[Penelope,unseen byDickie,makes a face atMrs. Golightlyto induce her to keep up the scene.
[Penelope,unseen byDickie,makes a face atMrs. Golightlyto induce her to keep up the scene.
Mrs. Golightly.
A long acquaintance with savage races has led me to the conclusion that man is naturally a polygamous animal.
Dickie.
My brain reels.
Mrs. Golightly.
I confess I was relieved to hear it was a married woman. It seems to make it so much more respectable.
Dickie.
It appears to me I’m the only moral man here.
Penelope.
Dickie, darling,Ihaven’t been having an affair with the policeman.
Dickie.
I wish you had. I wouldn’t have treated you like this.
Penelope.
I thought of it, but I didn’t like the colour of his moustache.
Dickie.
I know I’m to blame. I’ve behaved like a perfect brute.
Penelope.
Oh, nonsense.
Dickie.
Don’t contradict, Penelope. I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself.
Golightly.
Come, come!
Dickie.
I repeat, there are no excuses for me.
Mrs. Golightly.
Poor fellow, he seems quite cut up.
Dickie.
I haven’t a leg to stand on, but, by Jove, I’ve got a moral sense, and I tell you all that I’m simply outraged. You’re overthrowing the foundations of society. Whatever I’ve done, I’ve got more respect for the sanctity of the home and the decencies of family life than all of you put together.
[He flings towards the door, stops, and turns round to shake his fist at them.
[He flings towards the door, stops, and turns round to shake his fist at them.
Dickie.
A moral sense. That’s what I’ve got.
[He goes out, slamming the door behind him.
[He goes out, slamming the door behind him.
Penelope.
[With a laugh.] Poor darling.
Golightly.
What on earth made you blurt it all out?
Penelope.
She came here to-day, and I saw that he was sick to death of her.... Mamma, you behaved like a heroine of romance.
Mrs. Golightly.
I shall never forgive myself for the dreadful things you’ve made me say.
Penelope.
Oh, yes, you will, mother. Fast an extra day all through next Lent. It’ll be equally good for your soul and for your figure.
Mrs. Golightly.
Penelope!
Penelope.
[ToGolightly.] I suddenly felt the moment had come.
Golightly.
Take care.
[Dickiebursts violently into the room.
[Dickiebursts violently into the room.
Dickie.
I say, what are these two confounded women doing in the hall?
Penelope.
What women? Oh, I know.... [She goes to the door.] Please come in. They’re from Françoise. The Modiste.
[The girls come in, laden with hat boxes.
[The girls come in, laden with hat boxes.
Penelope.
You told me I might get a hat or two to console myself for your trip to Paris.
Golightly.
Very nice of you, Dickie. That shows you haven’t a selfish nature.
[Penelopemakes another face at her mother.
[Penelopemakes another face at her mother.
Mrs. Golightly.
You’ve never given me a free hand to buy hats, Charles.
Golightly.
On the other hand, I’ve never taken little jaunts to Paris without you, my dear.
Mrs. Golightly.
Some women are so lucky in their husbands.
[Meanwhile the girls have been taking hats out, andPenelopeputs one on. She is perfectly delighted.
[Meanwhile the girls have been taking hats out, andPenelopeputs one on. She is perfectly delighted.
Penelope.
Oh, isn’t this a dream? [Looking at the other.] Oh! oh! Did you ever see anything so lovely? Dickie, you are a dear. I’m so glad you’re going to Paris.
Dickie.
[Furiously.] I’m not going to Paris.
Penelope.
What!
Dickie.
Take all these hats away.
Penelope.
But Mrs. Mack?
Dickie.
Mrs. Mack can go to the devil.
[He seizes the telephone.
[He seizes the telephone.
Dickie.
Hulloa, hulloa. Gerrard 1234. Tell Mrs. Fergusson that Mrs. Mack has had a relapse, and will not be able to go to Paris to-night.
End of the Second Act.
