Mr Gilman, your conduct has been most prompt. You +may safely leave the matter in our hands, now. Kindly let us retain +this note; and ask for my cashier as you go out and give him [He writes] +this. He will reimburse you. We will take any necessary steps +ourselves. + +GILMAN. [In slight surprise, with modest pride] Well, sir, I'm in your +'ands. I must be guided by you, with your experience. I'm glad you +think I acted rightly. + +TWISDEN. Very rightly, Mr Gilman--very rightly. [Rising] +Good afternoon! + +GILMAN. Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon, gentlemen! [To TWISDEN] +I'm sure I'm very 'appy to have made your acquaintance, sir. It's a +well-known name. + +TWISDEN. Thank you. + + GILMAN retreats, glances at RICARDOS, and turns again. + +GILMAN. I suppose there's nothing else I ought to do, in the interests +of the law? I'm a careful man. + +TWISDEN. If there is, Mr Gilman, we will let you know. We have your +address. You may make your mind easy; but don't speak of this. It might +interfere with Justice. + +GILMAN. Oh! I shouldn't dream of it. I've no wish to be mixed up in +anything conspicuous. That's not my principle at all. Good-day, +gentlemen. + + He goes. + +TWISDEN. [Seating himself] Now, sir, will you sit down. + + But RICARDOS does not sit; he stands looking uneasily across the + table at GRAVITER. + +You may speak out. + +RICARDOS. Well, Mr Tweesden and sare, this matter is very serious for +me, and very delicate--it concairns my honour. I am in a great +difficulty. + +TWISDEN. When in difficulty--complete frankness, sir. + +RICARDOS. It is a family matter, sare, I-- + +TWISDEN. Let me be frank with you. [Telling his points off on his +fingers] We have your admission that you changed this stopped note for +value. It will be our duty to inform the Bank of England that it has +been traced to you. You will have to account to them for your possession +of it. I suggest to you that it will be far better to account frankly to +us. + +RICARDOS. [Taking out a handkerchief and quite openly wiping his hands +and forehead] I received this note, sare, with others, from a gentleman, +sare, in settlement of a debt of honour, and I know nothing of where he +got them. + +TWISDEN. H'm! that is very vague. If that is all you can tell us, I'm +afraid-- + +RICARDOS. Gentlemen, this is very painful for me. It is my daughter's +good name--[He again wipes his brow]. + +TWISDEN. Come, sir, speak out! + +RICARDOS. [Desperately] The notes were a settlement to her from this +gentleman, of whom she was a great friend. + +TWISDEN. [Suddenly] I am afraid we must press you for the name of the +gentleman. + +RICARDOS. Sare, if I give it to you, and it does 'im 'arm, what will my +daughter say? This is a bad matter for me. He behaved well to her; and +she is attached to him still; sometimes she is crying yet because she +lost him. And now we betray him, perhaps, who knows? This is very +unpleasant for me. [Taking up the paper] Here it gives the number of +another note--a 'undred-pound note. I 'ave that too. [He takes a note +from his breast pocket]. + +GRAVITER. How much did he give you in all? + +RICARDOS. For my daughter's settlement one thousand pounds. I +understand he did not wish to give a cheque because of his marriage. +So I did not think anything about it being in notes, you see. + +TWISDEN. When did he give you this money? + +RICARDOS. The middle of Octobare last. + +TWISDEN. [Suddenly looking up] Mr Ricardos, was it Captain Dancy? + +RICARDOS. [Again wiping his forehead] Gentlemen, I am so fond of my +daughter. I have only the one, and no wife. + +TWISDEN. [With an effort] Yes, yes; but I must know. + +RICARDOS. Sare, if I tell you, will you give me your good word that my +daughter shall not hear of it? + +TWISDEN. So far as we are able to prevent it--certainly. + +RICARDOS. Sare, I trust you.--It was Captain Dancy. + + A long pause. + +GRAVITER [Suddenly] Were you blackmailing him? + +TWISDEN. [Holding up his hand] My partner means, did you press him for +this settlement? + +RICARDOS. I did think it my duty to my daughter to ask that he make +compensation to her. + +TWISDEN. With threats that you would tell his wife? + +RICARDOS. [With a shrug] Captain Dancy was a man of honour. He said: +"Of course I will do this." I trusted him. And a month later I did +remind him, and he gave me this money for her. I do not know where he +got it--I do not know. Gentlemen, I have invested it all on her--every +penny-except this note, for which I had the purpose to buy her a +necklace. That is the sweared truth. + +TWISDEN. I must keep this note. [He touches the hundred-pound note] +You will not speak of this to anyone. I may recognise that you were a +holder for value received--others might take a different view. Good-day, +sir. Graviter, see Mr Ricardos out, and take his address. + +RICARDOS. [Pressing his hands over the breast of his frock coat--with a +sigh] Gentlemen, I beg you--remember what I said. [With a roll of his +eyes] My daughter--I am not happee. Good-day. + + He turns and goes out slowly, Left Forward, followed by GRAVITER. + +TWISDEN. [To himself] Young Dancy! [He pins the two notes together and +places them in an envelope, then stands motionless except for his eyes +and hands, which restlessly express the disturbance within him.] + + GRAVITER returns, carefully shuts the door, and going up to him, + hands him RICARDOS' card. + +[Looking at the card] Villa Benvenuto. This will have to be verified, +but I'm afraid it's true. That man was not acting. + +GRAVITER. What's to be done about Dancy? + +TWISDEN. Can you understand a gentleman--? + +GRAVITER. I don't know, sir. The war loosened "form" all over the +place. I saw plenty of that myself. And some men have no moral sense. +From the first I've had doubts. + +TWISDEN. We can't go on with the case. + +GRAVITER. Phew! . . . [A moment's silence] Gosh! It's an awful +thing for his wife. + +TWISDEN. Yes. + +GRAVITER [Touching the envelope] Chance brought this here, sir. That +man won't talk--he's too scared. + +TWISDEN. Gilman. + +GRAVITER. Too respectable. If De Levis got those notes back, and the +rest of the money, anonymously? + +TWISDEN. But the case, Graviter; the case. + +GRAVITER. I don't believe this alters what I've been thinking. + +TWISDEN. Thought is one thing--knowledge another. There's duty to our +profession. Ours is a fine calling. On the good faith of solicitors a +very great deal hangs. [He crosses to the hearth as if warmth would help +him]. + +GRAVITER. It'll let him in for a prosecution. He came to us in +confidence. + +TWISDEN. Not as against the law. + +GRAVITER. No. I suppose not. [A pause] By Jove, I don't like losing +this case. I don't like the admission we backed such a wrong 'un. + +TWISDEN. Impossible to go on. Apart from ourselves, there's Sir +Frederic. We must disclose to him--can't let him go on in the dark. +Complete confidence between solicitor and counsel is the essence of +professional honour. + +GRAVITER. What are you going to do then, sir? + +TWISDEN. See Dancy at once. Get him on the phone. + +GRAVITER. [Taking up the telephone] Get me Captain Dancy's flat. . . . +What? . . .[To TWISDEN] Mrs Dancy is here. That's a propos with a +vengeance. Are you going to see her, sir? + +TWISDEN. [After a moment's painful hesitation] I must. + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning] Bring Mrs Dancy up. [He turns to the window]. + + MABEL DANDY is shown in, looking very pale. TWISDEN advances from + the fire, and takes her hand. + +MABEL. Major Colford's taken Ronny off in his car for the night. I +thought it would do him good. I said I'd come round in case there was +anything you wanted to say before to-morrow. + +TWISDEN. [Taken aback] Where have they gone? + +MABEL. I don't know, but he'll be home before ten o'clock to-morrow. Is +there anything? + +TWISDEN. Well, I'd like to see him before the Court sits. Send him on +here as soon as he comes. + +MABEL. [With her hand to her forehead] Oh! Mr Twisden, when will it be +over? My head's getting awful sitting in that Court. + +TWISDEN. My dear Mrs Dancy, there's no need at all for you to come down +to-morrow; take a rest and nurse your head. + +MABEL. Really and truly? + +TWISDEN. Yes; it's the very best thing you can do. + +GRAVITER turns his head, and looks at them unobserved. + +MABEL. How do you think it's going? + +TWISDEN. It went very well to-day; very well indeed. + +MABEL. You must be awfully fed up with us. + +TWISDEN. My dear young lady, that's our business. [He takes her hand]. + + MABEL's face suddenly quivers. She draws her hand away, and covers + her lips with it. + +There, there! You want a day off badly. + +MABEL. I'm so tired of--! Thank you so much for all you're doing. +Good night! Good night, Mr Graviter! + +GRAVITER. Good night, Mrs Dancy. + + MABEL goes. + +GRAVITER. D'you know, I believe she knows. + +TWISDEN. No, no! She believes in him implicitly. A staunch little +woman. Poor thing! + +GRAVITER. Hasn't that shaken you, sir? It has me. + +TWISDEN. No, no! I--I can't go on with the case. It's breaking faith. +Get Sir Frederic's chambers. + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning, and getting a reply, looks round at TWISDEN] +Yes? + +TWISDEN. Ask if I can come round and see him. + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning] Can Sir Frederic spare Mr Twisden a few minutes +now if he comes round? [Receiving reply] He's gone down to Brighton for +the night. + +TWISDEN. H'm! What hotel? + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning] What's his address? What . . . ? [To +TWISDEN] The Bedford. + +TWISDEN. I'll go down. + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning] Thank you. All right. [He rings off]. + +TWISDEN. Just look out the trains down and up early to-morrow. + + GRAVITER takes up an A B C, and TWISDEN takes up the Ricardos card. + +TWISDEN. Send to this address in Putney, verify the fact that Ricardos +has a daughter, and give me a trunk call to Brighton. Better go +yourself, Graviter. If you see her, don't say anything, of course-- +invent some excuse. [GRAVITER nods] I'll be up in time to see Dancy. + +GRAVITER. By George! I feel bad about this. + +TWISDEN. Yes. But professional honour comes first. What time is that +train? [He bends over the ABC]. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +SCENE II + + The same room on the following morning at ten-twenty-five, by the + Grandfather clock. + + The YOUNG CLERK is ushering in DANCY, whose face is perceptibly + harder than it was three months ago, like that of a man who has + lived under great restraint. + +DANCY. He wanted to see me before the Court sat. + +YOUNG CLERK. Yes, sir. Mr Twisden will see you in one minute. He had +to go out of town last night. [He prepares to open the waiting-room +door]. + +DANCY. Were you in the war? + +YOUNG CLERK. Yes. + +DANCY. How can you stick this? + +YOUNG CLERK. [With a smile] My trouble was to stick that, sir. + +DANCY. But you get no excitement from year's end to year's end. It'd +drive me mad. + +YOUNG CLERK. [Shyly] A case like this is pretty exciting. I'd give a +lot to see us win it. + +DANCY. [Staring at him] Why? What is it to you? + +YOUNG CLERK. I don't know, sir. It's--it's like football--you want your +side to win. [He opens the waiting-room door. Expanding] You see some +rum starts, too, in a lawyer's office in a quiet way. + + DANCY enters the waiting-room, and the YOUNG CLERK, shutting the + door, meets TWISDEN as he comes in, Left Forward, and takes from him + overcoat, top hat, and a small bag. + +YOUNG CLERK. Captain Dancy's waiting, sir. [He indicates the +waiting-room]. + +TWISDEN. [Narrowing his lips] Very well. Mr Graviter gone to the +Courts? + +YOUNG CLERK. Yes, sir. + +TWISDEN. Did he leave anything for me? + +YOUNG CLERK. On the table, sir. + +TWISDEN. [Taking up an envelope] Thank you. + + The CLERK goes. + + +TWISDEN. [Opening the envelope and reading] "All corroborates." H'm! +[He puts it in his pocket and takes out of an envelope the two notes, +lays them on the table, and covers them with a sheet of blotting-paper; +stands a moment preparing himself, then goes to the door of the +waiting-room, opens it, and says:] Now, Captain Dancy. Sorry to have +kept you waiting. + +DANCY. [Entering] WINSOR came to me yesterday about General Canynge's +evidence. Is that what you wanted to speak to me about? + +TWISDEN. No. It isn't that. + +DANCY. [Looking at his wrist watch] By me it's just on the half-hour, +sir. + +TWISDEN. Yes. I don't want you to go to the Court. + +DANCY. Not? + +TWISDEN. I have very serious news for you. + +DANCY. [Wincing and collecting himself] Oh! + +TWISDEN. These two notes. [He uncovers the notes] After the Court rose +yesterday we had a man called Ricardos here. [A pause] Is there any need +for me to say more? + +DANCY. [Unflinching] No. What now? + +TWISDEN. Our duty was plain; we could not go on with the case. I have +consulted Sir Frederic. He felt--he felt that he must throw up his +brief, and he will do that the moment the Court sits. Now I want to talk +to you about what you're going to do. + +DANCY. That's very good of you, considering. + +TWISDEN. I don't pretend to understand, but I imagine you may have done +this in a moment of reckless bravado, feeling, perhaps, that as you gave +the mare to De Levis, the money was by rights as much yours as his. + + Stopping DANCY, who is about to speak, with a gesture. + +To satisfy a debt of honour to this--lady; and, no doubt, to save your +wife from hearing of it from the man Ricardos. Is that so? + +DANCY. To the life. + +TWISDEN. It was mad, Captain Dancy, mad! But the question now is: What +do you owe to your wife? She doesn't dream--I suppose? + +DANCY. [With a twitching face] No. + +TWISDEN. We can't tell what the result of this collapse will be. The +police have the theft in hand. They may issue a warrant. The money +could be refunded, and the costs paid--somehow that can all be managed. +But it may not help. In any case, what end is served by your staying in +the country? You can't save your honour--that's gone. You can't save +your wife's peace of mind. If she sticks to you--do you think she will? + +DANCY. Not if she's wise. + +TWISDEN. Better go! There's a war in Morocco. + +DANCY. [With a bitter smile] Good old Morocco! + +TWISDEN. Will you go, then, at once, and leave me to break it to your +wife? + +DANCY. I don't know yet. + +TWISDEN. You must decide quickly, to catch a boat train. Many a man has +made good. You're a fine soldier. + +DANCY. There are alternatives. + +TWISDEN. Now, go straight from this office. You've a passport, I +suppose; you won't need a visa for France, and from there you can find +means to slip over. Have you got money on you? [Dancy nods]. We will +see what we can do to stop or delay proceedings. + +DANCY. It's all damned kind of you. [With difficulty] But I must think +of my wife. Give me a few minutes. + +TWISDEN. Yes, yes; go in there and think it out. + + He goes to the door, Right, and opens it. DANCY passes him and goes + out. TWISDEN rings a bell and stands waiting. + +CLERK. [Entering] Yes, sir? + +TWISDEN. Tell them to call a taxi. + +CLERK. [Who has a startled look] Yes, sir. Mr Graviter has come in, +air, with General Canynge. Are you disengaged? + +TWISDEN. Yes. + + The CLERK goes out, and almost immediately GRAVITER and CANYNGE + enter. Good-morning, General. [To GRAVITER] + +Well? + +GRAVITER. Sir Frederic got up at once and said that since the +publication of the numbers of those notes, information had reached him +which forced him to withdraw from the case. Great sensation, of course. +I left Bromley in charge. There'll be a formal verdict for the +defendant, with costs. Have you told Dancy? + +TWISDEN. Yes. He's in there deciding what he'll do. + +CANYNGE. [Grave and vexed] This is a dreadful thing, Twisden. I've +been afraid of it all along. A soldier! A gallant fellow, too. What on +earth got into him? + +TWISDEN. There's no end to human nature, General. + +GRAVITER. You can see queerer things in the papers, any day. + +CANYNGE. That poor young wife of his! WINSOR gave me a message for you, +Twisden. If money's wanted quickly to save proceedings, draw on him. +Is there anything I can do? + +TWISDEN. I've advised him to go straight off to Morocco. + +CANYNGE. I don't know that an asylum isn't the place for him. He must +be off his head at moments. That jump-crazy! He'd have got a verdict on +that alone--if they'd seen those balconies. I was looking at them when I +was down there last Sunday. Daring thing, Twisden. Very few men, on a +dark night--He risked his life twice. That's a shrewd fellow--young De +Levis. He spotted Dancy's nature. + + The YOUNG CLERK enters. + +CLERK. The taxi's here, sir. Will you see Major Colford and Miss Orme? + +TWISDEN. Graviter--No; show them in. + + The YOUNG CLERK goes. + +CANYNGE. Colford's badly cut up. + + MARGARET ORME and COLFORD enter. + +COLFORD. [Striding forward] There must be some mistake about this, Mr +Twisden. + +TWISDEN. Hssh! Dancy's in there. He's admitted it. + + Voices are subdued at once. + +COLFORD. What? [With emotion] If it were my own brother, I couldn't +feel it more. But--damn it! What right had that fellow to chuck up the +case--without letting him know, too. I came down with Dancy this +morning, and he knew nothing about it. + +TWISDEN. [Coldly] That was unfortunately unavoidable. + +COLFORD. Guilty or not, you ought to have stuck to him--it's not playing +the game, Mr Twisden. + +TWISDEN. You must allow me to judge where my duty lay, in a very hard +case. + +COLFORD. I thought a man was safe with his solicitor. + +CANYNGE. Colford, you don't understand professional etiquette. + +COLFORD. No, thank God! + +TWISDEN. When you have been as long in your profession as I have been in +mine, Major Colford, you will know that duty to your calling outweighs +duty to friend or client. + +COLFORD. But I serve the Country. + +TWISDEN. And I serve the Law, sir. + +CANYNGE. Graviter, give me a sheet of paper. I'll write a letter for +him. + +MARGARET. [Going up to TWISDEN] Dear Mr Jacob--pay De Levis. You know +my pearls--put them up the spout again. Don't let Ronny be-- + +TWISDEN. Money isn't the point, Margaret. + +MARGARET. It's ghastly! It really is. + +COLFORD. I'm going in to shake hands with him. [He starts to cross the +room]. + +TWISDEN. Wait! We want him to go straight off to Morocco. Don't upset +him. [To COLFORD and MARGARET] I think you had better go. If, a little +later, Margaret, you could go round to Mrs Dancy-- + +COLFORD. Poor little Mabel Dancy! It's perfect hell for her. + + They have not seen that DANCY has opened the door behind them. + +DANCY. It is! + + They all turn round in consternation. + +COLFORD. [With a convulsive movement] Old boy! + +DANCY. No good, Colford. [Gazing round at them] Oh! clear out--I can't +stand commiseration; and let me have some air. + + TWISDEN motions to COLFORD and MARGARET to go; and as he turns to + DANCY, they go out. GRAVITER also moves towards the door. The + GENERAL sits motionless. GRAVITER goes Out. + +TWISDEN. Well? + +DANCY. I'm going home, to clear up things with my wife. General +Canynge, I don't quite know why I did the damned thing. But I did, +and there's an end of it. + +CANYNGE. Dancy, for the honour of the Army, avoid further scandal if +you can. I've written a letter to a friend of mine in the Spanish War +Office. It will get you a job in their war. [CANYNGE closes the +envelope]. + +DANCY. Very good of you. I don't know if I can make use of it. + + CANYNGE stretches out the letter, which TWISDEN hands to DANCY, who + takes it. GRAVITER re-opens the door. + +TWISDEN. What is it? + +GRAVITER. De Levis is here. + +TWISDEN. De Levis? Can't see him. + +DANCY. Let him in! + + After a moment's hesitation TWISDEN nods, and GRAVITER goes out. + The three wait in silence with their eyes fixed on the door, the + GENERAL sitting at the table, TWISDEN by his chair, DANCY between + him and the door Right. DE LEVIS comes in and shuts the door. He + is advancing towards TWISDEN when his eyes fall on DANCY, and he + stops. + +TWISDEN. You wanted to see me? + +DE LEVIS. [Moistening his lips] Yes. I came to say that--that I +overheard--I am afraid a warrant is to be issued. I wanted you to +realise--it's not my doing. I'll give it no support. I'm content. I +don't want my money. I don't even want costs. Dancy, do you understand? + + DANCY does not answer, but looks at him with nothing alive in his + face but his eyes. + +TWISDEN. We are obliged to you, Sir. It was good of you to come. + +DE LEVIS. [With a sort of darting pride] Don't mistake me. I didn't +come because I feel Christian; I am a Jew. I will take no money--not +even that which was stolen. Give it to a charity. I'm proved right. +And now I'm done with the damned thing. Good-morning! + + He makes a little bow to CANYNGE and TWISDEN, and turns to face + DANCY, who has never moved. The two stand motionless, looking at + each other, then DE LEVIS shrugs his shoulders and walks out. When + he is gone there is a silence. + +CANYNGE. [Suddenly] You heard what he said, Dancy. You have no time to +lose. + + But DANCY does not stir. + +TWISDEN. Captain Dancy? + + Slowly, without turning his head, rather like a man in a dream, + DANCY walks across the room, and goes out. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +SCENE III + + The DANCYS' sitting-room, a few minutes later. MABEL DANCY is + sitting alone on the sofa with a newspaper on her lap; she is only + just up, and has a bottle of smelling-salts in her hand. Two or + three other newspapers are dumped on the arm of the sofa. She + topples the one off her lap and takes up another as if she couldn't + keep away from them; drops it in turn, and sits staring before her, + sniffing at the salts. The door, Right, is opened and DANCY comes + in. + +MABEL. [Utterly surprised] Ronny! Do they want me in Court? + +DANCY. No. + +MABEL. What is it, then? Why are you back? + +DANCY. Spun. + +MABEL. [Blank] Spun? What do you mean? What's spun? + +DANCY. The case. They've found out through those notes. + +MABEL. Oh! [Staring at his face] Who? + +DANCY. Me! + +MABEL. [After a moment of horrified stillness] Don't, Ronny! Oh! No! +Don't! [She buries her face in the pillows of the sofa]. + + DANCY stands looking down at her. + +DANCY. Pity you wouldn't come to Africa three months ago. + +MABEL. Why didn't you tell me then? I would have gone. + +DANCY. You wanted this case. Well, it's fallen down. + +MABEL. Oh! Why didn't I face it? But I couldn't--I had to believe. + +DANCY. And now you can't. It's the end, Mabel. + +MABEL. [Looking up at him] No. + + DANCY goes suddenly on his knees and seizes her hand. + +DANCY. Forgive me! + +MABEL. [Putting her hand on his head] Yes; oh, yes! I think I've known a +long time, really. Only--why? What made you? + +DANCY. [Getting up and speaking in jerks] It was a crazy thing to do; +but, damn it, I was only looting a looter. The money was as much mine as +his. A decent chap would have offered me half. You didn't see the brute +look at me that night at dinner as much as to say: "You blasted fool!" +It made me mad. That wasn't a bad jump-twice over. Nothing in the war +took quite such nerve. [Grimly] I rather enjoyed that evening. + +MABEL. But--money! To keep it! + +DANCY. [Sullenly] Yes, but I had a debt to pay. + +MABEL. To a woman? + +DANCY. A debt of honour--it wouldn't wait. + +MABEL. It was--it was to a woman. Ronny, don't lie any more. + +DANCY. [Grimly] Well! I wanted to save your knowing. I'd promised a +thousand. I had a letter from her father that morning, threatening to +tell you. All the same, if that tyke hadn't jeered at me for parlour +tricks!--But what's the good of all this now? [Sullenly] Well--it may +cure you of loving me. Get over that, Mab; I never was worth it--and I'm +done for! + +MABEL. The woman--have you--since--? + +DANCY. [Energetically] No! You supplanted her. But if you'd known I +was leaving a woman for you, you'd never have married me. [He walks over +to the hearth]. + + MABEL too gets up. She presses her hands to her forehead, then + walks blindly round to behind the sofa and stands looking straight + in front of her. + +MABEL. [Coldly] What has happened, exactly? + +DANCY. Sir Frederic chucked up the case. I've seen Twisden; they want +me to run for it to Morocco. + +MABEL. To the war there? + +DANCY. Yes. There's to be a warrant out. + +MABEL. A prosecution? Prison? Oh, go! Don't wait a minute! Go! + +DANCY. Blast them! + +MABEL. Oh, Ronny! Please! Please! Think what you'll want. I'll pack. +Quick! No! Don't wait to take things. Have you got money? + +DANCY. [Nodding] This'll be good-bye, then! + +MABEL. [After a moment's struggle] Oh! No! No, no! I'll follow--I'll +come out to you there. + +DANCY. D'you mean you'll stick to me? + +MABEL. Of course I'll stick to you. + +DANCY seizes her hand and puts it to his lips. The bell rings. + +MABEL. [In terror] Who's that? + + The bell rings again. DANCY moves towards the door. + +No! Let me! + + She passes him and steals out to the outer door of the flat, where + she stands listening. The bell rings again. She looks through the + slit of the letter-box. While she is gone DANCY stands quite still, + till she comes back. + +MABEL. Through the letter-bog--I can see----It's--it's police. Oh! +God! . . . Ronny! I can't bear it. + +DANCY. Heads up, Mab! Don't show the brutes! + +MABEL. Whatever happens, I'll go on loving you. If it's prison--I'll +wait. Do you understand? I don't care what you did--I don't care! I'm +just the same. I will be just the same when you come back to me. + +DANCY. [Slowly] That's not in human nature. + +MABEL. It is. It's in Me. + +DANCY. I've crocked up your life. + +MABEL. No, no! Kiss me! + + A long kiss, till the bell again startles them apart, and there is a + loud knock. + +DANCY. They'll break the door in. It's no good--we must open. Hold +them in check a little. I want a minute or two. + +MABEL. [Clasping him] Ronny! Oh, Ronny! It won't be for long--I'll be +waiting! I'll be waiting--I swear it. + +DANCY. Steady, Mab! [Putting her back from him] Now! + + He opens the bedroom door, Left, and stands waiting for her to go. + Summoning up her courage, she goes to open the outer door. A sudden + change comes over DANCY'S face; from being stony it grows almost + maniacal. + +DANCY. [Under his breath] No! No! By God! No! He goes out into the +bedroom, closing the door behind him. + + MABEL has now opened the outer door, and disclosed INSPECTOR DEDE + and the YOUNG CONSTABLE who were summoned to Meldon Court on the + night of the theft, and have been witnesses in the case. Their + voices are heard. + +MABEL. Yes? + +INSPECTOR. Captain Dancy in, madam? + +MABEL. I am not quite sure--I don't think so. + +INSPECTOR. I wish to speak to him a minute. Stay here, Grover. Now, +madam! + +MABEL. Will you come in while I see? + + She comes in, followed by the INSPECTOR. + +INSPECTOR. I should think you must be sure, madam. This is not a big +place. + +MABEL. He was changing his clothes to go out. I think he has gone. + +INSPECTOR. What's that door? + +MABEL. To our bedroom. + +INSPECTOR. [Moving towards it] He'll be in there, then. + +MABEL. What do you want, Inspector? + +INSPECTOR. [Melting] Well, madam, it's no use disguising it. I'm +exceedingly sorry, but I've a warrant for his arrest. + +MABEL. Inspector! + +INSPECTOR. I'm sure I've every sympathy for you, madam; but I must carry +out my instructions. + +MABEL. And break my heart? + +INSPECTOR. Well, madam, we're--we're not allowed to take that into +consideration. The Law's the Law. + +MABEL. Are you married? + +INSPECTOR. I am. + +MABEL. If you--your wife-- + + The INSPECTOR raises his hand, deprecating. + +[Speaking low] Just half an hour! Couldn't you? It's two lives--two +whole lives! We've only been married four months. Come back in half an +hour. It's such a little thing--nobody will know. Nobody. Won't you? + +INSPECTOR. Now, madam--you must know my duty. + +MABEL. Inspector, I beseech you--just half an hour. + +INSPECTOR. No, no--don't you try to undermine me--I'm sorry for you; +but don't you try it! [He tries the handle, then knocks at the door]. + +DANCY'S VOICE. One minute! + +INSPECTOR. It's locked. [Sharply] Is there another door to that room? +Come, now-- + + The bell rings. + +[Moving towards the door, Left; to the CONSTABLE] Who's that out there? + +CONSTABLE. A lady and gentleman, sir. + +INSPECTOR. What lady and-- Stand by, Grover! + +DANCY'S VOICE. All right! You can come in now. + + There is the noise of a lock being turned. And almost immediately + the sound of a pistol shot in the bedroom. MABEL rushes to the + door, tears it open, and disappears within, followed by the + INSPECTOR, just as MARGARET ORME and COLFORD come in from the + passage, pursued by the CONSTABLE. They, too, all hurry to the + bedroom door and disappear for a moment; then COLFORD and MARGARET + reappear, supporting MABEL, who faints as they lay her on the sofa. + COLFORD takes from her hand an envelope, and tears it open. + +COLFORD. It's addressed to me. [He reads it aloud to MARGARET in a low +voice]. + +"DEAR COLFORD,--This is the only decent thing I can do. It's too damned +unfair to her. It's only another jump. A pistol keeps faith. Look +after her, Colford--my love to her, and you." + +MARGARET gives a sort of choking sob, then, seeing the smelling bottle, +she snatches it up, and turns to revive MABEL. + +COLFORD. Leave her! The longer she's unconscious, the better. + +INSPECTOR. [Re-entering] This is a very serious business, sir. + +COLFORD. [Sternly] Yes, Inspector; you've done for my best friend. + +INSPECTOR. I, sir? He shot himself. + +COLFORD. Hara-kiri. + +INSPECTOR. Beg pardon? + +COLFORD. [He points with the letter to MABEL] For her sake, and his own. + +INSPECTOR. [Putting out his hand] I'll want that, sir. + +COLFORD. [Grimly] You shall have it read at the inquest. Till then-- +it's addressed to me, and I stick to it. + +INSPECTOR. Very well, sir. Do you want to have a look at him? + + COLFORD passes quickly into the bedroom, followed by the INSPECTOR. + MARGARET remains kneeling beside MABEL. + + COLFORD comes quickly back. MARGARET looks up at him. He stands + very still. + +COLFORD. Neatly--through the heart. + +MARGARET [wildly] Keeps faith! We've all done that. It's not enough. + +COLFORD. [Looking down at MABEL] All right, old boy! + + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + + + +WINDOWS + +From the 5th Series of Plays + +By John Galsworthy + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +GEOFFREY MARCH....... Freelance in Literature +JOAN MARCH........... His Wife +MARY MARCH........... Their Daughter +JOHNNY MARCH......... Their Son +COOK................. Their Cook +MR BLY............... Their Window Cleaner +FAITH BLY............ His Daughter +BLUNTER.............. A Strange Young Man +MR BARNADAS.......... In Plain Clothes + + + +The action passes in Geofrey March's House, Highgate-Spring-time. + +ACT I. Thursday morning. The dining-room-after breakfast. + +ACT II. Thursday, a fortnight later. The dining-room after lunch. + +ACT III. The same day. The dining-room-after dinner. + + + + +ACT I + + The MARCH'S dining-room opens through French windows on one of those + gardens which seem infinite, till they are seen to be coterminous + with the side walls of the house, and finite at the far end, because + only the thick screen of acacias and sumachs prevents another house + from being seen. The French and other windows form practically all + the outer wall of that dining-room, and between them and the screen + of trees lies the difference between the characters of Mr and Mrs + March, with dots and dashes of Mary and Johnny thrown in. For + instance, it has been formalised by MRS MARCH but the grass has not + been cut by MR MARCH, and daffodils have sprung up there, which MRS + MARCH desires for the dining-room, but of which MR MARCH says: "For + God's sake, Joan, let them grow." About half therefore are now in a + bowl on the breakfast table, and the other half still in the grass, + in the compromise essential to lasting domesticity. A hammock under + the acacias shows that MARY lies there sometimes with her eyes on + the gleam of sunlight that comes through: and a trail in the longish + grass, bordered with cigarette ends, proves that JOHNNY tramps there + with his eyes on the ground or the stars, according. But all this + is by the way, because except for a yard or two of gravel terrace + outside the windows, it is all painted on the backcloth. The + MARCHES have been at breakfast, and the round table, covered with + blue linen, is thick with remains, seven baskets full. The room is + gifted with old oak furniture: there is a door, stage Left, Forward; + a hearth, where a fire is burning, and a high fender on which one + can sit, stage Right, Middle; and in the wall below the fireplace, + a service hatch covered with a sliding shutter, for the passage of + dishes into the adjoining pantry. Against the wall, stage Left, is + an old oak dresser, and a small writing table across the Left Back + corner. MRS MARCH still sits behind the coffee pot, making up her + daily list on tablets with a little gold pencil fastened to her + wrist. She is personable, forty-eight, trim, well-dressed, and more + matter-of-fact than seems plausible. MR MARCH is sitting in an + armchair, sideways to the windows, smoking his pipe and reading his + newspaper, with little explosions to which no one pays any + attention, because it is his daily habit. He is a fine-looking man + of fifty odd, with red-grey moustaches and hair, both of which + stiver partly by nature and partly because his hands often push them + up. MARY and JOHNNY are close to the fireplace, stage Right. + JOHNNY sits on the fender, smoking a cigarette and warming his back. + He is a commonplace looking young man, with a decided jaw, tall, + neat, soulful, who has been in the war and writes poetry. MARY is + less ordinary; you cannot tell exactly what is the matter with her. + She too is tall, a little absent, fair, and well-looking. She has a + small china dog in her hand, taken from the mantelpiece, and faces + the audience. As the curtain rises she is saying in her soft and + pleasant voice: "Well, what is the matter with us all, Johnny?" + +JOHNNY. Stuck, as we were in the trenches--like china dogs. [He points +to the ornament in her hand.] + +MR MARCH. [Into his newspaper] Damn these people! + +MARY. If there isn't an ideal left, Johnny, it's no good pretending one. + +JOHNNY. That's what I'm saying: Bankrupt! + +MARY. What do you want? + +MRS MARCH. [To herself] Mutton cutlets. Johnny, will you be in to +lunch? [JOHNNY shakes his head] Mary? [MARY nods] Geof? + +MR MARCH. [Into his paper] Swine! + +MRS MARCH. That'll be three. [To herself] Spinach. + +JOHNNY. If you'd just missed being killed for three blooming years for +no spiritual result whatever, you'd want something to bite on, Mary. + +MRS MARCH. [Jotting] Soap. + +JOHNNY. What price the little and weak, now? Freedom and +self-determination, and all that? + +MARY. Forty to one--no takers. + +JOHNNY. It doesn't seem to worry you. + +MARY. Well, what's the good? + +JOHNNY. Oh, you're a looker on, Mary. + +MR MARCH. [To his newspaper] Of all Godforsaken time-servers! + + MARY is moved so lar as to turn and look over his shoulder a minute. + +JOHNNY. Who? + +MARY. Only the Old-Un. + +MR MARCH. This is absolutely Prussian! + +MRS MARCH. Soup, lobster, chicken salad. Go to Mrs Hunt's. + +MR MARCH. And this fellow hasn't the nous to see that if ever there were +a moment when it would pay us to take risks, and be generous--My hat! +He ought to be--knighted! [Resumes his paper.] + +JOHNNY. [Muttering] You see, even Dad can't suggest chivalry without +talking of payment for it. That shows how we've sunk. + +MARY. [Contemptuously] Chivalry! Pouf! Chivalry was "off" even before +the war, Johnny. Who wants chivalry? + +JOHNNY. Of all shallow-pated humbug--that sneering at chivalry's the +worst. Civilisation--such as we've got--is built on it. + +MARY. [Airily] Then it's built on sand. [She sits beside him on the +fender.] + +JOHNNY. Sneering and smartness! Pah! + +MARY. [Roused] I'll tell you what, Johnny, it's mucking about with +chivalry that makes your poetry rotten. [JOHNNY seizes her arm and +twists it] Shut up--that hurts. [JOHNNY twists it more] You brute! +[JOHNNY lets her arm go.] + +JOHNNY. Ha! So you don't mind taking advantage of the fact that you can +cheek me with impunity, because you're weaker. You've given the whole +show away, Mary. Abolish chivalry and I'll make you sit up. + +MRS MARCH. What are you two quarrelling about? Will you bring home +cigarettes, Johnny--not Bogdogunov's Mamelukes--something more +Anglo-American. + +JOHNNY. All right! D'you want any more illustrations, Mary? + +MARY. Pig! [She has risen and stands rubbing her arm and recovering her +placidity, which is considerable.] + +MRS MARCH. Geof, can you eat preserved peaches? + +MR MARCH. Hell! What a policy! Um? + +MRS MARCH. Can you eat preserved peaches? + +MR MARCH. Yes. [To his paper] Making the country stink in the eyes of +the world! + +MARY. Nostrils, Dad, nostrils. + + MR MARCH wriggles, half hearing. + +JOHNNY. [Muttering] Shallow idiots! Thinking we can do without +chivalry! + +MRS MARCH. I'm doing my best to get a parlourmaid, to-day, Mary, but +these breakfast things won't clear themselves. + +MARY. I'll clear them, Mother. + +MRS MARCH. Good! [She gets up. At the door] Knitting silk. + + She goes out. + +JOHNNY. Mother hasn't an ounce of idealism. You might make her see +stars, but never in the singular. + +MR MARCH. [To his paper] If God doesn't open the earth soon-- + +MARY. Is there anything special, Dad? + +MR MARCH. This sulphurous government. [He drops the paper] Give me a +match, Mary. + + As soon as the paper is out of his hands he becomes a different--an + affable man. + +MARY. [Giving him a match] D'you mind writing in here this morning, +Dad? Your study hasn't been done. There's nobody but Cook. + +MR MARCH. [Lighting his pipe] Anywhere. + + He slews the armchair towards the fire. + +MARY. I'll get your things, then. + + She goes out. + +JOHNNY. [Still on the fender] What do you say, Dad? Is civilisation +built on chivalry or on self-interest? + +MR MARCH. The question is considerable, Johnny. I should say it was +built on contract, and jerry-built at that. + +JOHNNY. Yes; but why do we keep contracts when we can break them with +advantage and impunity? + +MR MARCH. But do we keep them? + +JOHNNY. Well--say we do; otherwise you'll admit there isn't such a thing +as civilisation at all. But why do we keep them? For instance, why +don't we make Mary and Mother work for us like Kafir women? We could +lick them into it. Why did we give women the vote? Why free slaves; +why anything decent for the little and weak? + +MR MARCH. Well, you might say it was convenient for people living in +communities. + +JOHNNY. I don't think it's convenient at all. I should like to make +Mary sweat. Why not jungle law, if there's nothing in chivalry. + +MR MARCH. Chivalry is altruism, Johnny. Of course it's quite a question +whether altruism isn't enlightened self-interest! + +JOHNNY. Oh! Damn! + + The lank and shirt-sleeved figure of MR BLY, with a pail of water + and cloths, has entered, and stands near the window, Left. + +BLY. Beg pardon, Mr March; d'you mind me cleanin' the winders here? + +MR MARCH. Not a bit. + +JOHNNY. Bankrupt of ideals. That's it! + + MR BLY stares at him, and puts his pail down by the window. + + MARY has entered with her father's writing materials which she puts + on a stool beside him. + +MARY. Here you are, Dad! I've filled up the ink pot. Do be careful! +Come on, Johnny! + + She looks curiously at MR BLY, who has begun operations at the + bottom of the left-hand window, and goes, followed by JOHNNY. + +MR MARCH. [Relighting his pipe and preparing his materials] What do you +think of things, Mr Bly? + +BLY. Not much, sir. + +MR MARCH. Ah! [He looks up at MR BLY, struck by his large philosophical +eyes and moth-eaten moustache] Nor I. + +BLY. I rather thought that, sir, from your writin's. + +MR MARCH. Oh! Do you read? + +BLY. I was at sea, once--formed the 'abit. + +MR MARCH. Read any of my novels? + +BLY. Not to say all through--I've read some of your articles in the +Sunday papers, though. Make you think! + +MR MARCH. I'm at sea now--don't see dry land anywhere, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [With a smile] That's right. + +MR MARCH. D'you find that the general impression? + +BLY. No. People don't think. You 'ave to 'ave some cause for thought. + +MR MARCH. Cause enough in the papers. + +BLY. It's nearer 'ome with me. I've often thought I'd like a talk with +you, sir. But I'm keepin' you. [He prepares to swab the pane.] + +MR MARCH. Not at all. I enjoy it. Anything to put off work. + +BLY. [Looking at MR MARCH, then giving a wipe at the window] What's +drink to one is drought to another. I've seen two men take a drink out +of the same can--one die of it and the other get off with a pain in his +stomach. + +MR MARCH. You've seen a lot, I expect. + +BLY. Ah! I've been on the beach in my day. [He sponges at the window] +It's given me a way o' lookin' at things that I don't find in other +people. Look at the 'Ome Office. They got no philosophy. + +MR MARCH. [Pricking his ears] What? Have you had dealings with them? + +BLY. Over the reprieve that was got up for my daughter. But I'm keepin' +you. + + He swabs at the window, but always at the same pane, so that he does + not advance at all. + +MR MARCH. Reprieve? + +BLY. Ah! She was famous at eighteen. The Sunday Mercury was full of +her, when she was in prison. + +MR MARCH. [Delicately] Dear me! I'd no idea. + +BLY. She's out now; been out a fortnight. I always say that fame's +ephemereal. But she'll never settle to that weavin'. Her head got +turned a bit. + +MR MARCH. I'm afraid I'm in the dark, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Pausing--dipping his sponge in the pail and then standing with it +in his hand] Why! Don't you remember the Bly case? They sentenced 'er +to be 'anged by the neck until she was dead, for smotherin' her baby. +She was only eighteen at the time of speakin'. + +MR MARCH. Oh! yes! An inhuman business! + +BLY. All! The jury recommended 'er to mercy. So they reduced it to +Life. + +MR MARCH. Life! Sweet Heaven! + +BLY. That's what I said; so they give her two years. I don't hold with +the Sunday Mercury, but it put that over. It's a misfortune to a girl to +be good-lookin'. + +MR MARCH. [Rumpling his hair] No, no! Dash it all! Beauty's the only +thing left worth living for. + +BLY. Well, I like to see green grass and a blue sky; but it's a mistake +in a 'uman bein'. Look at any young chap that's good-lookin'--'e's +doomed to the screen, or hair-dressin'. Same with the girls. My girl +went into an 'airdresser's at seventeen and in six months she was in +trouble. When I saw 'er with a rope round her neck, as you might say, +I said to meself: "Bly," I said, "you're responsible for this. If she +'adn't been good-lookin'--it'd never 'eve 'appened." + + During this speech MARY has come in with a tray, to clear the + breakfast, and stands unnoticed at the dining-table, arrested by + the curious words of MR BLY. + +MR MARCH. Your wife might not have thought that you were wholly the +cause, Mr Bly. + +BLY. Ah! My wife. She's passed on. But Faith--that's my girl's +name--she never was like 'er mother; there's no 'eredity in 'er on that +side. + +MR MARCH. What sort of girl is she? + +BLY. One for colour--likes a bit o' music--likes a dance, and a flower. + +MARY. [Interrupting softly] Dad, I was going to clear, but I'll come +back later. + +MR MARCH. Come here and listen to this! Here's a story to get your +blood up! How old was the baby, Mr Bly? + +BLY. Two days--'ardly worth mentionin'. They say she 'ad the +'ighstrikes after--an' when she comes to she says: "I've saved my baby's +life." An' that's true enough when you come to think what that sort o' +baby goes through as a rule; dragged up by somebody else's hand, or took +away by the Law. What can a workin' girl do with a baby born under the +rose, as they call it? Wonderful the difference money makes when it +comes to bein' outside the Law. + +MR MARCH. Right you are, Mr Bly. God's on the side of the big +battalions. + +BLY. Ah! Religion! [His eyes roll philosophically] Did you ever read +'Aigel? + +MR MARCH. Hegel, or Haekel? + +BLY. Yes; with an aitch. There's a balance abart 'im that I like. +There's no doubt the Christian religion went too far. Turn the other +cheek! What oh! An' this Anti-Christ, Neesha, what came in with the +war--he went too far in the other direction. Neither of 'em practical +men. You've got to strike a balance, and foller it. + +MR MARCH. Balance! Not much balance about us. We just run about and +jump Jim Crow. + +BLY. [With a perfunctory wipe] That's right; we 'aven't got a faith +these days. But what's the use of tellin' the Englishman to act like an +angel. He ain't either an angel or a blond beast. He's between the two, +an 'ermumphradite. Take my daughter----If I was a blond beast, I'd turn +'er out to starve; if I was an angel, I'd starve meself to learn her the +piano. I don't do either. Why? Becos my instincts tells me not. + +MR MARCH. Yes, but my doubt is whether our instincts at this moment of +the world's history are leading us up or down. + +BLY. What is up and what is down? Can you answer me that? Is it up or +down to get so soft that you can't take care of yourself? + +MR MARCH. Down. + +BLY. Well, is it up or down to get so 'ard that you can't take care of +others? + +MR MARCH. Down. + +BLY. Well, there you are! + +MARCH. Then our instincts are taking us down? + +BLY. Nao. They're strikin' a balance, unbeknownst, all the time. + +MR MARCH. You're a philosopher, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Modestly] Well, I do a bit in that line, too. In my opinion +Nature made the individual believe he's goin' to live after'e's dead just +to keep 'im livin' while 'es alive--otherwise he'd 'a died out. + +MR MARCH. Quite a thought--quite a thought! + +BLY. But I go one better than Nature. Follow your instincts is my +motto. + +MR MARCH. Excuse me, Mr Bly, I think Nature got hold of that before you. + +BLY. [Slightly chilled] Well, I'm keepin' you. + +MR MARCH. Not at all. You're a believer in conscience, or the little +voice within. When my son was very small, his mother asked him once if +he didn't hear a little voice within, telling him what was right. [MR +MARCH touches his diaphragm] And he said "I often hear little voices in +here, but they never say anything." [MR BLY cannot laugh, but he smiles] +Mary, Johnny must have been awfully like the Government. + +BLY. As a matter of fact, I've got my daughter here--in obeyance. + +MR MARCH. Where? I didn't catch. + +BLY. In the kitchen. Your Cook told me you couldn't get hold of an +'ouse parlour-maid. So I thought it was just a chance--you bein' +broadminded. + +MR MARCH. Oh! I see. What would your mother say, Mary? + +MARY. Mother would say: "Has she had experience?" + +BLY. I've told you about her experience. + +MR MARCH. Yes, but--as a parlour-maid. + +BLY. Well! She can do hair. [Observing the smile exchanged between MR +MARCH and MARY] And she's quite handy with a plate. + +MR MARCH. [Tentatively] I'm a little afraid my wife would feel-- + +BLY. You see, in this weavin' shop--all the girls 'ave 'ad to be in +trouble, otherwise they wouldn't take 'em. [Apologetically towards MARY] +It's a kind of a disorderly 'ouse without the disorders. Excusin' the +young lady's presence. + +MARY. Oh! You needn't mind me, Mr Bly. + +MR MARCH. And so you want her to come here? H'm! + +BLY. Well I remember when she was a little bit of a thing--no higher +than my knee--[He holds out his hand.] + +MR MARCH. [Suddenly moved] My God! yes. They've all been that. [To +MARY] Where's your mother? + +MARY. Gone to Mrs Hunt's. Suppose she's engaged one, Dad? + +MR MARCH. Well, it's only a month's wages. + +MARY. [Softly] She won't like it. + +MR MARCH. Well, let's see her, Mr Bly; let's see her, if you don't mind. + +BLY. Oh, I don't mind, sir, and she won't neither; she's used to bein' +inspected by now. Why! she 'ad her bumps gone over just before she came +out! + +MR MARCH. [Touched on the raw again] H'm! Too bad! Mary, go and fetch +her. + + MARY, with a doubting smile, goes out. [Rising] You might give me + the details of that trial, Mr Bly. I'll see if I can't write + something that'll make people sit up. That's the way to send Youth + to hell! How can a child who's had a rope round her neck--! + +BLY. [Who has been fumbling in his pocket, produces some yellow +paper-cuttings clipped together] Here's her references--the whole +literature of the case. And here's a letter from the chaplain in one of +the prisons sayin' she took a lot of interest in him; a nice young man, +I believe. [He suddenly brushes a tear out of his eye with the back of +his hand] I never thought I could 'a felt like I did over her bein' in +prison. Seemed a crool senseless thing--that pretty girl o' mine. All +over a baby that hadn't got used to bein' alive. Tain't as if she'd +been follerin' her instincts; why, she missed that baby something crool. + +MR MARCH. Of course, human life--even an infant's---- + +BLY. I know you've got to 'ave a close time for it. But when you come +to think how they take 'uman life in Injia and Ireland, and all those +other places, it seems 'ard to come down like a cartload o' bricks on a +bit of a girl that's been carried away by a moment's abiration. + +MR MARCH. [Who is reading the cuttings] H'm! What hypocrites we are! + +BLY. Ah! And 'oo can tell 'oo's the father? She never give us his +name. I think the better of 'er for that. + +MR MARCH. Shake hands, Mr Bly. So do I. [BLY wipes his hand, and MR +MARCH shakes it] Loyalty's loyalty--especially when we men benefit by +it. + +BLY. That's right, sir. + + MARY has returned with FAITH BLY, who stands demure and pretty on + the far side of the table, her face an embodiment of the pathetic + watchful prison faculty of adapting itself to whatever may be best + for its owner at the moment. At this moment it is obviously best + for her to look at the ground, and yet to take in the faces of MR + MARCH and MARY without their taking her face in. A moment, for all, + of considerable embarrassment. + +MR MARCH. [Suddenly] We'll, here we are! + + The remark attracts FAITH; she raises her eyes to his softly with a + little smile, and drops them again. + +So you want to be our parlour-maid? + +FAITH. Yes, please. + +MR MARCH. Well, Faith can remove mountains; but--er--I don't know if she +can clear tables. + +BLY. I've been tellin' Mr March and the young lady what you're capable +of. Show 'em what you can do with a plate. + + FAITH takes the tray from the sideboard and begins to clear the + table, mainly by the light of nature. After a glance, MR MARCH + looks out of the window and drums his fingers on the uncleaned pane. + MR BLY goes on with his cleaning. MARY, after watching from the + hearth, goes up and touches her father's arm. + +MARY. [Between him and MR BLY who is bending over his bucket, softly] +You're not watching, Dad. + +MR MARCH. It's too pointed. + +MARY. We've got to satisfy mother. + +MR MARCH. I can satisfy her better if I don't look. + +MARY. You're right. + + FAITH has paused a moment and is watching them. As MARY turns, she + resumes her operations. MARY joins, and helps her finish clearing, + while the two men converse. + +BLY. Fine weather, sir, for the time of year. + +MR MARCH. It is. The trees are growing. + +BLY. All! I wouldn't be surprised to see a change of Government before +long. I've seen 'uge trees in Brazil without any roots--seen 'em come +down with a crash. + +MR MARCH. Good image, Mr Bly. Hope you're right! + +BLY. Well, Governments! They're all the same--Butter when they're out +of power, and blood when they're in. And Lord! 'ow they do abuse other +Governments for doin' the things they do themselves. Excuse me, I'll +want her dosseer back, sir, when you've done with it. + +MR MARCH. Yes, yes. [He turns, rubbing his hands at the cleared table] +Well, that seems all right! And you can do hair? + +FAITH. Oh! Yes, I can do hair. [Again that little soft look, and smile +so carefully adjusted.] + +MR MARCH. That's important, don't you think, Mary? [MARY, accustomed to +candour, smiles dubiously.] [Brightly] Ah! And cleaning plate? What +about that? + +FAITH. Of course, if I had the opportunity-- + +MARY. You haven't--so far? + +FAITH. Only tin things. + +MR MARCH. [Feeling a certain awkwardness] Well, I daresay we can find +some for you. Can you--er--be firm on the telephone? + +FAITH. Tell them you're engaged when you're not? Oh! yes. + +MR MARCH. Excellent! Let's see, Mary, what else is there? + +MARY. Waiting, and house work. + +MR MARCH. Exactly. + +FAITH. I'm very quick. I--I'd like to come. [She looks down] I don't +care for what I'm doing now. It makes you feel your position. + +MARY. Aren't they nice to you? + +FAITH. Oh! yes--kind; but-- [She looks up] it's against my instincts. + +MR MARCH. Oh! [Quizzically] You've got a disciple, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Rolling his eyes at his daughter] Ah! but you mustn't 'ave +instincts here, you know. You've got a chance, and you must come to +stay, and do yourself credit. + +FAITH. [Adapting her face] Yes, I know, I'm very lucky. + +MR MARCH. [Deprecating thanks and moral precept] That's all right! +Only, Mr Bly, I can't absolutely answer for Mrs March. She may think-- + +MARY. There is Mother; I heard the door. + +BLY. [Taking up his pail] I quite understand, sir; I've been a married +man myself. It's very queer the way women look at things. I'll take her +away now, and come back presently and do these other winders. You can +talk it over by yourselves. But if you do see your way, sir, I shan't +forget it in an 'urry. To 'ave the responsibility of her--really, it's +dreadful. + + FAITH's face has grown sullen during this speech, but it clears up + in another little soft look at MR MARCH, as she and MR BLY go out. + +MR MARCH. Well, Mary, have I done it? + +MARY. You have, Dad. + +MR MARCH. [Running his hands through his hair] Pathetic little figure! +Such infernal inhumanity! + +MARY. How are you going to put it to mother? + +MR MARCH. Tell her the story, and pitch it strong. + +MARY. Mother's not impulsive. + +MR MARCH. We must tell her, or she'll think me mad. + +MARY. She'll do that, anyway, dear. + +MR MARCH. Here she is! Stand by! + + He runs his arm through MARY's, and they sit on the fender, at bay. + MRS MARCH enters, Left. + +MR MARCH. Well, what luck? + +MRS MARCH. None. + +MR MARCH. [Unguardedly] Good! + +MRS MARCH. What? + +MRS MARCH. [Cheerfully] Well, the fact is, Mary and I have caught one +for 'you; Mr Bly's daughter-- + +MRS MARCH. Are you out of your senses? Don't you know that she's the +girl who-- + +MR MARCH. That's it. She wants a lift. + +MRS MARCH. Geof! + +MR MARCH. Well, don't we want a maid? + +MRS MARCH. [Ineffably] Ridiculous! + +MR MARCH. We tested her, didn't we, Mary? + +MRS MARCH. [Crossing to the bell, and ringing] You'll just send for Mr +Bly and get rid of her again. + +MR MARCH. Joan, if we comfortable people can't put ourselves a little +out of the way to give a helping hand-- + +MRS MARCH. To girls who smother their babies? + +MR MARCH. Joan, I revolt. I won't be a hypocrite and a Pharisee. + +MRS MARCH. Well, for goodness sake let me be one. + +MARY. [As the door opens]. Here's Cook! + + COOK stands--sixty, stout, and comfortable with a crumpled smile. + +COOK. Did you ring, ma'am? + +MR MARCH. We're in a moral difficulty, Cook, so naturally we come to +you. + + COOK beams. + +MRS MARCH. [Impatiently] Nothing of the sort, Cook; it's a question of +common sense. + +COOK. Yes, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. That girl, Faith Bly, wants to come here as parlour-maid. +Absurd! + +MARCH. You know her story, Cook? I want to give the poor girl a chance. +Mrs March thinks it's taking chances. What do you say? + +COCK. Of course, it is a risk, sir; but there! you've got to take 'em +to get maids nowadays. If it isn't in the past, it's in the future. I +daresay I could learn 'er. + +MRS MARCH. It's not her work, Cook, it's her instincts. A girl who +smothered a baby that she oughtn't to have had-- + +MR MARCH. [Remonstrant] If she hadn't had it how could she have +smothered it? + +COOK. [Soothingly] Perhaps she's repented, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. Of course she's repented. But did you ever know repentance +change anybody, Cook? + +COOK. [Smiling] Well, generally it's a way of gettin' ready for the +next. + +MRS MARCH. Exactly. + +MR MARCH. If we never get another chance because we repent-- + +COOK. I always think of Master Johnny, ma'am, and my jam; he used to +repent so beautiful, dear little feller--such a conscience! I never +could bear to lock it away. + +MRS MARCH. Cook, you're wandering. I'm surprised at your encouraging +the idea; I really am. + + Cook plaits her hands. + +MR MARCH. Cook's been in the family longer than I have--haven't you, +Cook? [COOK beams] She knows much more about a girl like that than we +do. + +COOK. We had a girl like her, I remember, in your dear mother's time, +Mr Geoffrey. + +MR MARCH. How did she turn out? + +COOK. Oh! She didn't. + +MRS MARCH. There! + +MR MARCH. Well, I can't bear behaving like everybody else. Don't you +think we might give her a chance, Cook? + +COOK. My 'eart says yes, ma'am. + +MR MARCH. Ha! + +COOK. And my 'ead says no, sir. + +MRS MARCH. Yes! + +MR MARCH. Strike your balance, Cook. + + COOK involuntarily draws her joined hands sharply in upon her + amplitude. + +Well? . . . I didn't catch the little voice within. + +COOK. Ask Master Johnny, sir; he's been in the war. + +MR MARCH. [To MARY] Get Johnny. + + MARY goes out. + +MRS MARCH. What on earth has the war to do with it? + +COOK. The things he tells me, ma'am, is too wonderful for words. He's +'ad to do with prisoners and generals, every sort of 'orror. + +MR MARCH. Cook's quite right. The war destroyed all our ideals and +probably created the baby. + +MRS MARCH. It didn't smother it; or condemn the girl. + +MR MARCH. [Running his hands through his hair] The more I think of +that--! [He turns away.] + +MRS MARCH. [Indicating her husband] You see, Cook, that's the mood in +which I have to engage a parlour-maid. What am I to do with your master? + +COOK. It's an 'ealthy rage, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. I'm tired of being the only sober person in this house. + +COOK. [Reproachfully] Oh! ma'am, I never touch a drop. + +MRS MARCH. I didn't mean anything of that sort. But they do break out +so. + +COOK. Not Master Johnny. + +MRS MARCH. Johnny! He's the worst of all. His poetry is nothing but +one long explosion. + +MR MARCH. [Coming from the window] I say We ought to have faith and +jump. + +MRS MARCH. If we do have Faith, we shall jump. + +COOK. [Blankly] Of course, in the Bible they 'ad faith, and just look +what it did to them! + +MR MARCH. I mean faith in human instincts, human nature, Cook. + +COOK. [Scandalised] Oh! no, sir, not human nature; I never let that get +the upper hand. + +MR MARCH. You talk to Mr Bly. He's a remarkable man. + +COOK. I do, sir, every fortnight when he does the kitchen windows. + +MR MARCH. Well, doesn't he impress you? + +COOK. Ah! When he's got a drop o' stout in 'im--Oh! dear! [She smiles +placidly.] + + JOHNNY has come in. + +MR MARCH. Well, Johnny, has Mary told you? + +MRS MARCH. [Looking at his face] Now, my dear boy, don't be hasty and +foolish! + +JOHNNY. Of course you ought to take her, Mother. + +MRS MARCH. [Fixing him] Have you seen her, Johnny? + +JOHNNY. She's in the hall, poor little devil, waiting for her sentence. + +MRS MARCH. There are plenty of other chances, Johnny. Why on earth +should we--? + +JOHNNY. Mother, it's just an instance. When something comes along that +takes a bit of doing--Give it to the other chap! + +MR MARCH. Bravo, Johnny! + +MRS MARCH. [Drily] Let me see, which of us will have to put up with her +shortcomings--Johnny or I? + +MARY. She looks quick, Mother. + +MRS MARCH. Girls pick up all sorts of things in prison. We can hardly +expect her to be honest. You don't mind that, I suppose? + +JOHNNY. It's a chance to make something decent out of her. + +MRS MARCH. I can't understand this passion for vicarious heroism, +Johnny. + +JOHNNY. Vicarious! + +MRS MARCH. Well, where do you come in? You'll make poems about the +injustice of the Law. Your father will use her in a novel. She'll wear +Mary's blouses, and everybody will be happy--except Cook and me. + +MR MARCH. Hang it all, Joan, you might be the Great Public itself! + +MRS MARCH. I am--get all the kicks and none of the ha'pence. + +JOHNNY. We'll all help you. + +MRS MARCH. For Heaven's sake--no, Johnny! + +MR MARCH. Well, make up your mind! + +MRS MARCH. It was made up long ago. + +JOHNNY. [Gloomily] The more I see of things the more disgusting they +seem. I don't see what we're living for. All right. Chuck the girl +out, and let's go rooting along with our noses in the dirt. + +MR MARCH. Steady, Johnny! + +JOHNNY. Well, Dad, there was one thing anyway we learned out there-- +When a chap was in a hole--to pull him out, even at a risk. + +MRS MARCH. There are people who--the moment you pull them out--jump in +again. + +MARY. We can't tell till we've tried, Mother. + +COOK. It's wonderful the difference good food'll make, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. Well, you're all against me. Have it your own way, and when +you regret it--remember me! + +MR MARCH. We will--we will! That's settled, then. Bring her in and +tell her. We'll go on to the terrace. + +He goes out through the window, followed by JOHNNY. + +MARY. [Opening the door] Come in, please. + + FAITH enters and stands beside COOK, close to the door. MARY goes + out. + +MRS MARCH. [Matter of fact in defeat as in victory] You want to come to +us, I hear. + +FAITH. Yes. + +MRS MARCH. And you don't know much? + +FAITH. No. + +COOK. [Softly] Say ma'am, dearie. + +MRS MARCH. Cook is going to do her best for you. Are you going to do +yours for us? + +FAITH. [With a quick look up] Yes--ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. Can you begin at once? + +FAITH. Yes. + +MRS MARCH. Well, then, Cook will show you where things are kept, and how +to lay the table and that. Your wages will be thirty until we see where +we are. Every other Sunday, and Thursday afternoon. What about dresses? + +FAITH. [Looking at her dress] I've only got this--I had it before, of +course, it hasn't been worn. + +MRS MARCH. Very neat. But I meant for the house. You've no money, I +suppose? + +FAITH. Only one pound thirteen, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. We shall have to find you some dresses, then. Cook will take +you to-morrow to Needham's. You needn't wear a cap unless you like. +Well, I hope you'll get on. I'll leave you with Cook now. + + After one look at the girl, who is standing motionless, she goes + out. + +FAITH. [With a jerk, as if coming out of plaster of Paris] She's never +been in prison! + +COOK. [Comfortably] Well, my dear, we can't all of us go everywhere, +'owever 'ard we try! + + She is standing back to the dresser, and turns to it, opening the + right-hand drawer. + +COOK. Now, 'ere's the wine. The master likes 'is glass. And 'ere's the +spirits in the tantaliser 'tisn't ever kept locked, in case Master Johnny +should bring a friend in. Have you noticed Master Johnny? [FAITH nods] +Ah! He's a dear boy; and wonderful high-principled since he's been in +the war. He'll come to me sometimes and say: "Cook, we're all going to +the devil!" They think 'ighly of 'im as a poet. He spoke up for you +beautiful. + +FAITH. Oh! He spoke up for me? + +COOK. Well, of course they had to talk you over. + +FAITH. I wonder if they think I've got feelings. + +COOK. [Regarding her moody, pretty face] Why! We all have feelin's! + +FAITH. Not below three hundred a year. + +COOK. [Scandalised] Dear, dear! Where were you educated? + +FAITH. I wasn't. + +COOK. Tt! Well--it's wonderful what a change there is in girls since my +young days [Pulling out a drawer] Here's the napkins. You change the +master's every day at least because of his moustache and the others every +two days, but always clean ones Sundays. Did you keep Sundays in there? + +FAITH. [Smiling] Yes. Longer chapel. + +COOK. It'll be a nice change for you, here. They don't go to Church; +they're agnosticals. [Patting her shoulder] How old are you? + +FAITH. Twenty. + +COOK. Think of that--and such a life! Now, dearie, I'm your friend. +Let the present bury the past--as the sayin' is. Forget all about +yourself, and you'll be a different girl in no time. + +FAITH. Do you want to be a different woman? + + COOK is taken flat aback by so sudden a revelation of the pharisaism + of which she has not been conscious. + +COOK. Well! You are sharp! [Opening another dresser drawer] Here's +the vinegar! And here's the sweets, and [rather anxiously] you mustn't +eat them. + +FAITH. I wasn't in for theft. + +COOK. [Shocked at such rudimentary exposure of her natural misgivings] +No, no! But girls have appetites. + +FAITH. They didn't get much chance where I've been. + +COOK. Ah! You must tell me all about it. Did you have adventures? + +FAITH. There isn't such a thing in a prison. + +COOK. You don't say! Why, in the books they're escapin' all the time. +But books is books; I've always said so. How were the men? + +FAITH. Never saw a man--only a chaplain. + +COOK. Dear, dear! They must be quite fresh to you, then! How long was +it? + +FAITH. Two years. + +COOK. And never a day out? What did you do all the time? Did they +learn you anything? + +FAITH. Weaving. That's why I hate it. + +COOK. Tell me about your poor little baby. I'm sure you meant it for +the best. + +FAITH. [Sardonically] Yes; I was afraid they'd make it a ward in +Chancery. + +COOK. Oh! dear--what things do come into your head! Why! No one can +take a baby from its mother. + +FAITH. Except the Law. + +COOK. Tt! Tt! Well! Here's the pickled onions. Miss Mary loves 'em! +Now then, let me see you lay the cloth. + + She takes a tablecloth out, hands it to FAITH, and while the girl + begins to unfold the cloth she crosses to the service shutter. + +And here's where we pass the dishes through into the pantry. + + The door is opened, and MRS MARCH'S voice says: "Cook--a minute!" + +[Preparing to go] Salt cellars one at each corner--four, and the peppers. +[From the door] Now the decanters. Oh! you'll soon get on. [MRS MARCH +"Cook!"] Yes, ma'am. + + She goes. FAITH, left alone, stands motionless, biting her pretty + lip, her eyes mutinous. Hearing footsteps, she looks up. MR BLY, + with his pail and cloths, appears outside. + +BLY. [Preparing to work, while FAITH prepares to set the salt cellars] +So you've got it! You never know your luck. Up to-day and down +to-morrow. I'll 'ave a glass over this to-night. What d'you get? + +FAITH. Thirty. + +BLY. It's not the market price, still, you're not the market article. +Now, put a good heart into it and get to know your job; you'll find Cook +full o' philosophy if you treat her right--she can make a dumplin' with +anybody. But look 'ere; you confine yourself to the ladies! + +FAITH. I don't want your advice, father. + +BLY. I know parents are out of date; still, I've put up with a lot on +your account, so gimme a bit of me own back. + +FAITH. I don't know whether I shall like this. I've been shut up so +long. I want to see some life. + +BLY. Well, that's natural. But I want you to do well. I suppose you'll +be comin' 'ome to fetch your things to-night? + +FAITH. Yes. + +BLY. I'll have a flower for you. What'd you like--daffydils? + +FAITH. No; one with a scent to it. + +BLY. I'll ask at Mrs Bean's round the corner. + + She'll pick 'em out from what's over. Never 'ad much nose for a + flower meself. I often thought you'd like a flower when you was + in prison. + +FAITH. [A little touched] Did you? Did you really? + +BLY. Ah! I suppose I've drunk more glasses over your bein' in there +than over anything that ever 'appened to me. Why! I couldn't relish the +war for it! And I suppose you 'ad none to relish. Well, it's over. So, +put an 'eart into it. + +FAITH. I'll try. + +BLY. "There's compensation for everything," 'Aigel says. At least, if +it wasn't 'Aigel it was one o' the others. I'll move on to the study +now. Ah! He's got some winders there lookin' right over the country. +And a wonderful lot o' books, if you feel inclined for a read one of +these days. + +COOK'S Voice. Faith! + + FAITH sets down the salt cellar in her hand, puts her tongue out a + very little, and goes out into the hall. MR BLY is gathering up his + pail and cloths when MR MARCH enters at the window. + +MR MARCH. So it's fixed up, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Raising himself] I'd like to shake your 'and, sir. [They shake +hands] It's a great weight off my mind. + +MR MARCH. It's rather a weight on my wife's, I'm afraid. But we must +hope for the best. The country wants rain, but--I doubt if we shall get +it with this Government. + +BLY. Ah! We want the good old times-when you could depend on the +seasons. The further you look back the more dependable the times get; +'ave you noticed that, sir? + +MR MARCH. [Suddenly] Suppose they'd hanged your daughter, Mr Bly. What +would you have done? + +BLY. Well, to be quite frank, I should 'ave got drunk on it. + +MR MARCH. Public opinion's always in advance of the Law. I think your +daughter's a most pathetic little figure. + +BLY. Her looks are against her. I never found a man that didn't. + +MR MARCH. [A little disconcerted] Well, we'll try and give her a good +show here. + +BLY. [Taking up his pail] I'm greatly obliged; she'll appreciate +anything you can do for her. [He moves to the door and pauses there to +say] Fact is--her winders wants cleanin', she 'ad a dusty time in there. + +MR MARCH. I'm sure she had. + + MR BLY passes out, and MR MARCH busies himself in gathering up his + writing things preparatory to seeking his study. While he is so + engaged FAITH comes in. Glancing at him, she resumes her placing of + the decanters, as JOHNNY enters by the window, and comes down to his + father by the hearth. + +JOHNNY. [Privately] If you haven't begun your morning, Dad, you might +just tell me what you think of these verses. + + He puts a sheet of notepaper before his father, who takes it and + begins to con over the verses thereon, while JOHNNY looks carefully + at his nails. + +MR MARCH. Er--I--I like the last line awfully, Johnny. + +JOHNNY. [Gloomily] What about the other eleven? + +MR MARCH. [Tentatively] Well--old man, I--er--think perhaps it'd be +stronger if they were out. + +JOHNNY. Good God! + + He takes back the sheet of paper, clutches his brow, and crosses to + the door. As he passes FAITH, she looks up at him with eyes full of + expression. JOHNNY catches the look, jibs ever so little, and goes + out. + +COOK'S VOICE. [Through the door, which is still ajar] Faith! + + FAITH puts the decanters on the table, and goes quickly out. + +MR MARCH. [Who has seen this little by-play--to himself--in a voice of +dismay] Oh! oh! I wonder! + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II + + A fortnight later in the MARCH'S dining-room; a day of violent + April showers. Lunch is over and the table littered with, remains-- + twelve baskets full. + + MR MARCH and MARY have lingered. MR MARCH is standing by the hearth + where a fire is burning, filling a fountain pen. MARY sits at the + table opposite, pecking at a walnut. + +MR MARCH. [Examining his fingers] What it is to have an inky present! +Suffer with me, Mary! + +MARY. "Weep ye no more, sad Fountains! + Why need ye flow so fast?" + +MR MARCH. [Pocketing his pen] Coming with me to the British Museum? +I want to have a look at the Assyrian reliefs. + +MARY. Dad, have you noticed Johnny? + +MR MARCH. I have. + +MARY. Then only Mother hasn't. + +MR MARCH. I've always found your mother extremely good at seeming not to +notice things, Mary. + +MARY. Faith! She's got on very fast this fortnight. + +MR MARCH. The glad eye, Mary. I got it that first morning. + +MARY. You, Dad? + +MR MARCH. No, no! Johnny got it, and I got him getting it. + +MARY. What are you going to do about it? + +MR MARCH. What does one do with a glad eye that belongs to some one +else? + +MARY. [Laughing] No. But, seriously, Dad, Johnny's not like you and +me. Why not speak to Mr Bly? + +MR MARCH. Mr Bly's eyes are not glad. + +MARY. Dad! Do be serious! Johnny's capable of anything except a sense +of humour. + +MR MARCH. The girl's past makes it impossible to say anything to her. + +MARY. Well, I warn you. Johnny's very queer just now; he's in the "lose +the world to save your soul" mood. It really is too bad of that girl. +After all, we did what most people wouldn't. + +MR MARCH. Come! Get your hat on, Mary, or we shan't make the Tube +before the next shower. + +MARY. [Going to the door] Something must be done. + +MR MARCH. As you say, something--Ah! Mr Bly! + + MR BLY, in precisely the same case as a fortnight ago, with his pail + and cloths, is coming in. + +BLY. Afternoon, sir! Shall I be disturbing you if I do the winders +here? + +MR MARCH. Not at all. + + MR BLY crosses to the windows. + +MARY. [Pointing to MR BLY's back] Try! + +BLY. Showery, sir. + +MR MARCH. Ah! + +BLY. Very tryin' for winders. [Resting] My daughter givin' +satisfaction, I hope? + +MR MARCH. [With difficulty] Er--in her work, I believe, coming on well. +But the question is, Mr Bly, do--er--any of us ever really give +satisfaction except to ourselves? + +BLY. [Taking it as an invitation to his philosophical vein] Ah! that's +one as goes to the roots of 'uman nature. There's a lot of disposition +in all of us. And what I always say is: One man's disposition is another +man's indisposition. + +MR MARCH. By George! Just hits the mark. + +BLY. [Filling his sponge] Question is: How far are you to give rein to +your disposition? When I was in Durban, Natal, I knew a man who had the +biggest disposition I ever come across. 'E struck 'is wife, 'e smoked +opium, 'e was a liar, 'e gave all the rein 'e could, and yet withal one +of the pleasantest men I ever met. + +MR MARCH. Perhaps in giving rein he didn't strike you. + +BLY. [With a big wipe, following his thought] He said to me once: +"Joe," he said, "if I was to hold meself in, I should be a devil." +There's where you get it. Policemen, priests, prisoners. Cab'net +Ministers, any one who leads an unnatural life, see how it twists 'em. +You can't suppress a thing without it swellin' you up in another place. + +MR MARCH. And the moral of that is--? + +BLY. Follow your instincts. You see--if I'm not keepin' you--now that +we ain't got no faith, as we were sayin' the other day, no Ten +Commandments in black an' white--we've just got to be 'uman bein's-- +raisin' Cain, and havin' feelin' hearts. What's the use of all these +lofty ideas that you can't live up to? Liberty, Fraternity, Equality, +Democracy--see what comes o' fightin' for 'em! 'Ere we are-wipin' out +the lot. We thought they was fixed stars; they was only comets--hot air. +No; trust 'uman nature, I say, and follow your instincts. + +MR MARCH. We were talking of your daughter--I--I-- + +BLY. There's a case in point. Her instincts was starved goin' on for +three years, because, mind you, they kept her hangin' about in prison +months before they tried her. I read your article, and I thought to +meself after I'd finished: Which would I feel smallest--if I was--the +Judge, the Jury, or the 'Ome Secretary? It was a treat, that article! +They ought to abolish that in'uman "To be hanged by the neck until she is +dead." It's my belief they only keep it because it's poetry; that and +the wigs--they're hard up for a bit of beauty in the Courts of Law. +Excuse my 'and, sir; I do thank you for that article. + + He extends his wiped hand, which MR MARCH shakes with the feeling + that he is always shaking Mr. BLY's hand. + +MR MARCH. But, apropos of your daughter, Mr Bly. I suppose none of us +ever change our natures. + +BLY. [Again responding to the appeal that he senses to his philosophical +vein] Ah! but 'oo can see what our natures are? Why, I've known people +that could see nothin' but theirselves and their own families, unless +they was drunk. At my daughter's trial, I see right into the lawyers, +judge and all. There she was, hub of the whole thing, and all they could +see of her was 'ow far she affected 'em personally--one tryin' to get 'er +guilty, the other tryin' to get 'er off, and the judge summin' 'er up +cold-blooded. + +MR MARCH. But that's what they're paid for, Mr Bly. + +BLY. Ah! But which of 'em was thinkin' "'Ere's a little bit o' warm +life on its own. 'Ere's a little dancin' creature. What's she feelin', +wot's 'er complaint?"--impersonal-like. I like to see a man do a bit of +speculatin', with his mind off of 'imself, for once. + +MR MARCH. "The man that hath not speculation in his soul." + +BLY. That's right, sir. When I see a mangy cat or a dog that's lost, or +a fellow-creature down on his luck, I always try to put meself in his +place. It's a weakness I've got. + +MR MARCH. [Warmly] A deuced good one. Shake-- + + He checks himself, but MR BLY has wiped his hand and extended it. + + While the shake is in progress MARY returns, and, having seen it to + a safe conclusion, speaks. + +MARY. Coming, Dad? + +MR MARCH. Excuse me, Mr Bly, I must away. + + He goes towards the door, and BLY dips his sponge. + +MARY. [In a low voice] Well? + +MR MARCH. Mr Bly is like all the greater men I know--he can't listen. + +MARY. But you were shaking-- + +MR MARCH. Yes; it's a weakness we have--every three minutes. + +MARY. [Bubbling] Dad--Silly! + +MR MARCH. Very! + + As they go out MR BLY pauses in his labours to catch, as it were, + a philosophical reflection. He resumes the wiping of a pane, while + quietly, behind him, FAITH comes in with a tray. She is dressed now + in lilac-coloured linen, without a cap, and looks prettier than + ever. She puts the tray down on the sideboard with a clap that + attracts her father's attention, and stands contemplating the debris + on the table. + +BLY. Winders! There they are! Clean, dirty! All sorts--All round yer! +Winders! + +FAITH. [With disgust] Food! + +BLY. Ah! Food and winders! That's life! + +FAITH. Eight times a day four times for them and four times for us. +I hate food! + + She puts a chocolate into her mouth. + +BLY. 'Ave some philosophy. I might just as well hate me winders. + +FAITH. Well! + + She begins to clear. + +BLY. [Regarding her] Look 'ere, my girl! Don't you forget that there +ain't many winders in London out o' which they look as philosophical as +these here. Beggars can't be choosers. + +FAITH. [Sullenly] Oh! Don't go on at me! + +BLY. They spoiled your disposition in that place, I'm afraid. + +FAITH. Try it, and see what they do with yours. + +BLY. Well, I may come to it yet. + +FAITH. You'll get no windows to look out of there; a little bit of a +thing with bars to it, and lucky if it's not thick glass. [Standing +still and gazing past MR BLY] No sun, no trees, no faces--people don't +pass in the sky, not even angels. + +BLY. Ah! But you shouldn't brood over it. I knew a man in Valpiraso +that 'ad spent 'arf 'is life in prison-a jolly feller; I forget what +'e'd done, somethin' bloody. I want to see you like him. Aren't you +happy here? + +FAITH. It's right enough, so long as I get out. + +BLY. This Mr March--he's like all these novel-writers--thinks 'e knows +'uman nature, but of course 'e don't. Still, I can talk to 'im--got an +open mind, and hates the Gover'ment. That's the two great things. Mrs +March, so far as I see, 'as got her head screwed on much tighter. + +FAITH. She has. + +BLY. What's the young man like? He's a long feller. + +FAITH. Johnny? [With a shrug and a little smile] Johnny. + +BLY. Well, that gives a very good idea of him. They say 'es a poet; +does 'e leave 'em about? + +FAITH. I've seen one or two. + +BLY. What's their tone? + +FAITH. All about the condition of the world; and the moon. + +BLY. Ah! Depressin'. And the young lady? + + FAITH shrugs her shoulders. + +Um--'ts what I thought. She 'asn't moved much with the times. She +thinks she 'as, but she 'asn't. Well, they seem a pleasant family. +Leave you to yourself. 'Ow's Cook? + +FAITH. Not much company. + +BLY. More body than mind? Still, you get out, don't you? + +FAITH. [With a slow smile] Yes. [She gives a sudden little twirl, and +puts her hands up to her hair before the mirror] My afternoon to-day. +It's fine in the streets, after-being in there. + +BLY. Well! Don't follow your instincts too much, that's all! I must +get on to the drawin' room now. There's a shower comin'. +[Philosophically] It's 'ardly worth while to do these winders. You +clean 'em, and they're dirty again in no time. It's like life. And +people talk o' progress. What a sooperstition! Of course there ain't +progress; it's a world-without-end affair. You've got to make up your +mind to it, and not be discouraged. All this depression comes from +'avin' 'igh 'opes. 'Ave low 'opes, and you'll be all right. + +He takes up his pail and cloths and moves out through the windows. + + FAITH puts another chocolate into her mouth, and taking up a flower, + twirls round with it held to her nose, and looks at herself in the + glass over the hearth. She is still looking at herself when she + sees in the mirror a reflection of JOHNNY, who has come in. Her + face grows just a little scared, as if she had caught the eye of a + warder peering through the peep-hole of her cell door, then brazens, + and slowly sweetens as she turns round to him. + +JOHNNY. Sorry! [He has a pipe in his hand and wears a Norfolk jacket] +Fond of flowers? + +FAITH. Yes. [She puts back the flower] Ever so! + +JOHNNY. Stick to it. Put it in your hair; it'll look jolly. How do you +like it here? + +FAITH. It's quiet. + +JOHNNY. Ha! I wonder if you've got the feeling I have. We've both had +hell, you know; I had three years of it, out there, and you've had three +years of it here. The feeling that you can't catch up; can't live fast +enough to get even. + + FAITH nods. + +Nothing's big enough; nothing's worth while enough--is it? + +FAITH. I don't know. I know I'd like to bite. She draws her lips back. + +JOHNNY. Ah! Tell me all about your beastly time; it'll do you good. +You and I are different from anybody else in this house. We've lived +they've just vegetated. Come on; tell me! + + FAITH, who up to now has looked on him as a young male, stares at + him for the first time without sex in her eyes. + +FAITH. I can't. We didn't talk in there, you know. + +JOHNNY. Were you fond of the chap who--? + +FAITH. No. Yes. I suppose I was--once. + +JOHNNY. He must have been rather a swine. + +FAITH. He's dead. + +JOHNNY. Sorry! Oh, sorry! + +FAITH. I've forgotten all that. + +JOHNNY. Beastly things, babies; and absolutely unnecessary in the +present state of the world. + +FAITH. [With a faint smile] My baby wasn't beastly; but I--I got upset. + +JOHNNY. Well, I should think so! + +FAITH. My friend in the manicure came and told me about hers when I was +lying in the hospital. She couldn't have it with her, so it got +neglected and died. + +JOHNNY. Um! I believe that's quite common. + +FAITH. And she told me about another girl--the Law took her baby from +her. And after she was gone, I--got all worked up-- [She hesitates, then +goes swiftly on] And I looked at mine; it was asleep just here, quite +close. I just put out my arm like that, over its face--quite soft-- +I didn't hurt it. I didn't really. [She suddenly swallows, and her lips +quiver] I didn't feel anything under my arm. And--and a beast of a nurse +came on me, and said "You've smothered your baby, you wretched girl!" + +I didn't want to kill it--I only wanted to save it from living. And when +I looked at it, I went off screaming. + +JOHNNY. I nearly screamed when I saved my first German from living. I +never felt the same again. They say the human race has got to go on, but +I say they've first got to prove that the human race wants to. Would you +rather be alive or dead? + +FAITH. Alive. + +JOHNNY. But would you have in prison? + +FAITH. I don't know. You can't tell anything in there. [With sudden +vehemence] I wish I had my baby back, though. It was mine; and I--I +don't like thinking about it. + +JOHNNY. I know. I hate to think about anything I've killed, really. +At least, I should--but it's better not to think. + +FAITH. I could have killed that judge. + +JOHNNY. Did he come the heavy father? That's what I can't stand. When +they jaw a chap and hang him afterwards. Or was he one of the joking +ones? + +FAITH. I've sat in my cell and cried all night--night after night, +I have. [With a little laugh] I cried all the softness out of me. + +JOHNNY. You never believed they were going to hang you, did you? + +FAITH. I didn't care if they did--not then. + +JOHNNY. [With a reflective grunt] You had a much worse time than I. You +were lonely-- + +FAITH. Have you been in a prison, ever? + +JOHNNY. No, thank God! + +FAITH. It's awfully clean. + +JOHNNY. You bet. + +FAITH. And it's stone cold. It turns your heart. + +JOHNNY. Ah! Did you ever see a stalactite? + +FAITH. What's that? + +JOHNNY. In caves. The water drops like tears, and each drop has some +sort of salt, and leaves it behind till there's just a long salt +petrified drip hanging from the roof. + +FAITH. Ah! [Staring at him] I used to stand behind my door. I'd stand +there sometimes I don't know how long. I'd listen and listen--the noises +are all hollow in a prison. You'd think you'd get used to being shut up, +but I never did. + + JOHNNY utters a deep grunt. + +It's awful the feeling you get here-so tight and chokey. People who are +free don't know what it's like to be shut up. If I'd had a proper window +even--When you can see things living, it makes you feel alive. + +JOHNNY. [Catching her arm] We'll make you feel alive again. + + FAITH stares at him; sex comes back to her eyes. She looks down. + +I bet you used to enjoy life, before. + +FAITH. [Clasping her hands] Oh! yes, I did. And I love getting out +now. I've got a fr-- [She checks herself] The streets are beautiful, +aren't they? Do you know Orleens Street? + +JOHNNY. [Doubtful] No-o. . . . Where? + +FAITH. At the corner out of the Regent. That's where we had our shop. +I liked the hair-dressing. We had fun. Perhaps I've seen you before. +Did you ever come in there? + +JOHNNY. No. + +FAITH. I'd go back there; only they wouldn't take me--I'm too +conspicuous now. + +JOHNNY. I expect you're well out of that. + +FAITH. [With a sigh] But I did like it. I felt free. We had an hour +off in the middle of the day; you could go where you liked; and then, +after hours--I love the streets at night--all lighted. Olga--that's one +of the other girls--and I used to walk about for hours. That's life! +Fancy! I never saw a street for more than two years. Didn't you miss +them in the war? + +JOHNNY. I missed grass and trees more--the trees! All burnt, and +splintered. Gah! + +FAITH. Yes, I like trees too; anything beautiful, you know. I think the +parks are lovely--but they might let you pick the flowers. But the +lights are best, really--they make you feel happy. And music--I love an +organ. There was one used to come and play outside the prison--before I +was tried. It sounded so far away and lovely. If I could 'ave met the +man that played that organ, I'd have kissed him. D'you think he did it +on purpose? + +JOHNNY. He would have, if he'd been me. + + He says it unconsciously, but FAITH is instantly conscious of the + implication. + +FAITH. He'd rather have had pennies, though. It's all earning; working +and earning. I wish I were like the flowers. [She twirls the dower in +her hand] Flowers don't work, and they don't get put in prison. + +JOHNNY. [Putting his arm round her] Never mind! Cheer up! You're only +a kid. You'll have a good time yet. + + FAITH leans against him, as it were indifferently, clearly expecting + him to kiss her, but he doesn't. + +FAITH. When I was a little girl I had a cake covered with sugar. I ate +the sugar all off and then I didn't want the cake--not much. + +JOHNNY. [Suddenly, removing his arm] Gosh! If I could write a poem that +would show everybody what was in the heart of everybody else--! + +FAITH. It'd be too long for the papers, wouldn't it? + +JOHNNY. It'd be too strong. + +FAITH. Besides, you don't know. + + Her eyelids go up. + +JOHNNY. [Staring at her] I could tell what's in you now. + +FAITH. What? + +JOHNNY. You feel like a flower that's been picked. + +FAITH's smile is enigmatic. + +FAITH. [Suddenly] Why do you go on about me so? + +JOHNNY. Because you're weak--little and weak. [Breaking out again] Damn +it! We went into the war to save the little and weak; at least we said +so; and look at us now! The bottom's out of all that. [Bitterly] There +isn't a faith or an illusion left. Look here! I want to help you. + +FAITH. [Surprisingly] My baby was little and weak. + +JOHNNY. You never meant--You didn't do it for your own advantage. + +FAITH. It didn't know it was alive. [Suddenly] D'you think I'm pretty? + +JOHNNY. As pie. + +FAITH. Then you'd better keep away, hadn't you? + +JOHNNY. Why? + +FAITH. You might want a bite. + +JOHNNY. Oh! I can trust myself. + +FAITH. [Turning to the window, through which can be seen the darkening +of a shower] It's raining. Father says windows never stay clean. + + They stand dose together, unaware that COOK has thrown up the + service shutter, to see why the clearing takes so long. Her + astounded head and shoulders pass into view just as FAITH suddenly + puts up her face. JOHNNY'S lips hesitate, then move towards her + forehead. But her face shifts, and they find themselves upon her + lips. Once there, the emphasis cannot help but be considerable. + COOK'S mouth falls open. + +COOK. Oh! + + She closes the shutter, vanishing. + +FAITH. What was that? + +JOHNNY. Nothing. [Breaking away] Look here! I didn't mean--I oughtn't +to have--Please forget it! + +FAITH. [With a little smile] Didn't you like it? + +JOHNNY. Yes--that's just it. I didn't mean to It won't do. + +FAITH. Why not? + +JOHNNY. No, no! It's just the opposite of what--No, no! + + He goes to the door, wrenches it open and goes out. + + FAITH, still with that little half-mocking, half-contented smile, + resumes the clearing of the table. She is interrupted by the + entrance through the French windows of MR MARCH and MARY, struggling + with one small wet umbrella. + +MARY. [Feeling his sleeve] Go and change, Dad. + +MR MARCH. Women's shoes! We could have made the Tube but for your +shoes. + +MARY. It was your cold feet, not mine, dear. [Looking at FAITH and +nudging him] Now! + + She goes towards the door, turns to look at FAITH still clearing the + table, and goes out. + +MR MARCH. [In front of the hearth] Nasty spring weather, Faith. + +FAITH. [Still in the mood of the kiss] Yes, Sir. + +MR MARCH. [Sotto voce] "In the spring a young man's fancy." I--I wanted +to say something to you in a friendly way. + + FAITH regards him as he struggles on. Because I feel very friendly + towards you. + +FAITH. Yes. + +MR MARCH. So you won't take what I say in bad part? + +FAITH. No. + +MR MARCH. After what you've been through, any man with a sense of +chivalry-- + + FAITH gives a little shrug. + +Yes, I know--but we don't all support the Government. + +FAITH. I don't know anything about the Government. + +MR MARCH. [Side-tracked on to his hobby] Ah I forgot. You saw no +newspapers. But you ought to pick up the threads now. What paper does +Cook take? + +FAITH. "COSY." + +MR MARCH. "Cosy"? I don't seem-- What are its politics? + +FAITH. It hasn't any--only funny bits, and fashions. It's full of +corsets. + +MR MARCH. What does Cook want with corsets? + +FAITH. She likes to think she looks like that. + +MR MARCH. By George! Cook an idealist! Let's see!--er--I was speaking +of chivalry. My son, you know--er--my son has got it. + +FAITH. Badly? + +MR MARCH. [Suddenly alive to the fact that she is playing with him] I +started by being sorry for you. + +FAITH. Aren't you, any more? + +MR MARCH. Look here, my child! + +FAITH looks up at him. [Protectingly] We want to do our best for you. +Now, don't spoil it by-- Well, you know! + +FAITH. [Suddenly] Suppose you'd been stuffed away in a hole for years! + +MR MARCH. [Side-tracked again] Just what your father said. The more I +see of Mr Bly, the more wise I think him. + +FAITH. About other people. + +MR MARCH. What sort of bringing up did he give you? + + FAITH smiles wryly and shrugs her shoulders. + +MR MARCH. H'm! Here comes the sun again! + +FAITH. [Taking up the flower which is lying on the table] May I have +this flower? + +MR MARCH. Of Course. You can always take what flowers you like--that +is--if--er-- + +FAITH. If Mrs March isn't about? + +MR MARCH. I meant, if it doesn't spoil the look of the table. We must +all be artists in our professions, mustn't we? + +FAITH. My profession was cutting hair. I would like to cut yours. + + MR MARCH'S hands instinctively go up to it. + +MR MARCH. You mightn't think it, but I'm talking to you seriously. + +FAITH. I was, too. + +MR MARCH. [Out of his depth] Well! I got wet; I must go and change. + + FAITH follows him with her eyes as he goes out, and resumes the + clearing of the table. She has paused and is again smelling at the + flower when she hears the door, and quickly resumes her work. It is + MRS MARCH, who comes in and goes to the writing table, Left Back, + without looking at FAITH. She sits there writing a cheque, while + FAITH goes on clearing. + +MRS MARCH. [Suddenly, in an unruffled voice] I have made your cheque out +for four pounds. It's rather more than the fortnight, and a month's +notice. There'll be a cab for you in an hour's time. Can you be ready +by then? + +FAITH. [Astonished] What for--ma'am? + +MRS MARCH. You don't suit. + +FAITH. Why? + +MRS MARCH. Do you wish for the reason? + +FAITH. [Breathless] Yes. + +MRS MARCH. Cook saw you just now. + +FAITH. [Blankly] Oh! I didn't mean her to. + +MRS MARCH. Obviously. + +FAITH. I--I-- + +MRS MARCH. Now go and pack up your things. + +FAITH. He asked me to be a friend to him. He said he was lonely here. + +MRS MARCH. Don't be ridiculous. Cook saw you kissing him with p--p-- + +FAITH. [Quickly] Not with pep. + +MRS MARCH. I was going to say "passion." Now, go quietly. + +FAITH. Where am I to go? + +MRS MARCH. You will have four pounds, and you can get another place. + +FAITH. How? + +MRS MARCH. That's hardly my affair. + +FAITH. [Tossing her head] All right! + +MRS MARCH. I'll speak to your father, if he isn't gone. + +FAITH. Why do you send me away--just for a kiss! What's a kiss? + +MRS MARCH. That will do. + +FAITH. [Desperately] He wanted to--to save me. + +MRS MARCH. You know perfectly well people can only save themselves. + +FAITH. I don't care for your son; I've got a young--[She checks herself] +I--I'll leave your son alone, if he leaves me. + + MRS MARCH rings the bell on the table. + +[Desolately] Well? [She moves towards the door. Suddenly holding out +the flower] Mr March gave me that flower; would you like it back? + +MRS MARCH. Don't be absurd! If you want more money till you get a +place, let me know. + +FAITH. I won't trouble you. + + She goes out. + + MRS MARCH goes to the window and drums her fingers on the pane. + + COOK enters. + +MRS MARCH. Cook, if Mr Bly's still here, I want to see him. Oh! And +it's three now. Have a cab at four o'clock. + +COOK. [Almost tearful] Oh, ma'am--anybody but Master Johnny, and I'd +'ave been a deaf an' dummy. Poor girl! She's not responsive, I daresay. +Suppose I was to speak to Master Johnny? + +MRS MARCH. No, no, Cook! Where's Mr Bly? + +COOK. He's done his windows; he's just waiting for his money. + +MRS MARCH. Then get him; and take that tray. + +COOK. I remember the master kissin' me, when he was a boy. But then he +never meant anything; so different from Master Johnny. Master Johnny +takes things to 'eart. + +MRS MARCH. Just so, Cook. + +COOK. There's not an ounce of vice in 'im. It's all his goodness, dear +little feller. + +MRS MARCH. That's the danger, with a girl like that. + +COOK. It's eatin' hearty all of a sudden that's made her poptious. But +there, ma'am, try her again. Master Johnny'll be so cut up! + +MRS MARCH. No playing with fire, Cook. We were foolish to let her come. + +COOK. Oh! dear, he will be angry with me. If you hadn't been in the +kitchen and heard me, ma'am, I'd ha' let it pass. + +MRS MARCH. That would have been very wrong of you. + +COOK. Ah! But I'd do a lot of wrong things for Master Johnny. There's +always some one you'll go wrong for! + +MRS MARCH. Well, get Mr Bly; and take that tray, there's a good soul. + + COOK goes out with the tray; and while waiting, MRS MARCH finishes + clearing the table. She has not quite finished when MR BLY enters. + +BLY. Your service, ma'am! + +MRS MARCH. [With embarrassment] I'm very sorry, Mr Bly, but +circumstances over which I have no control-- + +BLY. [With deprecation] Ah! we all has them. The winders ought to be +done once a week now the Spring's on 'em. + +MRS MARCH. No, no; it's your daughter-- + +BLY. [Deeply] Not been given' way to'er instincts, I do trust. + +MRS MARCH. Yes. I've just had to say good-bye to her. + +BLY. [Very blank] Nothing to do with property, I hope? + +MRS MARCH. No, no! Giddiness with my son. It's impossible; she really +must learn. + +BLY. Oh! but 'oo's to learn 'er? Couldn't you learn your son instead? + +MRS MARCH. No. My son is very high-minded. + +BLY. [Dubiously] I see. How am I goin' to get over this? Shall I tell +you what I think, ma'am? + +MRS MARCH. I'm afraid it'll be no good. + +BLY. That's it. Character's born, not made. You can clean yer winders +and clean 'em, but that don't change the colour of the glass. My father +would have given her a good hidin', but I shan't. Why not? Because my +glass ain't as thick as his. I see through it; I see my girl's +temptations, I see what she is--likes a bit o' life, likes a flower, an' +a dance. She's a natural morganatic. + +MRS MARCH. A what? + +BLY. Nothin'll ever make her regular. Mr March'll understand how I +feel. Poor girl! In the mud again. Well, we must keep smilin'. [His +face is as long as his arm] The poor 'ave their troubles, there's no +doubt. [He turns to go] There's nothin' can save her but money, so as +she can do as she likes. Then she wouldn't want to do it. + +MRS MARCH. I'm very sorry, but there it is. + +BLY. And I thought she was goin' to be a success here. Fact is, you +can't see anything till it 'appens. There's winders all round, but you +can't see. Follow your instincts--it's the only way. + +MRS MARCH. It hasn't helped your daughter. + +BLY. I was speakin' philosophic! Well, I'll go 'ome now, and prepare +meself for the worst. + +MRS MARCH. Has Cook given you your money? + +BLY. She 'as. + + He goes out gloomily and is nearly overthrown in the doorway by the + violent entry of JOHNNY. + +JOHNNY. What's this, Mother? I won't have it--it's pre-war. + +MRS MARCH. [Indicating MR BLY] Johnny! + + JOHNNY waves BLY out of the room and doses the door. + +JOHNNY. I won't have her go. She's a pathetic little creature. + +MRS MARCH. [Unruffled] She's a minx. + +JOHNNY. Mother! + +MRS MARCH. Now, Johnny, be sensible. She's a very pretty girl, and this +is my house. + +JOHNNY. Of course you think the worst. Trust anyone who wasn't in the +war for that! + +MRS MARCH. I don't think either the better or the worse. Kisses are +kisses! + +JOHNNY. Mother, you're like the papers--you put in all the vice and +leave out all the virtue, and call that human nature. The kiss was an +accident that I bitterly regret. + +MRS MARCH. Johnny, how can you? + +JOHNNY. Dash it! You know what I mean. I regret it with my--my +conscience. It shan't occur again. + +MRS MARCH. Till next time. + +JOHNNY. Mother, you make me despair. You're so matter-of-fact, you +never give one credit for a pure ideal. + +MRS MARCH. I know where ideals lead. + +JOHNNY. Where? + +MRS MARCH. Into the soup. And the purer they are, the hotter the soup. + +JOHNNY. And you married father! + +MRS MARCH. I did. + +JOHNNY. Well, that girl is not to be chucked out; won't have her on my +chest. + +MRS MARCH. That's why she's going, Johnny. + +JOHNNY. She is not. Look at me! + + MRS MARCH looks at him from across the dining-table, for he has + marched up to it, till they are staring at each other across the now + cleared rosewood. + +MRS MARCH. How are you going to stop her? + +JOHNNY. Oh, I'll stop her right enough. If I stuck it out in Hell, I +can stick it out in Highgate. + +MRS MARCH. Johnny, listen. I've watched this girl; and I don't watch +what I want to see--like your father--I watch what is. She's not a hard +case--yet; but she will be. + +JOHNNY. And why? Because all you matter-of-fact people make up your +minds to it. What earthly chance has she had? + +MRS MARCH. She's a baggage. There are such things, you know, Johnny. + +JOHNNY. She's a little creature who went down in the scrum and has been +kicked about ever since. + +MRS MARCH. I'll give her money, if you'll keep her at arm's length. + +JOHNNY. I call that revolting. What she wants is the human touch. + +MRS MARCH. I've not a doubt of it. + + JOHNNY rises in disgust. + +Johnny, what is the use of wrapping the thing up in catchwords? Human +touch! A young man like you never saved a girl like her. It's as +fantastic as--as Tolstoi's "Resurrection." + +JOHNNY. Tolstoi was the most truthful writer that ever lived. + +MRS MARCH. Tolstoi was a Russian--always proving that what isn't, is. + +JOHNNY. Russians are charitable, anyway, and see into other people's +souls. + +MRS MARCH. That's why they're hopeless. + +JOHNNY. Well--for cynicism-- + +MRS MARCH. It's at least as important, Johnny, to see into ourselves as +into other people. I've been trying to make your father understand that +ever since we married. He'd be such a good writer if he did--he wouldn't +write at all. + +JOHNNY. Father has imagination. + +MRS MARCH. And no business to meddle with practical affairs. You and he +always ride in front of the hounds. Do you remember when the war broke +out, how angry you were with me because I said we were fighting from a +sense of self-preservation? Well, weren't we? + +JOHNNY. That's what I'm doing now, anyway. + +MRS MARCH. Saving this girl, to save yourself? + +JOHNNY. I must have something decent to do sometimes. There isn't an +ideal left. + +MRS MARCH. If you knew how tired I am of the word, Johnny! + +JOHNNY. There are thousands who feel like me--that the bottom's out of +everything. It sickens me that anything in the least generous should get +sat on by all you people who haven't risked your lives. + +MRS MARCH. [With a smile] I risked mine when you were born, Johnny. +You were always very difficult. + +JOHNNY. That girl's been telling me--I can see the whole thing. + +MRS MARCH. The fact that she suffered doesn't alter her nature; or the +danger to you and us. + +JOHNNY. There is no danger--I told her I didn't mean it. + +MRS MARCH. And she smiled? Didn't she? + +JOHNNY. I--I don't know. + +MRS MARCH. If you were ordinary, Johnny, it would be the girl's +look-out. But you're not, and I'm not going to have you in the trap +she'll set for you. + +JOHNNY. You think she's a designing minx. I tell you she's got no more +design in her than a rabbit. She's just at the mercy of anything. + +MRS MARCH. That's the trap. She'll play on your feelings, and you'll be +caught. + +JOHNNY. I'm not a baby. + +MRS MARCH. You are--and she'll smother you. + +JOHNNY. How beastly women are to each other! + +MRS MARCH. We know ourselves, you see. The girl's father realises +perfectly what she is. + +JOHNNY. Mr Bly is a dodderer. And she's got no mother. I'll bet you've +never realised the life girls who get outed lead. I've seen them--I saw +them in France. It gives one the horrors. + +MRS MARCH. I can imagine it. But no girl gets "outed," as you call it, +unless she's predisposed that way. + +JOHNNY. That's all you know of the pressure of life. + +MRS MARCH. Excuse me, Johnny. I worked three years among factory girls, +and I know how they manage to resist things when they've got stuff in +them. + +JOHNNY. Yes, I know what you mean by stuff--good hard self-preservative +instinct. Why should the wretched girl who hasn't got that be turned +down? She wants protection all the more. + +MRS MARCH. I've offered to help with money till she gets a place. + +JOHNNY. And you know she won't take it. She's got that much stuff in +her. This place is her only chance. I appeal to you, Mother--please +tell her not to go. + +MRS MARCH. I shall not, Johnny. + +JOHNNY. [Turning abruptly] Then we know where we are. + +MRS MARCH. I know where you'll be before a week's over. + +JOHNNY. Where? + +MRS MARCH. In her arms. + +JOHNNY. [From the door, grimly] If I am, I'll have the right to be! + +MRS MARCH. Johnny! [But he is gone.] + + MRS MARCH follows to call him back, but is met by MARY. + +MARY. So you've tumbled, Mother? + +MRS MARCH. I should think I have! Johnny is making an idiot of himself +about that girl. + +MARY. He's got the best intentions. + +MRS MARCH. It's all your father. What can one expect when your father +carries on like a lunatic over his paper every morning? + +MARY. Father must have opinions of his own. + +MRS MARCH. He has only one: Whatever is, is wrong. + +MARY. He can't help being intellectual, Mother. + +MRS MARCH. If he would only learn that the value of a sentiment is the +amount of sacrifice you are prepared to make for it! + +MARY. Yes: I read that in "The Times" yesterday. Father's much safer +than Johnny. Johnny isn't safe at all; he might make a sacrifice any +day. What were they doing? + +MRS MARCH. Cook caught them kissing. + +MARY. How truly horrible! + + As she speaks MR MARCH comes in. + +MR MARCH. I met Johnny using the most poetic language. What's happened? + +MRS MARCH. He and that girl. Johnny's talking nonsense about wanting to +save her. I've told her to pack up. + +MR MARCH. Isn't that rather coercive, Joan? + +MRS MARCH. Do you approve of Johnny getting entangled with this girl? + +MR MARCH. No. I was only saying to Mary-- + +MRS MARCH. Oh! You were! + +MR MARCH. But I can quite see why Johnny-- + +MRS MARCH. The Government, I suppose! + +MR MARCH. Certainly. + +MRS MARCH. Well, perhaps you'll get us out of the mess you've got us +into. + +MR MARCH. Where's the girl? + +MRS MARCH. In her room-packing. + +MR MARCH. We must devise means-- + + MRS MARCH smiles. + +The first thing is to see into them--and find out exactly-- + +MRS MARCH. Heavens! Are you going to have them X-rayed? They haven't +got chest trouble, Geof. + +MR MARCH. They may have heart trouble. It's no good being hasty, Joan. + +MRS MARCH. Oh! For a man that can't see an inch into human nature, give +me a--psychological novelist! + +MR MARCH. [With dignity] Mary, go and see where Johnny is. + +MARY. Do you want him here? + +MR MARCH. Yes. + +MARY. [Dubiously] Well--if I can. + + She goes out. A silence, during which the MARCHES look at each + other by those turns which characterise exasperated domesticity. + +MRS MARCH. If she doesn't go, Johnny must. Are you going to turn him +out? + +MR MARCH. Of course not. We must reason with him. + +MRS MARCH. Reason with young people whose lips were glued together half +an hour ago! Why ever did you force me to take this girl? + +MR MARCH. [Ruefully] One can't always resist a kindly impulse, Joan. +What does Mr Bly say to it? + +MRS MARCH. Mr Bly? "Follow your instincts" and then complains of his +daughter for following them. + +MR MARCH. The man's a philosopher. + +MRS MARCH. Before we know where we are, we shall be having Johnny +married to that girl. + +MR MARCH. Nonsense! + +MRS MARCH. Oh, Geof! Whenever you're faced with reality, you say +"Nonsense!" You know Johnny's got chivalry on the brain. + + MARY comes in. + +MARY. He's at the top of the servants' staircase; outside her room. +He's sitting in an armchair, with its back to her door. + +MR MARCH. Good Lord! Direct action! + +MARY. He's got his pipe, a pound of chocolate, three volumes of "Monte +Cristo," and his old concertina. He says it's better than the trenches. + +MR MARCH. My hat! Johnny's made a joke. This is serious. + +MARY. Nobody can get up, and she can't get down. He says he'll stay +there till all's blue, and it's no use either of you coming unless mother +caves in. + +MR MARCH. I wonder if Cook could do anything with him? + +MARY. She's tried. He told her to go to hell. + +MR MARCH. I Say! And what did Cook--? + +MARY. She's gone. + +MR MARCH. Tt! tt! This is very awkward. + + COOK enters through the door which MARY has left open. + +MR MARCH. Ah, Cook! You're back, then? What's to be done? + +MRS MARCH. [With a laugh] We must devise means! + +COOK. Oh, ma'am, it does remind me so of the tantrums he used to get +into, dear little feller! Smiles with recollection. + +MRS MARCH. [Sharply] You're not to take him up anything to eat, Cook! + +COOK. Oh! But Master Johnny does get so hungry. It'll drive him wild, +ma'am. Just a Snack now and then! + +MRS MARCH. No, Cook. Mind--that's flat! + +COOK. Aren't I to feed Faith, ma'am? + +MR MARCH. Gad! It wants it! + +MRS MARCH. Johnny must come down to earth. + +COOK. Ah! I remember how he used to fall down when he was little--he +would go about with his head in the air. But he always picked himself up +like a little man. + +MARY. Listen! + + They all listen. The distant sounds of a concertina being played + with fury drift in through the open door. + +COOK. Don't it sound 'eavenly! + +The concertina utters a long wail. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + +The MARCH'S dining-room on the same evening at the end of a perfunctory +dinner. MRS MARCH sits at the dining-table with her back to the windows, +MARY opposite the hearth, and MR MARCH with his back to it. JOHNNY is +not present. Silence and gloom. + +MR MARCH. We always seem to be eating. + +MRS MARCH. You've eaten nothing. + +MR MARCH. [Pouring himself out a liqueur glass of brandy but not +drinking it] It's humiliating to think we can't exist without. +[Relapses into gloom.] + +MRS MARCH. Mary, pass him the walnuts. + +MARY. I was thinking of taking them up to Johnny. + +MR MARCH. [Looking at his watch] He's been there six hours; even he +can't live on faith. + +MRS MARCH. If Johnny wants to make a martyr of himself, I can't help it. + +MARY. How many days are you going to let him sit up there, Mother? + +MR MARCH. [Glancing at MRS MARCH] I never in my life knew anything so +ridiculous. + +MRS MARCH. Give me a little glass of brandy, Geof. + +MR MARCH. Good! That's the first step towards seeing reason. + + He pours brandy into a liqueur glass from the decanter which stands + between them. MRS MARCH puts the brandy to her lips and makes a + little face, then swallows it down manfully. MARY gets up with the + walnuts and goes. Silence. Gloom. + +MRS MARCH. Horrid stuff! + +MR MARCH. Haven't you begun to see that your policy's hopeless, Joan? +Come! Tell the girl she can stay. If we make Johnny feel victorious--we +can deal with him. It's just personal pride--the curse of this world. +Both you and Johnny are as stubborn as mules. + +MRS MARCH. Human nature is stubborn, Geof. That's what you easy--going +people never see. + + MR MARCH gets up, vexed, and goes to the fireplace. + +MR MARCH. [Turning] Well! This goes further than you think. It +involves Johnny's affection and respect for you. + + MRS MARCH nervously refills the little brandy glass, and again + empties it, with a grimacing shudder. + +MR MARCH. [Noticing] That's better! You'll begin to see things +presently. + + MARY re-enters. + +MARY. He's been digging himself in. He's put a screen across the head +of the stairs, and got Cook's blankets. He's going to sleep there. + +MRS MARCH. Did he take the walnuts? + +MARY. No; he passed them in to her. He says he's on hunger strike. But +he's eaten all the chocolate and smoked himself sick. He's having the +time of his life, mother. + +MR MARCH. There you are! + +MRS MARCH. Wait till this time to-morrow. + +MARY. Cook's been up again. He wouldn't let her pass. She'll have to +sleep in the spare room. + +MR MARCH. I say! + +MARY. And he's got the books out of her room. + +MRS MARCH. D'you know what they are? "The Scarlet Pimpernel," +"The Wide Wide World," and the Bible. + +MARY. Johnny likes romance. + + She crosses to the fire. + +MR MARCH. [In a low voice] Are you going to leave him up there with the +girl and that inflammatory literature, all night? Where's your common +sense, Joan? + + MRS MARCH starts up, presses her hand over her brow, and sits down + again. She is stumped. + +[With consideration for her defeat] Have another tot! [He pours it out] +Let Mary go up with a flag of truce, and ask them both to come down for a +thorough discussion of the whole thing, on condition that they can go up +again if we don't come to terms. + +MRS MARCH. Very well! I'm quite willing to meet him. I hate +quarrelling with Johnny. + +MR MARCH. Good! I'll go myself. [He goes out.] + +MARY. Mother, this isn't a coal strike; don't discuss it for three hours +and then at the end ask Johnny and the girl to do precisely what you're +asking them to do now. + +MRS MARCH. Why should I? + +MARY. Because it's so usual. Do fix on half-way at once. + +MRS MARCH. There is no half-way. + +MARY. Well, for goodness sake think of a plan which will make you both +look victorious. That's always done in the end. Why not let her stay, +and make Johnny promise only to see her in the presence of a third party? + +MRS MARCH. Because she'd see him every day while he was looking for the +third party. She'd help him look for it. + +MARY. [With a gurgle] Mother, I'd no idea you were so--French. + +MRS MARCH. It seems to me you none of you have any idea what I am. + +MARY. Well, do remember that there'll be no publicity to make either of +you look small. You can have Peace with Honour, whatever you decide. +[Listening] There they are! Now, Mother, don't be logical! It's so +feminine. + + As the door opens, MRS MARCH nervously fortifies herself with the + third little glass of brandy. She remains seated. MARY is on her + right. + + MR MARCH leads into the room and stands next his daughter, then + FAITH in hat and coat to the left of the table, and JOHNNY, pale but + determined, last. Assembled thus, in a half fan, of which MRS MARCH + is the apex, so to speak, they are all extremely embarrassed, and no + wonder. + + Suddenly MARY gives a little gurgle. + +JOHNNY. You'd think it funnier if you'd just come out of prison and were +going to be chucked out of your job, on to the world again. + +FAITH. I didn't want to come down here. If I'm to go I want to go at +once. And if I'm not, it's my evening out, please. + + She moves towards the door. JOHNNY takes her by the shoulders. + +JOHNNY. Stand still, and leave it to me. [FAITH looks up at him, +hypnotized by his determination] Now, mother, I've come down at your +request to discuss this; are you ready to keep her? Otherwise up we go +again. + +MR MARCH. That's not the way to go to work, Johnny. You mustn't ask +people to eat their words raw--like that. + +JOHNNY. Well, I've had no dinner, but I'm not going to eat my words, I +tell you plainly. + +MRS MARCH. Very well then; go up again. + +MARY. [Muttering] Mother--logic. + +MR MARCH. Great Scott! You two haven't the faintest idea of how to +conduct a parley. We have--to--er--explore every path to--find a way to +peace. + +MRS MARCH. [To FAITH] Have you thought of anything to do, if you leave +here? + +FAITH. Yes. + +JOHNNY. What? + +FAITH. I shan't say. + +JOHNNY. Of course, she'll just chuck herself away. + +FAITH. No, I won't. I'll go to a place I know of, where they don't want +references. + +JOHNNY. Exactly! + +MRS MARCH. [To FAITH] I want to ask you a question. Since you came +out, is this the first young man who's kissed you? + + FAITH has hardly had time to start and manifest what may or may not + be indignation when MR MARCH dashes his hands through his hair. + +MR MARCH. Joan, really! + +JOHNNY. [Grimly] Don't condescend to answer! + +MRS MARCH. I thought we'd met to get at the truth. + +MARY. But do they ever? + +FAITH. I will go out! + +JOHNNY. No! [And, as his back is against the door, she can't] I'll see +that you're not insulted any more. + +MR MARCH. Johnny, I know you have the best intentions, but really the +proper people to help the young are the old--like-- + + FAITH suddenly turns her eyes on him, and he goes on rather + hurriedly + +--your mother. I'm sure that she and I will be ready to stand by Faith. + +FAITH. I don't want charity. + +MR MARCH. No, no! But I hope-- + +MRS MARCH. To devise means. + +MR MARCH. [Roused] Of course, if nobody will modify their attitude +--Johnny, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, and [To MRS MARCH] so +ought you, Joan. + +JOHNNY. [Suddenly] I'll modify mine. [To FAITH] Come here--close! [In +a low voice to FAITH] Will you give me your word to stay here, if I make +them keep you? + +FAITH. Why? + +JOHNNY. To stay here quietly for the next two years? + +FAITH. I don't know. + +JOHNNY. I can make them, if you'll promise. + +FAITH. You're just in a temper. + +JOHNNY. Promise! + + During this colloquy the MARCHES have been so profoundly uneasy that + MRS MARCH has poured out another glass of brandy. + +MR MARCH. Johnny, the terms of the Armistice didn't include this sort of +thing. It was to be all open and above-board. + +JOHNNY. Well, if you don't keep her, I shall clear out. + + At this bombshell MRS MARCH rises. + +MARY. Don't joke, Johnny! You'll do yourself an injury. + +JOHNNY. And if I go, I go for good. + +MR MARCH. Nonsense, Johnny! Don't carry a good thing too far! + +JOHNNY. I mean it. + +MRS MARCH. What will you live on? + +JOHNNY. Not poetry. + +MRS MARCH. What, then? + +JOHNNY. Emigrate or go into the Police. + +MR MARCH. Good Lord! [Going up to his wife--in a low voice] Let her +stay till Johnny's in his right mind. + +FAITH. I don't want to stay. + +JOHNNY. You shall! + +MARY. Johnny, don't be a lunatic! + + COOK enters, flustered. + +COOK. Mr Bly, ma'am, come after his daughter. + +MR MARCH. He can have her--he can have her! + +COOK. Yes, sir. But, you see, he's--Well, there! He's cheerful. + +MR MARCH. Let him come and take his daughter away. + + But MR BLY has entered behind him. He has a fixed expression, and + speaks with a too perfect accuracy. + +BLY. Did your two Cooks tell you I'm here? + +MR MARCH. If you want your daughter, you can take her. + +JOHNNY. Mr Bly, get out! + +BLY. [Ignoring him] I don't want any fuss with your two cooks. +[Catching sight of MRS MARCH] I've prepared myself for this. + +MRS MARCH. So we see. + +BLY. I 'ad a bit o' trouble, but I kep' on till I see 'Aigel walkin' at +me in the loo-lookin' glass. Then I knew I'd got me balance. + + They all regard MR BLY in a fascinated manner. + +FAITH. Father! You've been drinking. + +BLY. [Smiling] What do you think. + +MR MARCH. We have a certain sympathy with you, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Gazing at his daughter] I don't want that one. I'll take the +other. + +MARY. Don't repeat yourself, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [With a flash of muddled insight] Well! There's two of everybody; +two of my daughter; an' two of the 'Ome Secretary; and two-two of Cook +--an' I don't want either. [He waves COOK aside, and grasps at a void +alongside FAITH] Come along! + +MR MARCH. [Going up to him] Very well, Mr Bly! See her home, carefully. +Good-night! + +BLY. Shake hands! + + He extends his other hand; MR MARCH grasps it and turns him round + towards the door. + +MR MARCH. Now, take her away! Cook, go and open the front door for Mr +Bly and his daughter. + +BLY. Too many Cooks! + +MR MARCH. Now then, Mr Bly, take her along! + +BLY. [Making no