Scene:Penelope’sboudoir. It is an attractive room, furnished with bright-coloured chintzes, and gay with autumn flowers and great bunches of leaves. There is a large looking-glass. It is a room to live in, and there are books and magazines scattered about. Photographs ofDickiein every imaginable attitude.Pen,in a ravishing costume, is alone, standing in the middle of the room. She looks at herself in the glass and turns right round, smiling with satisfaction. She preens herself. Suddenly she sees something she does not quite like; she frowns a little, then she makes a face at herself, solemnly and elaborately curtsies, and gaily throws herself a kiss.Peytoncomes in, followed by theGolightlys.
Scene:Penelope’sboudoir. It is an attractive room, furnished with bright-coloured chintzes, and gay with autumn flowers and great bunches of leaves. There is a large looking-glass. It is a room to live in, and there are books and magazines scattered about. Photographs ofDickiein every imaginable attitude.
Pen,in a ravishing costume, is alone, standing in the middle of the room. She looks at herself in the glass and turns right round, smiling with satisfaction. She preens herself. Suddenly she sees something she does not quite like; she frowns a little, then she makes a face at herself, solemnly and elaborately curtsies, and gaily throws herself a kiss.
Peytoncomes in, followed by theGolightlys.
Peyton.
Professor and Mrs. Golightly.
Penelope.
[Stretching out her arms.] Oh, my sainted mother!
Mrs. Golightly.
[Out of breath.] I’ve never climbed up so many stairs in my life.
Penelope.
I told Peyton to bring you up here so that no one should come and bother us. [With a dramatic gesture.] My noble father!
Golightly.
My chiyld!
Mrs. Golightly.
Don’t be ridiculous, Pen.
Penelope.
Sit down, mamma, and get your breath back, because I’m just going to take it away again.
Mrs. Golightly.
It sounds hardly worth while.
Penelope.
Dickie adores me.
Mrs. Golightly.
Is that all?
Penelope.
But it’s the most surprising, exquisite, wonderful thing in the world, and I’m in the seventh heaven of delight.
Golightly.
But has he told you so?
Penelope.
Oh, no, we’re not on speaking terms at present.
Golightly.
Ah, I suppose you express your mutual affection in dumb show.
Penelope.
He went out immediately after you left last night, and didn’t come home till past twelve. I heard him stop at my door, so I huddled myself under the bed-clothes and pretended to be fast asleep, but I just let my hand drop carelessly over one side of the bed. Then he gave a tiny little knock, and as I didn’t answer he came in, and he crept up on tip-toe, and he looked at me as if—as if he’d like to eat me up.
Golightly.
Penelope, you’re romancing. How on earth could you know that?
Penelope.
[Putting her finger at the back of her head.] I saw him through the back of my head—there. And then he bent down and just touched my hand with his lips. [Showing her hand toGolightly.] Look, that’s where he kissed it—just on the knuckle.
Golightly.
[Gravely looking at her hand.] It seems to have left no mark.
Penelope.
Don’t be silly. And then he crept softly out again, and I had the first really good sleep I’ve had for a month. And this morning I had my breakfast in bed, and when I got up he’d gone out.
Mrs. Golightly.
You haven’t seen him to-day at all?
Penelope.
No, he didn’t come in to luncheon.
Mrs. Golightly.
Well, Charles, I’m grateful that you never showed your passion for me by keeping systematically out of my way.
Penelope.
But, my dear, it’s so simple. Of course, he’s in a dreadful temper. I’ve made him feel a perfect fool,and he hates it. But, good heavens! after five years I know how to deal with him when I’ve hurt his pride. I’ll just give him a chance of saving his face, and then we’ll fall into one another’s arms and be happy ever afterwards.
[Golightly,who has been sitting near a table, draws a sheet of paper towards him and begins, meditatively, to write.
[Golightly,who has been sitting near a table, draws a sheet of paper towards him and begins, meditatively, to write.
Mrs. Golightly.
But, darling, don’t waste the precious hours, do it at once.
Penelope.
No, I’m wiser than that. I’m not going to do anything till Ada Fergusson is quite disposed of.
Mrs. Golightly.
Has anything been seen of her?
Penelope.
No, but I expect her here every minute.
Mrs. Golightly.
[With a gasp.] Here?
Penelope.
She rang up last night and spoke [imitating a man’s tones] in a deep voice, like this, so that I shouldn’t recognise her. She asked if Dickie was at home, and I said he wasn’t. [Imitating the man’s voice again.] Will you ask him to ring up Mrs.Mack as soon as he comes back? Oh! I said, I think he’s been at Mrs. Mack’s all the evening, and I rang off quickly. And this morning I just took the receiver off, and I think by now Ada must be in a pretty temper.
[She catches sight ofGolightlyand goes up to look at what he is writing.
[She catches sight ofGolightlyand goes up to look at what he is writing.
Penelope.
[Tapping the table sharply with her open hand.] Two and two don’t make five, father.
Golightly.
I never said they did, darling.
Penelope.
Then why are you writing it down?
Golightly.
You seem to think they do, my dear; and I have the highest respect for your intelligence.
Penelope.
Mamma, if you thought it absolutely necessary to provide a father for your offspring, I wish you had chosen one who wasn’t quite so irritating.
[Golightlydoes not answer, but quietly adds two and two together.Penelopewatches him for a moment.
[Golightlydoes not answer, but quietly adds two and two together.Penelopewatches him for a moment.
Penelope.
D’you think I’m a perfect fool, father?
Golightly.
Yes, my dear.
Penelope.
Why?
Golightly.
You’re preparing for Dickie once more an uninterrupted diet of strawberry ices.
[Penelopegoes up to her father and sits down opposite to him. She takes the pencil out of his hand.
[Penelopegoes up to her father and sits down opposite to him. She takes the pencil out of his hand.
Penelope.
Put that down, father, and tell me what you’re talking about.
Golightly.
[Joining his hands and leaning back in his chair.] How are you going to keep your husband’s love now you have got it back?
Penelope.
[With a nod and a smile.] I’m never going to bore him with demonstrations of affection. I’m never going to ask him if he loves me. And when he goes out I’m never going to inquire at what time he’ll be back.
Golightly.
[Calmly.] And what will you do when the next pretty little grass-widow throws herself at his head?
Penelope.
[Rather outraged at the mere thought.] I hope he’ll duck and dodge her.
Golightly.
[With a deprecating shrug of the shoulders.] Your mother, from her unrivalled knowledge of heathen races, has told you that man is naturally a polygamous animal.
Mrs. Golightly.
I shall never forgive myself.
Penelope.
Do you mean to say I’m to expect Dickie to have flirtations with half a dozen different women?
Golightly.
I only see one way to avoid it.
Penelope.
And what is that?
Golightly.
Be half a dozen different women yourself.
Penelope.
It sounds dreadfully exhausting.
Golightly.
Remember that man is by nature a hunter. But how the dickens can he pursue if you’re always flinging yourself in his arms? Even the barndoor hen gives her lawful mate a run for his money.
[Penelopelooks from her father to her mother. She gives a little sigh.
[Penelopelooks from her father to her mother. She gives a little sigh.
Penelope.
It was so easy for me to love, honour, and obey him, and so delightful. It never struck me that I ought to keep watch over my feelings.
Golightly.
We all strive for happiness, but what would happiness be if it clung to us like a poor relation?
Penelope.
[Nodding her head.] Strawberry ice for breakfast, strawberry ice for luncheon, and strawberry ice for tea.
Golightly.
Put a Rembrandt on your walls, and in a week you’ll pass it without a glance.
Penelope.
[Pulling out deprecating hands.] Papa, don’t batter me with metaphors.
Golightly.