attempt to acquire the real FAITH--to an apparition +which he leads with his right hand] You're the one that died when my girl +was 'ung. Will you go--first or shall--I? + + The apparition does not answer. + +MARY. Don't! It's horrible! + +FAITH. I did die. + +BLY. Prepare yourself. Then you'll see what you never saw before. + + He goes out with his apparition, shepherded by MR MARCH. + + MRS MARCH drinks off her fourth glass of brandy. A peculiar whistle + is heard through the open door, and FAITH starts forward. + +JOHNNY. Stand still! + +FAITH. I--I must go. + +MARY. Johnny--let her! + +FAITH. There's a friend waiting for me. + +JOHNNY. Let her wait! You're not fit to go out to-night. + +MARY. Johnny! Really! You're not the girl's Friendly Society! + +JOHNNY. You none of you care a pin's head what becomes of her. Can't +you see she's on the edge? The whistle is heard again, but fainter. + +FAITH. I'm not in prison now. + +JOHNNY. [Taking her by the arm] All right! I'll come with you. + +FAITH. [Recoiling] No. + + Voices are heard in the hall. + +MARY. Who's that with father? Johnny, for goodness' sake don't make us +all ridiculous. + + MR MARCH'S voice is heard saying: "Your friend in here." He enters, + followed by a reluctant young man in a dark suit, with dark hair and + a pale square face, enlivened by strange, very living, dark, bull's + eyes. + +MR MARCH. [To FAITH, who stands shrinking a little] I came on this--er +--friend of yours outside; he's been waiting for you some time, he says. + +MRS MARCH. [To FAITH] You can go now. + +JOHNNY. [Suddenly, to the YOUNG MAN] Who are you? + +YOUNG M. Ask another! [To FAITH] Are you ready? + +JOHNNY. [Seeing red] No, she's not; and you'll just clear out. + +MR MARCH. Johnny! + +YOUNG M. What have you got to do with her? + +JOHNNY. Quit. + +YOUNG M. I'll quit with her, and not before. She's my girl. + +JOHNNY. Are you his girl? + +FAITH. Yes. + +MRS MARCH sits down again, and reaching out her left hand, mechanically +draws to her the glass of brandy which her husband had poured out for +himself and left undrunk. + +JOHNNY. Then why did you--[He is going to say: "Kiss me," but checks +himself]--let me think you hadn't any friends? Who is this fellow? + +YOUNG M. A little more civility, please. + +JOHNNY. You look a blackguard, and I believe you are. + +MR MARCH. [With perfunctory authority] I really can't have this sort of +thing in my house. Johnny, go upstairs; and you two, please go away. + +YOUNG M. [To JOHNNY] We know the sort of chap you are--takin' advantage +of workin' girls. + +JOHNNY. That's a foul lie. Come into the garden and I'll prove it on +your carcase. + +YOUNG M. All right! + +FAITH. No; he'll hurt you. He's been in the war. + +JOHNNY. [To the YOUNG MAN] You haven't, I'll bet. + +YOUNG M. I didn't come here to be slanged. + +JOHNNY. This poor girl is going to have a fair deal, and you're not +going to give it her. I can see that with half an eye. + +YOUNG M. You'll see it with no eyes when I've done with you. + +JOHNNY. Come on, then. + + He goes up to the windows. + +MR MARCH. For God's sake, Johnny, stop this vulgar brawl! + +FAITH. [Suddenly] I'm not a "poor girl" and I won't be called one. +I don't want any soft words. Why can't you let me be? [Pointing to +JOHNNY] He talks wild. [JOHNNY clutches the edge of the writing-table] +Thinks he can "rescue" me. I don't want to be rescued. I--[All the +feeling of years rises to the surface now that the barrier has broken] +--I want to be let alone. I've paid for everything I've done--a pound +for every shilling's worth. + +And all because of one minute when I was half crazy. [Flashing round at +MARY] Wait till you've had a baby you oughtn't to have had, and not a +penny in your pocket! It's money--money--all money! + +YOUNG M. Sst! That'll do! + +FAITH. I'll have what I like now, not what you think's good for me. + +MR MARCH. God knows we don't want to-- + +FAITH. You mean very well, Mr March, but you're no good. + +MR MARCH. I knew it. + +FAITH. You were very kind to me. But you don't see; nobody sees. + +YOUNG M. There! That's enough! You're gettin' excited. You come away +with me. + + FAITH's look at him is like the look of a dog at her master. + +JOHNNY. [From the background] I know you're a blackguard--I've seen your +sort. + +FAITH. [Firing up] Don't call him names! I won't have it. I'll go +with whom I choose! [Her eyes suddenly fix themselves on the YOUNG MAN'S +face] And I'm going with him! + + COOK enters. + +MR MARCH. What now, Cook? + +COOK. A Mr Barnabas in the hall, sir. From the police. + + Everybody starts. MRS MARCH drinks off her fifth little glass of + brandy, then sits again. + +MR MARCH. From the police? + + He goes out, followed by COOK. A moment's suspense. + +YOUNG M. Well, I can't wait any longer. I suppose we can go out the +back way? + + He draws FAITH towards the windows. But JOHNNY stands there, + barring the way. JOHNNY. No, you don't. + +FAITH. [Scared] Oh! Let me go--let him go! + +JOHNNY. You may go. [He takes her arm to pull her to the window] He +can't. + +FAITH. [Freeing herself] No--no! Not if he doesn't. + + JOHNNY has an evident moment of hesitation, and before it is over MR + MARCH comes in again, followed by a man in a neat suit of plain + clothes. + +MR MARCH. I should like you to say that in front of her. + +P. C. MAN. Your service, ma'am. Afraid I'm intruding here. Fact is, +I've been waiting for a chance to speak to this young woman quietly. +It's rather public here, sir; but if you wish, of course, I'll mention +it. [He waits for some word from some one; no one speaks, so he goes on +almost apologetically] Well, now, you're in a good place here, and you +ought to keep it. You don't want fresh trouble, I'm sure. + +FAITH. [Scared] What do you want with me? + +P. C. MAN. I don't want to frighten you; but we've had word passed that +you're associating with the young man there. I observed him to-night +again, waiting outside here and whistling. + +YOUNG M. What's the matter with whistling? + +P. C. MAN. [Eyeing him] I should keep quiet if I was you. As you know, +sir [To MR MARCH] there's a law nowadays against soo-tenors. + +MR MARCH. Soo--? + +JOHNNY. I knew it. + +P. C. MAN. [Deprecating] I don't want to use any plain English--with +ladies present-- + +YOUNG M. I don't know you. What are you after? Do you dare--? + +P. C. MAN. We cut the darin', 'tisn't necessary. We know all about you. + +FAITH. It's a lie! + +P. C. MAN. There, miss, don't let your feelings-- + +FAITH. [To the YOUNG MAN] It's a lie, isn't it? + +YOUNG M. A blankety lie. + +MR MARCH. [To BARNABAs] Have you actual proof? + +YOUNG M. Proof? It's his job to get chaps into a mess. + +P. C. MAN. [Sharply] None of your lip, now! + + At the new tone in his voice FAITH turns and visibly quails, like a + dog that has been shown a whip. + +MR MARCH. Inexpressibly painful! + +YOUNG M. Ah! How would you like to be insulted in front of your girl? +If you're a gentleman you'll tell him to leave the house. If he's got a +warrant, let him produce it; if he hasn't, let him get out. + +P. C. MAN. [To MR MARCH] You'll understand, sir, that my object in +speakin' to you to-night was for the good of the girl. Strictly, I've +gone a bit out of my way. If my job was to get men into trouble, as he +says, I'd only to wait till he's got hold of her. These fellows, you +know, are as cunning as lynxes and as impudent as the devil. + +YOUNG M. Now, look here, if I get any more of this from you--I--I'll +consult a lawyer. + +JOHNNY. Fellows like you-- + +MR MARCH. Johnny! + +P. C. MAN. Your son, sir? + +YOUNG M. Yes; and wants to be where I am. But my girl knows better; +don't you? + + He gives FAITH a look which has a certain magnetism. + +P. C. MAN. If we could have the Court cleared of ladies, sir, we might +speak a little plainer. + +MR MARCH. Joan! + + But MRS MARCH does not vary her smiling immobility; FAITH draws a + little nearer to the YOUNG MAN. MARY turns to the fire. + +P. C. MAN. [With half a smile] I keep on forgettin' that women are men +nowadays. Well! + +YOUNG M. When you've quite done joking, we'll go for our walk. + +MR MARCH. [To BARNABAS] I think you'd better tell her anything you know. + +P. C. MAN. [Eyeing FAITH and the YOUNG MAN] I'd rather not be more +precise, sir, at this stage. + +YOUNG M. I should think not! Police spite! [To FAITH] You know what +the Law is, once they get a down on you. + +P. C. MAN. [To MR MARCH] It's our business to keep an eye on all this +sort of thing, sir, with girls who've just come out. + +JOHNNY. [Deeply] You've only to look at his face! + +YOUNG M. My face is as good as yours. + + FAITH lifts her eyes to his. + +P. C. MAN. [Taking in that look] Well, there it is! Sorry I wasted my +time and yours, Sir! + +MR MARCH. [Distracted] My goodness! Now, Faith, consider! This is the +turning-point. I've told you we'll stand by you. + +FAITH. [Flashing round] Leave me alone! I stick to my friends. Leave +me alone, and leave him alone! What is it to you? + +P. C. MAN. [With sudden resolution] Now, look here! This man George +Blunter was had up three years ago--for livin' on the earnings of a woman +called Johnson. He was dismissed with a caution. We got him again last +year over a woman called Lee--that time he did-- + +YOUNG M. Stop it! That's enough of your lip. I won't put up with this +--not for any woman in the world. Not I! + +FAITH. [With a sway towards him] It's not--! + +YOUNG M. I'm off! Bong Swore la Companee! He tarns on his heel and +walks out unhindered. + +P. C. MAN. [Deeply] A bad hat, that; if ever there was one. We'll be +having him again before long. + + He looks at FAITH. They all look at FAITH. But her face is so + strange, so tremulous, that they all turn their eyes away. + +FAITH. He--he said--he--! + + On the verge of an emotional outbreak, she saves herself by an + effort. A painful silence. + +P. C. MAN. Well, sir--that's all. Good evening! He turns to the door, +touching his forehead to MR MARCH, and goes. + + As the door closes, FAITH sinks into a chair, and burying her face + in her hands, sobs silently. MRS MARCH sits motionless with a faint + smile. JOHNNY stands at the window biting his nails. MARY crosses + to FAITH. + +MARY. [Softly] Don't. You weren't really fond of him? + + FAITH bends her head. + +MARY. But how could you? He-- + +FAITH. I--I couldn't see inside him. + +MARY. Yes; but he looked--couldn't you see he looked--? + +FAITH. [Suddenly flinging up her head] If you'd been two years without +a word, you'd believe anyone that said he liked you. + +MARY. Perhaps I should. + +FAITH. But I don't want him--he's a liar. I don't like liars. + +MARY. I'm awfully sorry. + +FAITH. [Looking at her] Yes--you keep off feeling--then you'll be happy! +[Rising] Good-bye! + +MARY. Where are you going? + +FAITH. To my father. + +MARY. With him in that state? + +FAITH. He won't hurt me. + +MARY. You'd better stay. Mother, she can stay, can't she? + +MRS MARCH nods. + +FAITH. No! + +MARY. Why not? We're all sorry. Do! You'd better. + +FAITH. Father'll come over for my things tomorrow. + +MARY. What are you going to do? + +FAITH. [Proudly] I'll get on. + +JOHNNY. [From the window] Stop! + + All turn and look at him. He comes down. Will you come to me? + + FAITH stares at him. MRS MARCH continues to smile faintly. + +MARY. [With a horrified gesture] Johnny! + +JOHNNY. Will you? I'll play cricket if you do. + +MR MARCH. [Under his breath] Good God! + + He stares in suspense at FAITH, whose face is a curious blend of + fascination and live feeling. + +JOHNNY. Well? + +FAITH. [Softly] Don't be silly! I've got no call on you. You don't +care for me, and I don't for you. No! You go and put your head in ice. +[She turns to the door] Good-bye, Mr March! I'm sorry I've been so much +trouble. + +MR MARCH. Not at all, not at all! + +FAITH. Oh! Yes, I have. There's nothing to be done with a girl like +me. She goes out. + +JOHNNY. [Taking up the decanter to pour himself out a glass of brandy] +Empty! + +COOK. [Who has entered with a tray] Yes, my dearie, I'm sure you are. + +JOHNNY. [Staring at his father] A vision, Dad! Windows of Clubs--men +sitting there; and that girl going by with rouge on her cheeks-- + +COOK. Oh! Master Johnny! + +JOHNNY. A blue night--the moon over the Park. And she stops and looks +at it.--What has she wanted--the beautiful--something better than she's +got--something that she'll never get! + +COOK. Oh! Master Johnny! + + She goes up to JOHNNY and touches his forehead. He comes to himself + and hurries to the door, but suddenly MRS MARCH utters a little + feathery laugh. She stands up, swaying slightly. There is + something unusual and charming in her appearance, as if formality + had dropped from her. + +MRS MARCH. [With a sort of delicate slow lack of perfect sobriety] I +see--it--all. You--can't--help--unless--you--love! + + JOHNNY stops and looks round at her. + +MR MARCH. [Moving a little towards her] Joan! + +MRS MARCH. She--wants--to--be--loved. It's the way of the world. + +MARY. [Turning] Mother! + +MRS MARCH. You thought she wanted--to be saved. Silly! She--just-- +wants--to--be--loved. Quite natural! + +MR MARCH. Joan, what's happened to you? + +MRS MARCH. [Smiling and nodding] See--people--as--they--are! Then you +won't be--disappointed. Don't--have--ideals! Have--vision--just simple +--vision! + +MR MARCH. Your mother's not well. + +MRS MARCH. [Passing her hand over her forehead] It's hot in here! + +MR MARCH. Mary! + + MARY throws open the French windows. + +MRS MARCH. [Delightfully] The room's full of GAS. Open the windows! +Open! And let's walk--out--into the air! + + She turns and walks delicately out through the opened windows; + JOHNNY and MARY follow her. The moonlight and the air flood in. + +COOK. [Coming to the table and taking up the empty decanter] My Holy Ma! + +MR MARCH. Is this the Millennium, Cook? + +COOK. Oh! Master Geoffrey--there isn't a millehennium. There's too much +human nature. We must look things in the face. + +MR MARCH. Ah! Neither up--nor down--but straight in the face! Quite a +thought, Cook! Quite a thought! + + + CURTAIN. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fifth Series Plays, Complete +by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIFTH SERIES PLAYS, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 5059.txt or 5059.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/5/5059/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/5059.zip b/5059.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..db30ccd --- /dev/null +++ b/5059.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e191f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #5059 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5059) diff --git a/old/gpl5w10.txt b/old/gpl5w10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5471f99 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/gpl5w10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10950 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fifth Series Plays, Complete +*** [Contains: A Family Man, Loyalties, Windows] *** +#43 in our series by John Galsworthy + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: The Fifth Series Plays, Complete + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5059] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 11, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIFTH SERIES PLAYS BY GALSWORTHY *** + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + +[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the +file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an +entire meal of them. D.W.] + + + + +THE FIFTH SERIES PLAYS, Complete + +By John Galsworthy + + +Contents: + A Family Man + Loyalties + Windows + + + + +A FAMILY MAN + +By John Galsworthy + + + +CHARACTERS + +JOHN BUILDER................ of the firm of Builder & Builder +JULIA....................... His Wife +ATHENE...................... His elder Daughter +MAUD........................ His younger Daughter +RALPH BUILDER............... His Brother, and Partner +GUY HERRINGHAME............. A Flying Man +ANNIE....................... A Young Person in Blue +CAMILLE..................... Mrs Builder's French Maid +TOPPING..................... Builder's Manservant +THE MAYOR................... Of Breconridge +HARRIS...................... His Secretary +FRANCIS CHANTREY............ J.P. +MOON........................ A Constable +MARTIN...................... A Police Sergeant +A JOURNALIST................ From The Comet +THE FIGURE OF A POACHER +THE VOICES AND FACES OF SMALL BOYS + + + +The action passes in the town of Breconridge, the Midlands. + + + +ACT I. + SCENE I. BUILDER'S Study. After breakfast. + SCENE II. A Studio. + +ACT II. BUILDER'S Study. Lunchtime. + +ACT III. + SCENE I. THE MAYOR'S Study. 10am the following day. + SCENE II. BUILDER'S Study. The same. Noon. + SCENE III. BUILDER'S Study. The same. Evening. + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I + + The study of JOHN BUILDER in the provincial town of Breconridge. + A panelled room wherein nothing is ever studied, except perhaps + BUILDER'S face in the mirror over the fireplace. It is, however, + comfortable, and has large leather chairs and a writing table in the + centre, on which is a typewriter, and many papers. At the back is a + large window with French outside shutters, overlooking the street, + for the house is an old one, built in an age when the homes of + doctors, lawyers and so forth were part of a provincial town, and + not yet suburban. There are two or three fine old prints on the + walls, Right and Left; and a fine, old fireplace, Left, with a + fender on which one can sit. A door, Left back, leads into the + dining-room, and a door, Right forward, into the hall. + + JOHN BUILDER is sitting in his after-breakfast chair before the fire + with The Times in his hands. He has breakfasted well, and is in + that condition of first-pipe serenity in which the affairs of the. + nation seem almost bearable. He is a tallish, square, personable + man of forty-seven, with a well-coloured, jowly, fullish face, + marked under the eyes, which have very small pupils and a good deal + of light in them. His bearing has force and importance, as of a man + accustomed to rising and ownerships, sure in his opinions, and not + lacking in geniality when things go his way. Essentially a + Midlander. His wife, a woman of forty-one, of ivory tint, with a + thin, trim figure and a face so strangely composed as to be almost + like a mask (essentially from Jersey) is putting a nib into a pen- + holder, and filling an inkpot at the writing-table. + + As the curtain rises CAMILLE enters with a rather broken-down + cardboard box containing flowers. She is a young woman with a good + figure, a pale face, the warm brown eyes and complete poise of a + Frenchwoman. She takes the box to MRS BUILDER. + + +MRS BUILDER. The blue vase, please, Camille. + CAMILLE fetches a vase. MRS BUILDER puts the flowers into the vase. + CAMILLE gathers up the debris; and with a glance at BUILDER goes + out. + +BUILDER. Glorious October! I ought to have a damned good day's shooting +with Chantrey tomorrow. + +MRS BUILDER. [Arranging the flowers] Aren't you going to the office +this morning? + +BUILDER. Well, no, I was going to take a couple of days off. If you +feel at the top of your form, take a rest--then you go on feeling at the +top. [He looks at her, as if calculating] What do you say to looking up +Athene? + +MRS BUILDER. [Palpably astonished] Athene? But you said you'd done +with her? + +BUILDER. [Smiling] Six weeks ago; but, dash it, one can't have done with +one's own daughter. That's the weakness of an Englishman; he can't keep +up his resentments. In a town like this it doesn't do to have her living +by herself. One of these days it'll get out we've had a row. That +wouldn't do me any good. + +MRS BUILDER. I see. + +BUILDER. Besides, I miss her. Maud's so self-absorbed. It makes a big +hole in the family, Julia. You've got her address, haven't you? + +MRS BUILDER. Yes. [Very still] But do you think it's dignified, John? + +BUILDER. [Genially] Oh, hang dignity! I rather pride myself on knowing +when to stand on my dignity and when to sit on it. If she's still crazy +about Art, she can live at home, and go out to study. + +MRS BUILDER. Her craze was for liberty. + +BUILDER. A few weeks' discomfort soon cures that. She can't live on her +pittance. She'll have found that out by now. Get your things on and +come with me at twelve o'clock. + +MRS BUILDER. I think you'll regret it. She'll refuse. + +BUILDER. Not if I'm nice to her. A child could play with me to-day. +Shall I tell you a secret, Julia? + +MRS BUILDER. It would be pleasant for a change. + +BUILDER. The Mayor's coming round at eleven, and I know perfectly well +what he's coming for. + +MRS BUILDER. Well? + +BUILDER. I'm to be nominated for Mayor next month. Harris tipped me the +wink at the last Council meeting. Not so bad at forty-seven--h'm? I can +make a thundering good Mayor. I can do things for this town that nobody +else can. + +MRS BUILDER. Now I understand about Athene. + +BUILDER. [Good-humouredly] Well, it's partly that. But [more +seriously] it's more the feeling I get that I'm not doing my duty by her. +Goodness knows whom she may be picking up with! Artists are a loose lot. +And young people in these days are the limit. I quite believe in moving +with the times, but one's either born a Conservative, or one isn't. +So you be ready at twelve, see. By the way, that French maid of yours, +Julia-- + +MRS BUILDER. What about her? + +BUILDER. Is she--er--is she all right? We don't want any trouble with +Topping. + +MRS BUILDER. There will be none with--Topping. + [She opens the door Left.] + +BUILDER. I don't know; she strikes me as--very French. + + MRS BUILDER smiles and passes out. + + BUILDER fills his second pipe. He is just taking up the paper again + when the door from the hall is opened, and the manservant TOPPING, + dried, dark, sub-humorous, in a black cut-away, announces: + +TOPPING. The Mayor, Sir, and Mr Harris! + + THE MAYOR of Breconridge enters, He is clean-shaven, red-faced, + light-eyed, about sixty, shrewd, poll-parroty, naturally jovial, + dressed with the indefinable wrongness of a burgher; he is followed + by his Secretary HARRIS, a man all eyes and cleverness. TOPPING + retires. + +BUILDER. [Rising] Hallo, Mayor! What brings you so early? Glad to see +you. Morning, Harris! + +MAYOR. Morning, Builder, morning. + +HARRIS. Good-morning, Sir. + +BUILDER. Sit down-sit down! Have a cigar! + + The MAYOR takes a cigar HARRIS a cigarette from his own case. + +BUILDER. Well, Mayor, what's gone wrong with the works? + + He and HARRIS exchange a look. + +MAYOR. [With his first puff] After you left the Council the other day, +Builder, we came to a decision. + +BUILDER. Deuce you did! Shall I agree with it? + +MAYOR. We shall see. We want to nominate you for Mayor. You willin' to +stand? + +BUILDER. [Stolid] That requires consideration. + +MAYOR. The only alternative is Chantrey; but he's a light weight, and +rather too much County. What's your objection? + +BUILDER. It's a bit unexpected, Mayor. [Looks at HARRIS] Am I the +right man? Following you, you know. I'm shooting with Chantrey +to-morrow. What does he feel about it? + +MAYOR. What do you say, 'Arris? + +HARRIS. Mr Chantrey's a public school and University man, Sir; he's not +what I call ambitious. + +BUILDER. Nor am I, Harris. + +HARRIS. No, sir; of course you've a high sense of duty. Mr Chantrey's +rather dilettante. + +MAYOR. We want a solid man. + +BUILDER. I'm very busy, you know, Mayor. + +MAYOR. But you've got all the qualifications--big business, family man, +live in the town, church-goer, experience on the Council and the Bench. +Better say "yes," Builder. + +BUILDER. It's a lot of extra work. I don't take things up lightly. + +MAYOR. Dangerous times, these. Authority questioned all over the place. +We want a man that feels his responsibilities, and we think we've got him +in you. + +BUILDER. Very good of you, Mayor. I don't know, I'm sure. I must think +of the good of the town. + +HARRIS. I shouldn't worry about that, sir. + +MAYOR. The name John Builder carries weight. You're looked up to as a +man who can manage his own affairs. Madam and the young ladies well? + +BUILDER. First-rate. + +MAYOR. [Rises] That's right. Well, if you'd like to talk it over with +Chantrey to-morrow. With all this extremism, we want a man of principle +and common sense. + +HARRIS. We want a man that'll grasp the nettle, sir--and that's you. + +BUILDER. Hm! I've got a temper, you know. + +MAYOR. [Chuckling] We do--we do! You'll say "yes," I see. No false +modesty! Come along, 'Arris, we must go. + +BUILDER. Well, Mayor, I'll think it over, and let you have an answer. +You know my faults, and you know my qualities, such as they are. I'm +just a plain Englishman. + +MAYOR. We don't want anything better than that. I always say the great +point about an Englishman is that he's got bottom; you may knock him off +his pins, but you find him on 'em again before you can say "Jack +Robinson." He may have his moments of aberration, but he's a sticker. +Morning, Builder, morning! Hope you'll say "yes." + + He shakes hands and goes out, followed by HARRIS. + + When the door is dosed BUILDER stands a moment quite still with a + gratified smile on his face; then turns and scrutinises himself in + the glass over the hearth. While he is doing so the door from the + dining-room is opened quietly and CAMILLE comes in. BUILDER, + suddenly seeing her reflected in the mirror, turns. + +BUILDER. What is it, Camille? + +CAMILLE. Madame send me for a letter she say you have, Monsieur, from +the dyer and cleaner, with a bill. + +BUILDER. [Feeling in his pockets] Yes--no. It's on the table. + +CAMILLE goes to the writing-table and looks. That blue thing. + +CAMILLE. [Taking it up] Non, Monsieur, this is from the gas. + +BUILDER. Oh! Ah! + [He moves up to the table and turns over papers. CAMILLE stands + motionless close by with her eyes fixed on him.] +Here it is! + [He looks up, sees her looking at him, drops his own gaze, and hands + her the letter. Their hands touch. Putting his hands in his + pockets] +What made you come to England? + +CAMILLE. [Demure] It is better pay, Monsieur, and [With a smile] the +English are so amiable. + +BUILDER. Deuce they are! They haven't got that reputation. + +CAMILLE. Oh! I admire Englishmen. They are so strong and kind. + +BUILDER. [Bluffly flattered] H'm! We've no manners. + +CAMILLE. The Frenchman is more polite, but not in the 'eart. + +BUILDER. Yes. I suppose we're pretty sound at heart. + +CAMILLE. And the Englishman have his life in the family--the Frenchman +have his life outside. + +BUILDER. [With discomfort] H'm! + +CAMILLE. [With a look] Too mooch in the family--like a rabbit in a +'utch. + +BUILDER. Oh! So that's your view of us! [His eyes rest on her, +attracted but resentful]. + +CAMILLE. Pardon, Monsieur, my tongue run away with me. + +BUILDER. [Half conscious of being led on] Are you from Paris? + +CAMILLE. [Clasping her hands] Yes. What a town for pleasure--Paris! + +BUILDER. I suppose so. Loose place, Paris. + +CAMILLE. Loose? What is that, Monsieur? + +BUILDER. The opposite of strict. + +CAMILLE. Strict! Oh! certainly we like life, we other French. It is +not like England. I take this to Madame, Monsieur. [She turns as if to +go] Excuse me. + +BUILDER. I thought you Frenchwomen all married young. + +CAMILLE. I 'ave been married; my 'usband did die--en Afrique. + +BUILDER. You wear no ring. + +CAMILLE. [Smiling] I prefare to be mademoiselle, Monsieur. + +BUILDER. [Dubiously] Well, it's all the same to us. [He takes a letter +up from the table] You might take this to Mrs Builder too. [Again their +fingers touch, and there is a suspicion of encounter between their eyes.] + +CAMILLE goes out. + +BUILDER. [Turning to his chair] Don't know about that woman--she's a +tantalizer. + + He compresses his lips, and is settling back into his chair, when + the door from the hall is opened and his daughter MAUD comes in; a + pretty girl, rather pale, with fine eyes. Though her face has a + determined cast her manner at this moment is by no means decisive. + She has a letter in her hand, and advances rather as if she were + stalking her father, who, after a "Hallo, Maud!" has begun to read + his paper. + +MAUD. [Getting as far as the table] Father. + +BUILDER. [Not lowering the paper] Well? I know that tone. What do you +want--money? + +MAUD. I always want money, of course; but--but-- + +BUILDER. [Pulling out a note-abstractedly] Here's five pounds for you. + + MAUD, advancing, takes it, then seems to find what she has come for + more on her chest than ever. + +BUILDER. [Unconscious] Will you take a letter for me? + + MAUD sits down Left of table and prepares to take down the letter. + +[Dictating] "Dear Mr Mayor,--Referring to your call this morning, I have +--er--given the matter very careful consideration, and though somewhat +reluctant--" + +MAUD. Are you really reluctant, father? + +BUILDER. Go on--"To assume greater responsibilities, I feel it my duty +to come forward in accordance with your wish. The--er--honour is one of +which I hardly feel myself worthy, but you may rest assured--" + +MAUD. Worthy. But you do, you know. + +BUILDER. Look here! Are you trying to get a rise out of me?--because +you won't succeed this morning. + +MAUD. I thought you were trying to get one out of me. + +BUILDER. Well, how would you express it? + +MAUD. "I know I'm the best man for the place, and so do you--" + +BUILDER. The disrespect of you young people is something extraordinary. +And that reminds me where do you go every evening now after tea? + +MAUD. I--I don't know. + +BUILDER. Come now, that won't do--you're never in the house from six to +seven. + +MAUD. Well! It has to do with my education. + +BUILDER. Why, you finished that two years ago! + +MAUD. Well, call it a hobby, if you like, then, father. + + She takes up the letter she brought in and seems on the point of + broaching it. + +BUILDER. Hobby? Well, what is it? + +MAUD. I don't want to irritate you, father. + +BUILDER. You can't irritate me more than by having secrets. See what +that led to in your sister's case. And, by the way, I'm going to put an +end to that this morning. You'll be glad to have her back, won't you? + +MAUD. [Startled] What! + +BUILDER. Your mother and I are going round to Athene at twelve o'clock. +I shall make it up with her. She must come back here. + +MAUD. [Aghast, but hiding it] Oh! It's--it's no good, father. She +won't. + +BUILDER. We shall see that. I've quite got over my tantrum, and I +expect she has. + +MAUD. [Earnestly] Father! I do really assure you she won't; it's only +wasting your time, and making you eat humble pie. + +BUILDER. Well, I can eat a good deal this morning. It's all nonsense! +A family's a family. + +MAUD. [More and more disturbed, but hiding it] Father, if I were you, +I wouldn't-really! It's not-dignified. + +BUILDER. You can leave me to judge of that. It's not dignified for the +Mayor of this town to have an unmarried daughter as young as Athene +living by herself away from home. This idea that she's on a visit won't +wash any longer. Now finish that letter--"worthy, but you may rest +assured that I shall do my best to sustain the--er--dignity of the +office." [MAUD types desperately.] Got that? "And--er--preserve the +tradition so worthily--" No-- "so staunchly"--er--er-- + +MAUD. Upheld. + +BUILDER. Ah! "--upheld by yourself.--Faithfully yours." + +MAUD. [Finishing] Father, you thought Athene went off in a huff. It +wasn't that a bit. She always meant to go. She just got you into a rage +to make it easier. She hated living at home. + +BUILDER. Nonsense! Why on earth should she? + +MAUD. Well, she did! And so do-- [Checking herself] And so you see +it'll only make you ridiculous to go. + +BUILDER. [Rises] Now what's behind this, Maud? + +MAUD. Behind--Oh! nothing! + +BUILDER. The fact is, you girls have been spoiled, and you enjoy +twisting my tail; but you can't make me roar this morning. I'm too +pleased with things. You'll see, it'll be all right with Athene. + +MAUD. [Very suddenly] Father! + +BUILDER. [Grimly humorous] Well! Get it off your chest. What's that +letter about? + +MAUD. [Failing again and crumpling the letter behind her back] +Oh! nothing. + +BUILDER. Everything's nothing this morning. Do you know what sort of +people Athene associates with now--I suppose you see her? + +MAUD. Sometimes. + +BUILDER. Well? + +MAUD. Nobody much. There isn't anybody here to associate with. It's +all hopelessly behind the times. + +BUILDER. Oh! you think so! That's the inflammatory fiction you pick up. +I tell you what, young woman--the sooner you and your sister get rid of +your silly notions about not living at home, and making your own way, the +sooner you'll both get married and make it. Men don't like the new +spirit in women--they may say they do, but they don't. + +MAUD. You don't, father, I know. + +BUILDER. Well, I'm very ordinary. If you keep your eyes open, you'll +soon see that. + +MAUD. Men don't like freedom for anybody but themselves. + +BUILDER. That's not the way to put it. [Tapping out his pipe] Women in +your class have never had to face realities. + +MAUD. No, but we want to. + +BUILDER. [Good-humouredly] Well, I'll bet you what you like, Athene's +dose of reality will have cured her. + +MAUD. And I'll bet you--No, I won't! + +BUILDER. You'd better not. Athene will come home, and only too glad to +do it. Ring for Topping and order the car at twelve. + + As he opens the door to pass out, MAUD starts forward, but checks + herself. + +MAUD. [Looking at her watch] Half-past eleven! Good heavens! + + She goes to the bell and rings. Then goes back to the table, and + writes an address on a bit of paper. + + TOPPING enters Right. + +TOPPING. Did you ring, Miss? + +MAUD. [With the paper] Yes. Look here, Topping! Can you manage-- +on your bicycle--now at once? I want to send a message to Miss Athene +--awfully important. It's just this: "Look out! Father is coming." +[Holding out the paper] Here's her address. You must get there and away +again by twelve. Father and mother want the car then to go there. Order +it before you go. It won't take you twenty minutes on your bicycle. +It's down by the river near the ferry. But you mustn't be seen by them +either going or coming. + +TOPPING. If I should fall into their hands, Miss, shall I eat the +despatch? + +MAUD. Rather! You're a brick, Topping. Hurry up! + +TOPPING. Nothing more precise, Miss? + +MAUD. M--m--No. + +TOPPING. Very good, Miss Maud. [Conning the address] "Briary Studio, +River Road. Look out! Father is coming!" I'll go out the back way. +Any answer? + +MAUD. No. + + TOPPING nods his head and goes out. + +MAUD. [To herself] Well, it's all I can do. + + She stands, considering, as the CURTAIN falls. + + + + +SCENE II + + The Studio, to which are attached living rooms, might be rented at + eighty pounds a year--some painting and gear indeed, but an air of + life rather than of work. Things strewn about. Bare walls, a + sloping skylight, no windows; no fireplace visible; a bedroom door, + stage Right; a kitchen door, stage Left. A door, Centre back, into + the street. The door knocker is going. + +From the kitchen door, Left, comes the very young person, ANNIE, in +blotting-paper blue linen, with a white Dutch cap. She is pretty, her +cheeks rosy, and her forehead puckered. She opens the street door. +Standing outside is TOPPING. He steps in a pace or two. + +TOPPING. Miss Builder live here? + +ANNIE. Oh! no, sir; Mrs Herringhame. + +TOPPING. Mrs Herringhame? Oh! young lady with dark hair and large +expressive eyes? + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir. + +TOPPING. With an "A. B." on her linen? [Moves to table]. + +ANNIE. Yes, sir. + +TOPPING. And "Athene Builder" on her drawings? + +ANNIE. [Looking at one] Yes, sir. + +TOPPING. Let's see. [He examines the drawing] Mrs Herringhame, you +said? + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Sir. + +TOPPING. Wot oh! + +ANNIE. Did you want anything, sir? + +TOPPING. Drop the "sir," my dear; I'm the Builders' man. +Mr Herringhame in? + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Sir. + +TOPPING. Take a message. I can't wait. From Miss Maud Builder. "Look +out! Father is coming." Now, whichever of 'em comes in first--that's +the message, and don't you forget it. + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Sir. + +TOPPING. So they're married? + +ANNIE. Oh! I don't know, sir. + +TOPPING. I see. Well, it ain't known to Builder, J.P., either. That's +why there's a message. See? + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Sir. + +TOPPING. Keep your head. I must hop it. From Miss Maud Builder. +"Look out! Father is coming." + + He nods, turns and goes, pulling the door to behind him. ANNIE + stands "baff" for a moment. + +ANNIE. Ah! + + She goes across to the bedroom on the Right, and soon returns with a + suit of pyjamas, a toothbrush, a pair of slippers and a case of + razors, which she puts on the table, and disappears into the + kitchen. She reappears with a bread pan, which she deposits in the + centre of the room; then crosses again to the bedroom, and once more + reappears with a clothes brush, two hair brushes, and a Norfolk + jacket. As she stuffs all these into the bread pan and bears it + back into the kitchen, there is the sound of a car driving up and + stopping. ANNIE reappears at the kitchen door just as the knocker + sounds. + +ANNIE. Vexin' and provokin'! [Knocker again. She opens the door] Oh! + + MR and MRS BUILDER enter. + +BUILDER. Mr and Mrs Builder. My daughter in? + +ANNIE. [Confounded] Oh! Sir, no, sir. + +BUILDER. My good girl, not "Oh! Sir, no, sir." Simply: No, Sir. See? + +ANNIE. Oh! Sir, yes, Sir. + +BUILDER. Where is she? + +ANNIE. Oh! Sir, I don't know, Sir. + +BUILDER. [Fixing her as though he suspected her of banter] Will she be +back soon? + +ANNIE. No, Sir. + +BUILDER. How do you know? + +ANNIE. I d--don't, sir. + +BUILDER. They why do you say so? [About to mutter "She's an idiot!" he +looks at her blushing face and panting figure, pats her on the shoulder +and says] Never mind; don't be nervous. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir. Is that all, please, sir? + +MRS BUILDER. [With a side look at her husband and a faint smile] Yes; +you can go. + +ANNIE. Thank you, ma'am. + + She turns and hurries out into the kitchen, Left. BUILDER gazes + after her, and MRS BUILDER gazes at BUILDER with her faint smile. + +BUILDER. [After the girl is gone] Quaint and Dutch--pretty little +figure! [Staring round] H'm! Extraordinary girls are! Fancy Athene +preferring this to home. What? + +MRS BUILDER. I didn't say anything. + +BUILDER. [Placing a chair for his wife, and sitting down himself] Well, +we must wait, I suppose. Confound that Nixon legacy! If Athene hadn't +had that potty little legacy left her, she couldn't have done this. +Well, I daresay it's all spent by now. I made a mistake to lose my +temper with her. + +MRS BUILDER. Isn't it always a mistake to lose one's temper? + +BUILDER. That's very nice and placid; sort of thing you women who live +sheltered lives can say. I often wonder if you women realise the strain +on a business man. + +MRS BUILDER. [In her softly ironical voice] It seems a shame to add the +strain of family life. + +BUILDER. You've always been so passive. When I want a thing, I've got +to have it. + +MRS BUILDER. I've noticed that. + +BUILDER. [With a short laugh] Odd if you hadn't, in twenty-three years. +[Touching a canvas standing against the chair with his toe] Art! Just a +pretext. We shall be having Maud wanting to cut loose next. She's very +restive. Still, I oughtn't to have had that scene with Athene. I ought +to have put quiet pressure. + + MRS BUILDER Smiles. + +BUILDER. What are you smiling at? + + MRS BUILDER shrugs her shoulders. + +Look at this-- Cigarettes! [He examines the brand on the box] Strong, +very--and not good! [He opens the door] Kitchen! [He shuts it, +crosses, and opens the door, Right] Bedroom! + +MRS BUILDER. [To his disappearing form] Do you think you ought, John? + + He has disappeared, and she ends with an expressive movement of her + hands, a long sigh, and a closing of her eyes. BUILDER'S peremptory + voice is heard: "Julia!" + +What now? + + She follows into the bedroom. The maid ANNIE puts her head out of + the kitchen door; she comes out a step as if to fly; then, at + BUILDER'S voice, shrinks back into the kitchen. + +BUILDER, reappearing with a razor strop in one hand and a shaving-brush +in the other, is followed by MRS BUILDER. + +BUILDER. Explain these! My God! Where's that girl? + +MRS BUILDER. John! Don't! [Getting between him and the kitchen door] +It's not dignified. + +BUILDER. I don't care a damn. + +MRS BUILDER. John, you mustn't. Athene has the tiny beginning of a +moustache, you know. + +BUILDER. What! I shall stay and clear this up if I have to wait a week. +Men who let their daughters--! This age is the limit. [He makes a +vicious movement with the strop, as though laying it across someone's +back.] + +MRS BUILDER. She would never stand that. Even wives object, nowadays. + +BUILDER. [Grimly] The war's upset everything. Women are utterly out +of hand. Why the deuce doesn't she come? + +MRS BUILDER. Suppose you leave me here to see her. + +BUILDER. [Ominously] This is my job. + +MRS BUILDER. I think it's more mine. + +BUILDER. Don't stand there opposing everything I say! I'll go and have +another look--[He is going towards the bedroom when the sound of a +latchkey in the outer door arrests him. He puts the strop and brush +behind his back, and adds in a low voice] Here she is! + + MRS BUILDER has approached him, and they have both turned towards + the opening door. GUY HERRINGHAME comes in. They are a little out + of his line of sight, and he has shut the door before he sees them. + When he does, his mouth falls open, and his hand on to the knob of + the door. He is a comely young man in Harris tweeds. Moreover, he + is smoking. He would speak if he could, but his surprise is too + excessive. BUILDER. Well, sir? + +GUY. [Recovering a little] I was about to say the same to you, sir. + +BUILDER. [Very red from repression] These rooms are not yours, are +they? + +GUY. Nor yours, sir? + +BUILDER. May I ask if you know whose they are? + +GUY. My sister's. + +BUILDER. Your--you--! + +MRS BUILDER. John! + +BUILDER. Will you kindly tell me why your sister signs her drawings by +the name of my daughter, Athene Builder--and has a photograph of my wife +hanging there? + + The YOUNG MAN looks at MRS BUILDER and winces, but recovers himself. + +GUY. [Boldly] As a matter of fact this is my sister's studio; she's in +France--and has a friend staying here. + +BUILDER. Oh! And you have a key? + +GUY. My sister's. + +BUILDER. Does your sister shave? + +GUY. I--I don't think so. + +BUILDER. No. Then perhaps you'll tell me what these mean? [He takes +out the strop and shaving stick]. + +GUY. Oh! Ah! Those things? + +BUILDER. Yes. Now then? + +GUY. [Addressing MRS BUILDER] Need we go into this in your presence, +ma'am? It seems rather delicate. + +BUILDER. What explanation have you got? + +GUY. Well, you see-- + +BUILDER. No lies; out with it! + +GUY. [With decision] I prefer to say nothing. + +BUILDER. What's your name? + +GUY. Guy Herringhame. + +BUILDER. Do you live here? + + Guy makes no sign. + +MRS BUILDER. [To Guy] I think you had better go. + +BUILDER. Julia, will you leave me to manage this? + +MRS BUILDER. [To Guy] When do you expect my daughter in? + +GUY. Now--directly. + +MRS BUILDER. [Quietly] Are you married to her? + +GUY. Yes. That is--no--o; not altogether, I mean. + +BUILDER. What's that? Say that again! + +GUY. [Folding his arms] I'm not going to say another word. + +BUILDER. I am. + +MRS BUILDER. John--please! + +BUILDER. Don't put your oar in! I've had wonderful patience so far. +[He puts his boot through a drawing] Art! This is what comes of it! Are +you an artist? + +GUY. No; a flying man. The truth is-- + +BUILDER. I don't want to hear you speak the truth. I'll wait for my +daughter. + +GUY. If you do, I hope you'll be so very good as to be gentle. If you +get angry I might too, and that would be awfully ugly. + +BUILDER. Well, I'm damned! + +GUY. I quite understand that, sir. But, as a man of the world, I hope +you'll take a pull before she comes, if you mean to stay. + +BUILDER. If we mean to stay! That's good! + +GUY. Will you have a cigarette? + +BUILDER. I--I can't express-- + +GUY. [Soothingly] Don't try, sir. [He jerks up his chin, listening] I +think that's her. [Goes to the door] Yes. Now, please! [He opens the +door] Your father and mother, Athene. + +ATHENE enters. She is flushed and graceful. Twenty-two, with a short +upper lip, a straight nose, dark hair, and glowing eyes. She wears +bright colours, and has a slow, musical voice, with a slight lisp. + +ATHENE. Oh! How are you, mother dear? This is rather a surprise. +Father always keeps his word, so I certainly didn't expect him. [She +looks steadfastly at BUILDER, but does not approach]. + +BUILDER. [Controlling himself with an effort] Now, Athene, what's this? + +ATHENE. What's what? + +BUILDER. [The strop held out] Are you married to this--this--? + +ATHENE. [Quietly] To all intents and purposes. + +BUILDER. In law? + +ATHENE. No. + +BUILDER. My God! You--you--! + +ATHENE. Father, don't call names, please. + +BUILDER. Why aren't you married to him? + +ATHENE. Do you want a lot of reasons, or the real one? + +BUILDER. This is maddening! [Goes up stage]. + +ATHENE. Mother dear, will you go into the other room with Guy? [She +points to the door Right]. + +BUILDER. Why? + +ATHENE. Because I would rather she didn't hear the reason. + +GUY. [To ATHENE, sotto voce] He's not safe. + +ATHENE. Oh! yes; go on. + + Guy follows MRS BUILDER, and after hesitation at the door they go + out into the bedroom. + +BUILDER. Now then! + +ATHENE. Well, father, if you want to know the real reason, it's--you. + +BUILDER. What on earth do you mean? + +ATHENE. Guy wants to marry me. In fact, we--But I had such a stunner of +marriage from watching you at home, that I-- + +BUILDER. Don't be impudent! My patience is at breaking-point, I warn +you. + +ATHENE. I'm perfectly serious, Father. I tell you, we meant to marry, +but so far I haven't been able to bring myself to it. You never noticed +how we children have watched you. + +BUILDER. Me? + +ATHENE. Yes. You and mother, and other things; all sorts of things-- + +BUILDER. [Taking out a handkerchief and wiping his brow] I really think +you're mad. + +ATHENE. I'm sure you must, dear. + +BUILDER. Don't "dear" me! What have you noticed? D'you mean I'm not a +good husband and father? + +ATHENE. Look at mother. I suppose you can't, now; you're too used to +her. + +BUILDER. Of course I'm used to her. What else is marrying for? + +ATHENE. That; and the production of such as me. And it isn't good +enough, father. You shouldn't have set us such a perfect example. + +BUILDER. You're talking the most arrant nonsense I ever heard. [He +lifts his hands] I've a good mind to shake it out of you. + +ATHENE. Shall I call Guy? + + He drops his hands. + +Confess that being a good husband and father has tried you terribly. It +has us, you know. + +BUILDER. [Taking refuge in sarcasm] When you've quite done being funny, +perhaps you'll tell me why you've behaved like a common street flapper. + +ATHENE. [Simply] I couldn't bear to think of Guy as a family man. +That's all--absolutely. It's not his fault; he's been awfully anxious to +be one. + +BUILDER. You've disgraced us, then; that's what it comes to. + +ATHENE. I don't want to be unkind, but you've brought it on yourself. + +BUILDER. [Genuinely distracted] I can't even get a glimmer of what you +mean. I've never been anything but firm. Impatient, perhaps. I'm not +an angel; no ordinary healthy man is. I've never grudged you girls any +comfort, or pleasure. + +ATHENE. Except wills of our own. + +BUILDER. What do you want with wills of your own till you're married? + +ATHENE. You forget mother! + +BUILDER. What about her? + +ATHENE. She's very married. Has she a will of her own? + +BUILDER. [Sullenly] She's learnt to know when I'm in the right. + +ATHENE. I don't ever mean to learn to know when Guy's in the right. +Mother's forty-one, and twenty-three years of that she's been your wife. +It's a long time, father. Don't you ever look at her face? + +BUILDER. [Troubled in a remote way] Rubbish! + +ATHENE. I didn't want my face to get like that. + +BUILDER. With such views about marriage, what business had you to go +near a man? Come, now! + +ATHENE. Because I fell in love. + +BUILDER. Love leads to marriage--and to nothing else, but the streets. +What an example to your sister! + +ATHENE. You don't know Maud any more than you knew me. She's got a will +of her own too, I can tell you. + +BUILDER. Now, look here, Athene. It's always been my way to face +accomplished facts. What's done can't be undone; but it can be remedied. +You must marry this young----at once, before it gets out. He's behaved +like a ruffian: but, by your own confession, you've behaved worse. +You've been bitten by this modern disease, this--this, utter lack of +common decency. There's an eternal order in certain things, and marriage +is one of them; in fact, it's the chief. Come, now. Give me a promise, +and I'll try my utmost to forget the whole thing. + +ATHENE. When we quarrelled, father, you said you didn't care what became +of me. + +BUILDER. I was angry. + +ATHENE. So you are now. + +BUILDER. Come, Athene, don't be childish! Promise me! + +ATHENE. [With a little shudder] No! We were on the edge of it. But now +I've seen you again--Poor mother! + +BUILDER. [Very angry] This is simply blasphemous. What do you mean by +harping on your mother? If you think that--that--she doesn't--that she +isn't-- + +ATHENE. Now, father! + +BUILDER. I'm damned if I'll sit down under this injustice. Your mother +is--is pretty irritating, I can tell you. She--she--Everything +suppressed. And--and no--blood in her! + +ATHENE. I knew it! + +BUILDER. [Aware that he has confirmed some thought in her that he had no +intention of confirming] What's that? + +ATHENE. Don't you ever look at your own face, father? When you shave, +for instance. + +BUILDER. Of course I do. + +ATHENE. It isn't satisfied, is it? + +BUILDER. I don't know what on earth you mean. + +ATHENE. You can't help it, but you'd be ever so much happier if you were +a Mohammedan, and two or three, instead of one, had--had learned to know +when you were in the right. + +BUILDER. 'Pon my soul! This is outrageous! + +ATHENE. Truth often is. + +BUILDER. Will you be quiet? + +ATHENE. I don't ever want to feel sorry for Guy in that way. + +BUILDER. I think you're the most immodest--I'm ashamed that you're my +daughter. If your another had ever carried on as you are now-- + +ATHENE. Would you have been firm with her? + +BUILDER. [Really sick at heart at this unwonted mockery which meets him +at every turn] Be quiet, you----! + +ATHENE. Has mother never turned? + +BUILDER. You're an unnatural girl! Go your own way to hell! + +ATHENE. I am not coming back home, father. + +BUILDER. [Wrenching open the door, Right] Julia! Come! We can't stay +here. + + MRS BUILDER comes forth, followed by GUY. + +As for you, sir, if you start by allowing a woman to impose her crazy +ideas about marriage on you, all I can say is--I despise you. [He +crosses to the outer door, followed by his wife. To ATHENE] I've done +with you! + + He goes out. + + MRS BUILDER, who has so far seemed to accompany him, shuts the door + quickly and remains in the studio. She stands there with that faint + smile on her face, looking at the two young people. + +ATHENE. Awfully sorry, mother; but don't you see what a stunner father's +given me? + +MRS BUILDER. My dear, all men are not alike. + +GUY. I've always told her that, ma'am. + +ATHENE. [Softly] Oh! mother, I'm so sorry for you. + + The handle of the door is rattled, a fist is beaten on it. + +[She stamps, and covers her ears] Disgusting! + +GUY. Shall I--? + +MRS BUILDER. [Shaking her head] I'm going in a moment. [To ATHENE] You +owe it to me, Athene. + +ATHENE. Oh! if somebody would give him a lesson! + + BUILDER's voice: "Julia!" + +Have you ever tried, mother? + + MRS BUILDER looks at the YOUNG MAN, who turns away out of hearing. + +MRS BUILDER. Athene, you're mistaken. I've always stood up to him in my +own way. + +ATHENE. Oh! but, mother--listen! + + The beating and rattling have recommenced, and the voice: "Are you + coming?" + +[Passionately] And that's family life! Father was all right before he +married, I expect. And now it's like this. How you survive--! + +MRS BUILDER. He's only in a passion, my dear. + +ATHENE. It's wicked. + +MRS BUILDER. It doesn't work otherwise, Athene. + + A single loud bang on the door. + +ATHENE. If he beats on that door again, I shall scream. + + MRS BUILDER smiles, shakes her head, and turns to the door. + +MRS BUILDER. Now, my dear, you're going to be sensible, to please me. +It's really best. If I say so, it must be. It's all comedy, Athene. + +ATHENE. Tragedy! + +GUY. [Turning to them] Look here! Shall I shift him? + + MRS BUILDER shakes her head and opens the door. BUILDER stands + there, a furious figure. + +BUILDER. Will you come, and leave that baggage and her cad? + +MRS BUILDER steps quickly out and the door is closed. Guy makes an angry +movement towards it. + +ATHENE. Guy! + +GUY. [Turning to her] That puts the top hat on. So persuasive! [He +takes out of his pocket a wedding ring, and a marriage licence] Well! +What's to be done with these pretty things, now? + +ATHENE. Burn them! + +GUY. [Slowly] Not quite. You can't imagine I should ever be like that, +Athene? + +ATHENE. Marriage does wonders. + +GUY. Thanks. + +ATHENE. Oh! Guy, don't be horrid. I feel awfully bad. + +GUY. Well, what do you think I feel? "Cad!" + + They turn to see ANNIE in hat and coat, with a suit-case in her + hand, coming from the door Left. + +ANNIE. Oh! ma'am, please, Miss, I want to go home. + +GUY. [Exasperated!] She wants to go home--she wants to go home! + +ATHENE. Guy! All right, Annie. + +ANNIE. Oh! thank you, Miss. [She moves across in front of them]. + +ATHENE. [Suddenly] Annie! + + ANNIE stops and turns to her. + +What are you afraid of? + +ANNIE. [With comparative boldness] I--I might catch it, Miss. + +ATHENE. From your people? + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Miss; from you. You see, I've got a young man that wants +to marry me. And if I don't let him, I might get into trouble meself. + +ATHENE. What sort of father and mother have you got, Annie? + +ANNIE. I never thought, Miss. And of course I don't want to begin. + +ATHENE. D'you mean you've never noticed how they treat each other? + +ANNIE. I don't think they do, Miss. + +ATHENE. Exactly. + +ANNIE. They haven't time. Father's an engine driver. + +GUY. And what's your young man, Annie? + +ANNIE. [Embarrassed] Somethin' like you, sir. But very respectable. + +ATHENE. And suppose you marry him, and he treats you like a piece of +furniture? + +ANNIE. I--I could treat him the same, Miss. + +ATHENE. Don't you believe that, Annie! + +ANNIE. He's very mild. + +ATHENE. That's because he wants you. You wait till he doesn't. + + ANNIE looks at GUY. + +GUY. Don't you believe her, Annie; if he's decent-- + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir. + +ATHENE. [Suppressing a smile] Of course--but the point is, Annie, that +marriage makes all the difference. + +ANNIE. Yes, Miss; that's what I thought. + +ATHENE. You don't see. What I mean is that when once he's sure of you, +he may change completely. + +ANNIE. [Slowly, looking at her thumb] Oh! I don't--think--he'll hammer +me, Miss. Of course, I know you can't tell till you've found out. + +ATHENE. Well, I've no right to influence you. + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Miss; that's what I've been thinking. + +-GUY. You're quite right, Annie=-this is no place for you. + +ANNIE. You see, we can't be married; sir, till he gets his rise. So +it'll be a continual temptation to me. + +ATHENE. Well, all right, Annie. I hope you'll never regret it. + +ANNIE. Oh! no, Miss. + +GUY. I say, Annie, don't go away thinking evil of us; we didn't realise +you knew we weren't married. + +ATHENE. We certainly did not. + +ANNIE. Oh! I didn't think it right to take notice. + +GUY. We beg your pardon. + +ANNIE. Oh! no, sir. Only, seein' Mr and Mrs Builder so upset, brought +it 'ome like. And father can be 'andy with a strap. + +ATHENE. There you are! Force majeure! + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Miss. + +ATHENE. Well, good-bye, Annie. What are you going to say to your +people? + +ANNIE. Oh! I shan't say I've been livin' in a family that wasn't a +family, Miss. It wouldn't do no good. + +ATHENE. Well, here are your wages. + +ANNIE. Oh! I'm puttin' you out, Miss. [She takes the money]. + +ATHENE. Nonsense, Annie. And here's your fare home. + +ANNIE. Oh! thank you, Miss. I'm very sorry. Of course if you was to +change your mind--[She stops, embarrassed]. + +ATHENE. I don't think-- + +GUY. [Abruptly] Good-bye, Annie. Here's five bob for the movies. + +ANNIE. Oh! good-bye, sir, and thank you. I was goin' there now with my +young man. He's just round the corner. + +GUY. Be very careful of him. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir, I will. Good-bye, sir. Goodbye, Miss. + + She goes. + +GUY. So her father has a firm hand too. But it takes her back to the +nest. How's that, Athene? + +ATHENE. [Playing with a leathern button on his coat] If you'd watched +it ever since you could watch anything, seen it kill out all--It's having +power that does it. I know Father's got awfully good points. + +GUY. Well, they don't stick out. + +ATHENE. He works fearfully hard; he's upright, and plucky. He's not +stingy. But he's smothered his animal nature-and that's done it. I +don't want to see you smother anything, Guy. + +GUY. [Gloomily] I suppose one never knows what one's got under the lid. +If he hadn't come here to-day--[He spins the wedding ring] He certainly +gives one pause. Used he to whack you? + +ATHENE. Yes. + +GUY. Brute! + +ATHENE. With the best intentions. You see, he's a Town Councillor, and +a magistrate. I suppose they have to be "firm." Maud and I sneaked in +once to listen to him. There was a woman who came for protection from +her husband. If he'd known we were there, he'd have had a fit. + +GUY. Did he give her the protection? + +ATHENE. Yes; he gave her back to the husband. Wasn't it--English? + +GUY. [With a grunt] Hang it! We're not all like that. + +ATHENE. [Twisting his button] I think it's really a sense of property +so deep that they don't know they've got it. Father can talk about +freedom like a--politician. + +GUY. [Fitting the wedding ring on her finger] Well! Let's see how it +looks, anyway. + +ATHENE. Don't play with fire, Guy. + +GUY. There's something in atavism, darling; there really is. I like it +--I do. + + A knock on the door. + +ATHENE. That sounds like Annie again. Just see. + +GUY. [Opening the door] It is. Come in, Annie. What's wrong now? + +ANNIE. [Entering in confusion] Oh! sir, please, sir--I've told my +young man. + +ATHENE. Well, what does he say? + +ANNIE. 'E was 'orrified, Miss. + +GUY. The deuce he was! At our conduct? + +ANNIE. Oh! no, sir--at mine. + +ATHENE. But you did your best; you left us. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Miss; that's why 'e's horrified. + +GUY. Good for your young man. + +ANNIE. [Flattered] Yes, sir. 'E said I 'ad no strength of mind. + +ATHENE. So you want to come back? + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Miss. + +ATHENE. All right. + +GUY. But what about catching it? + +ANNIE. Oh, sir, 'e said there was nothing like Epsom salts. + +GUY. He's a wag, your young man. + +ANNIE. He was in the Army, sir. + +GUY. You said he was respectable. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir; but not so respectable as that. + +ATHENE. Well, Annie, get your things off, and lay lunch. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, Miss. + + She makes a little curtsey and passes through into the kitchen. + +GUY. Strength of mind! Have a little, Athene won't you? [He holds out +the marriage licence before her]. + +ATHENE. I don't know--I don't know! If--it turned out-- + +GUY. It won't. Come on. Must take chances in this life. + +ATHENE. [Looking up into his face] Guy, promise me--solemnly that you'll +never let me stand in your way, or stand in mine! + +GUY. Right! That's a bargain. [They embrace.] + + ATHENE quivers towards him. They embrace fervently as ANNIE enters + with the bread pan. They spring apart. + +ANNIE. Oh! + +GUY. It's all right, Annie. There's only one more day's infection +before you. We're to be married to-morrow morning. + +ANNIE. Oh! yes, sir. Won't Mr Builder be pleased? + +GUY. H'm! That's not exactly our reason. + +ANNIE. [Right] Oh! no, sir. Of course you can't be a family without, +can you? + +GUY. What have you got in that thing? + + ANNIE is moving across with the bread pan. She halts at the bedroom + door. + +ANNIE. Oh! please, ma'am, I was to give you a message--very important-- +from Miss Maud Builder "Lookout! Father is coming!" + + She goes out. + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + +ACT II + + BUILDER'S study. At the table, MAUD has just put a sheet of paper + into a typewriter. She sits facing the audience, with her hands + stretched over the keys. + +MAUD. [To herself] I must get that expression. + + Her face assumes a furtive, listening look. Then she gets up, + whisks to the mirror over the fireplace, scrutinises the expression + in it, and going back to the table, sits down again with hands + outstretched above the keys, and an accentuation of the expression. + The door up Left is opened, and TOPPING appears. He looks at MAUD, + who just turns her eyes. + +TOPPING. Lunch has been ready some time, Miss Maud. + +MAUD. I don't want any lunch. Did you give it? + +TOPPING. Miss Athene was out. I gave the message to a young party. She +looked a bit green, Miss. I hope nothing'll go wrong with the works. +Shall I keep lunch back? + +MAUD. If something's gone wrong, they won't have any appetite, Topping. + +TOPPING. If you think I might risk it, Miss, I'd like to slip round to +my dentist. [He lays a finger on his cheek]. + +MAUD. [Smiling] Oh! What race is being run this afternoon, then, +Topping? + +TOPPING. [Twinkling, and shifting his finger to the side of his nose] +Well, I don't suppose you've 'eard of it, Miss; but as a matter of fact +it's the Cesarwitch. + +MAUD. Got anything on? + +TOPPING. Only my shirt, Miss. + +MAUD. Is it a good thing, then? + +TOPPING. I've seen worse roll up. [With a touch of enthusiasm] Dark +horse, Miss Maud, at twenty to one. + +MAUD. Put me ten bob on, Topping. I want all the money I can get, just +now. + +TOPPING. You're not the first, Miss. + +MAUD. I say, Topping, do you know anything about the film? + +TOPPING. [Nodding] Rather a specialty of mine, Miss. + +MAUD. Well, just stand there, and give me your opinion of this. + + TOPPING moves down Left. She crouches over the typewriter, lets her + hands play on the keys; stops; assumes that listening, furtive look; + listens again, and lets her head go slowly round, preceded by her + eyes; breaks it off, and says: + +What should you say I was? + +TOPPING. Guilty, Miss. + +MAUD. [With triumph] There! Then you think I've got it? + +TOPPING. Well, of course, I couldn't say just what sort of a crime you'd +committed, but I should think pretty 'ot stuff. + +MAUD. Yes; I've got them here. [She pats her chest]. + +TOPPING. Really, Miss. + +MAUD. Yes. There's just one point, Topping; it's psychological. + +TOPPING. Indeed, Miss? + +MAUD. Should I naturally put my hand on them; or would there be a +reaction quick enough to stop me? You see, I'm alone--and the point is +whether the fear of being seen would stop me although I knew I couldn't +be seen. It's rather subtle. + +TOPPING. I think there's be a rehaction, Miss. + +MAUD. So do I. To touch them [She clasps her chest] is a bit obvious, +isn't it? + +TOPPING. If the haudience knows you've got 'em there. + +MAUD. Oh! yes, it's seen me put them. Look here, I'll show you that +too. + + She opens an imaginary drawer, takes out some bits of sealing-wax, + and with every circumstance of stealth in face and hands, conceals + them in her bosom. + +All right? + +TOPPING. [Nodding] Fine, Miss. You have got a film face. What are +they, if I may ask? + +MAUD. [Reproducing the sealing-wax] The Fanshawe diamonds. There's +just one thing here too, Topping. + +In real life, which should I naturally do--put them in here [She touches +her chest] or in my bag? + +TOPPING. [Touching his waistcoat--earnestly] Well! To put 'em in here, +Miss, I should say is more--more pishchological. + +MAUD. [Subduing her lips] Yes; but-- + +TOPPING. You see, then you've got 'em on you. + +MAUD. But that's just the point. Shouldn't I naturally think: Safer in +my bag; then I can pretend somebody put them there. You see, nobody +could put them on me. + +TOPPING. Well, I should say that depends on your character. Of course I +don't know what your character is. + +MAUD. No; that's the beastly part of it--the author doesn't, either. +It's all left to me. + +TOPPING. In that case, I should please myself, Miss. To put 'em in +'ere's warmer. + +MAUD. Yes, I think you're right. It's more human. + +TOPPING. I didn't know you 'ad a taste this way, Miss Maud. + +MAUD. More than a taste, Topping--a talent. + +TOPPING. Well, in my belief, we all have a vice about us somewhere. But +if I were you, Miss, I wouldn't touch bettin', not with this other on +you. You might get to feel a bit crowded. + +MAUD. Well, then, only put the ten bob on if you're sure he's going to +win. You can post the money on after me. I'll send you an address, +Topping, because I shan't be here. + +TOPPING. [Disturbed] What! You're not going, too, Miss Maud? + +MAUD. To seek my fortune. + +TOPPING. Oh! Hang it all, Miss, think of what you'll leave behind. +Miss Athene's leavin' home has made it pretty steep, but this'll touch +bottom--this will. + +MAUD. Yes; I expect you'll find it rather difficult for a bit when I'm +gone. Miss Baldini, you know. I've been studying with her. She's got +me this chance with the movie people. I'm going on trial as the guilty +typist in "The Heartache of Miranda." + +TOPPING. [Surprised out of politeness] Well, I never! That does sound +like 'em! Are you goin' to tell the guv'nor, Miss? + + MAUD nods. In that case, I think I'll be gettin' off to my dentist + before the band plays. + +MAUD. All right, Topping; hope you won't lose a tooth. + +TOPPING. [With a grin] It's on the knees of the gods, Miss, as they say +in the headlines. + + He goes. MAUD stretches herself and listens. + +MAUD. I believe that's them. Shivery funky. + + She runs off up Left. + +BUILDER. [Entering from the hall and crossing to the fireplace] +Monstrous! Really monstrous! + + CAMILLE enters from the hall. She has a little collecting book in + her hand. + +BUILDER. Well, Camille? + +CAMILLE. A sistare from the Sacred 'Eart, Monsieur--her little book for +the orphan children. + +BUILDER. I can't be bothered--What is it? + +CAMILLE. Orphan, Monsieur. + +BUILDER. H'm! Well! [Feeling in his breast pocket] Give her that. + + He hands her a five-pound note. + +CAMILLE. I am sure she will be veree grateful for the poor little +beggars. Madame says she will not be coming to lunch, Monsieur. + +BUILDER. I don't want any, either. Tell Topping I'll have some coffee. + +CAMILLE. Topping has gone to the dentist, Monsieur; 'e 'as the +toothache. + +BUILDER. Toothache--poor devil! H'm! I'm expecting my brother, but I +don't know that I can see him. + +CAMILLE. No, Monsieur? + +BUILDER. Ask your mistress to come here. + + He looks up, and catching her eye, looks away. + +CAMILLE. Yes, Monsieur. + + As she turns he looks swiftly at her, sweeping her up and down. She + turns her head and catches his glance, which is swiftly dropped. + Will Monsieur not 'ave anything to eat? + +BUILDER. [Shaking his head-abruptly] No. Bring the coffee! + +CAMILLE. Is Monsieur not well? + +BUILDER. Yes--quite well. + +CAMILLE. [Sweetening her eyes] A cutlet soubise? No? + +BUILDER. [With a faint response in his eyes, instantly subdued] Nothing! +nothing! + +CAMILLE. And Madame nothing too--Tt! Tt! With her hand on the door she +looks back, again catches his eyes in an engagement instantly broken off, +and goes out. + +BUILDER. [Stock-still, and staring at the door] That girl's a continual +irritation to me! She's dangerous! What a life! I believe that girl-- + + The door Left is opened and MRS BUILDER comes in. + +BUILDER. There's some coffee coming; do your head good. Look here, +Julia. I'm sorry I beat on that door. I apologize. I was in a towering +passion. I wish I didn't get into these rages. But--dash it all--! I +couldn't walk away and leave you there. + +MRS BUILDER. Why not? + +BUILDER. You keep everything to yourself, so; I never have any notion +what you're thinking. What did you say to her? + +MRS BUILDER. Told her it would never work. + +BUILDER. Well, that's something. She's crazy. D'you suppose she was +telling the truth about that young blackguard wanting to marry her? + +MRS BUILDER. I'm sure of it. + +BUILDER. When you think of how she's been brought up. You would have +thought that religion alone-- + +MRS BUILDER. The girls haven't wanted to go to church for years. +They've always said they didn't see why they should go to keep up your +position. I don't know if you remember that you once caned them for +running off on a Sunday morning. + +BUILDER. Well? + +MRS BUILDER. They've never had any religion since. + +BUILDER. H'm! [He takes a short turn up the room] What's to be done +about Athene? + +MRS BUILDER. You said you had done with her. + +BUILDER. You know I didn't mean that. I might just as well have said +I'd done with you! Apply your wits, Julia! At any moment this thing may +come out. In a little town like this you can keep nothing dark. How can +I take this nomination for Mayor? + +MRS BUILDER. Perhaps Ralph could help. + +BUILDER. What? His daughters have never done anything disgraceful, and +his wife's a pattern. + +MRS BUILDER. Yes; Ralph isn't at all a family man. + +BUILDER. [Staring at her] I do wish you wouldn't turn things upside +down in that ironical way. It isn't--English. + +MRS BUILDER. I can't help having been born in Jersey. + +BUILDER. No; I suppose it's in your blood. The French-- [He stops +short]. + +MRS BUILDER. Yes? + +BUILDER. Very irritating sometimes to a plain Englishman--that's all. + +MRS BUILDER. Shall I get rid of Camille? + +BUILDER. [Staring at her, then dropping his glance] Camille? What's +she got to do with it? + +MRS BUILDER. I thought perhaps you found her irritating. + +BUILDER. Why should I? + + CAMILLE comes in from the dining-room with the coffee. + +Put it there. I want some brandy, please. + +CAMILLE. I bring it, Monsieur. + + She goes back demurely into the dining-room. + +BUILDER. Topping's got toothache, poor chap! [Pouring out the coffee] +Can't you suggest any way of making Athene see reason? Think of the +example! Maud will be kicking over next. I shan't be able to hold my +head up here. + +MRS BUILDER. I'm afraid I can't do that for you. + +BUILDER. [Exasperated] Look here, Julia! That wretched girl said +something to me about our life together. What--what's the matter with +that? + +MRS BUILDER. It is irritating. + +BUILDER. Be explicit. + +MRS BUILDER. We have lived together twenty-three years, John. No talk +will change such things. + +BUILDER. Is it a question of money? You can always have more. You know +that. [MRS BUILDER smiles] Oh! don't smile like that; it makes me feel +quite sick! + + CAMILLE enters with a decanter and little glasses, from the dining- + room. + +CAMILLE. The brandy, sir. Monsieur Ralph Builder has just come. + +MRS BUILDER. Ask him in, Camille. + +CAMILLE. Yes, Madame. + + She goes through the doorway into the hall. MRS BUILDER, following + towards the door, meets RALPH BUILDER, a man rather older than + BUILDER and of opposite build and manner. He has a pleasant, + whimsical face and grizzled hair. + +MRS BUILDER. John wants to consult you, Ralph. + +RALPH. That's very gratifying. + + She passes him and goes out, leaving the two brothers eyeing one + another. + +About the Welsh contract? + +BUILDER. No. Fact is, Ralph, something very horrible's happened. + +RALPH. Athene gone and got married? + +BUILDER. No. It's--it's that she's gone and--and not got married. + + RALPH utters a sympathetic whistle. + +Jolly, isn't it? + +RALPH. To whom? + +BUILDER. A young flying bounder. + +RALPH. And why? + +BUILDER. Some crazy rubbish about family life, of all things. + +RALPH. Athene's a most interesting girl. All these young people are so +queer and delightful. + +BUILDER. By George, Ralph, you may thank your stars you haven't got a +delightful daughter. Yours are good, decent girls. + +RALPH. Athene's tremendously good and decent, John. I'd bet any money +she's doing this on the highest principles. + +BUILDER. Behaving like a-- + +RALPH. Don't say what you'll regret, old man! Athene always took things +seriously--bless her! + +BUILDER. Julia thinks you might help. You never seem to have any +domestic troubles. + +RALPH. No--o. I don't think we do. + +BUILDER. How d'you account for it? + +RALPH. I must ask at home. + +BUILDER. Dash it! You must know! + +RALPH. We're all fond of each other. + +BUILDER. Well, I'm fond of my girls too; I suppose I'm not amiable +enough. H'm? + +RALPH. Well, old man, you do get blood to the head. But what's Athene's +point, exactly? + +BUILDER. Family life isn't idyllic, so she thinks she and the young man +oughtn't to have one. + +RALPH. I see. Home experience? + +BUILDER. Hang it all, a family's a family! There must be a head. + +RALPH. But no tail, old chap. + +BUILDER. You don't let your women folk do just as they like? + +RALPH. Always. + +BUILDER. What happens if one of your girls wants to do an improper +thing? [RALPH shrugs his shoulders]. You don't stop her? + +RALPH. Do you? + +BUILDER. I try to. + +RALPH. Exactly. And she does it. I don't and she doesn't. + +BUILDER. [With a short laugh] Good Lord! I suppose you'd have me eat +humble pie and tell Athene she can go on living in sin and offending +society, and have my blessing to round it off. + +RALPH. I think if you did she'd probably marry him. + +BUILDER. You've never tested your theory, I'll bet. + +RALPH. Not yet. + +BUILDER. There you are. + +RALPH. The 'suaviter in modo' pays, John. The times are not what they +were. + +BUILDER. Look here! I want to get to the bottom of this. Do you tell +me I'm any stricter than nine out of ten men? + +RALPH. Only in practice. + +BUILDER. [Puzzled] How do you mean? + +RALPH. Well, you profess the principles of liberty, but you practise the +principles of government. + +BUILDER. H'm! [Taking up the decanter] Have some? + +RALPH. No, thank you. + + BUILDER fills and raises his glass. + +CAMILLE. [Entering] Madame left her coffee. + + She comes forward, holds out a cup for BUILDER to pour into, takes + it and goes out. BUILDER'S glass remains suspended. He drinks the + brandy off as she shuts the door. + +BUILDER. Life isn't all roses, Ralph. + +RALPH. Sorry, old man. + +BUILDER. I sometimes think I try myself too high. Well, about that +Welsh contract? + +RALPH. Let's take it. + +BUILDER. If you'll attend to it. Frankly, I'm too upset. + + As they go towards the door into the hall, MAUD comes in from the + dining-room, in hat and coat. + +RALPH. [Catching sight of her] Hallo! All well in your cosmogony, Maud? + +MAUD. What is a cosmogony, Uncle? + +RALPH. My dear, I--I don't know. + + He goes out, followed by BUILDER. MAUD goes quickly to the table, + sits down and rests her elbows on it, her chin on her hands, looking + at the door. + +BUILDER. [Re-entering] Well, Maud! You'd have won your bet! + +MAUD. Oh! father, I--I've got some news for you. + +BUILDER. [Staring at her] News--what? + +MAUD. I'm awfully sorry, but I-I've got a job. + +BUILDER. Now, don't go saying you're going in for Art, too, because I +won't have it. + +MAUD. Art? Oh! no! It's the--[With a jerk]--the Movies. + + BUILDER. who has taken up a pipe to fill, puts it down. + +BUILDER. [Impressively] I'm not in a joking mood. + +MAUD. I'm not joking, father. + +BUILDER. Then what are you talking about? + +MAUD. You see, I--I've got a film face, and-- + +BUILDER. You've what? [Going up to his daughter, he takes hold of her +chin] Don't talk nonsense! Your sister has just tried me to the limit. + +MAUD. [Removing his hand from her chin] Don't oppose it, father, please! +I've always wanted to earn my own living. + +BUILDER. Living! Living! + +MAUD. [Gathering determination] You can't stop me, father, because I +shan't need support. I've got quite good terms. + +BUILDER. [Almost choking, but mastering himself] Do you mean to say +you've gone as far as that? + +MAUD. Yes. It's all settled. + +BUILDER. Who put you up to this? + +MAUD. No one. I've been meaning to, ever so long. I'm twenty-one, you +know. + +BUILDER. A film face! Good God! Now, look here! I will not have a +daughter of mine mixed up with the stage. I've spent goodness knows what +on your education--both of you. + +MAUD. I don't want to be ungrateful; but I--I can't go on living at +home. + +BUILDER. You can't--! Why? You've every indulgence. + +MAUD. [Clearly and coldly] I can remember occasions when your +indulgence hurt, father. [She wriggles her shoulders and back] We never +forgot or forgave that. + +BUILDER. [Uneasily] That! You were just kids. + +MAUD. Perhaps you'd like to begin again? + +BUILDER. Don't twist my tail, Maud. I had the most painful scene with +Athene this morning. Now come! Give up this silly notion! It's really +too childish! + +MAUD. [Looking at him curiously] I've heard you say ever so many times +that no man was any good who couldn't make his own way, father. Well, +women are the same as men, now. It's the law of the country. I only +want to make my own way. + +BUILDER. [Trying to subdue his anger] Now, Maud, don't be foolish. +Consider my position here--a Town Councillor, a Magistrate, and Mayor +next year. With one daughter living with a man she isn't married to-- + +MAUD. [With lively interest] Oh! So you did catch them out? + +BUILDER. D'you mean to say you knew? + +MAUD. Of course. + +BUILDER. My God! I thought we were a Christian family. + +MAUD. Oh! father. + +BUILDER. Don't sneer at Christianity! + +MAUD. There's only one thing wrong with Christians--they aren't! + +BUILDER Seizes her by the shoulders and shakes her vigorously. When he +drops her shoulders, she gets up, gives him a vicious look, and suddenly +stamps her foot on his toe with all her might. + +BUILDER. [With a yowl of pain] You little devil! + +MAUD. [Who has put the table between them] I won't stand being shaken. + +BUILDER. [Staring at her across the table] You've got my temper up and +you'll take the consequences. I'll make you toe the line. + +MAUD. If you knew what a Prussian expression you've got! + + BUILDER passes his hand across his face uneasily, as if to wipe + something off. + +No! It's too deep! + +BUILDER. Are you my daughter or are you not? + +MAUD. I certainly never wanted to be. I've always disliked you, father, +ever since I was so high. I've seen through you. Do you remember when +you used to come into the nursery because Jenny was pretty? You think we +didn't notice that, but we did. And in the schoolroom--Miss Tipton. And +d'you remember knocking our heads together? No, you don't; but we do. +And-- + +BUILDER. You disrespectful monkey! Will you be quiet? + +MAUD. No; you've got to hear things. You don't really love anybody but +yourself, father. What's good for you has to be good for everybody. +I've often heard you talk about independence, but it's a limited company +and you've got all the shares. + +BUILDER. Rot; only people who can support themselves have a right to +independence. + +MAUD. That's why you don't want me to support myself. + +BUILDER. You can't! Film, indeed! You'd be in the gutter in a year. +Athene's got her pittance, but you--you've got nothing. + +MAUD. Except my face. + +BUILDER. It's the face that brings women to ruin, my girl. + +MAUD. Well, when I'm there I won't come to you to rescue me. + +BUILDER. Now, mind--if you leave my house, I've done with you. + +MAUD. I'd rather scrub floors now, than stay. + +BUILDER. [Almost pathetically] Well, I'm damned! Look here, Maud-- +all this has been temper. You got my monkey up. I'm sorry I shook you; +you've had your revenge on my toes. Now, come! Don't make things worse +for me than they are. You've all the liberty you can reasonably want +till you marry. + +MAUD. He can't see it--he absolutely can't! + +BUILDER. See what? + +MAUD. That I want to live a life of my own. + + He edges nearer to her, and she edges to keep her distance. + +BUILDER. I don't know what's bitten you. + +MAUD. The microbe of freedom; it's in the air. + +BUILDER. Yes, and there it'll stay--that's the first sensible word +you've uttered. Now, come! Take your hat off, and let's be friends! + +MAUD looks at him and slowly takes off her hat. + +BUILDER. [Relaxing his attitude, with a sigh of relief] That's right! +[Crosses to fireplace]. + +MAUD. [Springing to the door leading to the hall] Good-bye, father! + +BUILDER. [Following her] Monkey! + + At the sound of a bolt shot, BUILDER goes up to the window. There + is a fumbling at the door, and CAMILLE appears. + +BUILDER. What's the matter with that door? CAMILLE. It was bolted, +Monsieur. + +BUILDER. Who bolted it? + +CAMILLE. [Shrugging her shoulders] I can't tell, Monsieur. + + She collects the cups, and halts close to him. [Softly] Monsieur + is not 'appy. + +BUILDER. [Surprised] What? No! Who'd be happy in a household like +mine? + +CAMILLE. But so strong a man--I wish I was a strong man, not a weak +woman. + +BUILDER. [Regarding her with reluctant admiration] Why, what's the +matter with you? + +CAMILLE. Will Monsieur have another glass of brandy before I take it? + +BUILDER. No! Yes--I will. + + She pours it out, and he drinks it, hands her the glass and sits + down suddenly in an armchair. CAMILLE puts the glass on a tray, and + looks for a box of matches from the mantelshelf. + +CAMILLE. A light, Monsieur? + +BUILDER. Please. + +CAMILLE. [She trips over his feet and sinks on to his knee] Oh! +Monsieur! + + BUILDER flames up and catches her in his arms + +Oh! Monsieur-- + +BUILDER. You little devil! + + She suddenly kisses him, and he returns the kiss. While they are + engaged in this entrancing occupation, MRS BUILDER opens the door + from the hall, watches unseen for a few seconds, and quietly goes + out again. + +BUILDER. [Pushing her back from him, whether at the sound of the door or +of a still small voice] What am I doing? + +CAMILLE. Kissing. + +BUILDER. I--I forgot myself. + + They rise. + +CAMILLE. It was na-ice. + +BUILDER. I didn't mean to. You go away--go away! + +CAMILLE. Oh! Monsieur, that spoil it. + +BUILDER. [Regarding her fixedly] It's my opinion you're a temptation of +the devil. You know you sat down on purpose. + +CAMILLE. Well, perhaps. + +BUILDER. What business had you to? I'm a family man. + +CAMILLE. Yes. What a pity! But does it matter? + +BUILDER. [Much beset] Look here, you know! This won't do! It won't +do! I--I've got my reputation to think of! + +CAMILLE. So 'ave I! But there is lots of time to think of it in +between. + +BUILDER. I knew you were dangerous. I always knew it. + +CAMILLE. What a thing to say of a little woman! + +BUILDER. We're not in Paris. + +CAMILLE. [Clasping her hands] Oh! 'Ow I wish we was! + +BUILDER. Look here--I can't stand this; you've got to go. Out with you! +I've always kept a firm hand on myself, and I'm not going to-- + +CAMILLE. But I admire you so! + +BUILDER. Suppose my wife had come in? + +CAMILLE. Oh! Don't suppose any such a disagreeable thing! If you were +not so strict, you would feel much 'appier. + +BUILDER. [Staring at her] You're a temptress! + +CAMILLE. I lofe pleasure, and I don't get any. And you 'ave such a +duty, you don't get any sport. Well, I am 'ere! + + She stretches herself, and BUILDER utters a deep sound. + +BUILDER. [On the edge of succumbing] It's all against my--I won't do +it! It's--it's wrong! + +CAMILLE. Oh! La, la! + +BUILDER. [Suddenly revolting] No! If you thought it a sin--I--might. +But you don't; you're nothing but a--a little heathen. + +CAMILLE. Why should it be better if I thought it a sin? + +BUILDER. Then--then I should know where I was. As it is-- + +CAMILLE. The English 'ave no idea of pleasure. They make it all so +coarse and virtuous. + +BUILDER. Now, out you go before I--! Go on! + + He goes over to the door and opens it. His wife is outside in a hat + and coat. She comes in. + +[Stammering] Oh! Here you are--I wanted you. + + CAMILLE, taking up the tray, goes out Left, swinging her hips a very + little. + +BUILDER. Going out? + +MRS BUILDER. Obviously. + +BUILDER. Where? + +MRS BUILDER. I don't know at present. + +BUILDER. I wanted to talk to you about Maud. + +MRS BUILDER. It must wait. + +BUILDER. She's-she's actually gone and-- + +MRS BUILDER. I must tell you that I happened to look in a minute ago. + +BUILDER. [In absolute dismay] You! You what? + +MRS BUILDER. Yes. I will put no obstacle in the way of your pleasures. + +BUILDER. [Aghast] Put no obstacle? What do you mean? Julia, how can +you say a thing like that? Why, I've only just-- + +MRS BUILDER. Don't! I saw. + +BUILDER. The girl fell on my knees. Julia, she did. She's--she's a +little devil. I--I resisted her. I give you my word there's been +nothing beyond a kiss, under great provocation. I--I apologise. + +MRS BUILDER. [Bows her head] Thank you! I quite understand. But you +must forgive my feeling it impossible to remain a wet blanket any longer. + +BUILDER. What! Because of a little thing like that--all over in two +minutes, and I doing my utmost. + +MRS BUILDER. My dear John, the fact that you had to do your utmost is +quite enough. I feel continually humiliated in your house, and I want to +leave it--quite quietly, without fuss of any kind. + +BUILDER. But--my God! Julia, this is awful--it's absurd! How can you? +I'm your husband. Really--your saying you don't mind what I do--it's not +right; it's immoral! + +MRS BUILDER. I'm afraid you don't see what goes on in those who live +with you. So, I'll just go. Don't bother! + +BUILDER. Now, look here, Julia, you can't mean this seriously. You +can't! Think of my position! You've never set yourself up against me +before. + +MRS BUILDER. But I do now. + +BUILDER. [After staring at her] I've given you no real reason. I'll +send the girl away. You ought to thank me for resisting a temptation +that most men would have yielded to. After twenty-three years of married +life, to kick up like this--you ought to be ashamed of yourself. + +MRS BUILDER. I'm sure you must think so. + +BUILDER. Oh! for heaven's sake don't be sarcastic! You're my wife, and +there's an end of it; you've no legal excuse. Don't be absurd! + +MRS BUILDER. Good-bye! + +BUILDER. D'you realise that you're encouraging me to go wrong? That's a +pretty thing for a wife to do. You ought to keep your husband straight. + +MRS BUILDER. How beautifully put! + +BUILDER. [Almost pathetically] Don't rile me Julia! I've had an awful +day. First Athene--then Maud--then that girl--and now you! All at once +like this! Like a swarm of bees about one's head. [Pleading] Come, +now, Julia, don't be so--so im practicable! You'll make us the laughing- +stock of the whole town. A man in my position, and can't keep his own +family; it's preposterous! + +MRS BUILDER. Your own family have lives and thoughts and feelings of +their own. + +BUILDER. Oh! This damned Woman's business! I knew how it would be when +we gave you the vote. You and I are married, and our daughters are our +daughters. Come, Julia. Where's your commonsense? After twenty-three +years! You know I can't do without you! + +MRS BUILDER. You could--quite easily. You can tell people what you +like. + +BUILDER. My God! I never heard anything so immoral in all my life from +the mother of two grownup girls. No wonder they've turned out as they +have! What is it you want, for goodness sake? + +MRS BUILDER. We just want to be away from you, that's all. I assure you +it's best. When you've shown some consideration for our feelings and +some real sign that we exist apart from you--we could be friends again-- +perhaps--I don't know. + +BUILDER. Friends! Good heavens! With one's own wife and daughters! +[With great earnestness] Now, look here, Julia, you haven't lived with +me all this time without knowing that I'm a man of strong passions; I've +been a faithful husband to you--yes, I have. And that means resisting +all sorts of temptations you know nothing of. If you withdraw from my +society I won't answer for the consequences. In fact, I can't have you +withdrawing. I'm not going to see myself going to the devil and losing +the good opinion of everybody round me. A bargain's a bargain. And +until I've broken my side of it, and I tell you I haven't--you've no +business to break yours. That's flat. So now, put all that out of your +head. + +MRS BUILDER. No. + +BUILDER. [Intently] D'you realise that I've supported you in luxury and +comfort? + +MRS BUILDER. I think I've earned it. + +BUILDER. And how do you propose to live? I shan't give you a penny. +Come, Julia, don't be such an idiot! Fancy letting a kiss which no man +could have helped, upset you like this! + +MRS BUILDER. The Camille, and the last straw! + +BUILDER. [Sharply] I won't have it. So now you know. + + But MRS BUILDER has very swiftly gone. + +Julia, I tell you-- [The outer door is heard being c1osed] Damnation! +I will not have it! They're all mad! Here--where's my hat? + + He looks distractedly round him, wrenches open the door, and a + moment later the street door is heard to shut with a bang. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + +SCENE I + + Ten o'clock the following morning, in the study of the Mayor of + Breconridge, a panelled room with no window visible, a door Left + back and a door Right forward. The entire back wall is furnished + with books from floor to ceiling; the other walls are panelled and + bare. Before the fireplace, Left, are two armchairs, and other + chairs are against the walls. On the Right is a writing-bureau at + right angles to the footlights, with a chair behind it. At its back + corner stands HARRIS, telephoning. + +HARRIS. What--[Pause] Well, it's infernally awkward, Sergeant. . . . +The Mayor's in a regular stew. . . . [Listens] New constable? +I should think so! Young fool! Look here, Martin, the only thing to do +is to hear the charge here at once. I've sent for Mr Chantrey; he's on +his way. Bring Mr Builder and the witnesses round sharp. See? And, I +say, for God's sake keep it dark. Don't let the Press get on to it. Why +you didn't let him go home--! Black eye? The constable? Well, serve +him right. Blundering young ass! I mean, it's undermining all +authority. . . . Well, you oughtn't--at least, I . . . Damn it +all!--it's a nine days' wonder if it gets out--! All right! As soon as +you can. [He hangs up the receiver, puts a second chair behind the +bureau, and other chairs facing it.] [To himself] Here's a mess! Johnny +Builder, of all men! What price Mayors! + + The telephone rings. + +Hallo? . . . Poaching charge? Well, bring him too; only, I say, keep +him back till the other's over. By the way, Mr Chantrey's going +shooting. He'll want to get off by eleven. What? . . Righto ! + + As he hangs up the receiver the MAYOR enters. He looks worried, and + is still dressed with the indefinable wrongness of a burgher. + +MAYOR. Well, 'Arris? + +HARRIS. They'll be over in five minutes, Mr Mayor. + +MAYOR. Mr Chantrey? + +HARRIS. On his way, sir. + +MAYOR. I've had some awkward things to deal with in my time, 'Arris, but +this is just about the [Sniffs] limit. + +HARRIS. Most uncomfortable, Sir; most uncomfortable! + +MAYOR. Put a book on the chair, 'Arris; I like to sit 'igh. + + HARRIS puts a volume of Eneyclopaedia on the Mayor's chair behind + the bureau. + +[Deeply] Our fellow-magistrate! A family man! In my shoes next year. +I suppose he won't be, now. You can't keep these things dark. + +HARRIS. I've warned Martin, sir, to use the utmost discretion. Here's +Mr Chantrey. + + By the door Left, a pleasant and comely gentleman has entered, + dressed with indefinable rightness in shooting clothes. + +MAYOR. Ah, Chantrey! + +CHANTREY. How de do, Mr Mayor? [Nodding to HARRIS] This is +extraordinarily unpleasant. + + The MAYOR nods. + +What on earth's he been doing? + +HARRIS. Assaulting one of his own daughters with a stick; and resisting +the police. + +CHANTREY. [With a low whistle] Daughter! Charity begins at home. + +HARRIS. There's a black eye. + +MAYOR. Whose? + +HARRIS. The constable's. + +CHANTREY. How did the police come into it? + +HARRIS. I don't know, sir. The worst of it is he's been at the police +station since four o'clock yesterday. The Superintendent's away, and +Martin never will take responsibility. + +CHANTREY. By George! he will be mad. John Builder's a choleric fellow. + +MAYOR. [Nodding] He is. 'Ot temper, and an 'igh sense of duty. + +HARRIS. There's one other charge, Mr Mayor--poaching. I told them to +keep that back till after. + +CHANTREY. Oh, well, we'll make short work of that. I want to get off by +eleven, Harris. I shall be late for the first drive anyway. John +Builder! I say, Mayor--but for the grace of God, there go we! + +MAYOR. Harris, go out and bring them in yourself; don't let the +servants-- + + HARRIS goes out Left. The MAYOR takes the upper chair behind the + bureau, sitting rather higher because of the book than CHANTREY, who + takes the lower. Now that they are in the seats of justice, a sort + of reticence falls on them, as if they were afraid of giving away + their attitudes of mind to some unseen presence. + +MAYOR. [Suddenly] H'm! + +CHANTREY. Touch of frost. Birds ought to come well to the guns--no +wind. I like these October days. + +MAYOR. I think I 'ear them. H'm. + + CHANTREY drops his eyeglass and puts on a pair of "grandfather" + spectacles. The MAYOR clears his throat and takes up a pen. They + neither of them look up as the door is opened and a little + procession. files in. First HARRIS; then RALPH BUILDER, ATHENE, + HERRINGHAME, MAUD, MRS BUILDER, SERGEANT MARTIN, carrying a heavy + Malacca cane with a silver knob; JOHN BUILDER and the CONSTABLE + MOON, a young man with one black eye. No funeral was ever attended + by mutes so solemn and dejected. They stand in a sort of row. + +MAYOR. [Without looking up] Sit down, ladies; sit down. + + HARRIS and HERRINGHAME succeed in placing the three women in chairs. + RALPH BUILDER also sits. HERRINGHAME stands behind. JOHN BUILDER + remains standing between the two POLICEMEN. His face is unshaved + and menacing, but he stands erect staring straight at the MAYOR. + HARRIS goes to the side of the bureau, Back, to take down the + evidence. + +MAYOR. Charges! + +SERGEANT. John Builder, of The Cornerways, Breconridge, Contractor and +Justice of the Peace, charged with assaulting his daughter Maud Builder +by striking her with a stick in the presence of Constable Moon and two +other persons; also with resisting Constable Moon in the execution of his +duty, and injuring his eye. Constable Moon! + +MOON. [Stepping forward-one, two--like an automaton, and saluting] In +River Road yesterday afternoon, Your Worship, about three-thirty p.m., I +was attracted by a young woman callin' "Constable" outside a courtyard. +On hearing the words "Follow me, quick," I followed her to a painter's +studio inside the courtyard, where I found three persons in the act of +disagreement. No sooner 'ad I appeared than the defendant, who was +engaged in draggin' a woman towards the door, turns to the young woman +who accompanied me, with violence. "You dare, father," she says; +whereupon he hit her twice with the stick the same which is produced, in +the presence of myself and the two other persons, which I'm given to +understand is his wife and other daughter. + +MAYOR. Yes; never mind what you're given to understand. + +MOON. No, sir. The party struck turns to me and says, "Come in. I give +this man in charge for assault." I moves accordingly with the words: +"I saw you. Come along with me." The defendant turns to me sharp and +says: "You stupid lout--I'm a magistrate." "Come off it," I says to the +best of my recollection. "You struck this woman in my presence," I says, +"and you come along!" We were then at close quarters. The defendant +gave me a push with the words: "Get out, you idiot!" "Not at all," I +replies, and took 'old of his arm. A struggle ensues, in the course of +which I receives the black eye which I herewith produce. [He touches his +eye with awful solemnity.] + + The MAYOR clears his throat; CHANTREY'S eyes goggle; HARRIS bends + over and writes rapidly. + +During the struggle, Your Worship, a young man has appeared on the scene, +and at the instigation of the young woman, the same who was assaulted, +assists me in securing the prisoner, whose language and resistance was +violent in the extreme. We placed him in a cab which we found outside, +and I conveyed him to the station. + +CHANTREY. What was his--er--conduct in the--er--cab? + +MOON. He sat quiet. + +CHANTREY. That seems-- + +MOON. Seein' I had his further arm twisted behind him. + +MAYOR [Looking at BUILDER] Any questions to ask him? + + BUILDER makes not the faintest sign, and the MAYOR drops his glance. + +MAYOR. Sergeant? + + MOON steps back two paces, and the SERGEANT steps two paces forward. + +SERGEANT. At ten minutes to four, Your Worship, yesterday afternoon, +Constable Moon brought the defendant to the station in a four-wheeled +cab. On his recounting the circumstances of the assault, they were +taken down and read over to the defendant with the usual warning. The +defendant said nothing. In view of the double assault and the condition +of the constable's eye, and in the absence of the Superintendent, +I thought it my duty to retain the defendant for the night. + +MAYOR. The defendant said nothing? + +SERGEANT. He 'as not opened his lips to my knowledge, Your Worship, from +that hour to this. + +MAYOR. Any questions to ask the Sergeant? + +BUILDER continues to stare at the MAYOR without a word. + +MAYOR. Very well! + + The MAYOR and CHANTREY now consult each other inaudibly, and the + Mayor nods. + +MAYOR. Miss Maud Builder, will you tell us what you know of this--er-- +occurrence? + +MAUD. [Rising; with eyes turning here and there] Must I? + +MAYOR. I'm afraid you must. + +MAUD. [After a look at her father, who never turns his eyes from the +MAYOR's face] I--I wish to withdraw the charge of striking me, please. +I--I never meant to make it. I was in a temper--I saw red. + +MAYOR. I see. A--a domestic disagreement. Very well, that charge is +withdrawn. You do not appear to have been hurt, and that seems to me +quite proper. Now, tell me what you know of the assault on the +constable. Is his account correct? + +MAUD. [Timidly] Ye-yes. Only-- + +MAYOR. Yes? Tell us the truth. + +MAUD. [Resolutely] Only, I don't think my father hit the constable. +I think the stick did that. + +MAYOR. Oh, the stick? But--er--the stick was in 'is 'and, wasn't it? + +MAUD. Yes; but I mean, my father saw red, and the constable saw red, and +the stick flew up between them and hit him in the eye. + +CHANTREY. And then he saw black? + +MAYOR. [With corrective severity] But did 'e 'it 'im with the stick? + +MAUD. No--no. I don't think he did. + +MAYOR. Then who supplied the--er--momentum? + +MAUD. I think there was a struggle for the cane, and it flew up. + +MAYOR. Hand up the cane. + + The SERGEANT hands up the cane. The MAYOR and CHANTREY examine it. +MAYOR. Which end--do you suggest--inflicted this injury? + +MAUD. Oh! the knob end, sir. + +MAYOR. What do you say to that, constable? + +MOON. [Stepping the mechanical two paces] I don't deny there was a +struggle, Your Worship, but it's my impression I was 'it. + +CHANTREY. Of course you were bit; we can see that. But with the cane or +with the fist? + +MOON. [A little flurried] I--I--with the fist, sir. + +MAYOR. Be careful. Will you swear to that? + +MOON. [With that sudden uncertainty which comes over the most honest in +such circumstances] Not--not so to speak in black and white, Your +Worship; but that was my idea at the time. + +MAYOR. You won't swear to it? + +MOON. I'll swear he called me an idiot and a lout; the words made a deep +impression on me. + +CHANTREY. [To himself] Mort aux vaches! + +MAYOR. Eh? That'll do, constable; stand back. Now, who else saw the +struggle? Mrs Builder. You're not obliged to say anything unless you +like. That's your privilege as his wife. + + While he is speaking the door has been opened, and HARRIS has gone + swiftly to it, spoken to someone and returned. He leans forward to + the MAYOR. + +Eh? Wait a minute. Mrs Builder, do you wish to give evidence? + +MRS BUILDER. [Rising] No, Mr Mayor. + + MRS BUILDER Sits. + +MAYOR. Very good. [To HARRIS] Now then, what is it? + +HARRIS says something in a low and concerned voice. The MAYOR'S face +lengthens. He leans to his right and consults CHANTREY, who gives a +faint and deprecating shrug. A moment's silence. + +MAYOR. This is an open Court. The Press have the right to attend if +they wish. + + HARRIS goes to the door and admits a young man in glasses, of a + pleasant appearance, and indicates to him a chair at the back. At + this untimely happening BUILDER's eyes have moved from side to side, + but now he regains his intent and bull-like stare at his fellow- + justices. + +MAYOR. [To Maud] You can sit down, Miss Builder. + + MAUD resumes her seat. + +Miss Athene Builder, you were present, I think? + +ATHENE. [Rising] Yes, Sir. + +MAYOR. What do you say to this matter? + +ATHENE. I didn't see anything very clearly, but I think my sister's +account is correct, sir. + +MAYOR. Is it your impression that the cane inflicted the injury? + +ATHENE. [In a low voice] Yes. + +MAYOR. With or without deliberate intent? + +ATHENE. Oh! without. + +BUILDER looks at her. + +MAYOR. But you were not in a position to see very well? + +ATHENE. No, Sir. + +MAYOR. Your sister having withdrawn her charge, we needn't go into that. +Very good! + + He motions her to sit down. ATHENE, turning her eyes on her + Father's impassive figure, sits. + +MAYOR. Now, there was a young man. [Pointing to HERRINGHAME] Is this +the young man? + +MOON. Yes, Your Worship. + +MAYOR. What's your name? + +GUY. Guy Herringhame. + +MAYOR. Address? + +GUY. Er--the Aerodrome, Sir. MAYOR. Private, I mean? + + The moment is one of considerable tension. + +GUY. [With an effort] At the moment, sir, I haven't one. I've just +left my diggings, and haven't yet got any others. + +MAYOR. H'm! The Aerodrome. How did you come to be present? + +GUY. I--er + + BUILDER's eyes go round and rest on him for a moment. + +It's in my sister's studio that Miss Athene Builder is at present +working, sir. I just happened to--to turn up. + +MAYOR. Did you appear on the scene, as the constable says, during the +struggle? + +GUY. Yes, sir. + +MAYOR. Did he summon you to his aid? + +GUY. Yes--No, sir. Miss Maud Builder did that. + +MAYOR. What do you say to this blow? + +GUY. [Jerking his chin up a little] Oh! I saw that clearly. + +MAYOR. Well, let us hear. + +GUY. The constable's arm struck the cane violently and it flew up and +landed him in the eye. + +MAYOR. [With a little grunt] You are sure of that? + +GUY. Quite sure, sir. + +MAYOR. Did you hear any language? + +GUY. Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. One or two damns and blasts. + +MAYOR. You call that ordinary? + +GUY. Well, he's a--magistrate, sir. + + The MAYOR utters a profound grunt. CHANTREY smiles. There is a + silence. Then the MAYOR leans over to CHANTREY for a short + colloquy. + +CHANTREY. Did you witness any particular violence other than a +resistance to arrest? + +GUY. No, sir. + +MAYOR. [With a gesture of dismissal] Very well, That seems to be the +evidence. Defendant John Builder--what do you say to all this? + +BUILDER. [In a voice different from any we have heard from him] Say! +What business had he to touch me, a magistrate? I gave my daughter two +taps with a cane in a private house, for interfering with me for taking +my wife home-- + +MAYOR. That charge is not pressed, and we can't go into the +circumstances. What do you wish to say about your conduct towards +the constable? + +BUILDER. [In his throat] Not a damned thing! + +MAYOR. [Embarrassed] I--I didn't catch. + +CHANTREY. Nothing--nothing, he said, Mr Mayor. + +MAYOR. [Clearing his throat] I understand, then, that you do not wish to +offer any explanation? + +BUILDER. I consider myself abominably treated, and I refuse to say +another word. + +MAYOR. [Drily] Very good. Miss Maud Builder. + + MAUD stands up. + + +MAYOR. When you spoke of the defendant seeing red, what exactly did you +mean? + +MAUD. I mean that my father was so angry that he didn't know what he was +doing. + +CHANTREY. Would you say as angry as he--er--is now? + +MAUD. [With a faint smile] Oh! much more angry. + +RALPH BUILDER stands up. + +RALPH. Would you allow me to say a word, Mr Mayor? + +MAYOR. Speaking of your own knowledge, Mr Builder? + +RALPH. In regard to the state of my brother's mind--yes, Mr Mayor. He +was undoubtedly under great strain yesterday; certain circumstances, +domestic and otherwise-- + +MAYOR. You mean that he might have been, as one might say, beside +himself? + +RALPH. Exactly, Sir. + +MAYOR. Had you seen your brother? + +RALPH. I had seen him shortly before this unhappy business. + + The MAYOR nods and makes a gesture, so that MAUD and RALPH sit down; + then, leaning over, he confers in a low voice with CHANTREY. The + rest all sit or stand exactly as if each was the only person in the + room, except the JOURNALIST, who is writing busily and rather + obviously making a sketch of BUILDER. + +MAYOR. Miss Athene Builder. + + ATHENE stands up. + +This young man, Mr Herringhame, I take it, is a friend of the family's? + + A moment of some tension. + +ATHENE. N--no, Mr Mayor, not of my father or mother. + +CHANTREY. An acquaintance of yours? + +ATHENE. Yes. + +MAYOR. Very good. [He clears his throat] As the defendant, wrongly, we +think, refuses to offer his explanation of this matter, the Bench has to +decide on the evidence as given. There seems to be some discrepancy as +to the blow which the constable undoubtedly received. In view of this, +we incline to take the testimony of Mr-- + + HARRIS prompts him. + +Mr 'Erringhame--as the party least implicated personally in the affair, +and most likely to 'ave a cool and impartial view. That evidence is to +the effect that the blow was accidental. There is no doubt, however, +that the defendant used reprehensible language, and offered some +resistance to the constable in the execution of his duty. Evidence 'as +been offered that he was in an excited state of mind; and it is possible +--I don't say that this is any palliation--but it is possible that he may +have thought his position as magistrate made him--er-- + +CHANTREY. [Prompting] Caesar's wife. + +MAYOR. Eh? We think, considering all the circumstances, and the fact +that he has spent a night in a cell, that justice will be met by--er-- +discharging him with a caution. + +BUILDER. [With a deeply muttered] The devil you do! + + Walks out of the room. The JOURNALIST, grabbing his pad, starts up + and follows. The BUILDERS rise and huddle, and, with HERRINGHAME, + are ushered out by HARRIS. + +MAYOR. [Pulling out a large handkerchief and wiping his forehead] +My Aunt! + +CHANTREY. These new constables, Mayor! I say, Builder'll have to go! +Damn the Press, how they nose everything out! The Great Unpaid!-- +We shall get it again! [He suddenly goes off into a fit of laughter] +"Come off it," I says, "to the best of my recollection." Oh! Oh! +I shan't hit a bird all day! That poor devil Builder! It's no joke for +him. You did it well, Mayor; you did it well. British justice is safe +in your hands. He blacked the fellow's eye all right. "Which I herewith +produce." Oh! my golly! It beats the band! + + His uncontrollable laughter and the MAYOR'S rueful appreciation are + exchanged with lightning rapidity for a preternatural solemnity, as + the door opens, admitting SERGEANT MARTIN and the lugubrious object + of their next attentions. + +MAYOR. Charges. + + SERGEANT steps forward to read the charge as + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + +SCENE II + + Noon the same day. + + BUILDER'S study. TOPPING is standing by the open window, looking up + and down the street. A newspaper boy's voice is heard calling the + first edition of his wares. It approaches from the Right. + +TOPPING. Here! + +BOY'S VOICE. Right, guv'nor! Johnny Builder up before the beaks! +[A paper is pushed up]. + +TOPPING. [Extending a penny] What's that you're sayin'? You take care! + +BOY'S VOICE. It's all 'ere. Johnny Builder--beatin' his wife! +Dischawged. + +TOPPING. Stop it, you young limb! + +BOY'S VOICE. 'Allo! What's the matter wiv you? Why, it's Johnny +Builder's house! [Gives a cat-call] 'Ere, buy anuvver! 'E'll want to +read about 'isself. [Appealing] Buy anuvver, guv'nor! + +TOPPING. Move on! + + He retreats from the window, opening the paper. + +BOY'S VOICE. [Receding] Payper! First edition! J.P. chawged! Payper! + +TOPPING. [To himself as he reads] Crimes! Phew! That accounts for them +bein' away all night. + + While he is reading, CAMILLE enters from the hall. Here! Have you + seen this, Camel--in the Stop Press? + +CAMILLE. No. + + They read eagerly side by side. + +TOPPING. [Finishing aloud] "Tried to prevent her father from forcing her +mother to return home with him, and he struck her for so doing. She did +not press the charge. The arrested gentleman, who said he acted under +great provocation, was discharged with a caution." Well, I'm blowed! +He has gone and done it! + +CAMILLE. A black eye! + +TOPPING. [Gazing at her] Have you had any hand in this? I've seen you +making your lovely black eyes at him. You foreigners--you're a loose +lot! + +CAMILLE. You are drunk! + +TOPPING. Not yet, my dear. [Reverting to the paper; philosophically] +Well, this little lot's bust up! The favourites will fall down. Johnny +Builder! Who'd have thought it? + +CAMILLE. He is an obstinate man. + +TOPPING. Ah! He's right up against it now. Comes of not knowin' when +to stop bein' firm. If you meet a wall with your 'ead, it's any odds on +the wall, Camel. Though, if you listened to some, you wouldn't think it. +What'll he do now, I wonder? Any news of the mistress? + +CAMILLE. [Shaking her head] I have pack her tr-runks. + +TOPPING. Why? + +CAMILLE. Because she take her jewels yesterday. + +TOPPING. Deuce she did! They generally leave 'em. Take back yer gifts! +She throws the baubles at 'is 'ead. [Again staring at her] You're a +deep one, you know! + + There is the sound of a cab stopping. + +Wonder if that's him! [He goes towards the hall. CAMILLE watchfully +shifts towards the diningroom door. MAUD enters.] + +MAUD. Is my father back, Topping? + +TOPPING. Not yet, Miss. + +MAUD. I've come for mother's things. + +CAMILLE. They are r-ready. + +MAUD. [Eyeing her] Topping, get them down, please. + + TOPPING, after a look at them both, goes out into the hall. + +Very clever of you to have got them ready. + +CAMILLE. I am clevare. + +MAUD. [Almost to herself] Yes--father may, and he may not. + +CAMILLE. Look! If you think I am a designing woman, you are mistook. +I know when things are too 'ot. I am not sorry to go. + +MAUD. Oh! you are going? + +CAMILLE. Yes, I am going. How can I stay when there is no lady in the +'ouse? + +MAUD. Not even if you're asked to? + +CAMILLE. Who will ask me? + +MAUD. That we shall see. + +CAMILLE. Well, you will see I have an opinion of my own. + +MAUD. Oh! yes, you're clear-headed enough. + +CAMILLE. I am not arguing. Good-morning! + + Exits up Left. + +MAUD regards her stolidly as she goes out into the dining-room, then +takes up the paper and reads. + +MAUD. Horrible! + + TOPPING re-enters from the hall. + +TOPPING. I've got 'em on the cab, Miss. I didn't put your ten bob on +yesterday, because the animal finished last. You cant depend on horses. + +MAUD. [Touching the newspaper] This is a frightful business, Topping. + +TOPPING. Ah! However did it happen, Miss Maud? + +MAUD. [Tapping the newspaper] It's all true. He came after my mother +to Miss Athene's, and I--I couldn't stand it. I did what it says here; +and now I'm sorry. Mother's dreadfully upset. You know father as well +as anyone, Topping; what do you think he'll do now? + +TOPPING. [Sucking in his cheeks] Well, you see, Miss, it's like this: +Up to now Mr Builder's always had the respect of everybody-- + + MAUD moves her head impatiently. + +outside his own house, of course. Well, now he hasn't got it. +Pishchologically that's bound to touch him. + +MAUD. Of course; but which way? Will he throw up the sponge, or try and +stick it out here? + +TOPPING. He won't throw up the sponge, Miss; more likely to squeeze it +down the back of their necks. + +MAUD. He'll be asked to resign, of course. + + The NEWSPAPER BOY'S VOICE is heard again approaching: "First + edition! Great sensation! Local magistrate before the Bench! + Pay-per!" + +Oh, dear! I wish I hadn't! But I couldn't see mother being-- + +TOPPING. Don't you fret, Miss; he'll come through. His jaw's above his +brow, as you might say. + +MAUD. What? + +TOPPING. [Nodding] Phreenology, Miss. I rather follow that. When the +jaw's big and the brow is small, it's a sign of character. I always +think the master might have been a Scotchman, except for his fishionomy. + +MAUD. A Scotsman? + +TOPPING. So down on anything soft, Miss. Haven't you noticed whenever +one of these 'Umanitarians writes to the papers, there's always a +Scotchman after him next morning. Seems to be a fact of 'uman nature, +like introducin' rabbits into a new country and then weasels to get rid +of 'em. And then something to keep down the weasels. But I never can +see what could keep down a Scotchman! You seem to reach the hapex there! + +MAUD. Miss Athene was married this morning, Topping. We've just come +from the Registrar's. + +TOPPING. [Immovably] Indeed, Miss. I thought perhaps she was about to +be. + +MAUD. Oh! + +TOPPING. Comin' events. I saw the shadder yesterday. + +MAUD. Well, it's all right. She's coming on here with my uncle. + + A cab is heard driving up. + +That's them, I expect. We all feel awful about father. + +TOPPING. Ah! I shouldn't be surprised if he feels awful about you, +Miss. + +MAUD. [At the window] It is them. + + TOPPING goes out into the hall; ATHENE and RALPH enter Right. + +MAUD. Where's father, Uncle Ralph? + +RALPH. With his solicitor. + +ATHENE. We left Guy with mother at the studio. She still thinks she +ought to come. She keeps on saying she must, now father's in a hole. + +MAUD. I've got her things on the cab; she ought to be perfectly free to +choose. + +RALPH. You've got freedom on the brain, Maud. + +MAUD. So would you, Uncle Ralph, if you had father about. + +RALPH. I'm his partner, my dear. + +MAUD. Yes; how do you manage him? + +RALPH. I've never yet given him in charge. + +ATHENE. What do you do, Uncle Ralph? + +RALPH. Undermine him when I can. + +MAUD. And when you can't? + +RALPH. Undermine the other fellow. You can't go to those movie people +now, Maud. They'd star you as the celebrated Maud Builder who gave her +father into custody. Come to us instead, and have perfect freedom, till +all this blows over. + +MAUD. Oh! what will father be like now? + +ATHENE. It's so queer you and he being brothers, Uncle Ralph. + +RALPH. There are two sides to every coin, my dear. John's the head-and +I'm the tail. He has the sterling qualities. Now, you girls have got to +smooth him down, and make up to him. You've tried him pretty high. + +MAUD. [Stubbornly] I never wanted him for a father, Uncle. + +RALPH. They do wonderful things nowadays with inherited trouble. Come, +are you going to be nice to him, both of you? + +ATHENE. We're going to try. + +RALPH. Good! I don't even now understand how it happened. + +MAUD. When you went out with Guy, it wasn't three minutes before he +came. Mother had just told us about--well, about something beastly. +Father wanted us to go, and we agreed to go out for five minutes while he +talked to mother. We went, and when we came back he told me to get a cab +to take mother home. Poor mother stood there looking like a ghost, and +he began hunting and hauling her towards the door. I saw red, and +instead of a cab I fetched that policeman. Of course father did black +his eye. Guy was splendid. + +ATHENE. You gave him the lead. + +MAUD. I couldn't help it, seeing father standing there all dumb. + +ATHENE. It was awful! Uncle, why didn't you come back with Guy? + +MAUD. Oh, yes! why didn't you, Uncle? + +ATHENE. When Maud had gone for the cab, I warned him not to use force. +I told him it was against the law, but he only said: "The law be damned!" + +RALPH. Well, it all sounds pretty undignified. + +MAUD. Yes; everybody saw red. + + They have not seen the door opened from the hall, and BUILDER + standing there. He is still unshaven, a little sunken in the face, + with a glum, glowering expression. He has a document in his hand. + He advances a step or two and they see him. + +ATHENE and MAUD. [Aghast] Father! + +BUILDER. Ralph, oblige me! See them off the premises! + +RALPH. Steady, John! + +BUILDER. Go! + +MAUD. [Proudly] All right! We thought you might like to know that +Athene's married, and that I've given up the movies. Now we'll go. + + BUILDER turns his back on them, and, sitting down at his writing- + table, writes. + + After a moment's whispered conversation with their Uncle, the two + girls go out. + + RALPH BUILDER stands gazing with whimsical commiseration at his + brother's back. As BUILDER finishes writing, he goes up and puts + his hand on his brother's shoulder. + +RALPH. This is an awful jar, old man! + +BUILDER. Here's what I've said to that fellow: "MR MAYOR,--You had the +effrontery to-day to discharge me with a caution--forsooth!--your fellow +--magistrate. I've consulted my solicitor as to whether an action will +lie for false imprisonment. I'm informed that it won't. I take this +opportunity of saying that justice in this town is a travesty. I have no +wish to be associated further with you or your fellows; but you are +vastly mistaken if you imagine that I shall resign my position on the +Bench or the Town Council.