[With a smile.] Well, you made your love too cheap, my dear. You should have let your husband beg for it, and you made it a drug in the market. Dole out your riches. Make yourself a fortress that must be freshly stormed each day. Let him never know that he has all your heart. He must think always that at the bottom of your soul there is a jewel of great price that is beyond his reach.
Penelope.
Do you mean to say that I must be always on my guard?
Golightly.
A wise woman never lets her husband be quite, quite sure of her. The moment he is—[with a shrug of the shoulders]—Cupid puts on a top-hat and becomes a churchwarden.
Penelope.
[Huskily.] D’you think it’s worth all that?
Golightly.
That is a question only you can answer.
Penelope.
I suppose you mean it depends on how much I love Dickie. [A pause. Tremulously.] I love him with all my heart, and if I can keep his love everything is worth while. [She rests her face on her hands, and looks straight in front of her. Her voice is filled with tears.] But, oh, father, why can’t we go back to the beginning when we loved one another without a thought of wisdom or prudence? That was the real love. Why couldn’t it last?
Golightly.
[Tenderly.] Because you and Dickie are man and woman, my dear.
Penelope.
[With a flash of her old spirit.] But my friends have husbands, and they don’t philander with every pretty woman they meet.
Golightly.
Scylla and Charybdis. The price they pay is satiety. Would you rather have the placid indifference of nine couples out of ten, or at the cost of a little trouble and a little common sense keep Dickie loving you passionately to the end of his days?
Penelope.
[With a roguish twinkle.] You and mamma show no signs of being bored to death with one another.
Golightly.
Your sainted mother has been systematically unfaithful to me for twenty years.
Mrs. Golightly.
Charles!
Golightly.
She has had an affair with the Additional Curates’ Society, and an intrigue with the English Church Mission. She has flirted with Christian Science, made eyes at Homœopathy, and her relations with vegetarianism have left a distinct mark on her figure. How could I help adoring a woman so depraved?
Mrs. Golightly.
[Good-humouredly.] It’s monstrous of you to reproach me, Charles, when you have conducted for years a harem of algebraical symbols.
Penelope.
[Lifting up her hands in mock horror.] And to think that I never knew how immoral my parents were!
Golightly.
[Patting his wife’s hand.] I think we must be the lucky ones, dear. We’ve been married for twenty years....
Penelope.
[Interrupting.] Make it a quarter of a century, father. I really can’t pass for less than twenty-four.
Golightly.
[To his wife.] And we seem to have got on pretty well, don’t we?
Mrs. Golightly.
[Affectionately.] You’ve been very good to me, Charles, dear.
Golightly.
We’ve clomb the hill together....
Penelope.
Sh! sh! sh! I cannot allow my parents to flirt in my presence. I never heard of such a thing.
Golightly.
We tender our apologies.
Penelope.
[Hearing a sound.] Listen. There’s Dickie. Father, quickly—what must I do to make him love me always?
Golightly.
In two words, lead him a devil of a life.
Penelope.
[Ruefully.] If you only knew how I want to fly into his arms and forget the wretched past!
Golightly.
Don’t, but tell him you’re going for a motor trip.
Penelope.
[Her face falling.] Supposing he lets me go?
Golightly.
My dear, a merciful providence has given you roguish eyes and a sharp tongue. Make use of them.
Mrs. Golightly.
Charles, I shall be thankful when you return to your mathematics. The morals of that hussy X are already so bad that you can’t makethemmuch worse.
Penelope.
The fact is, papa, that as a guide for the young you have rather advanced views.
Golightly.
[With a grotesque, dramatic flourish.] Ungrateful child! And I, like the pelican, have offered you my very heart to dine on.
[Dickiecomes in. He is a little embarrassed and uncomfortable.
[Dickiecomes in. He is a little embarrassed and uncomfortable.
Dickie.
May I come in?
Penelope.
Yes, do!
Dickie.
[Nodding to theGolightlys.] How d’you do?
Golightly.
[To his wife.] Are you ready?
Mrs. Golightly.
[Getting up.] Yes.
Dickie.
I hope I’m not driving you away.
Golightly.
Oh no, we only came in for ten minutes to say good-bye to Penelope.
[Dickie,rather puzzled at this, givesPenelopea quick look.
[Dickie,rather puzzled at this, givesPenelopea quick look.
Dickie.
Are you ...? [He stops.]
Golightly.
I hope you’ll enjoy yourself, dear.
Penelope.
Oh, I’m sure I shall.
Mrs. Golightly.
Good-bye, darling.
Penelope.
[Kissing her mother.] Good-bye.
[She goes to the bell and rings it.
[She goes to the bell and rings it.
Golightly.
We can find our way out. Don’t bother about Peyton.
Penelope.
I want to speak to her.
Golightly.
Oh, I see. [Nodding toDickie.] Good-bye.
[TheGolightlysgo out.Penelope,with a slight smile, lies down on the sofa and takes up a magazine. She pays no attention toDickie.He gives her a sidelong glance and arranges his tie in the glass.Peytoncomes in.
[TheGolightlysgo out.Penelope,with a slight smile, lies down on the sofa and takes up a magazine. She pays no attention toDickie.He gives her a sidelong glance and arranges his tie in the glass.Peytoncomes in.
Penelope.
[Looking up from her magazine.] Oh, Peyton, you might pack up some things for me in that little flat portmanteau of the doctor’s. Put my green charmeuse in.
Peyton.
Very well, ma’am.
Penelope.
You can call a cab in half an hour.
Peyton.
Very well, ma’am.
[Exit.
[Exit.
Dickie.
Are you going away?
Penelope.
Oh, yes, didn’t I tell you?
Dickie.
[Stiffly.] No.
Penelope.
How stupid of me! You see, I was expecting you to spend two or three days in Paris with Ada, and I arranged to motor down to Cornwall with the Hendersons.
Dickie.
But I gave up the trip to Paris so as not to annoy you.
Penelope.
[Smiling.] It wouldn’t have annoyed me a bit, darling.
Dickie.
It ought to have annoyed you.
Penelope.
In any case I’m afraid I can’t throw the Hendersons over. They’ve made up a littlepartie carréeso that we can play bridge in the evenings.
[Dickiegoes up toPenand sits on the sofa beside her.
[Dickiegoes up toPenand sits on the sofa beside her.
Dickie.
Look here, Pen, let’s make it up.
Penelope.
[Quite pleasantly.] But we haven’t quarrelled, have we?
Dickie.
[With a smile.] I don’t know whether I want to shake you or hug you.
Penelope.
Well, if I were you, I’d do neither.
Dickie.
[Taking her hands.] Pen, I want to talk seriously to you.
Penelope.
[Releasing them, with a look at the clock.] Have you time?
Dickie.
What on earth d’you mean?
Penelope.
You generally start off for Mrs. Mack’s about now.
[Dickiegets up and walks up and down the room.
[Dickiegets up and walks up and down the room.
Dickie.
[Resolutely.] Mrs. Mack’s dead.
Penelope.
[Jumping off the sofa.] Dead! When’s the funeral?
Dickie.
The date hasn’t been settled yet.
Penelope.
Well, now you’ll be able to send in your bill.
Dickie.
[Nervously.] Pen, Mrs. Mack never existed.
Penelope.
[With a smile.] I never thought she did, darling.
Dickie.
What!
[Penelopegiggles.
[Penelopegiggles.
Dickie.
D’you mean to say you knew all the time that I’d invented her?
Penelope.
I thought it was very nice of you to make up a plausible excuse for being away so much.
Dickie.
Then, when you bought all those things because I was making such a pot of money, you were just pulling my leg.
Penelope.
[With a smile.] Well....
[Dickiesuddenly bursts into a shout of laughter.
[Dickiesuddenly bursts into a shout of laughter.
Dickie.
[When he recovers.] I say, you have scored us off. Upon my soul, you are a wonderful little woman. I can’t think how I ever saw anything in Ada Fergusson.