--Yours, + "JOHN BUILDER." + +RALPH. I say--keep your sense of humour, old boy. + +BUILDER. [Grimly] Humour? I've spent a night in a cell. See this! +[He holds out the document] It disinherits my family. + +RALPH. John! + +BUILDER. I've done with those two ladies. As to my wife--if she doesn't +come back--! When I suffer, I make others suffer. + +RALPH. Julia's very upset, my dear fellow; we all are. The girls came +here to try and-- + +BUILDER. [Rising] They may go to hell! If that lousy Mayor thinks I'm +done with--he's mistaken! [He rings the bell] I don't want any soft +sawder. I'm a fighter. + +RALPH. [In a low voice] The enemy stands within the gate, old chap. + +BUILDER. What's that? + +RALPH. Let's boss our own natures before we boss those of other people. +Have a sleep on it, John, before you do anything. + +BUILDER. Sleep? I hadn't a wink last night. If you'd passed the night +I had-- + +RALPH. I hadn't many myself. + + TOPPING enters. + +BUILDER. Take this note to the Mayor with my compliments, and don't +bring back an answer. TOPPING. Very good, sir. There's a gentleman +from the "Comet" in the hall, sir. Would you see him for a minute, he +says. + +BUILDER. Tell him to go to-- + + A voice says, "Mr Builder!" BUILDER turns to see the figure of the + JOURNALIST in the hall doorway. TOPPING goes out. + +JOURNALIST. [Advancing with his card] Mr Builder, it's very good of you +to see me. I had the pleasure this morning--I mean--I tried to reach you +when you left the Mayor's. I thought you would probably have your own +side of this unfortunate matter. We shall be glad to give it every +prominence. + + TOPPING has withdrawn, and RALPH BUILDER, at the window, stands + listening. + +BUILDER. [Drily, regarding the JOURNALIST, who has spoken in a pleasant +and polite voice] Very good of you! + +JOURNALIST. Not at all, sir. We felt that you would almost certainly +have good reasons of your own which would put the matter in quite a +different light. + +BUILDER. Good reasons? I should think so! I tell you--a very little +more of this liberty--licence I call it--and there isn't a man who'll be +able to call himself head of a family. + +JOURNALIST. [Encouragingly] Quite! + +BUILDER. If the law thinks it can back up revolt, it's damned well +mistaken. I struck my daughter--I was in a passion, as you would have +been. + +JOURNALIST. [Encouraging] I'm sure-- + +BUILDER. [Glaring at him] Well, I don't know that you would; you look a +soft sort; but any man with any blood in him. + +JOURNALIST. Can one ask what she was doing, sir? We couldn't get that +point quite clear. + +BUILDER. Doing? I just had my arm round my wife, trying to induce her +to come home with me after a little family tiff, and this girl came at +me. I lost my temper, and tapped her with my cane. And--that policeman +brought by my own daughter--a policeman! If the law is going to enter +private houses and abrogate domestic authority, where the hell shall we +be? + +JOURNALIST. [Encouraging] No, I'm sure--I'm sure! + +BUILDER. The maudlin sentimentality in these days is absolutely rotting +this country. A man can't be master in his own house, can't require his +wife to fulfil her duties, can't attempt to control the conduct of his +daughters, without coming up against it and incurring odium. A man can't +control his employees; he can't put his foot down on rebellion anywhere, +without a lot of humanitarians and licence-lovers howling at him. + +JOURNALIST. Excellent, Sir; excellent! + +BUILDER. Excellent? It's damnable. Here am I--a man who's always tried +to do his duty in private life and public--brought up before the Bench-- +my God! because I was doing that duty; with a little too much zeal, +perhaps--I'm not an angel! + +JOURNALIST. No! No! of course. + +BUILDER. A proper Englishman never is. But there are no proper +Englishmen nowadays. + + He crosses the room in his fervour. + +RALPH. [Suddenly] As I look at faces-- + +BUILDER. [Absorbed] What! I told this young man I wasn't an angel. + +JOURNALIST. [Drawing him on] Yes, Sir; I quite understand. + +BUILDER. If the law thinks it can force me to be one of your weak-kneed +sentimentalists who let everybody do what they like-- + +RALPH. There are a good many who stand on their rights left, John. + +BUILDER. [Absorbed] What! How can men stand on their rights left? + +JOURNALIST. I'm afraid you had a painful experience, sir. + +BUILDER. Every kind of humiliation. I spent the night in a stinking +cell. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday. Did they think I was +going to eat the muck they shoved in? And all because in a moment of +anger--which I regret, I regret!--I happened to strike my daughter, who +was interfering between me and my wife. The thing would be funny if it +weren't so disgusting. A man's house used to be sanctuary. What is it +now? With all the world poking their noses in? + +He stands before the fire with his head bent, excluding as it were his +interviewer and all the world. + +JOURNALIST. [Preparing to go] Thank you very much, Mr Builder. I'm +sure I can do you justice. Would you like to see a proof? + +BUILDER. [Half conscious of him] What? + +JOURNALIST. Or will you trust me? + +BUILDER. I wouldn't trust you a yard. + +JOURNALIST. [At the door] Very well, sir; you shall have a proof, I +promise. Good afternoon, and thank you. + +BUILDER. Here! + + But he is gone, and BUILDER is left staring at his brother, on whose + face is still that look of whimsical commiseration. + +RALPH. Take a pull, old man! Have a hot bath and go to bed. + +BUILDER. They've chosen to drive me to extremes, now let them take the +consequences. I don't care a kick what anybody thinks. + +RALPH. [Sadly] Well, I won't worry you anymore, now. + +BUILDER. [With a nasty laugh] No; come again to-morrow! + +RALPH. When you've had a sleep. For the sake of the family name, John, +don't be hasty. + +BUILDER. Shut the stable door? No, my boy, the horse has gone. + +RALPH. Well, Well! + + With a lingering look at his brother, who has sat down sullenly at + the writing table, he goes out into the hall. + + BUILDER remains staring in front of him. The dining-room door + opens, and CAMILLE's head is thrust in. Seeing him, she draws back, + but he catches sight of her. + +BUILDER. Here! + +CAMILLE comes doubtfully up to the writing table. Her forehead is +puckered as if she were thinking hard. + +BUILDER. [Looking at her, unsmiling] So you want to be my mistress, +do you? + + CAMILLE makes a nervous gesture. + +Well, you shall. Come here. + +CAMILLE. [Not moving] You f--frighten me. + +BUILDER. I've paid a pretty price for you. But you'll make up for it; +you and others. + +CAMILLE. [Starting back] No; I don't like you to-day! No! + +BUILDER. Come along! [She is just within reach and he seizes her arm] +All my married life I've put a curb on myself for the sake of +respectability. I've been a man of principle, my girl, as you saw +yesterday. Well, they don't want that! [He draws her close] You can sit +on my knee now. + +CAMILLE. [Shrinking] No; I don't want to, to-day. + +BUILDER. But you shall. They've asked for it! + +CAMILLE. [With a supple movement slipping away from him] They? What is +all that? I don't want any trouble. No, no; I am not taking any. + + She moves back towards the door. BUILDER utters a sardonic laugh. + +Oh! you are a dangerous man! No, no! Not for me! Good-bye, sare! + + She turns swiftly and goes out. BUILDER again utters his glum + laugh. And then, as he sits alone staring before him, perfect + silence reigns in the room. Over the window-sill behind him a BOY'S + face is seen to rise; it hangs there a moment with a grin spreading + on it. + +BOY'S VOICE. [Sotto] Johnny Builder! + + As BUILDER turns sharply, it vanishes. + +'Oo beat 'is wife? + + BUILDER rushes to the window. + +BOY'S VOICE. [More distant and a little tentative] Johnny Builder! + +BUILDER. You little devil! If I catch you, I'll wring your blasted +little neck! + +BOY'S VOICE. [A little distant] 'Oo blacked the copper's eye? + + BUILDER, in an ungovernable passion, seizes a small flower-pot from + the sill and dings it with all his force. The sound of a crash. + +BOY'S VOICE. [Very distant] Ya-a-ah! Missed! + + BUILDER stands leaning out, face injected with blood, shaking his + fist. + + The CURTAIN falls for a few seconds. + + + + +SCENE III + +Evening the same day. + + BUILDER's study is dim and neglected-looking; the window is still + open, though it has become night. A street lamp outside shines in, + and the end of its rays fall on BUILDER asleep. He is sitting in a + high chair at the fireside end of the writing-table, with his elbows + on it, and his cheek resting on his hand. He is still unshaven, and + his clothes unchanged. A Boy's head appears above the level of the + window-sill, as if beheaded and fastened there. + +BOY'S VOICE. [In a forceful whisper] Johnny Builder! + + BUILDER stirs uneasily. The Boy's head vanishes. BUILDER, raising + his other hand, makes a sweep before his face, as if to brush away a + mosquito. He wakes. Takes in remembrance, and sits a moment + staring gloomily before him. The door from the hall is opened and + TOPPING comes in with a long envelope in his hand. + +TOPPING. [Approaching] From the "Comet," sir. Proof of your interview, +sir; will you please revise, the messenger says; he wants to take it back +at once. + +BUILDER. [Taking it] All right. I'll ring. + +TOPPING. Shall I close in, sir? + +BUILDER. Not now. + + TOPPING withdraws. BUILDER turns up a standard lamp on the table, + opens the envelope, and begins reading the galley slip. The signs + of uneasiness and discomfort grow on him. + + +BUILDER. Did I say that? Muck! Muck! [He drops the proof, sits a +moment moving his head and rubbing one hand uneasily on the surface of +the table, then reaches out for the telephone receiver] Town, 245. +[Pause] The "Comet"? John Builder. Give me the Editor. [Pause] That +you, Mr Editor? John Builder speaking. That interview. I've got the +proof. It won't do. Scrap the whole thing, please. I don't want to say +anything. [Pause] Yes. I know I said it all; I can't help that. +[Pause] No; I've changed my mind. Scrap it, please. [Pause] No, +I will not say anything. [Pause] You can say what you dam' well please. +[Pause] I mean it; if you put a word into my mouth, I'll sue you for +defamation of character. It's undignified muck. I'm tearing it up. +Good-night. [He replaces the receiver, and touches a bell; then, taking +up the galley slip, he tears it viciously across into many pieces, and +rams them into the envelope.] + + TOPPING enters. + +Here, give this to the messenger-sharp, and tell him to run with it. + +TOPPING. [Whose hand can feel the condition of the contents, with a +certain surprise] Yes, sir. + + He goes, with a look back from the door. + +The Mayor is here, sir. I don't know whether you would wish + + BUILDER, rising, takes a turn up and down the room. + +BUILDER. Nor do I. Yes! I'll see him. + + TOPPING goes out, and BUILDER stands over by the fender, with his + head a little down. + +TOPPING. [Re-entering] The Mayor, sir. + + He retires up Left. The MAYOR is overcoated, and carries, of all + things, a top hat. He reaches the centre of the room before he + speaks. + +MAYOR. [Embarrassed] Well, Builder? + +BUILDER. Well? + +MAYOR. Come! That caution of mine was quite parliamentary. I 'ad to +save face, you know. + +BUILDER. And what about my face? + +MAYOR. Well, you--you made it difficult for me. 'Ang it all! Put +yourself into my place! + +BUILDER. [Grimly] I'd rather put you into mine, as it was last night. + +MAYOR. Yes, yes! I know; but the Bench has got a name to keep up--must +stand well in the people's eyes. As it is, I sailed very near the wind. +Suppose we had an ordinary person up before us for striking a woman? + +BUILDER. I didn't strike a woman--I struck my daughter. + +MAYOR. Well, but she's not a child, you know. And you did resist the +police, if no worse. Come! You'd have been the first to maintain +British justice. Shake 'ands! + +BUILDER. Is that what you came for? + +MAYOR. [Taken aback] Why--yes; nobody can be more sorry than I-- + +BUILDER. Eye-wash! You came to beg me to resign. + +MAYOR. Well, it's precious awkward, Builder. We all feel-- + +BUILDER. Save your powder, Mayor. I've slept on it since I wrote you +that note. Take my resignations. + +MAYOR. [In relieved embarrassment] That's right. We must face your +position. + +BUILDER. [With a touch of grim humour] I never yet met a man who +couldn't face another man's position. + +MAYOR. After all, what is it? + +BUILDER. Splendid isolation. No wife, no daughters, no Councillorship, +no Magistracy, no future--[With a laugh] not even a French maid. And +why? Because I tried to exercise a little wholesome family authority. +That's the position you're facing, Mayor. + +MAYOR. Dear, dear! You're devilish bitter, Builder. It's unfortunate, +this publicity. But it'll all blow over; and you'll be back where you +were. You've a good sound practical sense underneath your temper. [A +pause] Come, now! [A pause] Well, I'll say good-night, then. + +BUILDER. You shall have them in writing tomorrow. + +MAYOR. [With sincerity] Come! Shake 'ands. + +BUILDER, after a long look, holds out his hand. The two men exchange a +grip. + + The MAYOR, turning abruptly, goes out. + + BUILDER remains motionless for a minute, then resumes his seat at + the side of the writing table, leaning his head on his hands. + + The Boy's head is again seen rising above the level of the window- + sill, and another and another follows, till the three, as if + decapitated, heads are seen in a row. + +BOYS' VOICES. [One after another in a whispered crescendo] Johnny +Builder! Johnny Builder! Johnny Builder! + + BUILDER rises, turns and stares at them. The THREE HEADS disappear, + and a Boy's voice cries shrilly: "Johnny Builder!" BUILDER moves + towards the window; voices are now crying in various pitches and + keys: "Johnny Builder!" "Beatey Builder!" "Beat 'is wife-er!" + "Beatey Builder!" + + BUILDER stands quite motionless, staring, with the street lamp + lighting up a queer, rather pitiful defiance on his face. The + voices swell. There comes a sudden swish and splash of water, and + broken yells of dismay. + +TOPPING'S VOICE. Scat! you young devils! + + The sound of scuffling feet and a long-drawnout and distant + "Miaou!" + + BUILDER stirs, shuts the window, draws the curtains, goes to the + armchair before the fireplace and sits down in it. + + TOPPING enters with a little tray on which is a steaming jug of + fluid, some biscuits and a glass. He comes stealthily up level with + the chair. BUILDER stirs and looks up at him. + +TOPPING. Excuse me, sir, you must 'ave digested yesterday morning's +breakfast by now--must live to eat, sir. + +BUILDER. All right. Put it down. + +TOPPING. [Putting the tray down on the table and taking up BUILDER'S +pipe] I fair copped those young devils. + +BUILDER. You're a good fellow. + +TOPPING. [Filling the pipe] You'll excuse me, sir; the Missis--has come +back, sir-- + + BUILDER stares at him and TOPPING stops. He hands BUILDER the + filled pipe and a box of matches. + +BUILDER. [With a shiver] Light the fire, Topping. I'm chilly. + + While TOPPING lights the fire BUILDER puts the pipe in his mouth and + applies a match to it. TOPPING, having lighted the fire, turns to + go, gets as far as half way, then comes back level with the table + and regards the silent brooding figure in the chair. + +BUILDER. [Suddenly] Give me that paper on the table. No; the other +one--the Will. + + TOPPING takes up the Will and gives it to him. + +TOPPING. [With much hesitation] Excuse me, sir. It's pluck that get's +'em 'ome, sir--begging your pardon. + + BUILDER has resumed his attitude and does not answer. + +[In a voice just touched with feeling] Good-night, sir. + +BUILDER. [Without turning his head] Good-night. + + TOPPING has gone. BUILDER sits drawing at his pipe between the + firelight and the light from the standard lamp. He takes the pipe + out of his mouth and a quiver passes over his face. With a half + angry gesture he rubs the back of his hand across his eyes. + +BUILDER. [To himself] Pluck! Pluck! [His lips quiver again. He +presses them hard together, puts his pipe back into his mouth, and, +taking the Will, thrusts it into the newly-lighted fire and holds it +there with a poker.] + + + While he is doing this the door from the hall is opened quietly, and + MRS BUILDER enters without his hearing her. She has a work bag in + her hand. She moves slowly to the table, and stands looking at him. + Then going up to the curtains she mechanically adjusts them, and + still keeping her eyes on BUILDER, comes down to the table and pours + out his usual glass of whisky toddy. BUILDER, who has become + conscious of her presence, turns in his chair as she hands it to + him. He sits a moment motionless, then takes it from her, and + squeezes her hand. MRS BUILDER goes silently to her usual chair + below the fire, and taking out some knitting begins to knit. + BUILDER makes an effort to speak, does not succeed, and sits drawing + at his pipe. + + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Comes of not knowin' when to stop bein' firm +I knew how it would be when we gave you the vote +If you meet a wall with your 'ead, it's any odds on the wall +Isn't it always a mistake to lose one's temper +Marriage does wonders +Men don't like freedom for anybody but themselves +Never let me stand in your way, or stand in mine +Never yet met a man who couldn't face another man's position +No talk will change such things +Not lacking in geniality when things go his way +Sense of property so deep that they don't know they've got it +She would never stand that Even wives object, nowadays +That condition of first-pipe serenity +That's because he wants you You wait till he doesn't +There's only one thing wrong with Christians--they aren't +This is outrageous! Truth often is +Weakness of an Englishman; he can't keep up his resentments +What's good for you has to be good for everybody +When to stand on my dignity and when to sit on it + + + + + + +LOYALTIES + +By John Galsworthy + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +In the Order of Appearance + +CHARLES WINSOR.................. Owner of Meldon Court, near Newmarket +LADY ADELA...................... His Wife +FERDINAND DE LEVIS.............. Young, rich, and new +TREISURE........................ Winsor's Butler +GENERAL CANYNGE................. A Racing Oracle +MARGARET ORME................... A Society Girl +CAPTAIN RONALD DANDY, D.S.O..... Retired +MABEL........................... His Wife +INSPECTOR DEDE.................. Of the County Constabulary +ROBERT.......................... Winsor's Footman +A CONSTABLE..................... Attendant on Dede +AUGUSTUS BOBBING................ A Clubman +LORD ST ERTH.................... A Peer of the Realm +A FOOTMAN....................... Of the Club +MAJOR COLFORD................... A Brother Officer of Dancy's +EDWARD GRAVITER................. A Solicitor +A YOUNG CLERK................... Of Twisden & Graviter's +GILMAN.......................... A Large Grocer +JACOB TWISDEN................... Senior Partner of Twisden & Graviter +RICARDOS........................ An Italian, in Wine + + + +ACT I. + SCENE I. CHARLES WINSOR's dressing-room at Meldon Court, near + Newmarket, of a night in early October. + SCENE II. DE LEVIS'S Bedroom at Meldon Court, a few minutes later. + +ACT II. + SCENE I. The Card Room of a London Club between four and five in + the afternoon, three weeks later. + SCENE II. The Sitting-room of the DANCYS' Flat, the following + morning. + +ACT III. + SCENE I. OLD MR JACOB TWISDEN'S Room at TWISDEN & GRAVITER'S in + Lincoln's Inn Fields, at four in the afternoon, three + months later. + SCENE II. The same, next morning at half-past ten. + SCENE III. The Sitting-room of the DANCYS' Flat, an hour later. + + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I + + The dressing-room of CHARLES WINSOR, owner of Meldon Court, near + Newmarket; about eleven-thirty at night. The room has pale grey + walls, unadorned; the curtains are drawn over a window Back Left + Centre. A bed lies along the wall, Left. An open door, Right Back, + leads into LADY ADELA's bedroom; a door, Right Forward, into a long + corridor, on to which abut rooms in a row, the whole length of the + house's left wing. WINSOR's dressing-table, with a light over it, + is Stage Right of the curtained window. Pyjamas are laid out on the + bed, which is turned back. Slippers are handy, and all the usual + gear of a well-appointed bed-dressing-room. CHARLES WINSOR, a tall, + fair, good-looking man about thirty-eight, is taking off a smoking + jacket. + +WINSOR. Hallo! Adela! + +V. OF LADY A. [From her bedroom] Hallo! + +WINSOR. In bed? + +V. OF LADY A. No. + + She appears in the doorway in under-garment and a wrapper. She, + too, is fair, about thirty-five, rather delicious, and suggestive + of porcelain. + +WINSOR. Win at Bridge? + +LADY A. No fear. + +WINSOR. Who did? + +LADY A. Lord St Erth and Ferdy De Levis. + +WINSOR. That young man has too much luck--the young bounder won two +races to-day; and he's as rich as Croesus. + +LADY A. Oh! Charlie, he did look so exactly as if he'd sold me a carpet +when I was paying him. + +WINSOR. [Changing into slippers] His father did sell carpets, +wholesale, in the City. + +LADY A. Really? And you say I haven't intuition! [With a finger on her +lips] Morison's in there. + +WINSOR. [Motioning towards the door, which she shuts] Ronny Dancy took +a tenner off him, anyway, before dinner. + +LADY A. No! How? + +WINSOR. Standing jump on to a bookcase four feet high. De Levis had to +pay up, and sneered at him for making money by parlour tricks. That +young Jew gets himself disliked. + +LADY A. Aren't you rather prejudiced? + +WINSOR. Not a bit. I like Jews. That's not against him--rather the +contrary these days. But he pushes himself. The General tells me he's +deathly keen to get into the Jockey Club. [Taking off his tie] It's +amusing to see him trying to get round old St Erth. + +LADY A. If Lord St Erth and General Canynge backed him he'd get in if he +did sell carpets! + +WINSOR. He's got some pretty good horses. [Taking off his waistcoat] +Ronny Dancy's on his bones again, I'm afraid. He had a bad day. When a +chap takes to doing parlour stunts for a bet--it's a sure sign. What +made him chuck the Army? + +LADY A. He says it's too dull, now there's no fighting. + +WINSOR. Well, he can't exist on backing losers. + +LADY A. Isn't it just like him to get married now? He really is the +most reckless person. + +WINSOR. Yes. He's a queer chap. I've always liked him, but I've never +quite made him out. What do you think of his wife? + +LADY A. Nice child; awfully gone on him. + +WINSOR. Is he? + +LADY A. Quite indecently--both of them. [Nodding towards the wall, +Left] They're next door. + +WINSOR. Who's beyond them? + +LADY A. De Levis; and Margaret Orme at the end. Charlie, do you realise +that the bathroom out there has to wash those four? + +WINSOR. I know. + +LADY A. Your grandfather was crazy when he built this wing; six rooms in +a row with balconies like an hotel, and only one bath--if we hadn't put +ours in. + +WINSOR. [Looking at his watch] Half-past eleven. [Yawns] Newmarket +always makes me sleepy. You're keeping Morison up. + + LADY ADELA goes to the door, blowing a kiss. CHARLES goes up to his + dressing-table and begins to brush his hair, sprinkling on essence. + There is a knock on the corridor door. + +Come in. + + DE LEVIS enters, clad in pyjamas and flowered dressing-gown. He is + a dark, good-looking, rather Eastern young man. His face is long + and disturbed. + +Hallo! De Levis! Anything I can do for you? + +DE LEVIS. [In a voice whose faint exoticism is broken by a vexed +excitement] I say, I'm awfully sorry, Winsor, but I thought I'd better +tell you at once. I've just had--er--rather a lot of money stolen. + +WINSOR. What! [There is something of outrage in his tone and glance, as +who should say: "In my house?"] How do you mean stolen? + +DE LEVIS. I put it under my pillow and went to have a bath; when I came +back it was gone. + +WINSOR. Good Lord! How much? + +DE LEVIS. Nearly a thousand-nine hundred and seventy, I think. + +WINSOR. Phew! [Again the faint tone of outrage, that a man should have +so much money about him]. + +DE LEVIS. I sold my Rosemary filly to-day on the course to Bentman the +bookie, and he paid me in notes. + +WINSOR. What? That weed Dancy gave you in the Spring? + +DE LEVIS. Yes. But I tried her pretty high the other day; and she's in +the Cambridgeshire. I was only out of my room a quarter of an hour, and +I locked my door. + +WINSOR. [Again outraged] You locked-- + +DE LEVIS. [Not seeing the fine shade] Yes, and had the key here. [He +taps his pocket] Look here! [He holds out a pocket-book] It's been +stuffed with my shaving papers. + +WINSOR. [Between feeling that such things don't happen, and a sense that +he will have to clear it up] This is damned awkward, De Levis. + +DE LEVIS. [With steel in his voice] Yes. I should like it back. + +WINSOR. Have you got the numbers of the notes? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +WINSOR. What were they? + +DE LEVIS. One hundred, three fifties, and the rest tens and fives. + +WINSOR. What d'you want me to do? + +DE LEVIS. Unless there's anybody you think-- + +WINSOR. [Eyeing him] Is it likely? + +DE Levis. Then I think the police ought to see my room. It's a lot of +money. + +WINSOR. Good Lord! We're not in Town; there'll be nobody nearer than +Newmarket at this time of night--four miles. + + The door from the bedroom is suddenly opened and LADY ADELA appears. + She has on a lace cap over her finished hair, and the wrapper. + +LADY A. [Closing the door] What is it? Are you ill, Mr De Levis? + +WINSOR. Worse; he's had a lot of money stolen. Nearly a thousand +pounds. + +LADY A. Gracious! Where? + +DE LEVIS. From under my pillow, Lady Adela--my door was locked--I was in +the bath-room. + +LADY A. But how fearfully thrilling! + +WINSOR. Thrilling! What's to be done? He wants it back. + +LADY A. Of course! [With sudden realisation] Oh! But Oh! it's quite +too unpleasant! + +WINSOR. Yes! What am I to do? Fetch the servants out of their rooms? +Search the grounds? It'll make the devil of a scandal. + +DE LEVIS. Who's next to me? + +LADY A. [Coldly] Oh! Mr De Levis! + +WINSOR. Next to you? The Dancys on this side, and Miss Orme on the +other. What's that to do with it? + +DE LEVIS. They may have heard something. + +WINSOR. Let's get them. But Dancy was down stairs when I came up. Get +Morison, Adela! No. Look here! When was this exactly? Let's have as +many alibis as we can. + +DE LEVIS. Within the last twenty minutes, certainly. + +WINSOR. How long has Morison been up with you? + +LADY A. I came up at eleven, and rang for her at once. + +WINSOR. [Looking at his watch] Half an hour. Then she's all right. +Send her for Margaret and the Dancys--there's nobody else in this wing. +No; send her to bed. We don't want gossip. D'you mind going yourself, +Adela? + +LADY A. Consult General Canynge, Charlie. + +WINSOR. Right. Could you get him too? D'you really want the police, +De Levis? + +DE LEVIS. [Stung by the faint contempt in his tone of voice] Yes, I do. + +WINSOR. Then, look here, dear! Slip into my study and telephone to the +police at Newmarket. There'll be somebody there; they're sure to have +drunks. I'll have Treisure up, and speak to him. [He rings the bell]. + + LADY ADELA goes out into her room and closes the door. + +WINSOR. Look here, De Levis! This isn't an hotel. It's the sort of +thing that doesn't happen in a decent house. Are you sure you're not +mistaken, and didn't have them stolen on the course? + +DE LEVIS. Absolutely. I counted them just before putting them under my +pillow; then I locked the door and had the key here. There's only one +door, you know. + +WINSOR. How was your window? + +DE LEVIS. Open. + +WINSOR. [Drawing back the curtains of his own window] You've got a +balcony like this. Any sign of a ladder or anything? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +WINSOR. It must have been done from the window, unless someone had a +skeleton key. Who knew you'd got that money? Where did Kentman pay you? + +DE LEVIS. Just round the corner in the further paddock. + +WINSOR. Anybody about? + +DE LEVIS. Oh, yes! + +WINSOR. Suspicious? + +DE LEVIS. I didn't notice anything. + +WINSOR. You must have been marked down and followed here. + +DE LEVIS. How would they know my room? + +WINSOR. Might have got it somehow. [A knock from the corridor] Come in. + + TREISURE, the Butler, appears, a silent, grave man of almost + supernatural conformity. DE LEVIS gives him a quick, hard look, + noted and resented by WINSOR. + +TREISURE. [To WINSOR] Yes, sir? + +WINSOR. Who valets Mr De Levis? + +TREISURE. Robert, Sir. + +WINSOR. When was he up last? + +TREISURE. In the ordinary course of things, about ten o'clock, sir. + +WINSOR. When did he go to bed? + +TREISURE. I dismissed at eleven. + +WINSOR. But did he go? + +TREISURE. To the best of my knowledge. Is there anything I can do, sir? + +WINSOR. [Disregarding a sign from DE LEVIS] Look here, Treisure, +Mr De Levis has had a large sum of money taken from his bedroom within +the last half hour. + +TREISURE. Indeed, Sir! + +WINSOR. Robert's quite all right, isn't he? + +TREISURE. He is, sir. + +DE LEVIS. How do you know? + + TREISURE's eyes rest on DE LEVIS. + +TREISURE. I am a pretty good judge of character, sir, if you'll excuse +me. + +WINSOR. Look here, De Levis, eighty or ninety notes must have been +pretty bulky. You didn't have them on you at dinner? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +WINSOR. Where did you put them? + +DE LEVIS. In a boot, and the boot in my suitcase, and locked it. + + TREISURE smiles faintly. + +WINSOR. [Again slightly outraged by such precautions in his house] And +you found it locked--and took them from there to put under your pillow? + +DE LEVIS. Yes. + +WINSOR. Run your mind over things, Treisure--has any stranger been +about? + +TREISURE. No, Sir. + +WINSOR. This seems to have happened between 11.15 and 11.30. Is that +right? [DE LEVIS nods] Any noise-anything outside-anything suspicious +anywhere? + +TREISURE. [Running his mind--very still] No, sir. + +WINSOR. What time did you shut up? + +TREISURE. I should say about eleven-fifteen, sir. As soon as Major +Colford and Captain Dancy had finished billiards. What was Mr De Levis +doing out of his room, if I may ask, sir? + +WINSOR. Having a bath; with his room locked and the key in his pocket. + +TREISURE. Thank you, sir. + +DE LEVIS. [Conscious of indefinable suspicion] Damn it! What do you +mean? I WAS! + +TREISURE. I beg your pardon, sir. + +WINSOR. [Concealing a smile] Look here, Treisure, it's infernally +awkward for everybody. + +TREISURE. It is, sir. + +WINSOR. What do you suggest? + +TREISURE. The proper thing, sir, I suppose, would be a cordon and a +complete search--in our interests. + +WINSOR. I entirely refuse to suspect anybody. + +TREISURE. But if Mr De Levis feels otherwise, sir? + +DE LEVIS. [Stammering] I? All I know is--the money was there, and it's +gone. + +WINSOR. [Compunctious] Quite! It's pretty sickening for you. But so +it is for anybody else. However, we must do our best to get it back for +you. + + A knock on the door. + +WINSOR. Hallo! + + TREISURE opens the door, and GENERAL. CANYNGE enters. + +Oh! It's you, General. Come in. Adela's told you? + + GENERAL CANYNGE nods. He is a slim man of about sixty, very well + preserved, intensely neat and self-contained, and still in evening + dress. His eyelids droop slightly, but his eyes are keen and his + expression astute. + +WINSOR. Well, General, what's the first move? + +CANYNGE. [Lifting his eyebrows] Mr De Levis presses the matter? + +DE Levis. [Flicked again] Unless you think it's too plebeian of me, +General Canynge--a thousand pounds. + +CANYNGE. [Drily] Just so! Then we must wait for the police, WINSOR. +Lady Adela has got through to them. What height are these rooms from the +ground, Treisure? + +TREISURE. Twenty-three feet from the terrace, sir. + +CANYNGE. Any ladders near? + +TREISURE. One in the stables, Sir, very heavy. No others within three +hundred yards. + +CANYNGE. Just slip down, and see whether that's been moved. + +TREISURE. Very good, General. [He goes out.] + +DE LEVIS. [Uneasily] Of course, he--I suppose you-- + +WINSOR. We do. + +CANYNGE. You had better leave this in our hands, De Levis. + +DE LEVIS. Certainly; only, the way he-- + +WINSOR. [Curtly] Treisure has been here since he was a boy. I should as +soon suspect myself. + +DE LEVIS. [Looking from one to the other--with sudden anger] You seem +to think--! What was I to do? Take it lying down and let whoever it is +get clear off? I suppose it's natural to want my money back? + + CANYNGE looks at his nails; WINSOR out of the window. + +WINSOR. [Turning] Of course, De Levis! + +DE LEVIS. [Sullenly] Well, I'll go to my room. When the police come, +perhaps you'll let me know. He goes out. + +WINSOR. Phew! Did you ever see such a dressing-gown? + + The door is opened. LADY ADELA and MARGARET ORME come in. The + latter is a vivid young lady of about twenty-five in a vivid + wrapper; she is smoking a cigarette. + +LADY A. I've told the Dancys--she was in bed. And I got through to +Newmarket, Charles, and Inspector Dede is coming like the wind on a motor +cycle. + +MARGARET. Did he say "like the wind," Adela? He must have imagination. +Isn't this gorgeous? Poor little Ferdy! + +WINSOR. [Vexed] You might take it seriously, Margaret; it's pretty +beastly for us all. What time did you come up? + +MARGARET. I came up with Adela. Am I suspected, Charles? How +thrilling! + +WINSOR. Did you hear anything? + +MARGARET. Only little Ferdy splashing. + +WINSOR. And saw nothing? + +MARGARET. Not even that, alas! + +LADY A. [With a finger held up] Leste! Un peu leste! Oh! Here are the +Dancys. Come in, you two! + + MABEL and RONALD DANCY enter. She is a pretty young woman with + bobbed hair, fortunately, for she has just got out of bed, and is in + her nightgown and a wrapper. DANCY is in his smoking jacket. He + has a pale, determined face with high cheekbones, small, deep-set + dark eyes, reddish crisp hair, and looks like a horseman. + +WINSOR. Awfully sorry to disturb you, Mrs Dancy; but I suppose you and +Ronny haven't heard anything. De Levis's room is just beyond Ronny's +dressing-room, you know. + +MABEL. I've been asleep nearly half an hour, and Ronny's only just come +up. + +CANYNGE. Did you happen to look out of your window, Mrs Dancy? + +MABEL. Yes. I stood there quite five minutes. + +CANYNGE. When? + +MABEL. Just about eleven, I should think. It was raining hard then. + +CANYNGE. Yes, it's just stopped. You saw nothing? + +MABEL. No. + +DANCY. What time does he say the money was taken? + +WINSOR. Between the quarter and half past. He'd locked his door and had +the key with him. + +MARGARET. How quaint! Just like an hotel. Does he put his boots out? + +LADY A. Don't be so naughty, Meg. + +CANYNGE. When exactly did you come up, Dance? + +DANCY. About ten minutes ago. I'd only just got into my dressing-room +before Lady Adela came. I've been writing letters in the hall since +Colford and I finished billiards. + +CANYNGE. You weren't up for anything in between? + +DANCY. No. + +MARGARET. The mystery of the grey room. + +DANCY. Oughtn't the grounds to be searched for footmarks? + +CANYNGE. That's for the police. + +DANCY. The deuce! Are they coming? + +CANYNGE. Directly. [A knock] Yes? + + TREISURE enters. + +Well? + +TREISURE. The ladder has not been moved, General. There isn't a sign. + +WINSOR. All right. Get Robert up, but don't say anything to him. By +the way, we're expecting the police. + +TREISURE. I trust they will not find a mare's nest, sir, if I may say +so. + + He goes. + +WINSOR. De Levis has got wrong with Treisure. [Suddenly] But, I say, +what would any of us have done if we'd been in his shoes? + +MARGARET. A thousand pounds? I can't even conceive having it. + +DANCY. We probably shouldn't have found it out. + +LADY A. No--but if we had. + +DANCY. Come to you--as he did. + +WINSOR. Yes; but there's a way of doing things. + +CANYNGE. We shouldn't have wanted the police. + +MARGARET. No. That's it. The hotel touch. + +LADY A. Poor young man; I think we're rather hard on him. + +WINSOR. He sold that weed you gave him, Dancy, to Kentman, the bookie, +and these were the proceeds. + +DANCY. Oh! + +WINSOR. He'd tried her high, he said. + +DANCY. [Grimly] He would. + +MABEL. Oh! Ronny, what bad luck! + +WINSOR. He must have been followed here. [At the window] After rain +like that, there ought to be footmarks. + + The splutter of a motor cycle is heard. + +MARGARET. Here's the wind! + +WINSOR. What's the move now, General? + +CANYNGE. You and I had better see the Inspector in De Levis's room, +WINSOR. [To the others] If you'll all be handy, in case he wants to put +questions for himself. + +MARGARET. I hope he'll want me; it's just too thrilling. + +DANCY. I hope he won't want me; I'm dog-tired. Come on, Mabel. [He +puts his arm in his wife's]. + +CANYNGE. Just a minute, Charles. + + He draws dose to WINSOR as the others are departing to their rooms. + +WINSOR. Yes, General? + +CANYNGE. We must be careful with this Inspector fellow. If he pitches +hastily on somebody in the house it'll be very disagreeable. + +WINSOR. By Jove! It will. + +CANYNGE. We don't want to rouse any ridiculous suspicion. + +WINSOR. Quite. [A knock] Come in! + +TREISURE enters. + +TREISURE. Inspector Dede, Sir. + +WINSOR. Show him in. + +TREISURE. Robert is in readiness, sir; but I could swear he knows +nothing about it. + +WINSOR. All right. + + TREISURE re-opens the door, and says "Come in, please." The + INSPECTOR enters, blue, formal, moustachioed, with a peaked cap in + his hand. + +WINSOR. Good evening, Inspector. Sorry to have brought you out at this +time of night. + +INSPECTOR. Good evenin', sir. Mr WINSOR? You're the owner here, I +think? + +WINSOR. Yes. General Canynge. + +INSPECTOR. Good evenin', General. I understand, a large sum of money? + +WINSOR. Yes. Shall we go straight to the room it was taken from? One +of my guests, Mr De Levis. It's the third room on the left. + +CANYNGE. We've not been in there yet, Inspector; in fact, we've done +nothing, except to find out that the stable ladder has not been moved. +We haven't even searched the grounds. + +INSPECTOR. Right, sir; I've brought a man with me. + + They go out. + + + CURTAIN. And interval of a Minute. + + + + +SCENE II + + [The same set is used for this Scene, with the different arrangement + of furniture, as specified.] + + The bedroom of DE LEVIS is the same in shape as WINSOR'S dressing- + room, except that there is only one door--to the corridor. The + furniture, however, is differently arranged; a small four-poster + bedstead stands against the wall, Right Back, jutting into the room. + A chair, on which DE LEVIS's clothes are thrown, stands at its foot. + There is a dressing-table against the wall to the left of the open + windows, where the curtains are drawn back and a stone balcony is + seen. Against the wall to the right of the window is a chest of + drawers, and a washstand is against the wall, Left. On a small + table to the right of the bed an electric reading lamp is turned up, + and there is a light over the dressing-table. The INSPECTOR is + standing plumb centre looking at the bed, and DE LEVIS by the back + of the chair at the foot of the bed. WINSOR and CANYNGE are close + to the door, Right Forward. + +INSPECTOR. [Finishing a note] Now, sir, if this is the room as you left +it for your bath, just show us exactly what you did after takin' the +pocket-book from the suit case. Where was that, by the way? + +DE LEVIS. [Pointing] Where it is now--under the dressing-table. + + He comes forward to the front of the chair, opens the pocket-book, + goes through the pretence of counting his shaving papers, closes the + pocket-book, takes it to the head of the bed and slips it under the + pillow. Makes the motion of taking up his pyjamas, crosses below + the INSPECTOR to the washstand, takes up a bath sponge, crosses to + the door, takes out the key, opens the door. + +INSPECTOR. [Writing]. We now have the room as it was when the theft was +committed. Reconstruct accordin' to 'uman nature, gentlemen--assumin' +the thief to be in the room, what would he try first?--the clothes, the +dressin'-table, the suit case, the chest of drawers, and last the bed. + + He moves accordingly, examining the glass on the dressing-table, the + surface of the suit cases, and the handles of the drawers, with a + spy-glass, for finger-marks. + +CANYNGE. [Sotto voce to WINSOR] The order would have been just the +other way. + + The INSPECTOR goes on hands and knees and examines the carpet + between the window and the bed. + +DE LEVIS. Can I come in again? + +INSPECTOR. [Standing up] Did you open the window, sir, or was it open +when you first came in? + +DE LEVIS. I opened it. + +INSPECTOR. Drawin' the curtains back first? + +DE LEVIS. Yes. + +INSPECTOR. [Sharply] Are you sure there was nobody in the room already? + +DE LEVIS. [Taken aback] I don't know. I never thought. I didn't look +under the bed, if you mean that. + +INSPECTOR. [Jotting] Did not look under bed. Did you look under it +after the theft? + +DE LEVIS. No. I didn't. + +INSPECTOR. Ah! Now, what did you do after you came back from your bath? +Just give us that precisely. + +DE LEVIS. Locked the door and left the key in. Put back my sponge, and +took off my dressing-gown and put it there. [He points to the footrails +of the bed] Then I drew the curtains, again. + +INSPECTOR. Shutting the window? + +DE LEVIS. No. I got into bed, felt for my watch to see the time. My +hand struck the pocket-book, and somehow it felt thinner. I took it out, +looked into it, and found the notes gone, and these shaving papers +instead. + +INSPECTOR. Let me have a look at those, sir. [He applies the spy- +glasses] And then? + +DE LEVIS. I think I just sat on the bed. + +INSPECTOR. Thinkin' and cursin' a bit, I suppose. Ye-es? + +DE LEVIS. Then I put on my dressing-gown and went straight to Mr WINSOR. + +INSPECTOR. Not lockin' the door? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +INSPECTOR. Exactly. [With a certain finality] Now, sir, what time did +you come up? + +DE LEVIS. About eleven. + +INSPECTOR. Precise, if you can give it me. + +DE LEVIS. Well, I know it was eleven-fifteen when I put my watch under +my pillow, before I went to the bath, and I suppose I'd been about a +quarter of an hour undressing. I should say after eleven, if anything. + +INSPECTOR. Just undressin'? Didn't look over your bettin' book? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +INSPECTOR. No prayers or anything? + +DE LEVIS. No. + +INSPECTOR. Pretty slippy with your undressin' as a rule? + +DE LEVIS. Yes. Say five past eleven. + +INSPECTOR. Mr WINSOR, what time did the gentleman come to you? + +WINSOR. Half-past eleven. + +INSPECTOR. How do you fix that, sir? + +WINSOR. I'd just looked at the time, and told my wife to send her maid +off. + +INSPECTOR. Then we've got it fixed between 11.15 and 11.30. [Jots] Now, +sir, before we go further I'd like to see your butler and the footman +that valets this gentleman. + +WINSOR. [With distaste] Very well, Inspector; only--my butler has been +with us from a boy. + +INSPECTOR. Quite so. This is just clearing the ground, sir. + +WINSOR. General, d'you mind touching that bell? + +CANYNGE rings a bell by the bed. + +INSPECTOR. Well, gentlemen, there are four possibilities. Either the +thief was here all the time, waiting under the bed, and slipped out after +this gentleman had gone to Mr WINSOR. Or he came in with a key that fits +the lock; and I'll want to see all the keys in the house. Or he came in +with a skeleton key and out by the window, probably droppin' from the +balcony. Or he came in by the window with a rope or ladder and out the +same way. [Pointing] There's a footmark here from a big boot which has +been out of doors since it rained. + +CANYNGE. Inspector--you er--walked up to the window when you first came +into the room. + +INSPECTOR. [Stiffly] I had not overlooked that, General. + +CANYNGE. Of course. + + A knock on the door relieves a certain tension, + +WINSOR. Come in. + + The footman ROBERT, a fresh-faced young man, enters, followed by + TREISURE. + +INSPECTOR. You valet Mr--Mr De Levis, I think? + +ROBERT. Yes, sir. + +INSPECTOR. At what time did you take his clothes and boots? + +ROBERT. Ten o'clock, sir. + +INSPECTOR. [With a pounce] Did you happen to look under his bed? + +ROBERT. No, sir. + +INSPECTOR. Did you come up again, to bring the clothes back? + +ROBERT. No, sir; they're still downstairs. + +INSPECTOR. Did you come up again for anything? + +ROBERT. No, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. What time did you go to bed? + +ROBERT. Just after eleven, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. [Scrutinising him] Now, be careful. Did you go to bed at +all? + +ROBERT. No, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. Then why did you say you did? There's been a theft here, and +anything you say may be used against you. + +ROBERT. Yes, Sir. I meant, I went to my room. + +INSPECTOR. Where is your room? + +ROBERT. On the ground floor, at the other end of the right wing, sir. + +WINSOR. It's the extreme end of the house from this, Inspector. He's +with the other two footmen. + +INSPECTOR. Were you there alone? + +ROBERT. No, Sir. Thomas and Frederick was there too. + +TREISURE. That's right; I've seen them. + +INSPECTOR. [Holding up his hand for silence] Were you out of the room +again after you went in? + +ROBERT. No, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. What were you doing, if you didn't go to bed? + +ROBERT. [To WINSOR] Beggin' your pardon, Sir, we were playin' Bridge. + +INSPECTOR. Very good. You can go. I'll see them later on. + +ROBERT. Yes, Sir. They'll say the same as me. He goes out, leaving a +smile on the face of all except the INSPECTOR and DE LEVIS. + +INSPECTOR. [Sharply] Call him back. + + TREISURE calls "Robert," and the FOOTMAN re-enters. + +ROBERT. Yes, Sir? + +INSPECTOR. Did you notice anything particular about Mr De Levis's +clothes? + +ROBERT. Only that they were very good, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. I mean--anything peculiar? + +ROBERT. [After reflection] Yes, Sir. + +INSPECTOR. Well? + +ROBERT. A pair of his boots this evenin' was reduced to one, sir. + +INSPECTOR. What did you make of that? + +ROBERT. I thought he might have thrown the other at a cat or something. + +INSPECTOR. Did you look for it? + +ROBERT. No, Sir; I meant to draw his attention to it in the morning. + +INSPECTOR. Very good. + +ROBERT. Yes, Sir. [He goes again.] + +INSPECTOR. [Looking at DE LEVIS] Well, sir, there's your story +corroborated. + +DE LEVIS. [Stifly] I don't know why it should need corroboration, +Inspector. + +INSPECTOR. In my experience, you can never have too much of that. [To +WINSOR] I understand there's a lady in the room on this side [pointing +Left] and a gentleman on this [pointing Right] Were they in their rooms? + +WINSOR. Miss Orme was; Captain Dancy not. + +INSPECTOR. Do they know of the affair? + +WINSOR. Yes. + +INSPECTOR. Well, I'd just like the keys of their doors for a minute. My +man will get them. + + He goes to the door, opens it, and speaks to a constable in the + corridor. + +[To TREISURE] You can go with him. + + TREISURE goes Out. + +In the meantime I'll just examine the balcony. + + He goes out on the balcony, followed by DE LEVIS. + +WINSOR. [To CANYNGE] Damn De Levis and his money! It's deuced +invidious, all this, General. + +CANYNGE. The Inspector's no earthly. + + There is a simultaneous re-entry of the INSPECTOR from the balcony + and of TREISURE and the CONSTABLE from the corridor. + +CONSTABLE. [Handing key] Room on the left, Sir. [Handing key] Room on +the right, sir. + + The INSPECTOR tries the keys in the door, watched with tension by + the others. The keys fail. + +INSPECTOR. Put them back. + + Hands keys to CONSTABLE, who goes out, followed by TREISURE. + +I'll have to try every key in the house, sir. + +WINSOR. Inspector, do you really think it necessary to disturb the whole +house and knock up all my guests? It's most disagreeable, all this, you +know. The loss of the money is not such a great matter. Mr De Levis has +a very large income. + +CANYNGE. You could get the numbers of the notes from Kentman the +bookmaker, Inspector; he'll probably have the big ones, anyway. + +INSPECTOR. [Shaking his head] A bookie. I don't suppose he will, sir. +It's come and go with them, all the time. + +WINSOR. We don't want a Meldon Court scandal, Inspector. + +INSPECTOR. Well, Mr WINSOR, I've formed my theory. + + As he speaks, DE LEVIS comes in from the balcony. + +And I don't say to try the keys is necessary to it; but strictly, I ought +to exhaust the possibilities. + +WINSOR. What do you say, De Levis? D'you want everybody in the house +knocked up so that their keys can be tried? + +DE LEVIS. [Whose face, since his return, expresses a curious excitement] +No, I don't. + +INSPECTOR. Very well, gentlemen. In my opinion the thief walked in +before the door was locked, probably during dinner; and was under the +bed. He escaped by dropping from the balcony--the creeper at that corner +[he points stage Left] has been violently wrenched. I'll go down now, +and examine the grounds, and I'll see you again Sir. [He makes another +entry in his note-book] Goodnight, then, gentlemen! + +CANYNGE. Good-night! + +WINSOR. [With relief] I'll come with you, Inspector. + + He escorts him to the door, and they go out. + +DE LEVIS. [Suddenly] General, I know who took them. + +CANYNGE. The deuce you do! Are you following the Inspector's theory? + +DE LEVIS. [Contemptuously] That ass! [Pulling the shaving papers out +of the case] No! The man who put those there was clever and cool enough +to wrench that creeper off the balcony, as a blind. Come and look here, +General. [He goes to the window; the GENERAL follows. DE LEVIS points +stage Right] See the rail of my balcony, and the rail of the next? [He +holds up the cord of his dressing-gown, stretching his arms out] I've +measured it with this. Just over seven feet, that's all! If a man can +take a standing jump on to a narrow bookcase four feet high and balance +there, he'd make nothing of that. And, look here! [He goes out on the +balcony and returns with a bit of broken creeper in his hand, and holds +it out into the light] Someone's stood on that--the stalk's crushed--the +inner corner too, where he'd naturally stand when he took his jump back. + +CANYNGE. [After examining it--stiffly] That other balcony is young +Dancy's, Mr De Levis; a soldier and a gentleman. This is an +extraordinary insinuation. + +DE LEVIS. Accusation. + +CANYNGE. What! + +DE LEVIS. I have intuitions, General; it's in my blood. I see the whole +thing. Dancy came up, watched me into the bathroom, tried my door, +slipped back into his dressing-room, saw my window was open, took that +jump, sneaked the notes, filled the case up with these, wrenched the +creeper there [He points stage Left] for a blind, jumped back, and +slipped downstairs again. It didn't take him four minutes altogether. + +CANYNGE. [Very gravely] This is outrageous, De Levis. Dancy says he +was downstairs all the time. You must either withdraw unreservedly, +or I must confront you with him. + +DE LEVIS. If he'll return the notes and apologise, I'll do nothing-- +except cut him in future. He gave me that filly, you know, as a hopeless +weed, and he's been pretty sick ever since, that he was such a flat as +not to see how good she was. Besides, he's hard up, I know. + +CANYNGE. [After a vexed turn up and down the room] It's mad, sir, to +jump to conclusions like this. + +DE LEVIS. Not so mad as the conclusion Dancy jumped to when he lighted +on my balcony. + +CANYNGE. Nobody could have taken this money who did not know you had it. + +DE LEVIS. How do you know that he didn't? + +CANYNGE. Do you know that he did? + +DE LEVIS. I haven't the least doubt of it. + +CANYNGE. Without any proof. This is very ugly, De Levis. I must tell +WINSOR. + +DE LEVIS. [Angrily] Tell the whole blooming lot. You think I've no +feelers, but I've felt the atmosphere here, I can tell you, General. If +I were in Dancy's shoes and he in mine, your tone to me would be very +different. + +CANYNGE. [Suavely frigid] I'm not aware of using any tone, as you call +it. But this is a private house, Mr De Levis, and something is due to +our host and to the esprit de corps that exists among gentlemen. + +DE LEVIS. Since when is a thief a gentleman? Thick as thieves--a good +motto, isn't it? + +CANYNGE. That's enough! [He goes to the door, but stops before opening +it] Now, look here! I have some knowledge of the world. Once an +accusation like this passes beyond these walls no one can foresee the +consequences. Captain Dancy is a gallant fellow, with a fine record as a +soldier; and only just married. If he's as innocent as--Christ--mud will +stick to him, unless the real thief is found. In the old days of swords, +either you or he would not have gone out of this room alive. It you +persist in this absurd accusation, you will both of you go out of this +room dead in the eyes of Society: you for bringing it, he for being the +object of it. + +DE LEVIS. Society! Do you think I don't know that I'm only tolerated +for my money? Society can't add injury to insult and have my money as +well, that's all. If the notes are restored I'll keep my mouth shut; if +they're not, I shan't. I'm certain I'm right. I ask nothing better than +to be confronted with Dancy; but, if you prefer it, deal with him in your +own way--for the sake of your esprit de corps. + +CANYNGE. 