Penelope.
Oh, but I think she’s charming.
Dickie.
What nonsense! You know you don’t. If you only knew the life she led me!
Penelope.
I suppose she often asked you if you really loved her?
Dickie.
Ten times a day.
Penelope.
And when you left her, did she want to know exactly at what time you’d come back?
Dickie.
How did you know?
Penelope.
I guessed it.
Dickie.
[Going towards her as if to take her in his arms.] Oh, Pen, let’s forget and forgive.
Penelope.
[Getting out of his way.] There’s nothing to forgive, darling.
Dickie.
[Making a step towards her.] I suppose you wantme to eat the dust.... I have behaved like a perfect brute. I’m awfully sorry, and I’ll never do it again.
Penelope.
[Eluding him as though by accident.] I daresay the game isn’t worth the candle.
Dickie.
[Trying to intercept her.] Don’t speak of it.
Penelope.
[Keeping out of his reach.] And I was under the impression you were having such a good time.
Dickie.
I was feeling awfully conscience-stricken.
Penelope.
That’s where women have such an advantage over men. Their conscience never strikes them till they’ve lost their figure and their complexion.
Dickie.
[Stopping.] I say, what are you running round the room for in that ridiculous fashion?
Penelope.
I thought we were playing touch-last.
Dickie.
Don’t be a little beast, Pen. You know you love me, and I simply dote upon you.... I can’t do more than I have done.
Penelope.
What d’you want me to do?
Dickie.
I want you to kiss and make friends.
Penelope.
[Quite good-naturedly.] I think you’re a little previous, aren’t you?
Dickie.
I suppose you’re thinking of Ada Fergusson.
Penelope.
I confess she hadn’t entirely slipped my mind.
Dickie.
Hang Ada Fergusson!
Penelope.
I think that’s rather drastic punishment. After all, she did nothing but succumb to your fatal fascination.
Dickie.
That’s right, put all the blame on me. As if itwere men who made the running on these occasions! I never want to see her again.
Penelope.
How changeable you are.
Dickie.
[Going towards her eagerly.] I’m never going to change again. I’ve had my lesson, and I’m going to be good in future.
Penelope.
[Getting a chair between herself and him.] Anyhow, don’t you think you’d better be off with the old love before you get on with the new?
Dickie.
Yes, but you might help me.
Penelope.
You don’t want me by any chance to tell Ada Fergusson that you don’t care for her any more?
Dickie.
It’s a devilish awkward thing to say oneself.
Penelope.
I can imagine that the best-tempered woman would take it a little amiss.
Dickie.
I say, can’t you suggest something to help me out?
Penelope.
[With a shrug of the shoulders.] My dear, since the days of Ariadne there’s only been one satisfactory way of consoling a deserted maiden.
Dickie.
[With a jump.] Uncle Davenport!
Penelope.
What about Uncle Davenport?
Dickie.
He told me yesterday he thought she was a devilish fine woman.
Penelope.
Oh, no, Dickie, I’m not going to allow you to sacrifice my only uncle.
Dickie.
I’ll just ring him up and tell him she’s not gone to Paris.
Penelope.
No, Dickie. No, Dickie. No, Dickie!
Dickie.
[At the telephone.] Mayfair 7521. I promise you he shall come to no harm. Before it gets serious we’ll tell him that she’s not a Jones of Llandudno, but a Jones of Notting Hill Gate.
Penelope.
[With a giggle.] I don’t think it’s quite nice what you’re doing.
Dickie.
I think it’s horrid. I shall blame myself very much afterwards.
Penelope.
With your moral sense too.
Dickie.
Hulloa, can I speak to Mr. Barlow? Hulloa, is that you, Uncle Davenport? No, I didn’t go to Paris after all. [With a wink atPenelope.] Mrs. Mack had a sudden relapse, and couldn’t be moved. No, Mrs. Fergusson hasn’t gone either.