'Pon my soul, Mr De Levis, you go too far. + +DE LEVIS. Not so far as I shall go, General Canynge, if those notes +aren't given back. + +WINSOR comes in. + +WINSOR. Well, De Levis, I'm afraid that's all we can do for the present. +So very sorry this should have happened in my house. + +CANYNGE. [Alter a silence] There's a development, WINSOR. Mr De Levis +accuses one of your guests. + +WINSOR. What? + +CANYNGE. Of jumping from his balcony to this, taking the notes, and +jumping back. I've done my best to dissuade him from indulging the +fancy--without success. Dancy must be told. + +DE LEVIS. You can deal with Dancy in your own way. All I want is the +money back. + +CANYNGE. [Drily] Mr De Levis feels that he is only valued for his +money, so that it is essential for him to have it back. + +WINSOR. Damn it! This is monstrous, De Levis. I've known Ronald Dancy +since he was a boy. + +CANYNGE. You talk about adding injury to insult, De Levis. What do you +call such treatment of a man who gave you the mare out of which you made +this thousand pounds? + +DE LEVIS. I didn't want the mare; I took her as a favour. + +CANYNGE. With an eye to possibilities, I venture to think--the principle +guides a good many transactions. + +DE LEVIS. [As if flicked on a raw spot] In my race, do you mean? + +CANYNGE. [Coldly] I said nothing of the sort. + +DE LEVIS. No; you don't say these things, any of you. + +CANYNGE. Nor did I think it. + +DE LEVIS. Dancy does. + +WINSOR. Really, De Levis, if this is the way you repay hospitality-- + +DE LEVIS. Hospitality that skins my feelings and costs me a thousand +pounds! + +CANYNGE. Go and get Dancy, WINSOR; but don't say anything to him. + + WINSOR goes out. + +CANYNGE. Perhaps you will kindly control yourself, and leave this to me. + + DE LEVIS turns to the window and lights a cigarette. WINSOR comes + back, followed by DANCY. + +CANYNGE. For WINSOR's sake, Dancy, we don't want any scandal or fuss +about this affair. We've tried to make the police understand that. To +my mind the whole thing turns on our finding who knew that De Levis had +this money. It's about that we want to consult you. + +WINSOR. Kentman paid De Levis round the corner in the further paddock, +he says. + + DE LEVIS turns round from the window, so that he and DANCY are + staring at each other. + +CANYNGE. Did you hear anything that throws light, Dancy? As it was your +filly originally, we thought perhaps you might. + +DANCY. I? No. + +CANYNGE. Didn't hear of the sale on the course at all? + +DANCY. No. + +CANYNGE. Then you can't suggest any one who could have known? Nothing +else was taken, you see. + +DANCY. De Levis is known to be rolling, as I am known to be stony. + +CANYNGE. There are a good many people still rolling, besides Mr De +Levis, but not many people with so large a sum in their pocket-books. + +DANCY. He won two races. + +DE LEVIS. Do you suggest that I bet in ready money? + +DANCY. I don't know how you bet, and I don't care. + +CANYNGE. You can't help us, then? + +DANCY. No. I can't. Anything else? [He looks fixedly at DE LEVIS]. + +CANYNGE. [Putting his hand on DANCY's arm] Nothing else, thank you, +Dancy. + + DANCY goes. CANYNGE puts his hand up to his face. A moment's + silence. + +WINSOR. You see, De Levis? He didn't even know you'd got the money. + +DE LEVIS. Very conclusive. + +WINSOR. Well! You are--! + + There is a knock on the door, and the INSPECTOR enters. + +INSPECTOR. I'm just going, gentlemen. The grounds, I'm sorry to say, +have yielded nothing. It's a bit of a puzzle. + +CANYNGE. You've searched thoroughly? + +INSPECTOR. We have, General. I can pick up nothing near the terrace. + +WINSOR. [After a look at DE LEVIS, whose face expresses too much] H'm! +You'll take it up from the other end, then, Inspector? + +INSPECTOR. Well, we'll see what we can do with the bookmakers about the +numbers, sir. Before I go, gentlemen--you've had time to think it over-- +there's no one you suspect in the house, I suppose? + + DE LEVIS's face is alive and uncertain. CANYNGE is staring at him + very fixedly. + +WINSOR. [Emphatically] No. + + DE LEVIS turns and goes out on to the balcony. + +INSPECTOR. If you're coming in to the racing to-morrow, sir, you might +give us a call. I'll have seen Kentman by then. + +WINSOR. Right you are, Inspector. Good night, and many thanks. + +INSPECTOR. You're welcome, sir. [He goes out.] + +WINSOR. Gosh! I thought that chap [With a nod towards the balcony] +was going to--! Look here, General, we must stop his tongue. Imagine it +going the rounds. They may never find the real thief, you know. It's +the very devil for Dancy. + +CANYNGE. WINSOR! Dancy's sleeve was damp. + +WINSOR. How d'you mean? + +CANYNGE. Quite damp. It's been raining. + + The two look at each other. + +WINSOR. I--I don't follow-- [His voice is hesitative and lower, showing +that he does]. + +CANYNGE. It was coming down hard; a minute out in it would have been +enough--[He motions with his chin towards the balcony]. + +WINSOR. [Hastily] He must have been out on his balcony since. + +CANYNGE. It stopped before I came up, half an hour ago. + +WINSOR. He's been leaning on the wet stone, then. + +CANYNGE. With the outside of the upper part of the arm? + +WINSOR. Against the wall, perhaps. There may be a dozen explanations. +[Very low and with great concentration] I entirely and absolutely refuse +to believe anything of the sort against Ronald Dancy in my house. Dash +it, General, we must do as we'd be done by. It hits us all--it hits us +all. The thing's intolerable. + +CANYNGE. I agree. Intolerable. [Raising his voice] Mr De Levis! + +DE LEVIS returns into view, in the centre of the open window. + +CANYNGE. [With cold decision] Young Dancy was an officer and is a +gentleman; this insinuation is pure supposition, and you must not make +it. Do you understand me? + +DE LEVIS. My tongue is still mine, General, if my money isn't! + +CANYNGE. [Unmoved] Must not. You're a member of three Clubs, you want +to be member of a fourth. No one who makes such an insinuation against a +fellow-guest in a country house, except on absolute proof, can do so +without complete ostracism. Have we your word to say nothing? + +DE LEVIS. Social blackmail? H'm! + +CANYNGE. Not at all--simple warning. If you consider it necessary in +your interests to start this scandal-no matter how, we shall consider it +necessary in ours to dissociate ourselves completely from one who so +recklessly disregards the unwritten code. + +DE LEVIS. Do you think your code applies to me? Do you, General? + +CANYNGE. To anyone who aspires to be a gentleman, Sir. + +DE LEVIS. Ah! But you haven't known me since I was a boy. + +CANYNGE. Make up your mind. + + A pause. + +DE LEVIS. I'm not a fool, General. I know perfectly well that you can +get me outed. + +CANYNGE. [Icily] Well? + +DE LEVIS. [Sullenly] I'll say nothing about it, unless I get more +proof. + +CANYNGE. Good! We have implicit faith in Dancy. + + There is a moment's encounter of eyes; the GENERAL'S steady, shrewd, + impassive; WINSOR'S angry and defiant; DE LEVIS's mocking, a little + triumphant, malicious. Then CANYNGE and WINSOR go to the door, and + pass out. + +DE LEVIS. [To himself] Rats! + + + CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE I + + Afternoon, three weeks later, in the card room of a London Club. A + fire is burning, Left. A door, Right, leads to the billiard-room. + Rather Left of Centre, at a card table, LORD ST ERTH, an old John + Bull, sits facing the audience; to his right is GENERAL CANYNGE, to + his left AUGUSTUS BORRING, an essential Clubman, about thirty-five + years old, with a very slight and rather becoming stammer or click + in his speech. The fourth Bridge player, CHARLES WINSOR, stands + with his back to the fire. + +BORRING. And the r-rub. + +WINSOR. By George! You do hold cards, Borring. + +ST ERTH. [Who has lost] Not a patch on the old whist--this game. Don't +know why I play it--never did. + +CANYNGE. St Erth, shall we raise the flag for whist again? + +WINSOR. No go, General. You can't go back on pace. No getting a man to +walk when he knows he can fly. The young men won't look at it. + +BORRING. Better develop it so that t-two can sit out, General. + +ST ERTH. We ought to have stuck to the old game. Wish I'd gone to +Newmarket, Canynge, in spite of the weather. + +CANYNGE. [Looking at his watch] Let's hear what's won the +Cambridgeshire. Ring, won't you, WINSOR? [WINSOR rings.] + +ST ERTH. By the way, Canynge, young De Levis was blackballed. + +CANYNGE. What! + +ST ERTH. I looked in on my way down. + + CANYNGE sits very still, and WINSOR utters a disturbed sound. + +BORRING. But of c-course he was, General. What did you expect? + + A FOOTMAN enters. + +FOOTMAN. Yes, my lord? + +ST ERTH. What won the Cambridgeshire? + +FOOTMAN. Rosemary, my lord. Sherbet second; Barbizon third. Nine to +one the winner. + +WINSOR. Thank you. That's all. + + FOOTMAN goes. + +BORRING. Rosemary! And De Levis sold her! But he got a good p-price, I +suppose. + + The other three look at him. + +ST ERTH. Many a slip between price and pocket, young man. + +CANYNGE. Cut! [They cut]. + +BORRING. I say, is that the yarn that's going round about his having had +a lot of m-money stolen in a country house? By Jove! He'll be pretty +s-sick. + +WINSOR. You and I, Borring. + + He sits down in CANYNGE'S chair, and the GENERAL takes his place by + the fire. + +BORRING. Phew! Won't Dancy be mad! He gave that filly away to save her +keep. He was rather pleased to find somebody who'd take her. Bentman +must have won a p-pot. She was at thirty-threes a fortnight ago. + +ST ERTH. All the money goes to fellows who don't know a horse from a +haystack. + +CANYNGE. [Profoundly] And care less. Yes! We want men racing to whom +a horse means something. + +BORRING. I thought the horse m-meant the same to everyone, General-- +chance to get the b-better of one's neighbour. + +CANYNGE. [With feeling] The horse is a noble animal, sir, as you'd know +if you'd owed your life to them as often as I have. + +BORRING. They always try to take mine, General. I shall never belong to +the noble f-fellowship of the horse. + +ST ERTH. [Drily] Evidently. Deal! + + As BORRING begins to deal the door is opened and MAJOR COLFORD + appears--a lean and moustached cavalryman. + +BORRING. Hallo, C-Colford. + +COLFORD. General! + + Something in the tone of his voice brings them all to a standstill. + +COLFORD. I want your advice. Young De Levis in there [He points to the +billiard-room from which he has just come] has started a blasphemous +story-- + +CANYNGE. One moment. Mr Borring, d'you mind-- + +COLFORD. It makes no odds, General. Four of us in there heard him. +He's saying it was Ronald Dancy robbed him down at WINSOR's. The +fellow's mad over losing the price of that filly now she's won the +Cambridgeshire. + +BORRING. [All ears] Dancy! Great S-Scott! + +COLFORD. Dancy's in the Club. If he hadn't been I'd have taken it on +myself to wring the bounder's neck. + + WINSOR and BORRING have risen. ST ERTH alone remains seated. + +CANYNGE. [After consulting ST ERTH with a look] Ask De Levis to be good +enough to come in here. Borring, you might see that Dancy doesn't leave +the Club. We shall want him. Don't say anything to him, and use your +tact to keep people off. + + BORRING goes out, followed by COLFORD. WINSOR. Result of hearing + he was black-balled--pretty slippy. + +CANYNGE. St Erth, I told you there was good reason when I asked you to +back young De Levis. WINSOR and I knew of this insinuation; I wanted to +keep his tongue quiet. It's just wild assertion; to have it bandied +about was unfair to Dancy. The duel used to keep people's tongues in +order. + +ST ERTH. H'm! It never settled anything, except who could shoot +straightest. + +COLFORD. [Re-appearing] De Levis says he's nothing to add to what he +said to you before, on the subject. + +CANYNGE. Kindly tell him that if he wishes to remain a member of this +Club he must account to the Committee for such a charge against a fellow- +member. Four of us are here, and form a quorum. + + COLFORD goes out again. + +ST ERTH. Did Kentman ever give the police the numbers of those notes, +WINSOR? + +WINSOR. He only had the numbers of two--the hundred, and one of the +fifties. + +ST ERTH. And they haven't traced 'em? + +WINSOR. Not yet. + + As he speaks, DE LEVIS comes in. He is in a highly-coloured, not to + say excited state. COLFORD follows him. + +DE LEVIS. Well, General Canynge! It's a little too strong all this-- +a little too strong. [Under emotion his voice is slightly more exotic]. + +CANYNGE. [Calmly] It is obvious, Mr De Levis, that you and Captain +Dancy can't both remain members of this Club. We ask you for an +explanation before requesting one resignation or the other. + +DE LEVIS. You've let me down. + +CANYNGE. What! + +DE LEVIS. Well, I shall tell people that you and Lord St Erth backed me +up for one Club, and asked me to resign from another. + +CANYNGE. It's a matter of indifference to me, sir, what you tell people. + +ST ERTH. [Drily] You seem a venomous young man. + +DE LEVIS. I'll tell you what seems to me venomous, my lord--chasing a +man like a pack of hounds because he isn't your breed. + +CANYNGE. You appear to have your breed on the brain, sir. Nobody else +does, so far as I know. + +DE LEVIS. Suppose I had robbed Dancy, would you chase him out for +complaining of it? + +COLFORD. My God! If you repeat that-- + +CANYNGE. Steady, Colford! + +WINSOR. You make this accusation that Dancy stole your money in my house +on no proof--no proof; and you expect Dancy's friends to treat you as if +you were a gentleman! That's too strong, if you like! + +DE LEVIS. No proof? Bentman told me at Newmarket yesterday that Dancy +did know of the sale. He told Goole, and Goole says that he himself +spoke of it to Dancy. + +WINSOR. Well--if he did? + +DE LEVIS. Dancy told you he didn't know of it in General Canynge's +presence, and mine. [To CANYNGE] You can't deny that, if you want to. + +CANYNGE. Choose your expressions more nicely, please! + +DE LEVIS. Proof! Did they find any footmarks in the grounds below that +torn creeper? Not a sign! You saw how he can jump; he won ten pounds +from me that same evening betting on what he knew was a certainty. +That's your Dancy--a common sharper! + +CANYNGE. [Nodding towards the billiard-room] Are those fellows still in +there, Colford? + +COLFORD. Yes. + +CANYNGE. Then bring Dancy up, will you? But don't say anything to him. + +COLFORD. [To DE LEVIS] You may think yourself damned lucky if he doesn't +break your neck. + + He goes out. The three who are left with DE LEVIS avert their eyes + from him. + +DE LEVIS. [Smouldering] I have a memory, and a sting too. Yes, my +lord--since you are good enough to call me venomous. [To CANYNGE] I +quite understand--I'm marked for Coventry now, whatever happens. Well, +I'll take Dancy with me. + +ST ERTH. [To himself] This Club has always had a decent, quiet name. + +WINSOR. Are you going to retract, and apologise in front of Dancy and +the members who heard you? + +DE LEVIS. No fear! + +ST ERTH. You must be a very rich man, sir. A jury is likely to take the +view that money can hardly compensate for an accusation of that sort. + + DE LEVIS stands silent. CANYNGE. Courts of law require proof. + +ST ERTH. He can make it a criminal action. + +WINSOR. Unless you stop this at once, you may find yourself in prison. +If you can stop it, that is. + +ST ERTH. If I were young Dancy, nothing should induce me. + +DE LEVIS. But you didn't steal my money, Lord St Erth. + +ST ERTH. You're deuced positive, sir. So far as I could understand it, +there were a dozen ways you could have been robbed. It seems to me you +value other men's reputations very lightly. + +DE LEVIS. Confront me with Dancy and give me fair play. + +WINSOR. [Aside to CANYNGE] Is it fair to Dancy not to let him know? + +CANYNGE. Our duty is to the Club now, WINSOR. We must have this cleared +up. + + COLFORD comes in, followed by BORRING and DANCY. + +ST ERTH. Captain Dancy, a serious accusation has been made against you +by this gentleman in the presence of several members of the Club. + +DANCY. What is it? + +ST ERTH. That you robbed him of that money at WINSOR's. + +DANCY. [Hard and tense] Indeed! On what grounds is he good enough to +say that? + +DE LEVIS. [Tense too] You gave me that filly to save yourself her keep, +and you've been mad about it ever since; you knew from Goole that I had +sold her to Kentman and been paid in cash, yet I heard you myself deny +that you knew it. You had the next room to me, and you can jump like a +cat, as we saw that evening; I found some creepers crushed by a weight on +my balcony on that side. When I went to the bath your door was open, and +when I came back it was shut. + +CANYNGE. That's the first we have heard about the door. + +DE LEVIS. I remembered it afterwards. + +ST ERTH. Well, Dancy? + +DANCY. [With intense deliberation] I'll settle this matter with any +weapons, when and where he likes. + +ST ERTH. [Drily] It can't be settled that way--you know very well. +You must take it to the Courts, unless he retracts. + +DANCY. Will you retract? + +DE LEVIS. Why did you tell General Canynge you didn't know Kentman had +paid me in cash? + +DANCY. Because I didn't. + +DE LEVIS. Then Kentman and Goole lied--for no reason? + +DANCY. That's nothing to do with me. + +DE LEVIS. If you were downstairs all the time, as you say, why was your +door first open and then shut? + +DANCY. Being downstairs, how should I know? The wind, probably. + +DE LEVIS. I should like to hear what your wife says about it. + +DANCY. Leave my wife alone, you damned Jew! + +ST ERTH. Captain Dancy! + +DE LEVIS. [White with rage] Thief! + +DANCY. Will you fight? + +DE LEVIS. You're very smart-dead men tell no tales. No! Bring your +action, and we shall see. + + DANCY takes a step towards him, but CANYNGE and WINSOR interpose. + +ST ERTH. That'll do, Mr De Levis; we won't keep you. [He looks round] +Kindly consider your membership suspended till this matter has been +threshed out. + +DE LEVIS. [Tremulous with anger] Don't trouble yourselves about my +membership. I resign it. [To DANCY] You called me a damned Jew. My +race was old when you were all savages. I am proud to be a Jew. Au +revoir, in the Courts. + + He goes out, and silence follows his departure. + +ST ERTH. Well, Captain Dancy? + +DANCY. If the brute won't fight, what am I to do, sir? + +ST ERTH. We've told you--take action, to clear your name. + +DANCY. Colford, you saw me in the hall writing letters after our game. + +COLFORD. Certainly I did; you were there when I went to the smoking- +room. + +CANYNGE. How long after you left the billiard-room? + +COLFORD. About five minutes. + +DANCY. It's impossible for me to prove that I was there all the time. + +CANYNGE. It's for De Levis to prove what he asserts. You heard what he +said about Goole? + +DANCY. If he told me, I didn't take it in. + +ST ERTH. This concerns the honour of the Club. Are you going to take +action? + +DANCY. [Slowly] That is a very expensive business, Lord St Erth, and +I'm hard up. I must think it over. [He looks round from face to face] +Am I to take it that there is a doubt in your minds, gentlemen? + +COLFORD. [Emphatically] No. + +CANYNGE. That's not the question, Dancy. This accusation was overheard +by various members, and we represent the Club. If you don't take action, +judgment will naturally go by default. + +DANCY. I might prefer to look on the whole thing as beneath contempt. + + He turns and goes out. When he is gone there is an even longer + silence than after DE LEVIS's departure. + +ST ERTH. [Abruptly] I don't like it. + +WINSOR. I've known him all his life. + +COLFORD. You may have my head if he did it, Lord St Erth. He and I have +been in too many holes together. By Gad! My toe itches for that +fellow's butt end. + +BORRING. I'm sorry; but has he t-taken it in quite the right way? I +should have thought--hearing it s-suddenly-- + +COLFORD. Bosh! + +WINSOR. It's perfectly damnable for him. + +ST ERTH. More damnable if he did it, WINSOR. + +BORRING. The Courts are b-beastly distrustful, don't you know. + +COLFORD. His word's good enough for me. + +CANYNGE. We're as anxious to believe Dancy as you, Colford, for the +honour of the Army and the Club. + +WINSOR. Of course, he'll bring a case, when he's thought it over. + +ST ERTH. What are we to do in the meantime? + +COLFORD. If Dancy's asked to resign, you may take my resignation too. + +BORRING. I thought his wanting to f-fight him a bit screeny. + +COLFORD. Wouldn't you have wanted a shot at the brute? A law court? +Pah! + +WINSOR. Yes. What'll be his position even if he wins? + +BORRING. Damages, and a stain on his c-character. + +WINSOR. Quite so, unless they find the real thief. People always +believe the worst. + +COLFORD. [Glaring at BORRING] They do. + +CANYNGE. There is no decent way out of a thing of this sort. + +ST ERTH. No. [Rising] It leaves a bad taste. I'm sorry for young Mrs +Dancy--poor woman! + +BORRING. Are you going to play any more? + +ST ERTH. [Abruptly] No, sir. Good night to you. Canynge, can I give +you a lift? + + He goes out, followed by CANYNGE. BORRING. + +[After a slight pause] Well, I shall go and take the t-temperature of +the Club. + + He goes out. + +COLFORD. Damn that effeminate stammering chap! What can we do for +Dancy, WINSOR? + +WINSOR. Colford! [A slight pause] The General felt his coat sleeve +that night, and it was wet. + +COLFORD. Well! What proof's that? No, by George! An old school- +fellow, a brother officer, and a pal. + +WINSOR. If he did do it-- + +COLFORD. He didn't. But if he did, I'd stick to him, and see him +through it, if I could. + + WINSOR walks over to the fire, stares into it, turns round and + stares at COLFORD, who is standing motionless. + +COLFORD. Yes, by God! + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +SCENE II + [NOTE.--This should be a small set capable of being set quickly + within that of the previous scene.] + + Morning of the following day. The DANCYS' flat. In the sitting- + room of this small abode MABEL DANCY and MARGARET ORME are sitting + full face to the audience, on a couch in the centre of the room, in + front of the imaginary window. There is a fireplace, Left, with + fire burning; a door below it, Left; and a door on the Right, facing + the audience, leads to a corridor and the outer door of the flat, + which is visible. Their voices are heard in rapid exchange; then as + the curtain rises, so does MABEL. + +MABEL. But it's monstrous! + +MARGARET. Of course! [She lights a cigarette and hands the case to +MABEL, who, however, sees nothing but her own thoughts] De Levis might +just as well have pitched on me, except that I can't jump more than six +inches in these skirts. + +MABEL. It's wicked! Yesterday afternoon at the Club, did you say? +Ronny hasn't said a word to me. Why? + +MARGARET. [With a long puff of smoke] Doesn't want you bothered. + +MABEL. But----Good heavens!----Me! + +MARGARET. Haven't you found out, Mabel, that he isn't exactly +communicative? No desperate character is. + +MABEL. Ronny? + +MARGARET. Gracious! Wives are at a disadvantage, especially early on. +You've never hunted with him, my dear. I have. He takes more sudden +decisions than any man I ever knew. He's taking one now, I'll bet. + +MABEL. That beast, De Levis! I was in our room next door all the time. + +MARGARET. Was the door into Ronny's dressing-room open? + +MABEL. I don't know; I--I think it was. + +MARGARET. Well, you can say so in Court any way. Not that it matters. +Wives are liars by law. + +MABEL. [Staring down at her] What do you mean--Court? + +MARGARET. My dear, he'll have to bring an action for defamation of +character, or whatever they call it. + +MABEL. Were they talking of this last night at the WINSOR's? + +MARGARET. Well, you know a dinner-table, Mabel--Scandal is heaven-sent +at this time of year. + +MABEL. It's terrible, such a thing--terrible! + +MARGARET. [Gloomily] If only Ronny weren't known to be so broke. + +MABEL. [With her hands to her forehead] I can't realise--I simply can't. +If there's a case would it be all right afterwards? + +MARGARET. Do you remember St Offert--cards? No, you wouldn't--you were +in high frocks. Well, St Offert got damages, but he also got the hoof, +underneath. He lives in Ireland. There isn't the slightest connection, +so far as I can see, Mabel, between innocence and reputation. Look at +me! + +MABEL. We'll fight it tooth and nail! + +MARGARET. Mabel, you're pure wool, right through; everybody's sorry for +you. + +MABEL. It's for him they ought-- + +MARGARET. [Again handing the cigarette case] Do smoke, old thing. + + MABEL takes a cigarette this time, but does not light it. + +It isn't altogether simple. General Canynge was there last night. You +don't mind my being beastly frank, do you? + +MABEL. No. I want it. + +MARGARET. Well, he's all for esprit de corps and that. But he was +awfully silent. + +MABEL. I hate half-hearted friends. Loyalty comes before everything. + +MARGARET. Ye-es; but loyalties cut up against each other sometimes, you +know. + +MABEL. I must see Ronny. D'you mind if I go and try to get him on the +telephone? + +MARGARET. Rather not. + + MABEL goes out by the door Left. + +Poor kid! + + She curls herself into a corner of the sofa, as if trying to get + away from life. The bell rings. MARGARET stirs, gets up, and goes + out into the corridor, where she opens the door to LADY ADELA + WINSOR, whom she precedes into the sitting-room. + +Enter the second murderer! D'you know that child knew nothing? + +LADY A. Where is she? + +MARGARET. Telephoning. Adela, if there's going to be an action, we +shall be witnesses. I shall wear black georgette with an ecru hat. Have +you ever given evidence? + +LADY A. Never. + +MARGARET. It must be too frightfully thrilling. + +LADY A. Oh! Why did I ever ask that wretch De Levis? I used to think +him pathetic. Meg did you know----Ronald Dancy's coat was wet? The +General happened to feel it. + +MARGARET. So that's why he was so silent. + +LADY A. Yes; and after the scene in the Club yesterday he went to see +those bookmakers, and Goole--what a name!--is sure he told Dancy about +the sale. + +MARGARET. [Suddenly] I don't care. He's my third cousin. Don't you +feel you couldn't, Adela? + +LADY A. Couldn't--what? + +MARGARET. Stand for De Levis against one of ourselves? + +LADY A. That's very narrow, Meg. + +MARGARET. Oh! I know lots of splendid Jews, and I rather liked little +Ferdy; but when it comes to the point--! They all stick together; why +shouldn't we? It's in the blood. Open your jugular, and see if you +haven't got it. + +LADY A. My dear, my great grandmother was a Jewess. I'm very proud of +her. + +MARGARET. Inoculated. [Stretching herself] Prejudices, Adela--or are +they loyalties--I don't know--cris-cross--we all cut each other's throats +from the best of motives. + +LADY A. Oh! I shall remember that. Delightful! [Holding up a finger] +You got it from Bergson, Meg. Isn't he wonderful? + +MARGARET. Yes; have you ever read him? + +LADY A. Well--No. [Looking at the bedroom door] That poor child! I +quite agree. I shall tell every body it's ridiculous. You don't really +think Ronald Dancy--? + +MARGARET. I don't know, Adela. There are people who simply can't live +without danger. I'm rather like that myself. They're all right when +they're getting the D.S.O. or shooting man-eaters; but if there's no +excitement going, they'll make it--out of sheer craving. I've seen Ronny +Dancy do the maddest things for no mortal reason except the risk. He's +had a past, you know. + +LADY A. Oh! Do tell! + +MARGARET. He did splendidly in the war, of course, because it suited +him; but--just before--don't you remember--a very queer bit of riding? + +LADY A. No. + +MARGARET. Most dare-devil thing--but not quite. You must remember-- +it was awfully talked about. And then, of course, right up to his +marriage--[She lights a cigarette.] + +LADY A. Meg, you're very tantalising! + +MARGARET. A foreign-looking girl--most plummy. Oh! Ronny's got charm +--this Mabel child doesn't know in the least what she's got hold of! + +LADY A. But they're so fond of each other! + +MARGARET. That's the mistake. The General isn't mentioning the coat, is +he? + +LADY A. Oh, no! It was only to Charles. + + MABEL returns. + +MARGARET. Did you get him? + +MABEL. No; he's not at Tattersall's, nor at the Club. + + LADY ADELA rises and greets her with an air which suggests + bereavement. + +LADY A. Nobody's going to believe this, my dear. + +MABEL. [Looking straight at her] Nobody who does need come here, or +trouble to speak to us again. + +LADY A. That's what I was afraid of; you're going to be defiant. Now +don't! Just be perfectly natural. + +MABEL. So easy, isn't it? I could kill anybody who believes such a +thing. + +MARGARET. You'll want a solicitor, Mabel, Go to old Mr Jacob Twisden. + +LADY A. Yes; he's so comforting. + +MARGARET. He got my pearls back once--without loss of life. A +frightfully good fireside manner. Do get him here, Mabel, and have a +heart-to-heart talk, all three of you! + +MABEL. [Suddenly] Listen! There's Ronny! + + DANCY comes in. + +DANCY. [With a smile] Very good of you to have come. + +MARGARET. Yes. We're just going. Oh! Ronny, this is quite too-- +[But his face dries her up; and sidling past, she goes]. + +LADY A. Charles sent his-love--[Her voice dwindles on the word, and she, +too, goes]. + +DANCY. [Crossing to his wife] What have they been saying? + +MABEL. Ronny! Why didn't you tell me? + +DANCY. I wanted to see De Levis again first. + +MABEL. That wretch! How dare he? Darling! [She suddenly clasps and +kisses him. He does not return the kiss, but remains rigid in her arms, +so that she draws away and looks at him] It's hurt you awfully, I know. + +DANCY. Look here, Mabel! Apart from that muck--this is a ghastly +tame-cat sort of life. Let's cut it and get out to Nairobi. I can scare +up the money for that. + +MABEL. [Aghast] But how can we? Everybody would say-- + +RONNY. Let them! We shan't be here. + +MABEL. I couldn't bear people to think-- + +DANCY. I don't care a damn what people think monkeys and cats. I never +could stand their rotten menagerie. Besides, what does it matter how I +act; if I bring an action and get damages--if I pound him to a jelly-- +it's all no good! I can't prove it. There'll be plenty of people +unconvinced. + +MABEL. But they'll find the real thief. + +DANCY. [With a queer little smile] Will staying here help them to do +that? + +MABEL. [In a sort of agony] Oh! I couldn't--it looks like running +away. We must stay and fight it! + +DANCY. Suppose I didn't get a verdict--you never can tell. + +MABEL. But you must--I was there all the time, with the door open. + +DANCY. Was it? + +MABEL. I'm almost sure. + +DANCY. Yes. But you're my wife. + +MABEL. [Bewildered] Ronny, I don't understand--suppose I'd been accused +of stealing pearls! + +DANCY. [Wincing] I can't. + +MABEL. But I might--just as easily. What would you think of me if I ran +away from it? + +DANCY. I see. [A pause] All right! You shall have a run for your +money. I'll go and see old Twisden. + +MABEL. Let me come! [DANCY shakes his head] Why not? I can't be happy +a moment unless I'm fighting this. + + DANCY puts out his hand suddenly and grips hers. + +DANCY. You are a little brick! + +MABEL. [Pressing his hand to her breast and looking into his face] +Do you know what Margaret called you? + +RONNY. No. + +MABEL. A desperate character. + +DANCY. Ha! I'm not a tame cat, any more than she. + + The bell rings. MABEL goes out to the door and her voice is heard + saying coldly. + +MABEL. Will you wait a minute, please? Returning. It's De Levis--to +see you. [In a low voice] Let me see him alone first. Just for a +minute! Do! + +DANCY. [After a moment's silence] Go ahead! He goes out into the +bedroom. + +MABEL. [Going to the door, Right] Come in. + + DE LEVIS comes in, and stands embarrassed. + +Yes? + +DE LEVIS. [With a slight bow] Your husband, Mrs Dancy? + +MABEL. He is in. Why do you want to see him? + +DE LEVIS. He came round to my rooms just now, when I was out. He +threatened me yesterday. I don't choose him to suppose I'm afraid of +him. + +MABEL. [With a great and manifest effort at self-control] Mr De Levis, +you are robbing my husband of his good name. + +DE LEVIS. [Sincerely] I admire your trustfulness, Mrs Dancy. + +MABEL. [Staring at him] How can you do it? What do you want? What's +your motive? You can't possibly believe that my husband is a thief! + +DE LEVIS. Unfortunately. + +MABEL. How dare you? How dare you? Don't you know that I was in our +bedroom all the time with the door open? Do you accuse me too? + +DE LEVIS. No, Mrs Dancy. + +MABEL. But you do. I must have seen, I must have heard. + +DE LEVIS. A wife's memory is not very good when her husband is in +danger. + +MABEL. In other words, I'm lying. + +DE LEVIS. No. Your wish is mother to your thought, that's all. + +MABEL. [After staring again with a sort of horror, turns to get control +of herself. Then turning back to him] Mr De Levis, I appeal to you as a +gentleman to behave to us as you would we should behave to you. Withdraw +this wicked charge, and write an apology that Ronald can show. + +DE LEVIS. Mrs Dancy, I am not a gentleman, I am only a--damned Jew. +Yesterday I might possibly have withdrawn to spare you. But when my race +is insulted I have nothing to say to your husband, but as he wishes to +see me, I've come. Please let him know. + +MABEL. [Regarding him again with that look of horror--slowly] I think +what you are doing is too horrible for words. + + DE LEVIS gives her a slight bow, and as he does so DANCY comes + quickly in, Left. The two men stand with the length of the sofa + between them. MABEL, behind the sofa, turns her eyes on her + husband, who has a paper in his right hand. + +DE LEVIS. You came to see me. + +DANCY. Yes. I want you to sign this. + +DE LEVIS. I will sign nothing. + +DANCY. Let me read it: "I apologise to Captain Dancy for the reckless +and monstrous charge I made against him, and I retract every word of it." + +DE LEVIS. Not much! + +DANCY. You will sign. + +DE LEVIS. I tell you this is useless. I will sign nothing. The charge +is true; you wouldn't be playing this game if it weren't. I'm going. +You'll hardly try violence in the presence of your wife; and if you try +it anywhere else--look out for yourself. + +DANCY. Mabel, I want to speak to him alone. + +MABEL. No, no! + +DE LEVIS. Quite right, Mrs Dancy. Black and tan swashbuckling will only +make things worse for him. + +DANCY. So you shelter behind a woman, do you, you skulking cur! + + DE LEVIS takes a step, with fists clenched and eyes blazing. DANCY, + too, stands ready to spring--the moment is cut short by MABEL going + quickly to her husband. + +MABEL. Don't, Ronny. It's undignified! He isn't worth it. + + DANCY suddenly tears the paper in two, and flings it into the fire. + +DANCY. Get out of here, you swine! + + DE LEVIS stands a moment irresolute, then, turning to the door, he + opens it, stands again for a moment with a smile on his face, then + goes. MABEL crosses swiftly to the door, and shuts it as the outer + door closes. Then she stands quite still, looking at her husband- + her face expressing a sort of startled suspense. + +DANCY. [Turning and looking at her] Well! Do you agree with him? + +MABEL. What do you mean? + +DANCY. That I wouldn't be playing this game unless-- + +MABEL. Don't! You hurt me! + +DANCY. Yes. You don't know much of me, Mabel. + +MABEL. Ronny! + +DANCY. What did you say to that swine? + +MABEL. [Her face averted] That he was robbing us. [Turning to him +suddenly] Ronny--you--didn't? I'd rather know. + +DANCY. Ha! I thought that was coming. + +MABEL. [Covering her face] Oh! How horrible of me--how horrible! + +DANCY. Not at all. The thing looks bad. + +MABEL. [Dropping her hands] If I can't believe in you, who can? +[Going to him, throwing her arms round him, and looking up into his face] +Ronny! If all the world--I'd believe in you. You know I would. + +DANCY. That's all right, Mabs! That's all right! [His face, above her +head, is contorted for a moment, then hardens into a mask] Well, what +shall we do? Let's go to that lawyer--let's go-- + +MABEL. Oh! at once! + +DANCY. All right. Get your hat on. + + MABEL passes him, and goes into the bedroom, Left. DANCY, left + alone, stands quite still, staring before him. With a sudden shrug + of his shoulders he moves quickly to his hat and takes it up just as + MABEL returns, ready to go out. He opens the door; and crossing + him, she stops in the doorway, looking up with a clear and trustful + gaze as + + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + +ACT III + +SCENE I + + Three months later. Old MR JACOB TWISDEN's Room, at the offices of + Twisden & Graviter, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, is spacious, with two + large windows at back, a fine old fireplace, Right, a door below it, + and two doors, Left. Between the windows is a large table sideways + to the window wall, with a chair in the middle on the right-hand + side, a chair against the wall, and a client's chair on the left- + hand side. + + GRAVITER, TWISDEN'S much younger partner, is standing in front of + the right-hand window looking out on to the Fields, where the lamps + are being lighted, and a taxi's engine is running down below. He + turns his sanguine, shrewd face from the window towards a + grandfather dock, between the doors, Left, which is striking "four." + The door, Left Forward, is opened. + +YOUNG CLERK. [Entering] A Mr Gilman, sir, to see Mr Twisden. + +GRAVITER. By appointment? + +YOUNG CLERK. No, sir. But important, he says. + +GRAVITER. I'll see him. + + The CLERK goes. GRAVITER sits right of table. The CLERK returns, + ushering in an oldish MAN, who looks what he is, the proprietor of a + large modern grocery store. He wears a dark overcoat and carries a + pot hat. His gingery-grey moustache and mutton-chop whiskers give + him the expression of a cat. + +GRAVITER. [Sizing up his social standing] Mr Gilman? Yes. + +GILMAN. [Doubtfully] Mr Jacob Twisden? + +GRAVITER. [Smiling] His partner. Graviter my name is. + +GILMAN. Mr Twisden's not in, then? + +GRAVITER. No. He's at the Courts. They're just up; he should be in +directly. But he'll be busy. + +GILMAN. Old Mr Jacob Twisden--I've heard of him. + +GRAVITER. Most people have. + +GILMAN. It's this Dancy-De Levis case that's keepin' him at the Courts, +I suppose? + + GRAVITER nods. + +Won't be finished for a day or two? + + GRAVITER shakes his head. No. + +Astonishin' the interest taken in it. + +GRAVITER. As you say. + +GILMAN. The Smart Set, eh? This Captain Dancy got the D.S.O., didn't +he? + + GRAVITER nods. + +Sad to have a thing like that said about you. I thought he gave his +evidence well; and his wife too. Looks as if this De Levis had got some +private spite. Searchy la femme, I said to Mrs Gilman only this morning, +before I-- + +GRAVITER. By the way, sir, what is your business? + +GILMAN. Well, my business here--No, if you'll excuse me, I'd rather +wait and see old Mr Jacob Twisden. It's delicate, and I'd like his +experience. + +GRAVITER. [With a shrug] Very well; then, perhaps, you'll go in there. +[He moves towards the door, Left Back]. + +GILMAN. Thank you. [Following] You see, I've never been mixed up with +the law-- + +GRAVITER. [Opening the door] No? + +GILMAN. And I don't want to begin. When you do, you don't know where +you'll stop, do you? You see, I've only come from a sense of duty; and +--other reasons. + +GRAVITER. Not uncommon. + +GILMAN. [Producing card] This is my card. Gilman's--several branches, +but this is the 'ead. + +GRAVITER. [Scrutinising card] Exactly. + +GILMAN. Grocery--I daresay you know me; or your wife does. They say old +Mr Jacob Twisden refused a knighthood. If it's not a rude question, why +was that? + +GRAVITER. Ask him, sir; ask him. + +GILMAN. I said to my wife at the time, "He's holdin' out for a +baronetcy." + + GRAVITER Closes the door with an exasperated smile. + +YOUNG CLERK. [Opening the door, Left Forward] Mr WINSOR, sir, and Miss +Orme. + + They enter, and the CLERK withdraws. + +GRAVITER. How d'you do, Miss Orme? How do you do, WINSOR? + +WINSOR. Twisden not back, Graviter? + +GRAVITER. Not yet. + +WINSOR. Well, they've got through De Levis's witnesses. Sir Frederick +was at the very top of his form. It's looking quite well. But I hear +they've just subpoenaed Canynge after all. His evidence is to be taken +to-morrow. + +GRAVITER. Oho! + +WINSOR. I said Dancy ought to have called him. + +GRAVITER. We considered it. Sir Frederic decided that he could use him +better in cross-examination. + +WINSOR. Well! I don't know that. Can I go and see him before he gives +evidence to-morrow? + +GRAVITER. I should like to hear Mr Jacob on that, WINSOR. He'll be in +directly. + +WINSOR. They had Kentman, and Goole, the Inspector, the other bobby, my +footman, Dancy's banker, and his tailor. + +GRAVITER. Did we shake Kentman or Goole? + +WINSOR. Very little. Oh! by the way, the numbers of those two notes +were given, and I see they're published in the evening papers. I suppose +the police wanted that. I tell you what I find, Graviter--a general +feeling that there's something behind it all that doesn't come out. + +GRAVITER. The public wants it's money's worth--always does in these +Society cases; they brew so long beforehand, you see. + +WINSOR. They're looking for something lurid. + +MARGARET. When I was in the bog, I thought they were looking for me. +[Taking out her cigarette case] I suppose I mustn't smoke, Mr Graviter? + +GRAVITER. Do! + +MARGARET. Won't Mr Jacob have a fit? + +GRAVITER. Yes, but not till you've gone. + +MARGARET. Just a whiff. [She lights a cigarette]. + +WINSOR. [Suddenly] It's becoming a sort of Dreyfus case--people taking +sides quite outside the evidence. + +MARGARET. There are more of the chosen in Court every day. Mr Graviter, +have you noticed the two on the jury? + +GRAVITER. [With a smile] No; I can't say-- + +MARGARET. Oh! but quite distinctly. Don't you think they ought to have +been challenged? + +GRAVITER. De Levis might have challenged the other ten, Miss Orme. + +MARGARET. Dear me, now! I never thought of that. + + As she speaks, the door Left Forward is opened and old MR JACOB + TWISDEN comes in. He is tallish and narrow, sixty-eight years old, + grey, with narrow little whiskers curling round his narrow ears, and + a narrow bow-ribbon curling round his collar. He wears a long, + narrow-tailed coat, and strapped trousers on his narrow legs. His + nose and face are narrow, shrewd, and kindly. He has a way of + narrowing his shrewd and kindly eyes. His nose is seen to twitch + and snig. + +TWISDEN. Ah! How are you, Charles? How do you do, my dear? + +MARGARET. Dear Mr Jacob, I'm smoking. Isn't it disgusting? But they +don't allow it in Court, you know. Such a pity! The Judge might have a +hookah. Oh! wouldn't he look sweet--the darling! + +TWISDEN. [With a little, old-fashioned bow] It does not become everybody +as it becomes you, Margaret. + +MARGARET. Mr Jacob, how charming! [With a slight grimace she puts out +her cigarette]. + +GRAVITER. Man called Gilman waiting in there to see you specially. + +TWISDEN. Directly. Turn up the light, would you, Graviter? + +GRAVITER. [Turning up the light] Excuse me. + + He goes. + +WINSOR. Look here, Mr Twisden-- + +TWISDEN. Sit down; sit down, my dear. + + And he himself sits behind the table, as a cup of tea is brought in + to him by the YOUNG CLERK, with two Marie biscuits in the saucer. + +Will you have some, Margaret? + +MARGARET. No, dear Mr Jacob. + +TWISDEN. Charles? + +WINSOR. No, thanks. The door is closed. + +TWISDEN. [Dipping a biscuit in the tea] Now, then? + +WINSOR. The General knows something which on the face of it looks rather +queer. Now that he's going to be called, oughtn't Dancy to be told of +it, so that he may be ready with his explanation, in case it comes out? + +TWISDEN. [Pouring some tea into the saucer] Without knowing, I can't +tell you. + + WINSOR and MARGARET exchange looks, and TWISDEN drinks from the + saucer. MARGARET. Tell him, Charles. + +WINSOR. Well! It rained that evening at Meldon. The General happened +to put his hand on Dancy's shoulder, and it was damp. + + TWISDEN puts the saucer down and replaces the cup in it. They both + look intently at him. + +TWISDEN. I take it that General Canynge won't say anything he's not +compelled to say. + +MARGARET. No, of course; but, Mr Jacob, they might ask; they know it +rained. And he is such a George Washington. + +TWISDEN. [Toying with a pair of tortoise-shell glasses] They didn't ask +either of you. Still-no harm in your telling Dancy. + +WINSOR. I'd rather you did it, Margaret. + +MARGARET. I daresay. [She mechanically takes out her cigarette-case, +catches the lift of TWISDEN'S eyebrows, and puts it back]. + +WINSOR. Well, we'll go together. I don't want Mrs Dancy to hear. + +MARGARET. Do tell me, Mr Jacob; is he going to win? + +TWISDEN. I think so, Margaret; I think so. + +MARGARET. It'll be too--frightful if he doesn't get a verdict, after all +this. But I don't know what we shall do when it's over. I've been +sitting in that Court all these three days, watching, and it's made me +feel there's nothing we like better than seeing people skinned. Well, +bye-bye, bless you! + + TWISDEN rises and pats her hand. + +WINSOR. Half a second, Margaret. Wait for me. She nods and goes out. +Mr Twisden, what do you really think? + +TWISDEN. I am Dancy's lawyer, my dear Charles, as well as yours. + +WINSOR. Well, can I go and see Canynge? + +TWISDEN. Better not. + +WINSOR. If they get that out of him, and recall me, am I to say he told +me of it at the time? + +TWISDEN. You didn't feel the coat yourself? And Dancy wasn't present? +Then what Canynge told you is not evidence--he'll stop your being asked. + +WINSOR. Thank goodness. Good-bye! + + WINSOR goes out. + + TWISDEN, behind his table, motionless, taps his teeth with the + eyeglasses in his narrow, well-kept hand. After a long shake of his + head and a shrug of his rather high shoulders he snips, goes to the + window and opens it. Then crossing to the door, Left Back, he + throws it open and says + +TWISDEN. At your service, sir. + + GILMAN comes forth, nursing his pot hat. + +Be seated. + + TWISDEN closes the window behind him, and takes his seat. + +GILMAN. [Taking the client's chair, to the left of the table] Mr +Twisden, I believe? My name's Gilman, head of Gilman's Department +Stores. You have my card. + +TWISDEN. [Looking at the card] Yes. What can we do for you? + +GILMAN. Well, I've come to you from a sense of duty, sir, and also a +feelin' of embarrassment. [He takes from his breast pocket an evening +paper] You see, I've been followin' this Dancy case--it's a good deal +talked of in Putney--and I read this at half-past two this afternoon. To +be precise, at 2.25. [He rises and hands the paper to TWISDEN, and with +a thick gloved forefinger indicates a passage] When I read these numbers, +I 'appened to remember givin' change for a fifty-pound note--don't often +'ave one in, you know--so I went to the cash-box out of curiosity, to see +that I 'adn't got it. Well, I 'ad; and here it is. [He draws out from +his breast pocket and lays before TWISDEN a fifty-pound banknote] It was +brought in to change by a customer of mine three days ago, and he got +value for it. Now, that's a stolen note, it seems, and you'd like to +know what I did. Mind you, that customer of mine I've known 'im--well-- +eight or nine years; an Italian he is--wine salesman, and so far's I +know, a respectable man-foreign-lookin', but nothin' more. Now, this was +at 'alf-past two, and I was at my head branch at Putney, where I live. +I want you to mark the time, so as you'll see I 'aven't wasted a minute. +I took a cab and I drove straight to my customer's private residence in +Putney, where he lives with his daughter--Ricardos his name is, Paolio +Ricardos. They tell me there that he's at his business shop in the City. +So off I go in the cab again, and there I find him. Well, sir, I showed +this paper to him and I produced the note. "Here," I said, "you brought +this to me and you got value for it." Well, that man was taken aback. +If I'm a judge, Mr Twisden, he was taken aback, not to speak in a guilty +way, but he was, as you might say, flummoxed. "Now," I said to him, +"where did you get it--that's the point?" He took his time to answer, +and then he said: "Well, Mr Gilman," he said, "you know me; I am an +honourable man. I can't tell you offhand, but I am above the board." +He's foreign, you know, in his expressions. "Yes," I said, "that's all +very well," I said, "but here I've got a stolen note and you've got the +value for it. Now I tell you," I said, "what I'm going to do; I'm going +straight with this note to Mr Jacob Twisden, who's got this Dancy-De +Levis case in 'and. He's a well-known Society lawyer," I said, "of great +experience." "Oh!" he said, "that is what you do?"--funny the way he +speaks! "Then I come with you!"--And I've got him in the cab below. +I want to tell you everything before he comes up. On the way I tried to +get something out of him, but I couldn't--I could not. "This is very +awkward," I said at last. "It is, Mr Gilman," was his reply; and he +began to talk about his Sicilian claret--a very good wine, mind you; but +under the circumstances it seemed to me uncalled for. Have I made it +clear to you? + +TWISDEN. [Who has listened with extreme attention] Perfectly, Mr Gilman. +I'll send down for him. [He touches a hand-bell]. + + The YOUNG CLERK appears at the door, Left Forward. + +A gentleman in a taxi-waiting. Ask him to be so good as to step up. Oh! +and send Mr Graviter here again. + + The YOUNG CLERK goes out. + +GILMAN. As I told you, sir, I've been followin' this case. It's what +you might call piquant. And I should be very glad if it came about that +this helped Captain Dancy. I take an interest, because, to tell you the +truth, [Confidentially] I don't like--well, not to put too fine a point +upon it 'Ebrews. They work harder; they're more sober; they're honest; +and they're everywhere. I've nothing against them, but the fact is--they +get on so. + +TWISDEN. [Cocking an eye] A thorn in the flesh, Mr Gilman. + +GILMAN. Well, I prefer my own countrymen, and that's the truth of it. + + As he speaks, GRAVITER comes in by the door Left Forward. + +TWISDEN. [Pointing to the newspaper and the note] Mr Gilman has brought +this, of which he is holder for value. His customer, who changed it +three days ago, is coming up. + +GRAVITER. The fifty-pounder. I see. [His face is long and reflective]. + +YOUNG CLERK. [Entering] Mr Ricardos, sir. + + He goes out. RICARDOS is a personable, Italian-looking man in a + frock coat, with a dark moustachioed face and dark hair a little + grizzled. He looks anxious, and bows. + +TWISDEN. Mr Ricardos? My name is Jacob Twisden. My partner. [Holding +up a finger, as RICARDOS would speak] Mr Gilman has told us about this +note. You took it to him, he says, three days ago; that is, on Monday, +and received cash for it? + +RICARDOS. Yes, sare. + +TWISDEN. You were not aware that it was stolen? + +RICARDOS. [With his hand to his breast] Oh! no, sare. + +TWISDEN. You received it from--? + +RICARDOS. A minute, sare; I would weesh to explain--[With an expressive +shrug] in private. + +TWISDEN. [Nodding] Mr Gilman, your conduct has been most prompt. You +may safely leave the matter in our hands, now. Kindly let us retain +this note; and ask for my cashier as you go out and give him [He writes] +this. He will reimburse you. We will take any necessary steps +ourselves. + +GILMAN. [In slight surprise, with modest pride] Well, sir, I'm in your +'ands. I must be guided by you, with your experience. I'm glad you +think I acted rightly. + +TWISDEN. Very rightly, Mr Gilman--very rightly. [Rising] +Good afternoon! + +GILMAN. Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon, gentlemen! [To TWISDEN] +I'm sure I'm very 'appy to have made your acquaintance, sir. It's a +well-known name. + +TWISDEN. Thank you. + + GILMAN retreats, glances at RICARDOS, and turns again. + +GILMAN. I suppose there's nothing else I ought to do, in the interests +of the law? I'm a careful man. + +TWISDEN. If there is, Mr Gilman, we will let you know. We have your +address. You may make your mind easy; but don't speak of this. It might +interfere with Justice. + +GILMAN. Oh! I shouldn't dream of it. I've no wish to be mixed up in +anything conspicuous. That's not my principle at all. Good-day, +gentlemen. + + He goes. + +TWISDEN. [Seating himself] Now, sir, will you sit down. + + But RICARDOS does not sit; he stands looking uneasily across the + table at GRAVITER. + +You may speak out. + +RICARDOS. Well, Mr Tweesden and sare, this matter is very serious for +me, and very delicate--it concairns my honour. I am in a great +difficulty. + +TWISDEN. When in difficulty--complete frankness, sir. + +RICARDOS. It is a family matter, sare, I-- + +TWISDEN. Let me be frank with you. [Telling his points off on his +fingers] We have your admission that you changed this stopped note for +value. It will be our duty to inform the Bank of England that it has +been traced to you. You will have to account to them for your possession +of it. I suggest to you that it will be far better to account frankly to +us. + +RICARDOS. [Taking out a handkerchief and quite openly wiping his hands +and forehead] I received this note, sare, with others, from a gentleman, +sare, in settlement of a debt of honour, and I know nothing of where he +got them. + +TWISDEN. H'm! that is very vague. If that is all you can tell us, I'm +afraid-- + +RICARDOS. Gentlemen, this is very painful for me. It is my daughter's +good name--[He again wipes his brow]. + +TWISDEN. Come, sir, speak out! + +RICARDOS. [Desperately] The notes were a settlement to her from this +gentleman, of whom she was a great friend. + +TWISDEN. [Suddenly] I am afraid we must press you for the name of the +gentleman. + +RICARDOS. Sare, if I give it to you, and it does 'im 'arm, what will my +daughter say? This is a bad matter for me. He behaved well to her; and +she is attached to him still; sometimes she is crying yet because she +lost him. And now we betray him, perhaps, who knows? This is very +unpleasant for me. [Taking up the paper] Here it gives the number of +another note--a 'undred-pound note. I 'ave that too. [He takes a note +from his breast pocket]. + +GRAVITER. How much did he give you in all? + +RICARDOS. For my daughter's settlement one thousand pounds. I +understand he did not wish to give a cheque because of his marriage. +So I did not think anything about it being in notes, you see. + +TWISDEN. When did he give you this money? + +RICARDOS. The middle of Octobare last. + +TWISDEN. [Suddenly looking up] Mr Ricardos, was it Captain Dancy? + +RICARDOS. [Again wiping his forehead] Gentlemen, I am so fond of my +daughter. I have only the one, and no wife. + +TWISDEN. [With an effort] Yes, yes; but I must know. + +RICARDOS. Sare, if I tell you, will you give me your good word that my +daughter shall not hear of it? + +TWISDEN. So far as we are able to prevent it--certainly. + +RICARDOS. Sare, I trust you.--It was Captain Dancy. + + A long pause. + +GRAVITER [Suddenly] Were you blackmailing him? + +TWISDEN. [Holding up his hand] My partner means, did you press him for +this settlement? + +RICARDOS. I did think it my duty to my daughter to ask that he make +compensation to her. + +TWISDEN. With threats that you would tell his wife? + +RICARDOS. [With a shrug] Captain Dancy was a man of honour. He said: +"Of course I will do this." I trusted him. And a month later I did +remind him, and he gave me this money for her. I do not know where he +got it--I do not know. Gentlemen, I have invested it all on her--every +penny-except this note, for which I had the purpose to buy her a +necklace. That is the sweared truth. + +TWISDEN. I must keep this note. [He touches the hundred-pound note] +You will not speak of this to anyone. I may recognise that you were a +holder for value received--others might take a different view. Good-day, +sir. Graviter, see Mr Ricardos out, and take his address. + +RICARDOS. [Pressing his hands over the breast of his frock coat--with a +sigh] Gentlemen, I beg you--remember what I said. [With a roll of his +eyes] My daughter--I am not happee. Good-day. + + He turns and goes out slowly, Left Forward, followed by GRAVITER. + +TWISDEN. [To himself] Young Dancy! [He pins the two notes together and +places them in an envelope, then stands motionless except for his eyes +and hands, which restlessly express the disturbance within him.] + + GRAVITER returns, carefully shuts the door, and going up to him, + hands him RICARDOS' card. + +[Looking at the card] Villa Benvenuto. This will have to be verified, +but I'm afraid it's true. That man was not acting. + +GRAVITER. What's to be done about Dancy? + +TWISDEN. Can you understand a gentleman--? + +GRAVITER. I don't know, sir. The war loosened "form" all over the +place. I saw plenty of that myself. And some men have no moral sense. +From the first I've had doubts. + +TWISDEN. We can't go on with the case. + +GRAVITER. Phew! . . . [A moment's silence] Gosh! It's an awful +thing for his wife. + +TWISDEN. Yes. + +GRAVITER [Touching the envelope] Chance brought this here, sir. That +man won't talk--he's too scared. + +TWISDEN. Gilman. + +GRAVITER. Too respectable. If De Levis got those notes back, and the +rest of the money, anonymously? + +TWISDEN. But the case, Graviter; the case. + +GRAVITER. I don't believe this alters what I've been thinking. + +TWISDEN. Thought is one thing--knowledge another. There's duty to our +profession. Ours is a fine calling. On the good faith of solicitors a +very great deal hangs. [He crosses to the hearth as if warmth would help +him]. + +GRAVITER. It'll let him in for a prosecution. He came to us in +confidence. + +TWISDEN. Not as against the law. + +GRAVITER. No. I suppose not. [A pause] By Jove, I don't like losing +this case. I don't like the admission we backed such a wrong 'un. + +TWISDEN. Impossible to go on. Apart from ourselves, there's Sir +Frederic. We must disclose to him--can't let him go on in the dark. +Complete confidence between solicitor and counsel is the essence of +professional honour. + +GRAVITER. What are you going to do then, sir? + +TWISDEN. See Dancy at once. Get him on the phone. + +GRAVITER. [Taking up the telephone] Get me Captain Dancy's flat. . . . +What? . . .[To TWISDEN] Mrs Dancy is here. That's a propos with a +vengeance. Are you going to see her, sir? + +TWISDEN. [After a moment's painful hesitation] I must. + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning] Bring Mrs Dancy up. [He turns to the window]. + + MABEL DANDY is shown in, looking very pale. TWISDEN advances from + the fire, and takes her hand. + +MABEL. Major Colford's taken Ronny off in his car for the night. I +thought it would do him good. I said I'd come round in case there was +anything you wanted to say before to-morrow. + +TWISDEN. [Taken aback] Where have they gone? + +MABEL. I don't know, but he'll be home before ten o'clock to-morrow. Is +there anything? + +TWISDEN. Well, I'd like to see him before the Court sits. Send him on +here as soon as he comes. + +MABEL. [With her hand to her forehead] Oh! Mr Twisden, when will it be +over? My head's getting awful sitting in that Court. + +TWISDEN. My dear Mrs Dancy, there's no need at all for you to come down +to-morrow; take a rest and nurse your head. + +MABEL. Really and truly? + +TWISDEN. Yes; it's the very best thing you can do. + +GRAVITER turns his head, and looks at them unobserved. + +MABEL. How do you think it's going? + +TWISDEN. It went very well to-day; very well indeed. + +MABEL. You must be awfully fed up with us. + +TWISDEN. My dear young lady, that's our business. [He takes her hand]. + + MABEL's face suddenly quivers. She draws her hand away, and covers + her lips with it. + +There, there! You want a day off badly. + +MABEL. I'm so tired of--! Thank you so much for all you're doing. +Good night! Good night, Mr Graviter! + +GRAVITER. Good night, Mrs Dancy. + + MABEL goes. + +GRAVITER. D'you know, I believe she knows. + +TWISDEN. No, no! She believes in him implicitly. A staunch little +woman. Poor thing! + +GRAVITER. Hasn't that shaken you, sir? It has me. + +TWISDEN. No, no! I--I can't go on with the case. It's breaking faith. +Get Sir Frederic's chambers. + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning, and getting a reply, looks round at TWISDEN] +Yes? + +TWISDEN. Ask if I can come round and see him. + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning] Can Sir Frederic spare Mr Twisden a few minutes +now if he comes round? [Receiving reply] He's gone down to Brighton for +the night. + +TWISDEN. H'm! What hotel? + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning] What's his address? What . . . ? [To +TWISDEN] The Bedford. + +TWISDEN. I'll go down. + +GRAVITER. [Telephoning] Thank you. All right. [He rings off]. + +TWISDEN. Just look out the trains down and up early to-morrow. + + GRAVITER takes up an A B C, and TWISDEN takes up the Ricardos card. + +TWISDEN. Send to this address in Putney, verify the fact that Ricardos +has a daughter, and give me a trunk call to Brighton. Better go +yourself, Graviter. If you see her, don't say anything, of course-- +invent some excuse. [GRAVITER nods] I'll be up in time to see Dancy. + +GRAVITER. By George! I feel bad about this. + +TWISDEN. Yes. But professional honour comes first. What time is that +train? [He bends over the ABC]. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +SCENE II + + The same room on the following morning at ten-twenty-five, by the + Grandfather clock. + + The YOUNG CLERK is ushering in DANCY, whose face is perceptibly + harder than it was three months ago, like that of a man who has + lived under great restraint. + +DANCY. He wanted to see me before the Court sat. + +YOUNG CLERK. Yes, sir. Mr Twisden will see you in one minute. He had +to go out of town last night. [He prepares to open the waiting-room +door]. + +DANCY. Were you in the war? + +YOUNG CLERK. Yes. + +DANCY. How can you stick this? + +YOUNG CLERK. [With a smile] My trouble was to stick that, sir. + +DANCY. But you get no excitement from year's end to year's end. It'd +drive me mad. + +YOUNG CLERK. [Shyly] A case like this is pretty exciting. I'd give a +lot to see us win it. + +DANCY. [Staring at him] Why? What is it to you? + +YOUNG CLERK. I don't know, sir. It's--it's like football--you want your +side to win. [He opens the waiting-room door. Expanding] You see some +rum starts, too, in a lawyer's office in a quiet way. + + DANCY enters the waiting-room, and the YOUNG CLERK, shutting the + door, meets TWISDEN as he comes in, Left Forward, and takes from him + overcoat, top hat, and a small bag. + +YOUNG CLERK. Captain Dancy's waiting, sir. [He indicates the waiting- +room]. + +TWISDEN. [Narrowing his lips] Very well. Mr Graviter gone to the +Courts? + +YOUNG CLERK. Yes, sir. + +TWISDEN. Did he leave anything for me? + +YOUNG CLERK. On the table, sir. + +TWISDEN. [Taking up an envelope] Thank you. + + The CLERK goes. + + +TWISDEN. [Opening the envelope and reading] "All corroborates." H'm! +[He puts it in his pocket and takes out of an envelope the two notes, +lays them on the table, and covers them with a sheet of blotting-paper; +stands a moment preparing himself, then goes to the door of the waiting- +room, opens it, and says:] Now, Captain Dancy. Sorry to have kept you +waiting. + +DANCY. [Entering] WINSOR came to me yesterday about General Canynge's +evidence. Is that what you wanted to speak to me about? + +TWISDEN. No. It isn't that. + +DANCY. [Looking at his wrist watch] By me it's just on the half-hour, +sir. + +TWISDEN. Yes. I don't want you to go to the Court. + +DANCY. Not? + +TWISDEN. I have very serious news for you. + +DANCY. [Wincing and collecting himself] Oh! + +TWISDEN. These two notes. [He uncovers the notes] After the Court rose +yesterday we had a man called Ricardos here. [A pause] Is there any need +for me to say more? + +DANCY. [Unflinching] No. What now? + +TWISDEN. Our duty was plain; we could not go on with the case. I have +consulted Sir Frederic. He felt--he felt that he must throw up his +brief, and he will do that the moment the Court sits. Now I want to talk +to you about what you're going to do. + +DANCY. That's very good of you, considering. + +TWISDEN. I don't pretend to understand, but I imagine you may have done +this in a moment of reckless bravado, feeling, perhaps, that as you gave +the mare to De Levis, the money was by rights as much yours as his. + + Stopping DANCY, who is about to speak, with a gesture. + +To satisfy a debt of honour to this--lady; and, no doubt, to save your +wife from hearing of it from the man Ricardos. Is that so? + +DANCY. To the life. + +TWISDEN. It was mad, Captain Dancy, mad! But the question now is: What +do you owe to your wife? She doesn't dream--I suppose? + +DANCY. [With a twitching face] No. + +TWISDEN. We can't tell what the result of this collapse will be. The +police have the theft in hand. They may issue a warrant. The money +could be refunded, and the costs paid--somehow that can all be managed. +But it may not help. In any case, what end is served by your staying in +the country? You can't save your honour--that's gone. You can't save +your wife's peace of mind. If she sticks to you--do you think she will? + +DANCY. Not if she's wise. + +TWISDEN. Better go! There's a war in Morocco. + +DANCY. [With a bitter smile] Good old Morocco! + +TWISDEN. Will you go, then, at once, and leave me to break it to your +wife? + +DANCY. I don't know yet. + +TWISDEN. You must decide quickly, to catch a boat train. Many a man has +made good. You're a fine soldier. + +DANCY. There are alternatives. + +TWISDEN. Now, go straight from this office. You've a passport, I +suppose; you won't need a visa for France, and from there you can find +means to slip over. Have you got money on you? [Dancy nods]. We will +see what we can do to stop or delay proceedings. + +DANCY. It's all damned kind of you. [With difficulty] But I must think +of my wife. Give me a few minutes. + +TWISDEN. Yes, yes; go in there and think it out. + + He goes to the door, Right, and opens it. DANCY passes him and goes + out. TWISDEN rings a bell and stands waiting. + +CLERK. [Entering] Yes, sir? + +TWISDEN. Tell them to call a taxi. + +CLERK. [Who has a startled look] Yes, sir. Mr Graviter has come in, +air, with General Canynge. Are you disengaged? + +TWISDEN. Yes. + + The CLERK goes out, and almost immediately GRAVITER and CANYNGE + enter. Good-morning, General. [To GRAVITER] + +Well? + +GRAVITER. Sir Frederic got up at once and said that since the +publication of the numbers of those notes, information had reached him +which forced him to withdraw from the case. Great sensation, of course. +I left Bromley in charge. There'll be a formal verdict for the +defendant, with costs. Have you told Dancy? + +TWISDEN. Yes. He's in there deciding what he'll do. + +CANYNGE. [Grave and vexed] This is a dreadful thing, Twisden. I've +been afraid of it all along. A soldier! A gallant fellow, too. What on +earth got into him? + +TWISDEN. There's no end to human nature, General. + +GRAVITER. You can see queerer things in the papers, any day. + +CANYNGE. That poor young wife of his! WINSOR gave me a message for you, +Twisden. If money's wanted quickly to save proceedings, draw on him. +Is there anything I can do? + +TWISDEN. I've advised him to go straight off to Morocco. + +CANYNGE. I don't know that an asylum isn't the place for him. He must +be off his head at moments. That jump-crazy! He'd have got a verdict on +that alone--if they'd seen those balconies. I was looking at them when I +was down there last Sunday. Daring thing, Twisden. Very few men, on a +dark night--He risked his life twice. That's a shrewd fellow--young De +Levis. He spotted Dancy's nature. + + The YOUNG CLERK enters. + +CLERK. The taxi's here, sir. Will you see Major Colford and Miss Orme? + +TWISDEN. Graviter--No; show them in. + + The YOUNG CLERK goes. + +CANYNGE. Colford's badly cut up. + + MARGARET ORME and COLFORD enter. + +COLFORD. [Striding forward] There must be some mistake about this, Mr +Twisden. + +TWISDEN. Hssh! Dancy's in there. He's admitted it. + + Voices are subdued at once. + +COLFORD. What? [With emotion] If it were my own brother, I couldn't +feel it more. But--damn it! What right had that fellow to chuck up the +case--without letting him know, too. I came down with Dancy this +morning, and he knew nothing about it. + +TWISDEN. [Coldly] That was unfortunately unavoidable. + +COLFORD. Guilty or not, you ought to have stuck to him--it's not playing +the game, Mr Twisden. + +TWISDEN. You must allow me to judge where my duty lay, in a very hard +case. + +COLFORD. I thought a man was safe with his solicitor. + +CANYNGE. Colford, you don't understand professional etiquette. + +COLFORD. No, thank God! + +TWISDEN. When you have been as long in your profession as I have been in +mine, Major Colford, you will know that duty to your calling outweighs +duty to friend or client. + +COLFORD. But I serve the Country. + +TWISDEN. And I serve the Law, sir. + +CANYNGE. Graviter, give me a sheet of paper. I'll write a letter for +him. + +MARGARET. [Going up to TWISDEN] Dear Mr Jacob--pay De Levis. You know +my pearls--put them up the spout again. Don't let Ronny be-- + +TWISDEN. Money isn't the point, Margaret. + +MARGARET. It's ghastly! It really is. + +COLFORD. I'm going in to shake hands with him. [He starts to cross the +room]. + +TWISDEN. Wait! We want him to go straight off to Morocco. Don't upset +him. [To COLFORD and MARGARET] I think you had better go. If, a little +later, Margaret, you could go round to Mrs Dancy-- + +COLFORD. Poor little Mabel Dancy! It's perfect hell for her. + + They have not seen that DANCY has opened the door behind them. + +DANCY. It is! + + They all turn round in consternation. + +COLFORD. [With a convulsive movement] Old boy! + +DANCY. No good, Colford. [Gazing round at them] Oh! clear out--I can't +stand commiseration; and let me have some air. + + TWISDEN motions to COLFORD and MARGARET to go; and as he turns to + DANCY, they go out. GRAVITER also moves towards the door. The + GENERAL sits motionless. GRAVITER goes Out. + +TWISDEN. Well? + +DANCY. I'm going home, to clear up things with my wife. General +Canynge, I don't quite know why I did the damned thing. But I did, +and there's an end of it. + +CANYNGE. Dancy, for the honour of the Army, avoid further scandal if +you can. I've written a letter to a friend of mine in the Spanish War +Office. It will get you a job in their war. [CANYNGE closes the +envelope]. + +DANCY. Very good of you. I don't know if I can make use of it. + + CANYNGE stretches out the letter, which TWISDEN hands to DANCY, who + takes it. GRAVITER re-opens the door. + +TWISDEN. What is it? + +GRAVITER. De Levis is here. + +TWISDEN. De Levis? Can't see him. + +DANCY. Let him in! + + After a moment's hesitation TWISDEN nods, and GRAVITER goes out. + The three wait in silence with their eyes fixed on the door, the + GENERAL sitting at the table, TWISDEN by his chair, DANCY between + him and the door Right. DE LEVIS comes in and shuts the door. He + is advancing towards TWISDEN when his eyes fall on DANCY, and he + stops. + +TWISDEN. You wanted to see me? + +DE LEVIS. [Moistening his lips] Yes. I came to say that--that I +overheard--I am afraid a warrant is to be issued. I wanted you to +realise--it's not my doing. I'll give it no support. I'm content. I +don't want my money. I don't even want costs. Dancy, do you understand? + + DANCY does not answer, but looks at him with nothing alive in his + face but his eyes. + +TWISDEN. We are obliged to you, Sir. It was good of you to come. + +DE LEVIS. [With a sort of darting pride] Don't mistake me. I didn't +come because I feel Christian; I am a Jew. I will take no money--not +even that which was stolen. Give it to a charity. I'm proved right. +And now I'm done with the damned thing. Good-morning! + + He makes a little bow to CANYNGE and TWISDEN, and turns to face + DANCY, who has never moved. The two stand motionless, looking at + each other, then DE LEVIS shrugs his shoulders and walks out. When + he is gone there is a silence. + +CANYNGE. [Suddenly] You heard what he said, Dancy. You have no time to +lose. + + But DANCY does not stir. + +TWISDEN. Captain Dancy? + + Slowly, without turning his head, rather like a man in a dream, + DANCY walks across the room, and goes out. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +SCENE III + + The DANCYS' sitting-room, a few minutes later. MABEL DANCY is + sitting alone on the sofa with a newspaper on her lap; she is only + just up, and has a bottle of smelling-salts in her hand. Two or + three other newspapers are dumped on the arm of the sofa. She + topples the one off her lap and takes up another as if she couldn't + keep away from them; drops it in turn, and sits staring before her, + sniffing at the salts. The door, Right, is opened and DANCY comes + in. + +MABEL. [Utterly surprised] Ronny! Do they want me in Court? + +DANCY. No. + +MABEL. What is it, then? Why are you back? + +DANCY. Spun. + +MABEL. [Blank] Spun? What do you mean? What's spun? + +DANCY. The case. They've found out through those notes. + +MABEL. Oh! [Staring at his face] Who? + +DANCY. Me! + +MABEL. [After a moment of horrified stillness] Don't, Ronny! Oh! No! +Don't! [She buries her face in the pillows of the sofa]. + + DANCY stands looking down at her. + +DANCY. Pity you wouldn't come to Africa three months ago. + +MABEL. Why didn't you tell me then? I would have gone. + +DANCY. You wanted this case. Well, it's fallen down. + +MABEL. Oh! Why didn't I face it? But I couldn't--I had to believe. + +DANCY. And now you can't. It's the end, Mabel. + +MABEL. [Looking up at him] No. + + DANCY goes suddenly on his knees and seizes her hand. + +DANCY. Forgive me! + +MABEL. [Putting her hand on his head] Yes; oh, yes! I think I've known a +long time, really. Only--why? What made you? + +DANCY. [Getting up and speaking in jerks] It was a crazy thing to do; +but, damn it, I was only looting a looter. The money was as much mine as +his. A decent chap would have offered me half. You didn't see the brute +look at me that night at dinner as much as to say: "You blasted fool!" +It made me mad. That wasn't a bad jump-twice over. Nothing in the war +took quite such nerve. [Grimly] I rather enjoyed that evening. + +MABEL. But--money! To keep it! + +DANCY. [Sullenly] Yes, but I had a debt to pay. + +MABEL. To a woman? + +DANCY. A debt of honour--it wouldn't wait. + +MABEL. It was--it was to a woman. Ronny, don't lie any more. + +DANCY. [Grimly] Well! I wanted to save your knowing. I'd promised a +thousand. I had a letter from her father that morning, threatening to +tell you. All the same, if that tyke hadn't jeered at me for parlour +tricks!--But what's the good of all this now? [Sullenly] Well--it may +cure you of loving me. Get over that, Mab; I never was worth it--and I'm +done for! + +MABEL. The woman--have you--since--? + +DANCY. [Energetically] No! You supplanted her. But if you'd known I +was leaving a woman for you, you'd never have married me. [He walks over +to the hearth]. + + MABEL too gets up. She presses her hands to her forehead, then + walks blindly round to behind the sofa and stands looking straight + in front of her. + +MABEL. [Coldly] What has happened, exactly? + +DANCY. Sir Frederic chucked up the case. I've seen Twisden; they want +me to run for it to Morocco. + +MABEL. To the war there? + +DANCY. Yes. There's to be a warrant out. + +MABEL. A prosecution? Prison? Oh, go! Don't wait a minute! Go! + +DANCY. Blast them! + +MABEL. Oh, Ronny! Please! Please! Think what you'll want. I'll pack. +Quick! No! Don't wait to take things. Have you got money? + +DANCY. [Nodding] This'll be good-bye, then! + +MABEL. [After a moment's struggle] Oh! No! No, no! I'll follow--I'll +come out to you there. + +DANCY. D'you mean you'll stick to me? + +MABEL. Of course I'll stick to you. + +DANCY seizes her hand and puts it to his lips. The bell rings. + +MABEL. [In terror] Who's that? + + The bell rings again. DANCY moves towards the door. + +No! Let me! + + She passes him and steals out to the outer door of the flat, where + she stands listening. The bell rings again. She looks through the + slit of the letter-box. While she is gone DANCY stands quite still, + till she comes back. + +MABEL. Through the letter-bog--I can see----It's--it's police. Oh! +God! . . . Ronny! I can't bear it. + +DANCY. Heads up, Mab! Don't show the brutes! + +MABEL. Whatever happens, I'll go on loving you. If it's prison--I'll +wait. Do you understand? I don't care what you did--I don't care! I'm +just the same. I will be just the same when you come back to me. + +DANCY. [Slowly] That's not in human nature. + +MABEL. It is. It's in Me. + +DANCY. I've crocked up your life. + +MABEL. No, no! Kiss me! + + A long kiss, till the bell again startles them apart, and there is a + loud knock. + +DANCY. They'll break the door in. It's no good--we must open. Hold +them in check a little. I want a minute or two. + +MABEL. [Clasping him] Ronny! Oh, Ronny! It won't be for long--I'll be +waiting! I'll be waiting--I swear it. + +DANCY. Steady, Mab! [Putting her back from him] Now! + + He opens the bedroom door, Left, and stands waiting for her to go. + Summoning up her courage, she goes to open the outer door. A sudden + change comes over DANCY'S face; from being stony it grows almost + maniacal. + +DANCY. [Under his breath] No! No! By God! No! He goes out into the +bedroom, closing the door behind him. + + MABEL has now opened the outer door, and disclosed INSPECTOR DEDE + and the YOUNG CONSTABLE who were summoned to Meldon Court on the + night of the theft, and have been witnesses in the case. Their + voices are heard. + +MABEL. Yes? + +INSPECTOR. Captain Dancy in, madam? + +MABEL. I am not quite sure--I don't think so. + +INSPECTOR. I wish to speak to him a minute. Stay here, Grover. Now, +madam! + +MABEL. Will you come in while I see? + + She comes in, followed by the INSPECTOR. + +INSPECTOR. I should think you must be sure, madam. This is not a big +place. + +MABEL. He was changing his clothes to go out. I think he has gone. + +INSPECTOR. What's that door? + +MABEL. To our bedroom. + +INSPECTOR. [Moving towards it] He'll be in there, then. + +MABEL. What do you want, Inspector? + +INSPECTOR. [Melting] Well, madam, it's no use disguising it. I'm +exceedingly sorry, but I've a warrant for his arrest. + +MABEL. Inspector! + +INSPECTOR. I'm sure I've every sympathy for you, madam; but I must carry +out my instructions. + +MABEL. And break my heart? + +INSPECTOR. Well, madam, we're--we're not allowed to take that into +consideration. The Law's the Law. + +MABEL. Are you married? + +INSPECTOR. I am. + +MABEL. If you--your wife-- + + The INSPECTOR raises his hand, deprecating. + +[Speaking low] Just half an hour! Couldn't you? It's two lives--two +whole lives! We've only been married four months. Come back in half an +hour. It's such a little thing--nobody will know. Nobody. Won't you? + +INSPECTOR. Now, madam--you must know my duty. + +MABEL. Inspector, I beseech you--just half an hour. + +INSPECTOR. No, no--don't you try to undermine me--I'm sorry for you; +but don't you try it! [He tries the handle, then knocks at the door]. + +DANCY'S VOICE. One minute! + +INSPECTOR. It's locked. [Sharply] Is there another door to that room? +Come, now-- + + The bell rings. + +[Moving towards the door, Left; to the CONSTABLE] Who's that out there? + +CONSTABLE. A lady and gentleman, sir. + +INSPECTOR. What lady and-- Stand by, Grover! + +DANCY'S VOICE. All right! You can come in now. + + There is the noise of a lock being turned. And almost immediately + the sound of a pistol shot in the bedroom. MABEL rushes to the + door, tears it open, and disappears within, followed by the + INSPECTOR, just as MARGARET ORME and COLFORD come in from the + passage, pursued by the CONSTABLE. They, too, all hurry to the + bedroom door and disappear for a moment; then COLFORD and MARGARET + reappear, supporting MABEL, who faints as they lay her on the sofa. + COLFORD takes from her hand an envelope, and tears it open. + +COLFORD. It's addressed to me. [He reads it aloud to MARGARET in a low +voice]. + +"DEAR COLFORD,--This is the only decent thing I can do. It's too damned +unfair to her. It's only another jump. A pistol keeps faith. Look +after her, Colford--my love to her, and you." + +MARGARET gives a sort of choking sob, then, seeing the smelling bottle, +she snatches it up, and turns to revive MABEL. + +COLFORD. Leave her! The longer she's unconscious, the better. + +INSPECTOR. [Re-entering] This is a very serious business, sir. + +COLFORD. [Sternly] Yes, Inspector; you've done for my best friend. + +INSPECTOR. I, sir? He shot himself. + +COLFORD. Hara-kiri. + +INSPECTOR. Beg pardon? + +COLFORD. [He points with the letter to MABEL] For her sake, and his own. + +INSPECTOR. [Putting out his hand] I'll want that, sir. + +COLFORD. [Grimly] You shall have it read at the inquest. Till then-- +it's addressed to me, and I stick to it. + +INSPECTOR. Very well, sir. Do you want to have a look at him? + + COLFORD passes quickly into the bedroom, followed by the INSPECTOR. + MARGARET remains kneeling beside MABEL. + + COLFORD comes quickly back. MARGARET looks up at him. He stands + very still. + +COLFORD. Neatly--through the heart. + +MARGARET [wildly] Keeps faith! We've all done that. It's not enough. + +COLFORD. [Looking down at MABEL] All right, old boy! + + + The CURTAIN falls. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Feeling that such things don't happen +I've nothing against them, but the fact is--they get on so +Isn't the slightest connection between innocence and reputation +Prejudices, Adela--or are they loyalties +Scandal is heaven-sent at this time of year +There's nothing we like better than seeing people skinned +They're more sober; they're honest; and they're everywhere +We all cut each other's throats from the best of motives +Wife's memory is not very good when her husband is in danger +Wives are liars by law + + + + + + +WINDOWS + +By John Galsworthy + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +GEOFFREY MARCH....... Freelance in Literature +JOAN MARCH........... His Wife +MARY MARCH........... Their Daughter +JOHNNY MARCH......... Their Son +COOK................. Their Cook +MR BLY............... Their Window Cleaner +FAITH BLY............ His Daughter +BLUNTER.............. A Strange Young Man +MR BARNADAS.......... In Plain Clothes + + + +The action passes in Geofrey March's House, Highgate-Spring-time. + +ACT I. Thursday morning. The dining-room-after breakfast. + +ACT II. Thursday, a fortnight later. The dining-room after lunch. + +ACT III. The same day. The dining-room-after dinner. + + + + +ACT I + + The MARCH'S dining-room opens through French windows on one of those + gardens which seem infinite, till they are seen to be coterminous + with the side walls of the house, and finite at the far end, because + only the thick screen of acacias and sumachs prevents another house + from being seen. The French and other windows form practically all + the outer wall of that dining-room, and between them and the screen + of trees lies the difference between the characters of Mr and Mrs + March, with dots and dashes of Mary and Johnny thrown in. For + instance, it has been formalised by MRS MARCH but the grass has not + been cut by MR MARCH, and daffodils have sprung up there, which MRS + MARCH desires for the dining-room, but of which MR MARCH says: "For + God's sake, Joan, let them grow." About half therefore are now in a + bowl on the breakfast table, and the other half still in the grass, + in the compromise essential to lasting domesticity. A hammock under + the acacias shows that MARY lies there sometimes with her eyes on + the gleam of sunlight that comes through: and a trail in the longish + grass, bordered with cigarette ends, proves that JOHNNY tramps there + with his eyes on the ground or the stars, according. But all this + is by the way, because except for a yard or two of gravel terrace + outside the windows, it is all painted on the backcloth. The + MARCHES have been at breakfast, and the round table, covered with + blue linen, is thick with remains, seven baskets full. The room is + gifted with old oak furniture: there is a door, stage Left, Forward; + a hearth, where a fire is burning, and a high fender on which one + can sit, stage Right, Middle; and in the wall below the fireplace, + a service hatch covered with a sliding shutter, for the passage of + dishes into the adjoining pantry. Against the wall, stage Left, is + an old oak dresser, and a small writing table across the Left Back + corner. MRS MARCH still sits behind the coffee pot, making up her + daily list on tablets with a little gold pencil fastened to her + wrist. She is personable, forty-eight, trim, well-dressed, and more + matter-of-fact than seems plausible. MR MARCH is sitting in an + armchair, sideways to the windows, smoking his pipe and reading his + newspaper, with little explosions to which no one pays any + attention, because it is his daily habit. He is a fine-looking man + of fifty odd, with red-grey moustaches and hair, both of which + stiver partly by nature and partly because his hands often push them + up. MARY and JOHNNY are close to the fireplace, stage Right. + JOHNNY sits on the fender, smoking a cigarette and warming his back. + He is a commonplace looking young man, with a decided jaw, tall, + neat, soulful, who has been in the war and writes poetry. MARY is + less ordinary; you cannot tell exactly what is the matter with her. + She too is tall, a little absent, fair, and well-looking. She has a + small china dog in her hand, taken from the mantelpiece, and faces + the audience. As the curtain rises she is saying in her soft and + pleasant voice: "Well, what is the matter with us all, Johnny?" + +JOHNNY. Stuck, as we were in the trenches--like china dogs. [He points +to the ornament in her hand.] + +MR MARCH. [Into his newspaper] Damn these people! + +MARY. If there isn't an ideal left, Johnny, it's no good pretending one. + +JOHNNY. That's what I'm saying: Bankrupt! + +MARY. What do you want? + +MRS MARCH. [To herself] Mutton cutlets. Johnny, will you be in to +lunch? [JOHNNY shakes his head] Mary? [MARY nods] Geof? + +MR MARCH. [Into his paper] Swine! + +MRS MARCH. That'll be three. [To herself] Spinach. + +JOHNNY. If you'd just missed being killed for three blooming years for +no spiritual result whatever, you'd want something to bite on, Mary. + +MRS MARCH. [Jotting] Soap. + +JOHNNY. What price the little and weak, now? Freedom and self- +determination, and all that? + +MARY. Forty to one--no takers. + +JOHNNY. It doesn't seem to worry you. + +MARY. Well, what's the good? + +JOHNNY. Oh, you're a looker on, Mary. + +MR MARCH. [To his newspaper] Of all Godforsaken time-servers! + + MARY is moved so lar as to turn and look over his shoulder a minute. + +JOHNNY. Who? + +MARY. Only the Old-Un. + +MR MARCH. This is absolutely Prussian! + +MRS MARCH. Soup, lobster, chicken salad. Go to Mrs Hunt's. + +MR MARCH. And this fellow hasn't the nous to see that if ever there were +a moment when it would pay us to take risks, and be generous--My hat! +He ought to be--knighted! [Resumes his paper.] + +JOHNNY. [Muttering] You see, even Dad can't suggest chivalry without +talking of payment for it. That shows how we've sunk. + +MARY. [Contemptuously] Chivalry! Pouf! Chivalry was "off" even before +the war, Johnny. Who wants chivalry? + +JOHNNY. Of all shallow-pated humbug--that sneering at chivalry's the +worst. Civilisation--such as we've got--is built on it. + +MARY. [Airily] Then it's built on sand. [She sits beside him on the +fender.] + +JOHNNY. Sneering and smartness! Pah! + +MARY. [Roused] I'll tell you what, Johnny, it's mucking about with +chivalry that makes your poetry rotten. [JOHNNY seizes her arm and +twists it] Shut up--that hurts. [JOHNNY twists it more] You brute! +[JOHNNY lets her arm go.] + +JOHNNY. Ha! So you don't mind taking advantage of the fact that you can +cheek me with impunity, because you're weaker. You've given the whole +show away, Mary. Abolish chivalry and I'll make you sit up. + +MRS MARCH. What are you two quarrelling about? Will you bring home +cigarettes, Johnny--not Bogdogunov's Mamelukes--something more Anglo- +American. + +JOHNNY. All right! D'you want any more illustrations, Mary? + +MARY. Pig! [She has risen and stands rubbing her arm and recovering her +placidity, which is considerable.] + +MRS MARCH. Geof, can you eat preserved peaches? + +MR MARCH. Hell! What a policy! Um? + +MRS MARCH. Can you eat preserved peaches? + +MR MARCH. Yes. [To his paper] Making the country stink in the eyes of +the world! + +MARY. Nostrils, Dad, nostrils. + + MR MARCH wriggles, half hearing. + +JOHNNY. [Muttering] Shallow idiots! Thinking we can do without +chivalry! + +MRS MARCH. I'm doing my best to get a parlourmaid, to-day, Mary, but +these breakfast things won't clear themselves. + +MARY. I'll clear them, Mother. + +MRS MARCH. Good! [She gets up. At the door] Knitting silk. + + She goes out. + +JOHNNY. Mother hasn't an ounce of idealism. You might make her see +stars, but never in the singular. + +MR MARCH. [To his paper] If God doesn't open the earth soon-- + +MARY. Is there anything special, Dad? + +MR MARCH. This sulphurous government. [He drops the paper] Give me a +match, Mary. + + As soon as the paper is out of his hands he becomes a different--an + affable man. + +MARY. [Giving him a match] D'you mind writing in here this morning, +Dad? Your study hasn't been done. There's nobody but Cook. + +MR MARCH. [Lighting his pipe] Anywhere. + + He slews the armchair towards the fire. + +MARY. I'll get your things, then. + + She goes out. + +JOHNNY. [Still on the fender] What do you say, Dad? Is civilisation +built on chivalry or on self-interest? + +MR MARCH. The question is considerable, Johnny. I should say it was +built on contract, and jerry-built at that. + +JOHNNY. Yes; but why do we keep contracts when we can break them with +advantage and impunity? + +MR MARCH. But do we keep them? + +JOHNNY. Well--say we do; otherwise you'll admit there isn't such a thing +as civilisation at all. But why do we keep them? For instance, why +don't we make Mary and Mother work for us like Kafir women? We could +lick them into it. Why did we give women the vote? Why free slaves; +why anything decent for the little and weak? + +MR MARCH. Well, you might say it was convenient for people living in +communities. + +JOHNNY. I don't think it's convenient at all. I should like to make +Mary sweat. Why not jungle law, if there's nothing in chivalry. + +MR MARCH. Chivalry is altruism, Johnny. Of course it's quite a question +whether altruism isn't enlightened self-interest! + +JOHNNY. Oh! Damn! + + The lank and shirt-sleeved figure of MR BLY, with a pail of water + and cloths, has entered, and stands near the window, Left. + +BLY. Beg pardon, Mr March; d'you mind me cleanin' the winders here? + +MR MARCH. Not a bit. + +JOHNNY. Bankrupt of ideals. That's it! + + MR BLY stares at him, and puts his pail down by the window. + + MARY has entered with her father's writing materials which she puts + on a stool beside him. + +MARY. Here you are, Dad! I've filled up the ink pot. Do be careful! +Come on, Johnny! + + She looks curiously at MR BLY, who has begun operations at the + bottom of the left-hand window, and goes, followed by JOHNNY. + +MR MARCH. [Relighting his pipe and preparing his materials] What do you +think of things, Mr Bly? + +BLY. Not much, sir. + +MR MARCH. Ah! [He looks up at MR BLY, struck by his large philosophical +eyes and moth-eaten moustache] Nor I. + +BLY. I rather thought that, sir, from your writin's. + +MR MARCH. Oh! Do you read? + +BLY. I was at sea, once--formed the 'abit. + +MR MARCH. Read any of my novels? + +BLY. Not to say all through--I've read some of your articles in the +Sunday papers, though. Make you think! + +MR MARCH. I'm at sea now--don't see dry land anywhere, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [With a smile] That's right. + +MR MARCH. D'you find that the general impression? + +BLY. No. People don't think. You 'ave to 'ave some cause for thought. + +MR MARCH. Cause enough in the papers. + +BLY. It's nearer 'ome with me. I've often thought I'd like a talk with +you, sir. But I'm keepin' you. [He prepares to swab the pane.] + +MR MARCH. Not at all. I enjoy it. Anything to put off work. + +BLY. [Looking at MR MARCH, then giving a wipe at the window] What's +drink to one is drought to another. I've seen two men take a drink out +of the same can--one die of it and the other get off with a pain in his +stomach. + +MR MARCH. You've seen a lot, I expect. + +BLY. Ah! I've been on the beach in my day. [He sponges at the window] +It's given me a way o' lookin' at things that I don't find in other +people. Look at the 'Ome Office. They got no philosophy. + +MR MARCH. [Pricking his ears] What? Have you had dealings with them? + +BLY. Over the reprieve that was got up for my daughter. But I'm keepin' +you. + + He swabs at the window, but always at the same pane, so that he does + not advance at all. + +MR MARCH. Reprieve? + +BLY. Ah! She was famous at eighteen. The Sunday Mercury was full of +her, when she was in prison. + +MR MARCH. [Delicately] Dear me! I'd no idea. + +BLY. She's out now; been out a fortnight. I always say that fame's +ephemereal. But she'll never settle to that weavin'. Her head got +turned a bit. + +MR MARCH. I'm afraid I'm in the dark, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Pausing--dipping his sponge in the pail and then standing with it +in his hand] Why! Don't you remember the Bly case? They sentenced 'er +to be 'anged by the neck until she was dead, for smotherin' her baby. +She was only eighteen at the time of speakin'. + +MR MARCH. Oh! yes! An inhuman business! + +BLY. All! The jury recommended 'er to mercy. So they reduced it to +Life. + +MR MARCH. Life! Sweet Heaven! + +BLY. That's what I said; so they give her two years. I don't hold with +the Sunday Mercury, but it put that over. It's a misfortune to a girl to +be good-lookin'. + +MR MARCH. [Rumpling his hair] No, no! Dash it all! Beauty's the only +thing left worth living for. + +BLY. Well, I like to see green grass and a blue sky; but it's a mistake +in a 'uman bein'. Look at any young chap that's good-lookin'--'e's +doomed to the screen, or hair-dressin'. Same with the girls. My girl +went into an 'airdresser's at seventeen and in six months she was in +trouble. When I saw 'er with a rope round her neck, as you might say, +I said to meself: "Bly," I said, "you're responsible for this. If she +'adn't been good-lookin'--it'd never 'eve 'appened." + + During this speech MARY has come in with a tray, to clear the + breakfast, and stands unnoticed at the dining-table, arrested by + the curious words of MR BLY. + +MR MARCH. Your wife might not have thought that you were wholly the +cause, Mr Bly. + +BLY. Ah! My wife. She's passed on. But Faith--that's my girl's +name--she never was like 'er mother; there's no 'eredity in 'er on that +side. + +MR MARCH. What sort of girl is she? + +BLY. One for colour--likes a bit o' music--likes a dance, and a flower. + +MARY. [Interrupting softly] Dad, I was going to clear, but I'll come +back later. + +MR MARCH. Come here and listen to this! Here's a story to get your +blood up! How old was the baby, Mr Bly? + +BLY. Two days--'ardly worth mentionin'. They say she 'ad the +'ighstrikes after--an' when she comes to she says: "I've saved my baby's +life." An' that's true enough when you come to think what that sort o' +baby goes through as a rule; dragged up by somebody else's hand, or took +away by the Law. What can a workin' girl do with a baby born under the +rose, as they call it? Wonderful the difference money makes when it +comes to bein' outside the Law. + +MR MARCH. Right you are, Mr Bly. God's on the side of the big +battalions. + +BLY. Ah! Religion! [His eyes roll philosophically] Did you ever read +'Aigel? + +MR MARCH. Hegel, or Haekel? + +BLY. Yes; with an aitch. There's a balance abart 'im that I like. +There's no doubt the Christian religion went too far. Turn the other +cheek! What oh! An' this Anti-Christ, Neesha, what came in with the +war--he went too far in the other direction. Neither of 'em practical +men. You've got to strike a balance, and foller it. + +MR MARCH. Balance! Not much balance about us. We just run about and +jump Jim Crow. + +BLY. [With a perfunctory wipe] That's right; we 'aven't got a faith +these days. But what's the use of tellin' the Englishman to act like an +angel. He ain't either an angel or a blond beast. He's between the two, +an 'ermumphradite. Take my daughter----If I was a blond beast, I'd turn +'er out to starve; if I was an angel, I'd starve meself to learn her the +piano. I don't do either. Why? Becos my instincts tells me not. + +MR MARCH. Yes, but my doubt is whether our instincts at this moment of +the world's history are leading us up or down. + +BLY. What is up and what is down? Can you answer me that? Is it up or +down to get so soft that you can't take care of yourself? + +MR MARCH. Down. + +BLY. Well, is it up or down to get so 'ard that you can't take care of +others? + +MR MARCH. Down. + +BLY. Well, there you are! + +MARCH. Then our instincts are taking us down? + +BLY. Nao. They're strikin' a balance, unbeknownst, all the time. + +MR MARCH. You're a philosopher, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Modestly] Well, I do a bit in that line, too. In my opinion +Nature made the individual believe he's goin' to live after'e's dead just +to keep 'im livin' while 'es alive--otherwise he'd 'a died out. + +MR MARCH. Quite a thought--quite a thought! + +BLY. But I go one better than Nature. Follow your instincts is my +motto. + +MR MARCH. Excuse me, Mr Bly, I think Nature got hold of that before you. + +BLY. [Slightly chilled] Well, I'm keepin' you. + +MR MARCH. Not at all. You're a believer in conscience, or the little +voice within. When my son was very small, his mother asked him once if +he didn't hear a little voice within, telling him what was right. [MR +MARCH touches his diaphragm] And he said "I often hear little voices in +here, but they never say anything." [MR BLY cannot laugh, but he smiles] +Mary, Johnny must have been awfully like the Government. + +BLY. As a matter of fact, I've got my daughter here--in obeyance. + +MR MARCH. Where? I didn't catch. + +BLY. In the kitchen. Your Cook told me you couldn't get hold of an +'ouse parlour-maid. So I thought it was just a chance--you bein' +broadminded. + +MR MARCH. Oh! I see. What would your mother say, Mary? + +MARY. Mother would say: "Has she had experience?" + +BLY. I've told you about her experience. + +MR MARCH. Yes, but--as a parlour-maid. + +BLY. Well! She can do hair. [Observing the smile exchanged between MR +MARCH and MARY] And she's quite handy with a plate. + +MR MARCH. [Tentatively] I'm a little afraid my wife would feel-- + +BLY. You see, in this weavin' shop--all the girls 'ave 'ad to be in +trouble, otherwise they wouldn't take 'em. [Apologetically towards MARY] +It's a kind of a disorderly 'ouse without the disorders. Excusin' the +young lady's presence. + +MARY. Oh! You needn't mind me, Mr Bly. + +MR MARCH. And so you want her to come here? H'm! + +BLY. Well I remember when she was a little bit of a thing--no higher +than my knee--[He holds out his hand.] + +MR MARCH. [Suddenly moved] My God! yes. They've all been that. [To +MARY] Where's your mother? + +MARY. Gone to Mrs Hunt's. Suppose she's engaged one, Dad? + +MR MARCH. Well, it's only a month's wages. + +MARY. [Softly] She won't like it. + +MR MARCH. Well, let's see her, Mr Bly; let's see her, if you don't mind. + +BLY. Oh, I don't mind, sir, and she won't neither; she's used to bein' +inspected by now. Why! she 'ad her bumps gone over just before she came +out! + +MR MARCH. [Touched on the raw again] H'm! Too bad! Mary, go and fetch +her. + + MARY, with a doubting smile, goes out. [Rising] You might give me + the details of that trial, Mr Bly. I'll see if I can't write + something that'll make people sit up. That's the way to send Youth + to hell! How can a child who's had a rope round her neck--! + +BLY. [Who has been fumbling in his pocket, produces some yellow paper- +cuttings clipped together] Here's her references--the whole literature of +the case. And here's a letter from the chaplain in one of the prisons +sayin' she took a lot of interest in him; a nice young man, I believe. +[He suddenly brushes a tear out of his eye with the back of his hand] I +never thought I could 'a felt like I did over her bein' in prison. +Seemed a crool senseless thing--that pretty girl o' mine. All over a +baby that hadn't got used to bein' alive. Tain't as if she'd been +follerin' her instincts; why, she missed that baby something crool. + +MR MARCH. Of course, human life--even an infant's---- + +BLY. I know you've got to 'ave a close time for it. But when you come +to think how they take 'uman life in Injia and Ireland, and all those +other places, it seems 'ard to come down like a cartload o' bricks on a +bit of a girl that's been carried away by a moment's abiration. + +MR MARCH. [Who is reading the cuttings] H'm! What hypocrites we are! + +BLY. Ah! And 'oo can tell 'oo's the father? She never give us his +name. I think the better of 'er for that. + +MR MARCH. Shake hands, Mr Bly. So do I. [BLY wipes his hand, and MR +MARCH shakes it] Loyalty's loyalty--especially when we men benefit by +it. + +BLY. That's right, sir. + + MARY has returned with FAITH BLY, who stands demure and pretty on + the far side of the table, her face an embodiment of the pathetic + watchful prison faculty of adapting itself to whatever may be best + for its owner at the moment. At this moment it is obviously best + for her to look at the ground, and yet to take in the faces of MR + MARCH and MARY without their taking her face in. A moment, for all, + of considerable embarrassment. + +MR MARCH. [Suddenly] We'll, here we are! + + The remark attracts FAITH; she raises her eyes to his softly with a + little smile, and drops them again. + +So you want to be our parlour-maid? + +FAITH. Yes, please. + +MR MARCH. Well, Faith can remove mountains; but--er--I don't know if she +can clear tables. + +BLY. I've been tellin' Mr March and the young lady what you're capable +of. Show 'em what you can do with a plate. + + FAITH takes the tray from the sideboard and begins to clear the + table, mainly by the light of nature. After a glance, MR MARCH + looks out of the window and drums his fingers on the uncleaned pane. + MR BLY goes on with his cleaning. MARY, after watching from the + hearth, goes up and touches her father's arm. + +MARY. [Between him and MR BLY who is bending over his bucket, softly] +You're not watching, Dad. + +MR MARCH. It's too pointed. + +MARY. We've got to satisfy mother. + +MR MARCH. I can satisfy her better if I don't look. + +MARY. You're right. + + FAITH has paused a moment and is watching them. As MARY turns, she + resumes her operations. MARY joins, and helps her finish clearing, + while the two men converse. + +BLY. Fine weather, sir, for the time of year. + +MR MARCH. It is. The trees are growing. + +BLY. All! I wouldn't be surprised to see a change of Government before +long. I've seen 'uge trees in Brazil without any roots--seen 'em come +down with a crash. + +MR MARCH. Good image, Mr Bly. Hope you're right! + +BLY. Well, Governments! They're all the same--Butter when they're out +of power, and blood when they're in. And Lord! 'ow they do abuse other +Governments for doin' the things they do themselves. Excuse me, I'll +want her dosseer back, sir, when you've done with it. + +MR MARCH. Yes, yes. [He turns, rubbing his hands at the cleared table] +Well, that seems all right! And you can do hair? + +FAITH. Oh! Yes, I can do hair. [Again that little soft look, and smile +so carefully adjusted.] + +MR MARCH. That's important, don't you think, Mary? [MARY, accustomed to +candour, smiles dubiously.] [Brightly] Ah! And cleaning plate? What +about that? + +FAITH. Of course, if I had the opportunity-- + +MARY. You haven't--so far? + +FAITH. Only tin things. + +MR MARCH. [Feeling a certain awkwardness] Well, I daresay we can find +some for you. Can you--er--be firm on the telephone? + +FAITH. Tell them you're engaged when you're not? Oh! yes. + +MR MARCH. Excellent! Let's see, Mary, what else is there? + +MARY. Waiting, and house work. + +MR MARCH. Exactly. + +FAITH. I'm very quick. I--I'd like to come. [She looks down] I don't +care for what I'm doing now. It makes you feel your position. + +MARY. Aren't they nice to you? + +FAITH. Oh! yes--kind; but-- [She looks up] it's against my instincts. + +MR MARCH. Oh! [Quizzically] You've got a disciple, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Rolling his eyes at his daughter] Ah! but you mustn't 'ave +instincts here, you know. You've got a chance, and you must come to +stay, and do yourself credit. + +FAITH. [Adapting her face] Yes, I know, I'm very lucky. + +MR MARCH. [Deprecating thanks and moral precept] That's all right! +Only, Mr Bly, I can't absolutely answer for Mrs March. She may think-- + +MARY. There is Mother; I heard the door. + +BLY. [Taking up his pail] I quite understand, sir; I've been a married +man myself. It's very queer the way women look at things. I'll take her +away now, and come back presently and do these other winders. You can +talk it over by yourselves. But if you do see your way, sir, I shan't +forget it in an 'urry. To 'ave the responsibility of her--really, it's +dreadful. + + FAITH's face has grown sullen during this speech, but it clears up + in another little soft look at MR MARCH, as she and MR BLY go out. + +MR MARCH. Well, Mary, have I done it? + +MARY. You have, Dad. + +MR MARCH. [Running his hands through his hair] Pathetic little figure! +Such infernal inhumanity! + +MARY. How are you going to put it to mother? + +MR MARCH. Tell her the story, and pitch it strong. + +MARY. Mother's not impulsive. + +MR MARCH. We must tell her, or she'll think me mad. + +MARY. She'll do that, anyway, dear. + +MR MARCH. Here she is! Stand by! + + He runs his arm through MARY's, and they sit on the fender, at bay. + MRS MARCH enters, Left. + +MR MARCH. Well, what luck? + +MRS MARCH. None. + +MR MARCH. [Unguardedly] Good! + +MRS MARCH. What? + +MRS MARCH. [Cheerfully] Well, the fact is, Mary and I have caught one +for 'you; Mr Bly's daughter-- + +MRS MARCH. Are you out of your senses? Don't you know that she's the +girl who-- + +MR MARCH. That's it. She wants a lift. + +MRS MARCH. Geof! + +MR MARCH. Well, don't we want a maid? + +MRS MARCH. [Ineffably] Ridiculous! + +MR MARCH. We tested her, didn't we, Mary? + +MRS MARCH. [Crossing to the bell, and ringing] You'll just send for Mr +Bly and get rid of her again. + +MR MARCH. Joan, if we comfortable people can't put ourselves a little +out of the way to give a helping hand-- + +MRS MARCH. To girls who smother their babies? + +MR MARCH. Joan, I revolt. I won't be a hypocrite and a Pharisee. + +MRS MARCH. Well, for goodness sake let me be one. + +MARY. [As the door opens]. Here's Cook! + + COOK stands--sixty, stout, and comfortable with a crumpled smile. + +COOK. Did you ring, ma'am? + +MR MARCH. We're in a moral difficulty, Cook, so naturally we come to +you. + + COOK beams. + +MRS MARCH. [Impatiently] Nothing of the sort, Cook; it's a question of +common sense. + +COOK. Yes, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. That girl, Faith Bly, wants to come here as parlour-maid. +Absurd! + +MARCH. You know her story, Cook? I want to give the poor girl a chance. +Mrs March thinks it's taking chances. What do you say? + +COCK. Of course, it is a risk, sir; but there! you've got to take 'em +to get maids nowadays. If it isn't in the past, it's in the future. I +daresay I could learn 'er. + +MRS MARCH. It's not her work, Cook, it's her instincts. A girl who +smothered a baby that she oughtn't to have had-- + +MR MARCH. [Remonstrant] If she hadn't had it how could she have +smothered it? + +COOK. [Soothingly] Perhaps she's repented, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. Of course she's repented. But did you ever know repentance +change anybody, Cook? + +COOK. [Smiling] Well, generally it's a way of gettin' ready for the +next. + +MRS MARCH. Exactly. + +MR MARCH. If we never get another chance because we repent-- + +COOK. I always think of Master Johnny, ma'am, and my jam; he used to +repent so beautiful, dear little feller--such a conscience! I never +could bear to lock it away. + +MRS MARCH. Cook, you're wandering. I'm surprised at your encouraging +the idea; I really am. + + Cook plaits her hands. + +MR MARCH. Cook's been in the family longer than I have--haven't you, +Cook? [COOK beams] She knows much more about a girl like that than we +do. + +COOK. We had a girl like her, I remember, in your dear mother's time, +Mr Geoffrey. + +MR MARCH. How did she turn out? + +COOK. Oh! She didn't. + +MRS MARCH. There! + +MR MARCH. Well, I can't bear behaving like everybody else. Don't you +think we might give her a chance, Cook? + +COOK. My 'eart says yes, ma'am. + +MR MARCH. Ha! + +COOK. And my 'ead says no, sir. + +MRS MARCH. Yes! + +MR MARCH. Strike your balance, Cook. + + COOK involuntarily draws her joined hands sharply in upon her + amplitude. + +Well? . . . I didn't catch the little voice within. + +COOK. Ask Master Johnny, sir; he's been in the war. + +MR MARCH. [To MARY] Get Johnny. + + MARY goes out. + +MRS MARCH. What on earth has the war to do with it? + +COOK. The things he tells me, ma'am, is too wonderful for words. He's +'ad to do with prisoners and generals, every sort of 'orror. + +MR MARCH. Cook's quite right. The war destroyed all our ideals and +probably created the baby. + +MRS MARCH. It didn't smother it; or condemn the girl. + +MR MARCH. [Running his hands through his hair] The more I think of +that--! [He turns away.] + +MRS MARCH. [Indicating her husband] You see, Cook, that's the mood in +which I have to engage a parlour-maid. What am I to do with your master? + +COOK. It's an 'ealthy rage, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. I'm tired of being the only sober person in this house. + +COOK. [Reproachfully] Oh! ma'am, I never touch a drop. + +MRS MARCH. I didn't mean anything of that sort. But they do break out +so. + +COOK. Not Master Johnny. + +MRS MARCH. Johnny! He's the worst of all. His poetry is nothing but +one long explosion. + +MR MARCH. [Coming from the window] I say We ought to have faith and +jump. + +MRS MARCH. If we do have Faith, we shall jump. + +COOK. [Blankly] Of course, in the Bible they 'ad faith, and just look +what it did to them! + +MR MARCH. I mean faith in human instincts, human nature, Cook. + +COOK. [Scandalised] Oh! no, sir, not human nature; I never let that get +the upper hand. + +MR MARCH. You talk to Mr Bly. He's a remarkable man. + +COOK. I do, sir, every fortnight when he does the kitchen windows. + +MR MARCH. Well, doesn't he impress you? + +COOK. Ah! When he's got a drop o' stout in 'im--Oh! dear! [She smiles +placidly.] + + JOHNNY has come in. + +MR MARCH. Well, Johnny, has Mary told you? + +MRS MARCH. [Looking at his face] Now, my dear boy, don't be hasty and +foolish! + +JOHNNY. Of course you ought to take her, Mother. + +MRS MARCH. [Fixing him] Have you seen her, Johnny? + +JOHNNY. She's in the hall, poor little devil, waiting for her sentence. + +MRS MARCH. There are plenty of other chances, Johnny. Why on earth +should we--? + +JOHNNY. Mother, it's just an instance. When something comes along that +takes a bit of doing--Give it to the other chap! + +MR MARCH. Bravo, Johnny! + +MRS MARCH. [Drily] Let me see, which of us will have to put up with her +shortcomings--Johnny or I? + +MARY. She looks quick, Mother. + +MRS MARCH. Girls pick up all sorts of things in prison. We can hardly +expect her to be honest. You don't mind that, I suppose? + +JOHNNY. It's a chance to make something decent out of her. + +MRS MARCH. I can't understand this passion for vicarious heroism, +Johnny. + +JOHNNY. Vicarious! + +MRS MARCH. Well, where do you come in? You'll make poems about the +injustice of the Law. Your father will use her in a novel. She'll wear +Mary's blouses, and everybody will be happy--except Cook and me. + +MR MARCH. Hang it all, Joan, you might be the Great Public itself! + +MRS MARCH. I am--get all the kicks and none of the ha'pence. + +JOHNNY. We'll all help you. + +MRS MARCH. For Heaven's sake--no, Johnny! + +MR MARCH. Well, make up your mind! + +MRS MARCH. It was made up long ago. + +JOHNNY. [Gloomily] The more I see of things the more disgusting they +seem. I don't see what we're living for. All right. Chuck the girl +out, and let's go rooting along with our noses in the dirt. + +MR MARCH. Steady, Johnny! + +JOHNNY. Well, Dad, there was one thing anyway we learned out there-- +When a chap was in a hole--to pull him out, even at a risk. + +MRS MARCH. There are people who--the moment you pull them out--jump in +again. + +MARY. We can't tell till we've tried, Mother. + +COOK. It's wonderful the difference good food'll make, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. Well, you're all against me. Have it your own way, and when +you regret it--remember me! + +MR MARCH. We will--we will! That's settled, then. Bring her in and +tell her. We'll go on to the terrace. + +He goes out through the window, followed by JOHNNY. + +MARY. [Opening the door] Come in, please. + + FAITH enters and stands beside COOK, close to the door. MARY goes + out. + +MRS MARCH. [Matter of fact in defeat as in victory] You want to come to +us, I hear. + +FAITH. Yes. + +MRS MARCH. And you don't know much? + +FAITH. No. + +COOK. [Softly] Say ma'am, dearie. + +MRS MARCH. Cook is going to do her best for you. Are you going to do +yours for us? + +FAITH. [With a quick look up] Yes--ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. Can you begin at once? + +FAITH. Yes. + +MRS MARCH. Well, then, Cook will show you where things are kept, and how +to lay the table and that. Your wages will be thirty until we see where +we are. Every other Sunday, and Thursday afternoon. What about dresses? + +FAITH. [Looking at her dress] I've only got this--I had it before, of +course, it hasn't been worn. + +MRS MARCH. Very neat. But I meant for the house. You've no money, I +suppose? + +FAITH. Only one pound thirteen, ma'am. + +MRS MARCH. We shall have to find you some dresses, then. Cook will take +you to-morrow to Needham's. You needn't wear a cap unless you like. +Well, I hope you'll get on. I'll leave you with Cook now. + + After one look at the girl, who is standing motionless, she goes + out. + +FAITH. [With a jerk, as if coming out of plaster of Paris] She's never +been in prison! + +COOK. [Comfortably] Well, my dear, we can't all of us go everywhere, +'owever 'ard we try! + + She is standing back to the dresser, and turns to it, opening the + right-hand drawer. + +COOK. Now, 'ere's the wine. The master likes 'is glass. And 'ere's the +spirits in the tantaliser 'tisn't ever kept locked, in case Master Johnny +should bring a friend in. Have you noticed Master Johnny? [FAITH nods] +Ah! He's a dear boy; and wonderful high-principled since he's been in +the war. He'll come to me sometimes and say: "Cook, we're all going to +the devil!" They think 'ighly of 'im as a poet. He spoke up for you +beautiful. + +FAITH. Oh! He spoke up for me? + +COOK. Well, of course they had to talk you over. + +FAITH. I wonder if they think I've got feelings. + +COOK. [Regarding her moody, pretty face] Why! We all have feelin's! + +FAITH. Not below three hundred a year. + +COOK. [Scandalised] Dear, dear! Where were you educated? + +FAITH. I wasn't. + +COOK. Tt! Well--it's wonderful what a change there is in girls since my +young days [Pulling out a drawer] Here's the napkins. You change the +master's every day at least because of his moustache and the others every +two days, but always clean ones Sundays. Did you keep Sundays in there? + +FAITH. [Smiling] Yes. Longer chapel. + +COOK. It'll be a nice change for you, here. They don't go to Church; +they're agnosticals. [Patting her shoulder] How old are you? + +FAITH. Twenty. + +COOK. Think of that--and such a life! Now, dearie, I'm your friend. +Let the present bury the past--as the sayin' is. Forget all about +yourself, and you'll be a different girl in no time. + +FAITH. Do you want to be a different woman? + + COOK is taken flat aback by so sudden a revelation of the pharisaism + of which she has not been conscious. + +COOK. Well! You are sharp! [Opening another dresser drawer] Here's +the vinegar! And here's the sweets, and [rather anxiously] you mustn't +eat them. + +FAITH. I wasn't in for theft. + +COOK. [Shocked at such rudimentary exposure of her natural misgivings] +No, no! But girls have appetites. + +FAITH. They didn't get much chance where I've been. + +COOK. Ah! You must tell me all about it. Did you have adventures? + +FAITH. There isn't such a thing in a prison. + +COOK. You don't say! Why, in the books they're escapin' all the time. +But books is books; I've always said so. How were the men? + +FAITH. Never saw a man--only a chaplain. + +COOK. Dear, dear! They must be quite fresh to you, then! How long was +it? + +FAITH. Two years. + +COOK. And never a day out? What did you do all the time? Did they +learn you anything? + +FAITH. Weaving. That's why I hate it. + +COOK. Tell me about your poor little baby. I'm sure you meant it for +the best. + +FAITH. [Sardonically] Yes; I was afraid they'd make it a ward in +Chancery. + +COOK. Oh! dear--what things do come into your head! Why! No one can +take a baby from its mother. + +FAITH. Except the Law. + +COOK. Tt! Tt! Well! Here's the pickled onions. Miss Mary loves 'em! +Now then, let me see you lay the cloth. + + She takes a tablecloth out, hands it to FAITH, and while the girl + begins to unfold the cloth she crosses to the service shutter. + +And here's where we pass the dishes through into the pantry. + + The door is opened, and MRS MARCH'S voice says: "Cook--a minute!" + +[Preparing to go] Salt cellars one at each corner--four, and the peppers. +[From the door] Now the decanters. Oh! you'll soon get on. [MRS MARCH +"Cook!"] Yes, ma'am. + + She goes. FAITH, left alone, stands motionless, biting her pretty + lip, her eyes mutinous. Hearing footsteps, she looks up. MR BLY, + with his pail and cloths, appears outside. + +BLY. [Preparing to work, while FAITH prepares to set the salt cellars] +So you've got it! You never know your luck. Up to-day and down to- +morrow. I'll 'ave a glass over this to-night. What d'you get? FAITH. +Thirty. + +BLY. It's not the market price, still, you're not the market article. +Now, put a good heart into it and get to know your job; you'll find Cook +full o' philosophy if you treat her right--she can make a dumplin' with +anybody. But look 'ere; you confine yourself to the ladies! + +FAITH. I don't want your advice, father. + +BLY. I know parents are out of date; still, I've put up with a lot on +your account, so gimme a bit of me own back. + +FAITH. I don't know whether I shall like this. I've been shut up so +long. I want to see some life. + +BLY. Well, that's natural. But I want you to do well. I suppose you'll +be comin' 'ome to fetch your things to-night? + +FAITH. Yes. + +BLY. I'll have a flower for you. What'd you like--daffydils? + +FAITH. No; one with a scent to it. + +BLY. I'll ask at Mrs Bean's round the corner. + + She'll pick 'em out from what's over. Never 'ad much nose for a + flower meself. I often thought you'd like a flower when you was + in prison. + +FAITH. [A little touched] Did you? Did you really? + +BLY. Ah! I suppose I've drunk more glasses over your bein' in there +than over anything that ever 'appened to me. Why! I couldn't relish the +war for it! And I suppose you 'ad none to relish. Well, it's over. So, +put an 'eart into it. + +FAITH. I'll try. + +BLY. "There's compensation for everything," 'Aigel says. At least, if +it wasn't 'Aigel it was one o' the others. I'll move on to the study +now. Ah! He's got some winders there lookin' right over the country. +And a wonderful lot o' books, if you feel inclined for a read one of +these days. + +COOK'S Voice. Faith! + + FAITH sets down the salt cellar in her hand, puts her tongue out a + very little, and goes out into the hall. MR BLY is gathering up his + pail and cloths when MR MARCH enters at the window. + +MR MARCH. So it's fixed up, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Raising himself] I'd like to shake your 'and, sir. [They shake +hands] It's a great weight off my mind. + +MR MARCH. It's rather a weight on my wife's, I'm afraid. But we must +hope for the best. The country wants rain, but--I doubt if we shall get +it with this Government. + +BLY. Ah! We want the good old times-when you could depend on the +seasons. The further you look back the more dependable the times get; +'ave you noticed that, sir? + +MR MARCH. [Suddenly] Suppose they'd hanged your daughter, Mr Bly. What +would you have done? + +BLY. Well, to be quite frank, I should 'ave got drunk on it. + +MR MARCH. Public opinion's always in advance of the Law. I think your +daughter's a most pathetic little figure. + +BLY. Her looks are against her. I never found a man that didn't. + +MR MARCH. [A little disconcerted] Well, we'll try and give her a good +show here. + +BLY. [Taking up his pail] I'm greatly obliged; she'll appreciate +anything you can do for her. [He moves to the door and pauses there to +say] Fact is--her winders wants cleanin', she 'ad a dusty time in there. + +MR MARCH. I'm sure she had. + + MR BLY passes out, and MR MARCH busies himself in gathering up his + writing things preparatory to seeking his study. While he is so + engaged FAITH comes in. Glancing at him, she resumes her placing of + the decanters, as JOHNNY enters by the window, and comes down to his + father by the hearth. + +JOHNNY. [Privately] If you haven't begun your morning, Dad, you might +just tell me what you think of these verses. + + He puts a sheet of notepaper before his father, who takes it and + begins to con over the verses thereon, while JOHNNY looks carefully + at his nails. + +MR MARCH. Er--I--I like the last line awfully, Johnny. + +JOHNNY. [Gloomily] What about the other eleven? + +MR MARCH. [Tentatively] Well--old man, I--er--think perhaps it'd be +stronger if they were out. + +JOHNNY. Good God! + + He takes back the sheet of paper, clutches his brow, and crosses to + the door. As he passes FAITH, she looks up at him with eyes full of + expression. JOHNNY catches the look, jibs ever so little, and goes + out. + +COOK'S VOICE. [Through the door, which is still ajar] Faith! + + FAITH puts the decanters on the table, and goes quickly out. + +MR MARCH. [Who has seen this little by-play--to himself--in a voice of +dismay] Oh! oh! I wonder! + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II + + A fortnight later in the MARCH'S dining-room; a day of violent + April showers. Lunch is over and the table littered with, remains-- + twelve baskets full. + + MR MARCH and MARY have lingered. MR MARCH is standing by the hearth + where a fire is burning, filling a fountain pen. MARY sits at the + table opposite, pecking at a walnut. + +MR MARCH. [Examining his fingers] What it is to have an inky present! +Suffer with me, Mary! + +MARY. "Weep ye no more, sad Fountains! + Why need ye flow so fast?" + +MR MARCH. [Pocketing his pen] Coming with me to the British Museum? +I want to have a look at the Assyrian reliefs. + +MARY. Dad, have you noticed Johnny? + +MR MARCH. I have. + +MARY. Then only Mother hasn't. + +MR MARCH. I've always found your mother extremely good at seeming not to +notice things, Mary. + +MARY. Faith! She's got on very fast this fortnight. + +MR MARCH. The glad eye, Mary. I got it that first morning. + +MARY. You, Dad? + +MR MARCH. No, no! Johnny got it, and I got him getting it. + +MARY. What are you going to do about it? + +MR MARCH. What does one do with a glad eye that belongs to some one +else? + +MARY. [Laughing] No. But, seriously, Dad, Johnny's not like you and +me. Why not speak to Mr Bly? + +MR MARCH. Mr Bly's eyes are not glad. + +MARY. Dad! Do be serious! Johnny's capable of anything except a sense +of humour. + +MR MARCH. The girl's past makes it impossible to say anything to her. + +MARY. Well, I warn you. Johnny's very queer just now; he's in the "lose +the world to save your soul" mood. It really is too bad of that girl. +After all, we did what most people wouldn't. + +MR MARCH. Come! Get your hat on, Mary, or we shan't make the Tube +before the next shower. + +MARY. [Going to the door] Something must be done. + +MR MARCH. As you say, something--Ah! Mr Bly! + + MR BLY, in precisely the same case as a fortnight ago, with his pail + and cloths, is coming in. + +BLY. Afternoon, sir! Shall I be disturbing you if I do the winders +here? + +MR MARCH. Not at all. + + MR BLY crosses to the windows. + +MARY. [Pointing to MR BLY's back] Try! + +BLY. Showery, sir. + +MR MARCH. Ah! + +BLY. Very tryin' for winders. [Resting] My daughter givin' +satisfaction, I hope? + +MR MARCH. [With difficulty] Er--in her work, I believe, coming on well. +But the question is, Mr Bly, do--er--any of us ever really give +satisfaction except to ourselves? + +BLY. [Taking it as an invitation to his philosophical vein] Ah! that's +one as goes to the roots of 'uman nature. There's a lot of disposition +in all of us. And what I always say is: One man's disposition is another +man's indisposition. + +MR MARCH. By George! Just hits the mark. + +BLY. [Filling his sponge] Question is: How far are you to give rein to +your disposition? When I was in Durban, Natal, I knew a man who had the +biggest disposition I ever come across. 'E struck 'is wife, 'e smoked +opium, 'e was a liar, 'e gave all the rein 'e could, and yet withal one +of the pleasantest men I ever met. + +MR MARCH. Perhaps in giving rein he didn't strike you. + +BLY. [With a big wipe, following his thought] He said to me once: +"Joe," he said, "if I was to hold meself in, I should be a devil." +There's where you get it. Policemen, priests, prisoners. Cab'net +Ministers, any one who leads an unnatural life, see how it twists 'em. +You can't suppress a thing without it swellin' you up in another place. + +MR MARCH. And the moral of that is--? + +BLY. Follow your instincts. You see--if I'm not keepin' you--now that +we ain't got no faith, as we were sayin' the other day, no Ten +Commandments in black an' white--we've just got to be 'uman bein's-- +raisin' Cain, and havin' feelin' hearts. What's the use of all these +lofty ideas that you can't live up to? Liberty, Fraternity, Equality, +Democracy--see what comes o' fightin' for 'em! 'Ere we are-wipin' out +the lot. We thought they was fixed stars; they was only comets--hot air. +No; trust 'uman nature, I say, and follow your instincts. + +MR MARCH. We were talking of your daughter--I--I-- + +BLY. There's a case in point. Her instincts was starved goin' on for +three years, because, mind you, they kept her hangin' about in prison +months before they tried her. I read your article, and I thought to +meself after I'd finished: Which would I feel smallest--if I was--the +Judge, the Jury, or the 'Ome Secretary? It was a treat, that article! +They ought to abolish that in'uman "To be hanged by the neck until she is +dead." It's my belief they only keep it because it's poetry; that and +the wigs--they're hard up for a bit of beauty in the Courts of Law. +Excuse my 'and, sir; I do thank you for that article. + + He extends his wiped hand, which MR MARCH shakes with the feeling + that he is always shaking Mr. BLY's hand. + +MR MARCH. But, apropos of your daughter, Mr Bly. I suppose none of us +ever change our natures. + +BLY. [Again responding to the appeal that he senses to his philosophical +vein] Ah! but 'oo can see what our natures are? Why, I've known people +that could see nothin' but theirselves and their own families, unless +they was drunk. At my daughter's trial, I see right into the lawyers, +judge and all. There she was, hub of the whole thing, and all they could +see of her was 'ow far she affected 'em personally--one tryin' to get 'er +guilty, the other tryin' to get 'er off, and the judge summin' 'er up +cold-blooded. + +MR MARCH. But that's what they're paid for, Mr Bly. + +BLY. Ah! But which of 'em was thinkin' "'Ere's a little bit o' warm +life on its own. 'Ere's a little dancin' creature. What's she feelin', +wot's 'er complaint?"--impersonal-like. I like to see a man do a bit of +speculatin', with his mind off of 'imself, for once. + +MR MARCH. "The man that hath not speculation in his soul." + +BLY. That's right, sir. When I see a mangy cat or a dog that's lost, or +a fellow-creature down on his luck, I always try to put meself in his +place. It's a weakness I've got. + +MR MARCH. [Warmly] A deuced good one. Shake-- + + He checks himself, but MR BLY has wiped his hand and extended it. + + While the shake is in progress MARY returns, and, having seen it to + a safe conclusion, speaks. + +MARY. Coming, Dad? + +MR MARCH. Excuse me, Mr Bly, I must away. + + He goes towards the door, and BLY dips his sponge. + +MARY. [In a low voice] Well? + +MR MARCH. Mr Bly is like all the greater men I know--he can't listen. + +MARY. But you were shaking-- + +MR MARCH. Yes; it's a weakness we have--every three minutes. + +MARY. [Bubbling] Dad--Silly! + +MR MARCH. Very! + + As they go out MR BLY pauses in his labours to catch, as it were, + a philosophical reflection. He resumes the wiping of a pane, while + quietly, behind him, FAITH comes in with a tray. She is dressed now + in lilac-coloured linen, without a cap, and looks prettier than + ever. She puts the tray down on the sideboard with a clap that + attracts her father's attention, and stands contemplating the debris + on the table. + +BLY. Winders! There they are! Clean, dirty! All sorts--All round yer! +Winders! + +FAITH. [With disgust] Food! + +BLY. Ah! Food and winders! That's life! + +FAITH. Eight times a day four times for them and four times for us. +I hate food! + + She puts a chocolate into her mouth. + +BLY. 'Ave some philosophy. I might just as well hate me winders. + +FAITH. Well! + + She begins to clear. + +BLY. [Regarding her] Look 'ere, my girl! Don't you forget that there +ain't many winders in London out o' which they look as philosophical as +these here. Beggars can't be choosers. + +FAITH. [Sullenly] Oh! Don't go on at me! + +BLY. They spoiled your disposition in that place, I'm afraid. + +FAITH. Try it, and see what they do with yours. + +BLY. Well, I may come to it yet. + +FAITH. You'll get no windows to look out of there; a little bit of a +thing with bars to it, and lucky if it's not thick glass. [Standing +still and gazing past MR BLY] No sun, no trees, no faces--people don't +pass in the sky, not even angels. + +BLY. Ah! But you shouldn't brood over it. I knew a man in Valpiraso +that 'ad spent 'arf 'is life in prison-a jolly feller; I forget what +'e'd done, somethin' bloody. I want to see you like him. Aren't you +happy here? + +FAITH. It's right enough, so long as I get out. + +BLY. This Mr March--he's like all these novelwriters--thinks 'e knows +'uman nature, but of course 'e don't. Still, I can talk to 'im--got an +open mind, and hates the Gover'ment. That's the two great things. Mrs +March, so far as I see, 'as got her head screwed on much tighter. + +FAITH. She has. + +BLY. What's the young man like? He's a long feller. + +FAITH. Johnny? [With a shrug and a little smile] Johnny. + +BLY. Well, that gives a very good idea of him. They say 'es a poet; +does 'e leave 'em about? + +FAITH. I've seen one or two. + +BLY. What's their tone? + +FAITH. All about the condition of the world; and the moon. + +BLY. Ah! Depressin'. And the young lady? + + FAITH shrugs her shoulders. + +Um--'ts what I thought. She 'asn't moved much with the times. She +thinks she 'as, but she 'asn't. Well, they seem a pleasant family. +Leave you to yourself. 'Ow's Cook? + +FAITH. Not much company. + +BLY. More body than mind? Still, you get out, don't you? + +FAITH. [With a slow smile] Yes. [She gives a sudden little twirl, and +puts her hands up to her hair before the mirror] My afternoon to-day. +It's fine in the streets, after-being in there. + +BLY. Well! Don't follow your instincts too much, that's all! I must +get on to the drawin' room now. There's a shower comin'. +[Philosophically] It's 'ardly worth while to do these winders. You +clean 'em, and they're dirty again in no time. It's like life. And +people talk o' progress. What a sooperstition! Of course there ain't +progress; it's a world-without-end affair. You've got to make up your +mind to it, and not be discouraged. All this depression comes from +'avin' 'igh 'opes. 'Ave low 'opes, and you'll be all right. + +He takes up his pail and cloths and moves out through the windows. + + FAITH puts another chocolate into her mouth, and taking up a flower, + twirls round with it held to her nose, and looks at herself in the + glass over the hearth. She is still looking at herself when she + sees in the mirror a reflection of JOHNNY, who has come in. Her + face grows just a little scared, as if she had caught the eye of a + warder peering through the peep-hole of her cell door, then brazens, + and slowly sweetens as she turns round to him. + +JOHNNY. Sorry! [He has a pipe in his hand and wears a Norfolk jacket] +Fond of flowers? + +FAITH. Yes. [She puts back the flower] Ever so! + +JOHNNY. Stick to it. Put it in your hair; it'll look jolly. How do you +like it here? + +FAITH. It's quiet. + +JOHNNY. Ha! I wonder if you've got the feeling I have. We've both had +hell, you know; I had three years of it, out there, and you've had three +years of it here. The feeling that you can't catch up; can't live fast +enough to get even. + + FAITH nods. + +Nothing's big enough; nothing's worth while enough--is it? + +FAITH. I don't know. I know I'd like to bite. She draws her lips back. + +JOHNNY. Ah! Tell me all about your beastly time; it'll do you good. +You and I are different from anybody else in this house. We've lived +they've just vegetated. Come on; tell me! + + FAITH, who up to now has looked on him as a young male, stares at + him for the first time without sex in her eyes. + +FAITH. I can't. We didn't talk in there, you know. + +JOHNNY. Were you fond of the chap who--? + +FAITH. No. Yes. I suppose I was--once. + +JOHNNY. He must have been rather a swine. + +FAITH. He's dead. + +JOHNNY. Sorry! Oh, sorry! + +FAITH. I've forgotten all that. + +JOHNNY. Beastly things, babies; and absolutely unnecessary in the +present state of the world. + +FAITH. [With a faint smile] My baby wasn't beastly; but I--I got upset. + +JOHNNY. Well, I should think so! + +FAITH. My friend in the manicure came and told me about hers when I was +lying in the hospital. She couldn't have it with her, so it got +neglected and died. + +JOHNNY. Um! I believe that's quite common. + +FAITH. And she told me about another girl--the Law took her baby from +her. And after she was gone, I--got all worked up-- [She hesitates, then +goes swiftly on] And I looked at mine; it was asleep just here, quite +close. I just put out my arm like that, over its face--quite soft-- +I didn't hurt it. I didn't really. [She suddenly swallows, and her lips +quiver] I didn't feel anything under my arm. And--and a beast of a nurse +came on me, and said "You've smothered your baby, you wretched girl!" + +I didn't want to kill it--I only wanted to save it from living. And when +I looked at it, I went off screaming. + +JOHNNY. I nearly screamed when I saved my first German from living. I +never felt the same again. They say the human race has got to go on, but +I say they've first got to prove that the human race wants to. Would you +rather be alive or dead? + +FAITH. Alive. + +JOHNNY. But would you have in prison? + +FAITH. I don't know. You can't tell anything in there. [With sudden +vehemence] I wish I had my baby back, though. It was mine; and I--I +don't like thinking about it. + +JOHNNY. I know. I hate to think about anything I've killed, really. +At least, I should--but it's better not to think. + +FAITH. I could have killed that judge. + +JOHNNY. Did he come the heavy father? That's what I can't stand. When +they jaw a chap and hang him afterwards. Or was he one of the joking +ones? + +FAITH. I've sat in my cell and cried all night--night after night, +I have. [With a little laugh] I cried all the softness out of me. + +JOHNNY. You never believed they were going to hang you, did you? + +FAITH. I didn't care if they did--not then. + +JOHNNY. [With a reflective grunt] You had a much worse time than I. You +were lonely-- + +FAITH. Have you been in a prison, ever? + +JOHNNY. No, thank God! + +FAITH. It's awfully clean. + +JOHNNY. You bet. + +FAITH. And it's stone cold. It turns your heart. + +JOHNNY. Ah! Did you ever see a stalactite? + +FAITH. What's that? + +JOHNNY. In caves. The water drops like tears, and each drop has some +sort of salt, and leaves it behind till there's just a long salt +petrified drip hanging from the roof. + +FAITH. Ah! [Staring at him] I used to stand behind my door. I'd stand +there sometimes I don't know how long. I'd listen and listen--the noises +are all hollow in a prison. You'd think you'd get used to being shut up, +but I never did. + + JOHNNY utters a deep grunt. + +It's awful the feeling you get here-so tight and chokey. People who are +free don't know what it's like to be shut up. If I'd had a proper window +even--When you can see things living, it makes you feel alive. + +JOHNNY. [Catching her arm] We'll make you feel alive again. + + FAITH stares at him; sex comes back to her eyes. She looks down. + +I bet you used to enjoy life, before. + +FAITH. [Clasping her hands] Oh! yes, I did. And I love getting out +now. I've got a fr-- [She checks herself] The streets are beautiful, +aren't they? Do you know Orleens Street? + +JOHNNY. [Doubtful] No-o. . . . Where? + +FAITH. At the corner out of the Regent. That's where we had our shop. +I liked the hair-dressing. We had fun. Perhaps I've seen you before. +Did you ever come in there? + +JOHNNY. No. + +FAITH. I'd go back there; only they wouldn't take me--I'm too +conspicuous now. + +JOHNNY. I expect you're well out of that. + +FAITH. [With a sigh] But I did like it. I felt free. We had an hour +off in the middle of the day; you could go where you liked; and then, +after hours--I love the streets at night--all lighted. Olga--that's one +of the other girls--and I used to walk about for hours. That's life! +Fancy! I never saw a street for more than two years. Didn't you miss +them in the war? + +JOHNNY. I missed grass and trees more--the trees! All burnt, and +splintered. Gah! + +FAITH. Yes, I like trees too; anything beautiful, you know. I think the +parks are lovely--but they might let you pick the flowers. But the +lights are best, really--they make you feel happy. And music--I love an +organ. There was one used to come and play outside the prison--before I +was tried. It sounded so far away and lovely. If I could 'ave met the +man that played that organ, I'd have kissed him. D'you think he did it +on purpose? + +JOHNNY. He would have, if he'd been me. + + He says it unconsciously, but FAITH is instantly conscious of the + implication. + +FAITH. He'd rather have had pennies, though. It's all earning; working +and earning. I wish I were like the flowers. [She twirls the dower in +her hand] Flowers don't work, and they don't get put in prison. + +JOHNNY. [Putting his arm round her] Never mind! Cheer up! You're only +a kid. You'll have a good time yet. + + FAITH leans against him, as it were indifferently, clearly expecting + him to kiss her, but he doesn't. + +FAITH. When I was a little girl I had a cake covered with sugar. I ate +the sugar all off and then I didn't want the cake--not much. + +JOHNNY. [Suddenly, removing his arm] Gosh! If I could write a poem that +would show everybody what was in the heart of everybody else--! + +FAITH. It'd be too long for the papers, wouldn't it? + +JOHNNY. It'd be too strong. + +FAITH. Besides, you don't know. + + Her eyelids go up. + +JOHNNY. [Staring at her] I could tell what's in you now. + +FAITH. What? + +JOHNNY. You feel like a flower that's been picked. + +FAITH's smile is enigmatic. + +FAITH. [Suddenly] Why do you go on about me so? + +JOHNNY. Because you're weak--little and weak. [Breaking out again] Damn +it! We went into the war to save the little and weak; at least we said +so; and look at us now! The bottom's out of all that. [Bitterly] There +isn't a faith or an illusion left. Look here! I want to help you. + +FAITH. [Surprisingly] My baby was little and weak. + +JOHNNY. You never meant--You didn't do it for your own advantage. + +FAITH. It didn't know it was alive. [Suddenly] D'you think I'm pretty? + +JOHNNY. As pie. + +FAITH. Then you'd better keep away, hadn't you? + +JOHNNY. Why? + +FAITH. You might want a bite. + +JOHNNY. Oh! I can trust myself. + +FAITH. [Turning to the window, through which can be seen the darkening +of a shower] It's raining. Father says windows never stay clean. + + They stand dose together, unaware that COOK has thrown up the + service shutter, to see why the clearing takes so long. Her + astounded head and shoulders pass into view just as FAITH suddenly + puts up her face. JOHNNY'S lips hesitate, then move towards her + forehead. But her face shifts, and they find themselves upon her + lips. Once there, the emphasis cannot help but be considerable. + COOK'S mouth falls open. + +COOK. Oh! + + She closes the shutter, vanishing. + +FAITH. What was that? + +JOHNNY. Nothing. [Breaking away] Look here! I didn't mean--I oughtn't +to have--Please forget it! + +FAITH. [With a little smile] Didn't you like it? + +JOHNNY. Yes--that's just it. I didn't mean to It won't do. + +FAITH. Why not? + +JOHNNY. No, no! It's just the opposite of what--No, no! + + He goes to the door, wrenches it open and goes out. + + FAITH, still with that little half-mocking, half-contented smile, + resumes the clearing of the table. She is interrupted by the + entrance through the French windows of MR MARCH and MARY, struggling + with one small wet umbrella. + +MARY. [Feeling his sleeve] Go and change, Dad. + +MR MARCH. Women's shoes! We could have made the Tube but for your +shoes. + +MARY. It was your cold feet, not mine, dear. [Looking at FAITH and +nudging him] Now! + + She goes towards the door, turns to look at FAITH still clearing the + table, and goes out. + +MR MARCH. [In front of the hearth] Nasty spring weather, Faith. + +FAITH. [Still in the mood of the kiss] Yes, Sir. + +MR MARCH. [Sotto voce] "In the spring a young man's fancy." I--I wanted +to say something to you in a friendly way. + + FAITH regards him as he struggles on. Because I feel very friendly + towards you. + +FAITH. Yes. + +MR MARCH. So you won't take what I say in bad part? + +FAITH. No. + +MR MARCH. After what you've been through, any man with a sense of +chivalry-- + + FAITH gives a little shrug. + +Yes, I know--but we don't all support the Government. + +FAITH. I don't know anything about the Government. + +MR MARCH. [Side-tracked on to his hobby] Ah I forgot. You saw no +newspapers. But you ought to pick up the threads now. What paper does +Cook take? + +FAITH. "COSY." + +MR MARCH. "Cosy"? I don't seem-- What are its politics? + +FAITH. It hasn't any--only funny bits, and fashions. It's full of +corsets. + +MR MARCH. What does Cook want with corsets? + +FAITH. She likes to think she looks like that. + +MR MARCH. By George! Cook an idealist! Let's see!--er--I was speaking +of chivalry. My son, you know--er--my son has got it. + +FAITH. Badly? + +MR MARCH. [Suddenly alive to the fact that she is playing with him] I +started by being sorry for you. + +FAITH. Aren't you, any more? + +MR MARCH. Look here, my child! + +FAITH looks up at him. [Protectingly] We want to do our best for you. +Now, don't spoil it by-- Well, you know! + +FAITH. [Suddenly] Suppose you'd been stuffed away in a hole for years! + +MR MARCH. [Side-tracked again] Just what your father said. The more I +see of Mr Bly, the more wise I think him. + +FAITH. About other people. + +MR MARCH. What sort of bringing up did he give you? + + FAITH smiles wryly and shrugs her shoulders. + +MR MARCH. H'm! Here comes the sun again! + +FAITH. [Taking up the flower which is lying on the table] May I have +this flower? + +MR MARCH. Of Course. You can always take what flowers you like--that +is--if--er-- + +FAITH. If Mrs March isn't about? + +MR MARCH. I meant, if it doesn't spoil the look of the table. We must +all be artists in our professions, mustn't we? + +FAITH. My profession was cutting hair. I would like to cut yours. + + MR MARCH'S hands instinctively go up to it. + +MR MARCH. You mightn't think it, but I'm talking to you seriously. + +FAITH. I was, too. + +MR MARCH. [Out of his depth] Well! I got wet; I must go and change. + + FAITH follows him with her eyes as he goes out, and resumes the + clearing of the table. She has paused and is again smelling at the + flower when she hears the door, and quickly resumes her work. It is + MRS MARCH, who comes in and goes to the writing table, Left Back, + without looking at FAITH. She sits there writing a cheque, while + FAITH goes on clearing. + +MRS MARCH. [Suddenly, in an unruffled voice] I have made your cheque out +for four pounds. It's rather more than the fortnight, and a month's +notice. There'll be a cab for you in an hour's time. Can you be ready +by then? + +FAITH. [Astonished] What for--ma'am? + +MRS MARCH. You don't suit. + +FAITH. Why? + +MRS MARCH. Do you wish for the reason? + +FAITH. [Breathless] Yes. + +MRS MARCH. Cook saw you just now. + +FAITH. [Blankly] Oh! I didn't mean her to. + +MRS MARCH. Obviously. + +FAITH. I--I-- + +MRS MARCH. Now go and pack up your things. + +FAITH. He asked me to be a friend to him. He said he was lonely here. + +MRS MARCH. Don't be ridiculous. Cook saw you kissing him with p--p-- + +FAITH. [Quickly] Not with pep. + +MRS MARCH. I was going to say "passion." Now, go quietly. + +FAITH. Where am I to go? + +MRS MARCH. You will have four pounds, and you can get another place. + +FAITH. How? + +MRS MARCH. That's hardly my affair. + +FAITH. [Tossing her head] All right! + +MRS MARCH. I'll speak to your father, if he isn't gone. + +FAITH. Why do you send me away--just for a kiss! What's a kiss? + +MRS MARCH. That will do. + +FAITH. [Desperately] He wanted to--to save me. + +MRS MARCH. You know perfectly well people can only save themselves. + +FAITH. I don't care for your son; I've got a young--[She checks herself] +I--I'll leave your son alone, if he leaves me. + + MRS MARCH rings the bell on the table. + +[Desolately] Well? [She moves towards the door. Suddenly holding out +the flower] Mr March gave me that flower; would you like it back? + +MRS MARCH. Don't be absurd! If you want more money till you get a +place, let me know. + +FAITH. I won't trouble you. + + She goes out. + + MRS MARCH goes to the window and drums her fingers on the pane. + + COOK enters. + +MRS MARCH. Cook, if Mr Bly's still here, I want to see him. Oh! And +it's three now. Have a cab at four o'clock. + +COOK. [Almost tearful] Oh, ma'am--anybody but Master Johnny, and I'd +'ave been a deaf an' dummy. Poor girl! She's not responsive, I daresay. +Suppose I was to speak to Master Johnny? + +MRS MARCH. No, no, Cook! Where's Mr Bly? + +COOK. He's done his windows; he's just waiting for his money. + +MRS MARCH. Then get him; and take that tray. + +COOK. I remember the master kissin' me, when he was a boy. But then he +never meant anything; so different from Master Johnny. Master Johnny +takes things to 'eart. + +MRS MARCH. Just so, Cook. + +COOK. There's not an ounce of vice in 'im. It's all his goodness, dear +little feller. + +MRS MARCH. That's the danger, with a girl like that. + +COOK. It's eatin' hearty all of a sudden that's made her poptious. But +there, ma'am, try her again. Master Johnny'll be so cut up! + +MRS MARCH. No playing with fire, Cook. We were foolish to let her come. + +COOK. Oh! dear, he will be angry with me. If you hadn't been in the +kitchen and heard me, ma'am, I'd ha' let it pass. + +MRS MARCH. That would have been very wrong of you. + +COOK. Ah! But I'd do a lot of wrong things for Master Johnny. There's +always some one you'll go wrong for! + +MRS MARCH. Well, get Mr Bly; and take that tray, there's a good soul. + + COOK goes out with the tray; and while waiting, MRS MARCH finishes + clearing the table. She has not quite finished when MR BLY enters. + +BLY. Your service, ma'am! + +MRS MARCH. [With embarrassment] I'm very sorry, Mr Bly, but +circumstances over which I have no control-- + +BLY. [With deprecation] Ah! we all has them. The winders ought to be +done once a week now the Spring's on 'em. + +MRS MARCH. No, no; it's your daughter-- + +BLY. [Deeply] Not been given' way to'er instincts, I do trust. + +MRS MARCH. Yes. I've just had to say good-bye to her. + +BLY. [Very blank] Nothing to do with property, I hope? + +MRS MARCH. No, no! Giddiness with my son. It's impossible; she really +must learn. + +BLY. Oh! but 'oo's to learn 'er? Couldn't you learn your son instead? + +MRS MARCH. No. My son is very high-minded. + +BLY. [Dubiously] I see. How am I goin' to get over this? Shall I tell +you what I think, ma'am? + +MRS MARCH. I'm afraid it'll be no good. + +BLY. That's it. Character's born, not made. You can clean yer winders +and clean 'em, but that don't change the colour of the glass. My father +would have given her a good hidin', but I shan't. Why not? Because my +glass ain't as thick as his. I see through it; I see my girl's +temptations, I see what she is--likes a bit o' life, likes a flower, an' +a dance. She's a natural morganatic. + +MRS MARCH. A what? + +BLY. Nothin'll ever make her regular. Mr March'll understand how I +feel. Poor girl! In the mud again. Well, we must keep smilin'. [His +face is as long as his arm] The poor 'ave their troubles, there's no +doubt. [He turns to go] There's nothin' can save her but money, so as +she can do as she likes. Then she wouldn't want to do it. + +MRS MARCH. I'm very sorry, but there it is. + +BLY. And I thought she was goin' to be a success here. Fact is, you +can't see anything till it 'appens. There's winders all round, but you +can't see. Follow your instincts--it's the only way. + +MRS MARCH. It hasn't helped your daughter. + +BLY. I was speakin' philosophic! Well, I'll go 'ome now, and prepare +meself for the worst. + +MRS MARCH. Has Cook given you your money? + +BLY. She 'as. + + He goes out gloomily and is nearly overthrown in the doorway by the + violent entry of JOHNNY. + +JOHNNY. What's this, Mother? I won't have it--it's pre-war. + +MRS MARCH. [Indicating MR BLY] Johnny! + + JOHNNY waves BLY out of the room and doses the door. + +JOHNNY. I won't have her go. She's a pathetic little creature. + +MRS MARCH. [Unruffled] She's a minx. + +JOHNNY. Mother! + +MRS MARCH. Now, Johnny, be sensible. She's a very pretty girl, and this +is my house. + +JOHNNY. Of course you think the worst. Trust anyone who wasn't in the +war for that! + +MRS MARCH. I don't think either the better or the worse. Kisses are +kisses! + +JOHNNY. Mother, you're like the papers--you put in all the vice and +leave out all the virtue, and call that human nature. The kiss was an +accident that I bitterly regret. + +MRS MARCH. Johnny, how can you? + +JOHNNY. Dash it! You know what I mean. I regret it with my--my +conscience. It shan't occur again. + +MRS MARCH. Till next time. + +JOHNNY. Mother, you make me despair. You're so matter-of-fact, you +never give one credit for a pure ideal. + +MRS MARCH. I know where ideals lead. + +JOHNNY. Where? + +MRS MARCH. Into the soup. And the purer they are, the hotter the soup. + +JOHNNY. And you married father! + +MRS MARCH. I did. + +JOHNNY. Well, that girl is not to be chucked out; won't have her on my +chest. + +MRS MARCH. That's why she's going, Johnny. + +JOHNNY. She is not. Look at me! + + MRS MARCH looks at him from across the dining-table, for he has + marched up to it, till they are staring at each other across the now + cleared rosewood. + +MRS MARCH. How are you going to stop her? + +JOHNNY. Oh, I'll stop her right enough. If I stuck it out in Hell, I +can stick it out in Highgate. + +MRS MARCH. Johnny, listen. I've watched this girl; and I don't watch +what I want to see--like your father--I watch what is. She's not a hard +case--yet; but she will be. + +JOHNNY. And why? Because all you matter-of-fact people make up your +minds to it. What earthly chance has she had? + +MRS MARCH. She's a baggage. There are such things, you know, Johnny. + +JOHNNY. She's a little creature who went down in the scrum and has been +kicked about ever since. + +MRS MARCH. I'll give her money, if you'll keep her at arm's length. + +JOHNNY. I call that revolting. What she wants is the human touch. + +MRS MARCH. I've not a doubt of it. + + JOHNNY rises in disgust. + +Johnny, what is the use of wrapping the thing up in catchwords? Human +touch! A young man like you never saved a girl like her. It's as +fantastic as--as Tolstoi's "Resurrection." + +JOHNNY. Tolstoi was the most truthful writer that ever lived. + +MRS MARCH. Tolstoi was a Russian--always proving that what isn't, is. + +JOHNNY. Russians are charitable, anyway, and see into other people's +souls. + +MRS MARCH. That's why they're hopeless. + +JOHNNY. Well--for cynicism-- + +MRS MARCH. It's at least as important, Johnny, to see into ourselves as +into other people. I've been trying to make your father understand that +ever since we married. He'd be such a good writer if he did--he wouldn't +write at all. + +JOHNNY. Father has imagination. + +MRS MARCH. And no business to meddle with practical affairs. You and he +always ride in front of the hounds. Do you remember when the war broke +out, how angry you were with me because I said we were fighting from a +sense of self-preservation? Well, weren't we? + +JOHNNY. That's what I'm doing now, anyway. + +MRS MARCH. Saving this girl, to save yourself? + +JOHNNY. I must have something decent to do sometimes. There isn't an +ideal left. + +MRS MARCH. If you knew how tired I am of the word, Johnny! + +JOHNNY. There are thousands who feel like me--that the bottom's out of +everything. It sickens me that anything in the least generous should get +sat on by all you people who haven't risked your lives. + +MRS MARCH. [With a smile] I risked mine when you were born, Johnny. +You were always very difficult. + +JOHNNY. That girl's been telling me--I can see the whole thing. + +MRS MARCH. The fact that she suffered doesn't alter her nature; or the +danger to you and us. + +JOHNNY. There is no danger--I told her I didn't mean it. + +MRS MARCH. And she smiled? Didn't she? + +JOHNNY. I--I don't know. + +MRS MARCH. If you were ordinary, Johnny, it would be the girl's look- +out. But you're not, and I'm not going to have you in the trap she'll +set for you. + +JOHNNY. You think she's a designing minx. I tell you she's got no more +design in her than a rabbit. She's just at the mercy of anything. + +MRS MARCH. That's the trap. She'll play on your feelings, and you'll be +caught. + +JOHNNY. I'm not a baby. + +MRS MARCH. You are--and she'll smother you. + +JOHNNY. How beastly women are to each other! + +MRS MARCH. We know ourselves, you see. The girl's father realises +perfectly what she is. + +JOHNNY. Mr Bly is a dodderer. And she's got no mother. I'll bet you've +never realised the life girls who get outed lead. I've seen them--I saw +them in France. It gives one the horrors. + +MRS MARCH. I can imagine it. But no girl gets "outed," as you call it, +unless she's predisposed that way. + +JOHNNY. That's all you know of the pressure of life. + +MRS MARCH. Excuse me, Johnny. I worked three years among factory girls, +and I know how they manage to resist things when they've got stuff in +them. + +JOHNNY. Yes, I know what you mean by stuff--good hard self-preservative +instinct. Why should the wretched girl who hasn't got that be turned +down? She wants protection all the more. + +MRS MARCH. I've offered to help with money till she gets a place. + +JOHNNY. And you know she won't take it. She's got that much stuff in +her. This place is her only chance. I appeal to you, Mother--please +tell her not to go. + +MRS MARCH. I shall not, Johnny. + +JOHNNY. [Turning abruptly] Then we know where we are. + +MRS MARCH. I know where you'll be before a week's over. + +JOHNNY. Where? + +MRS MARCH. In her arms. + +JOHNNY. [From the door, grimly] If I am, I'll have the right to be! + +MRS MARCH. Johnny! [But he is gone.] + + MRS MARCH follows to call him back, but is met by MARY. + +MARY. So you've tumbled, Mother? + +MRS MARCH. I should think I have! Johnny is making an idiot of himself +about that girl. + +MARY. He's got the best intentions. + +MRS MARCH. It's all your father. What can one expect when your father +carries on like a lunatic over his paper every morning? + +MARY. Father must have opinions of his own. + +MRS MARCH. He has only one: Whatever is, is wrong. + +MARY. He can't help being intellectual, Mother. + +MRS MARCH. If he would only learn that the value of a sentiment is the +amount of sacrifice you are prepared to make for it! + +MARY. Yes: I read that in "The Times" yesterday. Father's much safer +than Johnny. Johnny isn't safe at all; he might make a sacrifice any +day. What were they doing? + +MRS MARCH. Cook caught them kissing. + +MARY. How truly horrible! + + As she speaks MR MARCH comes in. + +MR MARCH. I met Johnny using the most poetic language. What's happened? + +MRS MARCH. He and that girl. Johnny's talking nonsense about wanting to +save her. I've told her to pack up. + +MR MARCH. Isn't that rather coercive, Joan? + +MRS MARCH. Do you approve of Johnny getting entangled with this girl? + +MR MARCH. No. I was only saying to Mary-- + +MRS MARCH. Oh! You were! + +MR MARCH. But I can quite see why Johnny-- + +MRS MARCH. The Government, I suppose! + +MR MARCH. Certainlv. + +MRS MARCH. Well, perhaps you'll get us out of the mess you've got us +into. + +MR MARCH. Where's the girl? + +MRS MARCH. In her room-packing. + +MR MARCH. We must devise means-- + + MRS MARCH smiles. + +The first thing is to see into them--and find out exactly-- + +MRS MARCH. Heavens! Are you going to have them X-rayed? They haven't +got chest trouble, Geof. + +MR MARCH. They may have heart trouble. It's no good being hasty, Joan. + +MRS MARCH. Oh! For a man that can't see an inch into human nature, give +me a--psychological novelist! + +MR MARCH. [With dignity] Mary, go and see where Johnny is. + +MARY. Do you want him here? + +MR MARCH. Yes. + +MARY. [Dubiously] Well--if I can. + + She goes out. A silence, during which the MARCHES look at each + other by those turns which characterise exasperated domesticity. + +MRS MARCH. If she doesn't go, Johnny must. Are you going to turn him +out? + +MR MARCH. Of course not. We must reason with him. + +MRS MARCH. Reason with young people whose lips were glued together half +an hour ago! Why ever did you force me to take this girl? + +MR MARCH. [Ruefully] One can't always resist a kindly impulse, Joan. +What does Mr Bly say to it? + +MRS MARCH. Mr Bly? "Follow your instincts "and then complains of his +daughter for following them. + +MR MARCH. The man's a philosopher. + +MRS MARCH. Before we know where we are, we shall be having Johnny +married to that girl. + +MR MARCH. Nonsense! + +MRS MARCH. Oh, Geof! Whenever you're faced with reality, you say +"Nonsense!" You know Johnny's got chivalry on the brain. + + MARY comes in. + +MARY. He's at the top of the servants' staircase; outside her room. +He's sitting in an armchair, with its back to her door. + +MR MARCH. Good Lord! Direct action! + +MARY. He's got his pipe, a pound of chocolate, three volumes of "Monte +Cristo," and his old concertina. He says it's better than the trenches. + +MR MARCH. My hat! Johnny's made a joke. This is serious. + +MARY. Nobody can get up, and she can't get down. He says he'll stay +there till all's blue, and it's no use either of you coming unless mother +caves in. + +MR MARCH. I wonder if Cook could do anything with him? + +MARY. She's tried. He told her to go to hell. + +MR MARCH. I Say! And what did Cook--? + +MARY. She's gone. + +MR MARCH. Tt! tt! This is very awkward. + + COOK enters through the door which MARY has left open. + +MR MARCH. Ah, Cook! You're back, then? What's to be done? + +MRS MARCH. [With a laugh] We must devise means! + +COOK. Oh, ma'am, it does remind me so of the tantrums he used to get +into, dear little feller! Smiles with recollection. + +MRS MARCH. [Sharply] You're not to take him up anything to eat, Cook! + +COOK. Oh! But Master Johnny does get so hungry. It'll drive him wild, +ma'am. Just a Snack now and then! + +MRS MARCH. No, Cook. Mind--that's flat! + +COOK. Aren't I to feed Faith, ma'am? + +MR MARCH. Gad! It wants it! + +MRS MARCH. Johnny must come down to earth. + +COOK. Ah! I remember how he used to fall down when he was little--he +would go about with his head in the air. But he always picked himself up +like a little man. + +MARY. Listen! + + They all listen. The distant sounds of a concertina being played + with fury drift in through the open door. + +COOK. Don't it sound 'eavenly! + +The concertina utters a long wail. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + +The MARCH'S dining-room on the same evening at the end of a perfunctory +dinner. MRS MARCH sits at the dining-table with her back to the windows, +MARY opposite the hearth, and MR MARCH with his back to it. JOHNNY is +not present. Silence and gloom. + +MR MARCH. We always seem to be eating. + +MRS MARCH. You've eaten nothing. + +MR MARCH. [Pouring himself out a liqueur glass of brandy but not +drinking it] It's humiliating to think we can't exist without. +[Relapses into gloom.] + +MRS MARCH. Mary, pass him the walnuts. + +MARY. I was thinking of taking them up to Johnny. + +MR MARCH. [Looking at his watch] He's been there six hours; even he +can't live on faith. + +MRS MARCH. If Johnny wants to make a martyr of himself, I can't help it. + +MARY. How many days are you going to let him sit up there, Mother? + +MR MARCH. [Glancing at MRS MARCH] I never in my life knew anything so +ridiculous. + +MRS MARCH. Give me a little glass of brandy, Geof. + +MR MARCH. Good! That's the first step towards seeing reason. + + He pours brandy into a liqueur glass from the decanter which stands + between them. MRS MARCH puts the brandy to her lips and makes a + little face, then swallows it down manfully. MARY gets up with the + walnuts and goes. Silence. Gloom. + +MRS MARCH. Horrid stuff! + +MR MARCH. Haven't you begun to see that your policy's hopeless, Joan? +Come! Tell the girl she can stay. If we make Johnny feel victorious--we +can deal with him. It's just personal pride--the curse of this world. +Both you and Johnny are as stubborn as mules. + +MRS MARCH. Human nature is stubborn, Geof. That's what you easy--going +people never see. + + MR MARCH gets up, vexed, and goes to the fireplace. + +MR MARCH. [Turning] Well! This goes further than you think. It +involves Johnny's affection and respect for you. + + MRS MARCH nervously refills the little brandy glass, and again + empties it, with a grimacing shudder. + +MR MARCH. [Noticing] That's better! You'll begin to see things +presently. + + MARY re-enters. + +MARY. He's been digging himself in. He's put a screen across the head +of the stairs, and got Cook's blankets. He's going to sleep there. + +MRS MARCH. Did he take the walnuts? + +MARY. No; he passed them in to her. He says he's on hunger strike. But +he's eaten all the chocolate and smoked himself sick. He's having the +time of his life, mother. + +MR MARCH. There you are! + +MRS MARCH. Wait till this time to-morrow. + +MARY. Cook's been up again. He wouldn't let her pass. She'll have to +sleep in the spare room. + +MR MARCH. I say! + +MARY. And he's got the books out of her room. + +MRS MARCH. D'you know what they are? "The Scarlet Pimpernel," +"The Wide Wide World," and the Bible. + +MARY. Johnny likes romance. + + She crosses to the fire. + +MR MARCH. [In a low voice] Are you going to leave him up there with the +girl and that inflammatory literature, all night? Where's your common +sense, Joan? + + MRS MARCH starts up, presses her hand over her brow, and sits down + again. She is stumped. + +[With consideration for her defeat] Have another tot! [He pours it out] +Let Mary go up with a flag of truce, and ask them both to come down for a +thorough discussion of the whole thing, on condition that they can go up +again if we don't come to terms. + +MRS MARCH. Very well! I'm quite willing to meet him. I hate +quarrelling with Johnny. + +MR MARCH. Good! I'll go myself. [He goes out.] + +MARY. Mother, this isn't a coal strike; don't discuss it for three hours +and then at the end ask Johnny and the girl to do precisely what you're +asking them to do now. + +MRS MARCH. Why should I? + +MARY. Because it's so usual. Do fix on half-way at once. + +MRS MARCH. There is no half-way. + +MARY. Well, for goodness sake think of a plan which will make you both +look victorious. That's always done in the end. Why not let her stay, +and make Johnny promise only to see her in the presence of a third party? + +MRS MARCH. Because she'd see him every day while he was looking for the +third party. She'd help him look for it. + +MARY. [With a gurgle] Mother, I'd no idea you were so--French. + +MRS MARCH. It seems to me you none of you have any idea what I am. + +MARY. Well, do remember that there'll be no publicity to make either of +you look small. You can have Peace with Honour, whatever you decide. +[Listening] There they are! Now, Mother, don't be logical! It's so +feminine. + + As the door opens, MRS MARCH nervously fortifies herself with the + third little glass of brandy. She remains seated. MARY is on her + right. + + MR MARCH leads into the room and stands next his daughter, then + FAITH in hat and coat to the left of the table, and JOHNNY, pale but + determined, last. Assembled thus, in a half fan, of which MRS MARCH + is the apex, so to speak, they are all extremely embarrassed, and no + wonder. + + Suddenly MARY gives a little gurgle. + +JOHNNY. You'd think it funnier if you'd just come out of prison and were +going to be chucked out of your job, on to the world again. + +FAITH. I didn't want to come down here. If I'm to go I want to go at +once. And if I'm not, it's my evening out, please. + + She moves towards the door. JOHNNY takes her by the shoulders. + +JOHNNY. Stand still, and leave it to me. [FAITH looks up at him, +hypnotized by his determination] Now, mother, I've come down at your +request to discuss this; are you ready to keep her? Otherwise up we go +again. + +MR MARCH. That's not the way to go to work, Johnny. You mustn't ask +people to eat their words raw--like that. + +JOHNNY. Well, I've had no dinner, but I'm not going to eat my words, I +tell you plainly. + +MRS MARCH. Very well then; go up again. + +MARY. [Muttering] Mother--logic. + +MR MARCH. Great Scott! You two haven't the faintest idea of how to +conduct a parley. We have--to--er--explore every path to--find a way to +peace. + +MRS MARCH. [To FAITH] Have you thought of anything to do, if you leave +here? + +FAITH. Yes. + +JOHNNY. What? + +FAITH. I shan't say. + +JOHNNY. Of course, she'll just chuck herself away. + +FAITH. No, I won't. I'll go to a place I know of, where they don't want +references. + +JOHNNY. Exactly! + +MRS MARCH. [To FAITH] I want to ask you a question. Since you came +out, is this the first young man who's kissed you? + + FAITH has hardly had time to start and manifest what may or may not + be indignation when MR MARCH dashes his hands through his hair. + +MR MARCH. Joan, really! + +JOHNNY. [Grimly] Don't condescend to answer! + +MRS MARCH. I thought we'd met to get at the truth. + +MARY. But do they ever? + +FAITH. I will go out! + +JOHNNY. No! [And, as his back is against the door, she can't] I'll see +that you're not insulted any more. + +MR MARCH. Johnny, I know you have the best intentions, but really the +proper people to help the young are the old--like-- + + FAITH suddenly turns her eyes on him, and he goes on rather + hurriedly + +--your mother. I'm sure that she and I will be ready to stand by Faith. + +FAITH. I don't want charity. + +MR MARCH. No, no! But I hope-- + +MRS MARCH. To devise means. + +MR MARCH. [Roused] Of course, if nobody will modify their attitude- +Johnny, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, and [To MRS MARCH] so ought +you, Joan. + +JOHNNY. [Suddenly] I'll modify mine. [To FAITH] Come here--close! [In +a low voice to FAITH] Will you give me your word to stay here, if I make +them keep you? + +FAITH. Why? + +JOHNNY. To stay here quietly for the next two years? + +FAITH. I don't know. + +JOHNNY. I can make them, if you'll promise. + +FAITH. You're just in a temper. + +JOHNNY. Promise! + + During this colloquy the MARCHES have been so profoundly uneasy that + MRS MARCH has poured out another glass of brandy. + +MR MARCH. Johnny, the terms of the Armistice didn't include this sort of +thing. It was to be all open and above-board. + +JOHNNY. Well, if you don't keep her, I shall clear out. + + At this bombshell MRS MARCH rises. + +MARY. Don't joke, Johnny! You'll do yourself an injury. + +JOHNNY. And if I go, I go for good. + +MR MARCH. Nonsense, Johnny! Don't carry a good thing too far! + +JOHNNY. I mean it. + +MRS MARCH. What will you live on? + +JOHNNY. Not poetry. + +MRS MARCH. What, then? + +JOHNNY. Emigrate or go into the Police. + +MR MARCH. Good Lord! [Going up to his wife--in a low voice] Let her +stay till Johnny's in his right mind. + +FAITH. I don't want to stay. + +JOHNNY. You shall! + +MARY. Johnny, don't be a lunatic! + + COOK enters, flustered. + +COOK. Mr Bly, ma'am, come after his daughter. + +MR MARCH. He can have her--he can have her! + +COOK. Yes, sir. But, you see, he's--Well, there! He's cheerful. + +MR MARCH. Let him come and take his daughter away. + + But MR BLY has entered behind him. He has a fixed expression, and + speaks with a too perfect accuracy. + +BLY. Did your two Cooks tell you I'm here? + +MR MARCH. If you want your daughter, you can take her. + +JOHNNY. Mr Bly, get out! + +BLY. [Ignoring him] I don't want any fuss with your two cooks. +[Catching sight of MRS MARCH] I've prepared myself for this. + +MRS MARCH. So we see. + +BLY. I 'ad a bit o' trouble, but I kep' on till I see 'Aigel walkin' at +me in the loo-lookin' glass. Then I knew I'd got me balance. + + They all regard MR BLY in a fascinated manner. + +FAITH. Father! You've been drinking. + +BLY. [Smiling] What do you think. + +MR MARCH. We have a certain sympathy with you, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [Gazing at his daughter] I don't want that one. I'll take the +other. + +MARY. Don't repeat yourself, Mr Bly. + +BLY. [With a flash of muddled insight] Well! There's two of everybody; +two of my daughter; an' two of the 'Ome Secretary; and two-two of Cook- +an' I don't want either. [He waves COOK aside, and grasps at a void +alongside FAITH] Come along! + +MR MARCH. [Going up to him] Very well, Mr Bly! See her home, carefully. +Good-night! + +BLY. Shake hands! + + He extends his other hand; MR MARCH grasps it and turns him round + towards the door. + +MR MARCH. Now, take her away! Cook, go and open the front door for Mr +Bly and his daughter. + +BLY. Too many Cooks! + +MR MARCH. Now then, Mr Bly, take her along! + +BLY. [Making no attempt to acquire the real FAITH--to an apparition +which he leads with his right hand] You're the one that died when my girl +was 'ung. Will you go--first or shall--I? + + The apparition does not answer. + +MARY. Don't! It's horrible! + +FAITH. I did die. + +BLY. Prepare yourself. Then you'll see what you never saw before. + + He goes out with his apparition, shepherded by MR MARCH. + + MRS MARCH drinks off her fourth glass of brandy. A peculiar whistle + is heard through the open door, and FAITH starts forward. + +JOHNNY. Stand still! + +FAITH. I--I must go. + +MARY. Johnny--let her! + +FAITH. There's a friend waiting for me. + +JOHNNY. Let her wait! You're not fit to go out to-night. + +MARY. Johnny! Really! You're not the girl's Friendly Society! + +JOHNNY. You none of you care a pin's head what becomes of her. Can't +you see she's on the edge? The whistle is heard again, but fainter. + +FAITH. I'm not in prison now. + +JOHNNY. [Taking her by the arm] All right! I'll come with you. + +FAITH. [Recoiling] No. + + Voices are heard in the hall. + +MARY. Who's that with father? Johnny, for goodness' sake don't make us +all ridiculous. + + MR MARCH'S voice is heard saying: "Your friend in here." He enters, + followed by a reluctant young man in a dark suit, with dark hair and + a pale square face, enlivened by strange, very living, dark, bull's + eyes. + +MR MARCH. [To FAITH, who stands shrinking a little] I came on this--er +--friend of yours outside; he's been waiting for you some time, he says. + +MRS MARCH. [To FAITH] You can go now. + +JOHNNY. [Suddenly, to the YOUNG MAN] Who are you? + +YOUNG M. Ask another! [To FAITH] Are you ready? + +JOHNNY. [Seeing red] No, she's not; and you'll just clear out. + +MR MARCH. Johnny! + +YOUNG M. What have you got to do with her? + +JOHNNY. Quit. + +YOUNG M. I'll quit with her, and not before. She's my girl. + +JOHNNY. Are you his girl? + +FAITH. Yes. + +MRS MARCH sits down again, and reaching out her left hand, mechanically +draws to her the glass of brandy which her husband had poured out for +himself and left undrunk. + +JOHNNY. Then why did you--[He is going to say: "Kiss me," but checks +himself]--let me think you hadn't any friends? Who is this fellow? + +YOUNG M. A little more civility, please. + +JOHNNY. You look a blackguard, and I believe you are. + +MR MARCH. [With perfunctory authority] I really can't have this sort of +thing in my house. Johnny, go upstairs; and you two, please go away. + +YOUNG M. [To JOHNNY] We know the sort of chap you are--takin' advantage +of workin' girls. + +JOHNNY. That's a foul lie. Come into the garden and I'll prove it on +your carcase. + +YOUNG M. All right! + +FAITH. No; he'll hurt you. He's been in the war. + +JOHNNY. [To the YOUNG MAN] You haven't, I'll bet. + +YOUNG M. I didn't come here to be slanged. + +JOHNNY. This poor girl is going to have a fair deal, and you're not +going to give it her. I can see that with half an eye. + +YOUNG M. You'll see it with no eyes when I've done with you. + +JOHNNY. Come on, then. + + He goes up to the windows. + +MR MARCH. For God's sake, Johnny, stop this vulgar brawl! + +FAITH. [Suddenly] I'm not a "poor girl" and I won't be called one. +I don't want any soft words. Why can't you let me be? [Pointing to +JOHNNY] He talks wild. [JOHNNY clutches the edge of the writing-table] +Thinks he can "rescue" me. I don't want to be rescued. I--[All the +feeling of years rises to the surface now that the barrier has broken] +--I want to be let alone. I've paid for everything I've done--a pound +for every shilling's worth. + +And all because of one minute when I was half crazy. [Flashing round at +MARY] Wait till you've had a baby you oughtn't to have had, and not a +penny in your pocket! It's money--money--all money! + +YOUNG M. Sst! That'll do! + +FAITH. I'll have what I like now, not what you think's good for me. + +MR MARCH. God knows we don't want to-- + +FAITH. You mean very well, Mr March, but you're no good. + +MR MARCH. I knew it. + +FAITH. You were very kind to me. But you don't see; nobody sees. + +YOUNG M. There! That's enough! You're gettin' excited. You come away +with me. + + FAITH's look at him is like the look of a dog at her master. + +JOHNNY. [From the background] I know you're a blackguard--I've seen your +sort. + +FAITH. [Firing up] Don't call him names! I won't have it. I'll go +with whom I choose! [Her eyes suddenly fix themselves on the YOUNG MAN'S +face] And I'm going with him! + + COOK enters. + +MR MARCH. What now, Cook? + +COOK. A Mr Barnabas in the hall, sir. From the police. + + Everybody starts. MRS MARCH drinks off her fifth little glass of + brandy, then sits again. + +MR MARCH. From the police? + + He goes out, followed by COOK. A moment's suspense. + +YOUNG M. Well, I can't wait any longer. I suppose we can go out the +back way? + + He draws FAITH towards the windows. But JOHNNY stands there, + barring the way. JOHNNY. No, you don't. + +FAITH. [Scared] Oh! Let me go--let him go! + +JOHNNY. You may go. [He takes her arm to pull her to the window] He +can't. + +FAITH. [Freeing herself] No--no! Not if he doesn't. + + JOHNNY has an evident moment of hesitation, and before it is over MR + MARCH comes in again, followed by a man in a neat suit of plain + clothes. + +MR MARCH. I should like you to say that in front of her. + +P. C. MAN. Your service, ma'am. Afraid I'm intruding here. Fact is, +I've been waiting for a chance to speak to this young woman quietly. +It's rather public here, sir; but if you wish, of course, I'll mention +it. [He waits for some word from some one; no one speaks, so he goes on +almost apologetically] Well, now, you're in a good place here, and you +ought to keep it. You don't want fresh trouble, I'm sure. + +FAITH. [Scared] What do you want with me? + +P. C. MAN. I don't want to frighten you; but we've had word passed that +you're associating with the young man there. I observed him to-night +again, waiting outside here and whistling. + +YOUNG M. What's the matter with whistling? + +P. C. MAN. [Eyeing him] I should keep quiet if I was you. As you know, +sir [To MR MARCH] there's a law nowadays against soo-tenors. + +MR MARCH. Soo--? + +JOHNNY. I knew it. + +P. C. MAN. [Deprecating] I don't want to use any plain English--with +ladies present-- + +YOUNG M. I don't know you. What are you after? Do you dare--? + +P. C. MAN. We cut the darin', 'tisn't necessary. We know all about you. + +FAITH. It's a lie! + +P. C. MAN. There, miss, don't let your feelings-- + +FAITH. [To the YOUNG MAN] It's a lie, isn't it? + +YOUNG M. A blankety lie. + +MR MARCH. [To BARNABAs] Have you actual proof? + +YOUNG M. Proof? It's his job to get chaps into a mess. + +P. C. MAN. [Sharply] None of your lip, now! + + At the new tone in his voice FAITH turns and visibly quails, like a + dog that has been shown a whip. + +MR MARCH. Inexpressibly painful! + +YOUNG M. Ah! How would you like to be insulted in front of your girl? +If you're a gentleman you'll tell him to leave the house. If he's got a +warrant, let him produce it; if he hasn't, let him get out. + +P. C. MAN. [To MR MARCH] You'll understand, sir, that my object in +speakin' to you to-night was for the good of the girl. Strictly, I've +gone a bit out of my way. If my job was to get men into trouble, as he +says, I'd only to wait till he's got hold of her. These fellows, you +know, are as cunning as lynxes and as impudent as the devil. + +YOUNG M. Now, look here, if I get any more of this from you--I--I'll +consult a lawyer. + +JOHNNY. Fellows like you-- + +MR MARCH. Johnny! + +P. C. MAN. Your son, sir? + +YOUNG M. Yes; and wants to be where I am. But my girl knows better; +don't you? + + He gives FAITH a look which has a certain magnetism. + +P. C. MAN. If we could have the Court cleared of ladies, sir, we might +speak a little plainer. + +MR MARCH. Joan! + + But MRS MARCH does not vary her smiling immobility; FAITH draws a + little nearer to the YOUNG MAN. MARY turns to the fire. + +P. C. MAN. [With half a smile] I keep on forgettin' that women are men +nowadays. Well! + +YOUNG M. When you've quite done joking, we'll go for our walk. + +MR MARCH. [To BARNABAS] I think you'd better tell her anything you know. + +P. C. MAN. [Eyeing FAITH and the YOUNG MAN] I'd rather not be more +precise, sir, at this stage. + +YOUNG M. I should think not! Police spite! [To FAITH] You know what +the Law is, once they get a down on you. + +P. C. MAN. [To MR MARCH] It's our business to keep an eye on all this +sort of thing, sir, with girls who've just come out. + +JOHNNY. [Deeply] You've only to look at his face! + +YOUNG M. My face is as good as yours. + + FAITH lifts her eyes to his. + +P. C. MAN. [Taking in that look] Well, there it is! Sorry I wasted my +time and yours, Sir! + +MR MARCH. [Distracted] My goodness! Now, Faith, consider! This is the +turning-point. I've told you we'll stand by you. + +FAITH. [Flashing round] Leave me alone! I stick to my friends. Leave +me alone, and leave him alone! What is it to you? + +P. C. MAN. [With sudden resolution] Now, look here! This man George +Blunter was had up three years ago--for livin' on the earnings of a woman +called Johnson. He was dismissed with a caution. We got him again last +year over a woman called Lee--that time he did-- + +YOUNG M. Stop it! That's enough of your lip. I won't put up with this +--not for any woman in the world. Not I! + +FAITH. [With a sway towards him] It's not--! + +YOUNG M. I'm off! Bong Swore la Companee! He tarns on his heel and +walks out unhindered. + +P. C. MAN. [Deeply] A bad hat, that; if ever there was one. We'll be +having him again before long. + + He looks at FAITH. They all look at FAITH. But her face is so + strange, so tremulous, that they all turn their eyes away. + +FAITH. He--he said--he--! + + On the verge of an emotional outbreak, she saves herself by an + effort. A painful silence. + +P. C. MAN. Well, sir--that's all. Good evening! He turns to the door, +touching his forehead to MR MARCH, and goes. + + As the door closes, FAITH sinks into a chair, and burying her face + in her hands, sobs silently. MRS MARCH sits motionless with a faint + smile. JOHNNY stands at the window biting his nails. MARY crosses + to FAITH. + +MARY. [Softly] Don't. You weren't really fond of him? + + FAITH bends her head. + +MARY. But how could you? He-- + +FAITH. I--I couldn't see inside him. + +MARY. Yes; but he looked--couldn't you see he looked--? + +FAITH. [Suddenly flinging up her head] If you'd been two years without +a word, you'd believe anyone that said he liked you. + +MARY. Perhaps I should. + +FAITH. But I don't want him--he's a liar. I don't like liars. + +MARY. I'm awfully sorry. + +FAITH. [Looking at her] Yes--you keep off feeling--then you'll be happy! +[Rising] Good-bye! + +MARY. Where are you going? + +FAITH. To my father. + +MARY. With him in that state? + +FAITH. He won't hurt me. + +MARY. You'd better stay. Mother, she can stay, can't she? + +MRS MARCH nods. + +FAITH. No! + +MARY. Why not? We're all sorry. Do! You'd better. + +FAITH. Father'll come over for my things tomorrow. + +MARY. What are you going to do? + +FAITH. [Proudly] I'll get on. + +JOHNNY. [From the window] Stop! + + All turn and look at him. He comes down. Will you come to me? + + FAITH stares at him. MRS MARCH continues to smile faintly. + +MARY. [With a horrified gesture] Johnny! + +JOHNNY. Will you? I'll play cricket if you do. + +MR MARCH. [Under his breath] Good God! + + He stares in suspense at FAITH, whose face is a curious blend of + fascination and live feeling. + +JOHNNY. Well? + +FAITH. [Softly] Don't be silly! I've got no call on you. You don't +care for me, and I don't for you. No! You go and put your head in ice. +[She turns to the door] Good-bye, Mr March! I'm sorry I've been so much +trouble. + +MR MARCH. Not at all, not at all! + +FAITH. Oh! Yes, I have. There's nothing to be done with a girl like +me. She goes out. + +JOHNNY. [Taking up the decanter to pour himself out a glass of brandy] +Empty! + +COOK. [Who has entered with a tray] Yes, my dearie, I'm sure you are. + +JOHNNY. [Staring at his father] A vision, Dad! Windows of Clubs--men +sitting there; and that girl going by with rouge on her cheeks-- + +COOK. Oh! Master Johnny! + +JOHNNY. A blue night--the moon over the Park. And she stops and looks +at it.--What has she wanted--the beautiful--something better than she's +got--something that she'll never get! + +COOK. Oh! Master Johnny! + + She goes up to JOHNNY and touches his forehead. He comes to himself + and hurries to the door, but suddenly MRS MARCH utters a little + feathery laugh. She stands up, swaying slightly. There is + something unusual and charming in her appearance, as if formality + had dropped from her. + +MRS MARCH. [With a sort of delicate slow lack of perfect sobriety] I +see--it--all. You--can't--help--unless--you--love! + + JOHNNY stops and looks round at her. + +MR MARCH. [Moving a little towards her] Joan! + +MRS MARCH. She--wants--to--be--loved. It's the way of the world. + +MARY. [Turning] Mother! + +MRS MARCH. You thought she wanted--to be saved. Silly! She--just-- +wants--to--be--loved. Quite natural! + +MR MARCH. Joan, what's happened to you? + +MRS MARCH. [Smiling and nodding] See--people--as--they--are! Then you +won't be--disappointed. Don't--have--ideals! Have--vision--just simple +--vision! + +MR MARCH. Your mother's not well. + +MRS MARCH. [Passing her hand over her forehead] It's hot in here! + +MR MARCH. Mary! + + MARY throws open the French windows. + +MRS MARCH. [Delightfully] The room's full of GAS. Open the windows! +Open! And let's walk--out--into the air! + + She turns and walks delicately out through the opened windows; + JOHNNY and MARY follow her. The moonlight and the air flood in. + +COOK. [Coming to the table and taking up the empty decanter] My Holy Ma! + +MR MARCH. Is this the Millennium, Cook? + +COOK. Oh! Master Geoffrey--there isn't a millehennium. There's too much +human nature. We must look things in the face. + +MR MARCH. Ah! Neither up--nor down--but straight in the face! Quite a +thought, Cook! Quite a thought! + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +All this depression comes from 'avin' 'igh 'opes +Butter when they're out of power, and blood when they're in +Didn't want to kill it--I only wanted to save it from living +Difference money makes when it comes to bein' outside the Law +Don't--have--ideals! Have--vision--just simple--vision +Extremely good at seeming not to notice things +If she can do as she likes--Then she wouldn't want to do +It's a kind of a disorderly 'ouse without the disorders +It's a misfortune to a girl to be good-lookin' +Let the present bury the past +Like all the greater men I know--he can't listen +Looks that characterise exasperated domesticity +Question whether altruism isn't enlightened self-interest +Repentance: generally it's a way of gettin' ready for the next +See--people--as--they--are! Then you won't be--disappointed +The further you look back the more dependable the times get +There's always some one you'll go wrong for +They don't go to Church; they're agnosticals +Tolstoi was a Russian--always proving that what isn't, is +What is up and what is down? + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIFTH SERIES PLAYS BY GALSWORTHY *** + +************ This file should be named gpl5w10.txt or gpl5w10.zip ************* + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, gpl5w11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, gpl5w10a.txt + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/gpl5w10.zip b/old/gpl5w10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1bb6ec6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/gpl5w10.zip |