John.
John.
John.
You!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
I could, John—by my attitude towards her in public—in society.
John.
John.
John.
[Staring at her.] Why, certainly you could.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Leaning over a chair, and speaking almost into his ear.] Would you like me to?
John.
John.
John.
Like you to!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
I want to atone to you, if I can, in some measure, for the suffering I’ve caused you. Would you like me to right Mrs. Fraser?
John.
John.
John.
Oh, Olive!——
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
John!
John.
John.
John.
[With emotion.] If you were always so generous—so good!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Drawing back, suddenly.] Ah!
John.
John.
John.
[After a brief pause.] I’ve offended you by saying that.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[In a hard voice.] You are evidently very keen concerning her.
John.
John.
John.
[Blankly.] Keen!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
She’s a vulgar, common little thing, I’m afraid.
John.
John.
John.
That’s not true.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Her people are common—excessively bad tone.
John.
John.
John.
Her people are now her husband’s people. She is married to a gentleman.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Mr. Fraser has been away from her as much as possible—[her eyes flashing]—youknow that better than anybody.
John.
John.
John.
[Indignantly.] Why do you come here—after all our struggles and failures, after the injury you’ve endeavoured to do me! Why do you torture me, and insult me, by trying to repeat the old heart-breaking scenes?
[He throws himself into a chair, distractedly. There is a pause; then she slowly goes to a chair, drags it towards him, and sits beside him.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Panting.] Tortureyou? Oh! oh, I suffer too! [Rocking herself to and fro.] Well, there can be no punishment for jealous women in another world; we are damned in this.
John.
John.
John.
[In a muffled voice, with his head on his hands.] And the fire has burnt out in you, you tell me!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
I suppose the cinders still retain a little heat, dear.
John.
John.
John.
[Brokenly.] Dear!... dear!...
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Yes. I know my actions are contradictory, but—[her hand stealing towards his]—in my heart, John—always—in my heart—— [The banjo suddenly strikes up an air.JohnandOliveraise their heads and stare at each other; thenOliveslowly backs her chair to its original position. Speaking in a whisper.] What’s that?
John.
John.
John.
Peter.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Peter——!
John.
John.
John.
He brought his banjo with him.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Aghast.] Why——!... Oh!
John.
John.
John.
[Blankly.] Eh?
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Ifwehear the banjo with such distinctness——
[They rise. He hurriedly ascends the steps and disappears through theportière.The music of the banjo stops abruptly, and the sound of voices comes from the library.Quaifeenters, carrying a lamp which he deposits on the table; then, always watchingOlive,he lights the standard-lamp and draws the window-curtains.
Shafto.
Shafto.
Shafto.
My dear fellow——!
Elphick.
Elphick.
Elphick.
My dear Jack——!
John.
John.
John.
Sssh!
Shafto.
Shafto.
Shafto.
You might have remembered——
John.
John.
John.
Sssh! sssh! [The voices in the library are hushed.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Commanding herself, and crossing to the fireplace.] And how are you, Quaife?
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Very well indeed, I thank you, ma’am.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
And your wife?
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Exceedingly healthy, ma’am, for a stout person.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
I hope you look after Mr. Allingham thoroughly, all of you.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
[Dropping his voice, impressively.] We regard him as a trust, ma’am, if I may make use of the expression.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Sharply.] A what?
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
A solemn trust, ma’am.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Turning away.] Stuff and nonsense!
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
I beg pardon, ma’am, if I have gone too far.
[Johnreturns.
John.
John.
John.
[Coming down the steps, a little flustered.] Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Sir?
John.
John.
John.
Er—Mr. Shafto and Mr. Elphick don’t dine.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Not dine, sir!
John.
John.
John.
They have to go on to Leatherhead at once. Is the boy ready to carry their bags to the station?
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
The boy can be worried till he’s ready, sir.
John.
John.
John.
All right.
[Quaifewithdraws.JohnandOlivenow speak in whispers.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
I don’t wish this.
John.
John.
John.
They offered to go; they’d rather go.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Have they heard much?
John.
John.
John.
Er—next to nothing; a syllable or two when wewere sitting there. That’s why Peter struck up a tune. [Laughing a little wildly.] Ha, ha, ha!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[In the same way.] Ha, ha, ha! [Glancing towards the door.] Shall I slip into the dining-room while they pass out?
John.
John.
John.
Please don’t. They’re old friends of both of us; they understand perfectly——
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Returning to the fireplace.] I’ll face it out, if you wish it.
John.
John.
John.
[Calling.] Denzil—Peter——
[ShaftoandElphicksedately emerge from the library, and descend the steps.Shaftobows toOlive.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Advancing, shaking hands with him across the table, graciously.] Oh, Mr. Shafto, I am so sorry to upset everybody in this way——
Shafto.
Shafto.
Shafto.
Not at all. I—ah—we—er—my father—at Leatherhead——
[Elphick,encumbered with his banjo and the banjo-case, joinsShafto.Johngoes to the door.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Shaking hands withElphickacross the table.] Why should you lose your dinner? I have really finished all my—my business with my—with—Mr. Allingham.
Elphick.
Elphick.
Elphick.
[With an effort, earnestly.] No, you haven’t, Mrs. Allingham. Take it up, when we’ve gone, where you broke off. [Wringing her hand.] Do everything you’ve offered to do; try and square things——
[Johncomes to him and draws him away towards the door.
John.
John.
John.
[ToOlive.] Excuse me; one moment——
[The three men go out, leavingOlivestaring before her.John,Shafto,andElphickare heard talking together in the hall.
John.
John.
John.
[Outside.] My dear Denzil! my dear Peter——!
Shafto.
Shafto.
Shafto.
[Outside.] My good fellow, we are not, at present, in the least hungry.
[Oliveruns up the steps and disappears in the library.
John.
John.
John.
[Outside.] No conveyance of any kind to get you to the station——!
Elphick.
Elphick.
Elphick.
[Outside.] Much prefer walking, I assure you.
Shafto.
Shafto.
Shafto.
[Outside.] Good-bye.
Elphick.
Elphick.
Elphick.
[Outside.] Enjoyed seeing the cottage again enormously.
[The sound of the voices dies away;a clock in the library strikes nine;Johnreturns.
John.
John.
John.
[Looking round.] Olive—Olive——
[She reappears.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
You didn’t tell me the truth. You can hear the slightest sound in there.
John.
John.
John.
I beg your pardon. Those men went clean out of my head. I was an ass.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Descending the steps.] And that idiot offers me his advice! Take it up where you broke off!
John.
John.
John.
At least, it’s good advice.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Wheredidwe break off?
John.
John.
John.
At Mrs. Fraser——
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Walking up the stage, beating her hands together.] Mrs. Fraser! the eternal Mrs. Fraser! Oh!... oh!... [Throwing herself into the chair facing the window.] I shall be quite calm in a moment. [Faintly.] Those men upset me.
John.
John.
John.
[Going to her, solicitously.] To-day has been as exhausting for you as for the rest of us. Of course, there’s a dinner prepared here——
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Quickly, half-frightened.] Oh, no, dear; I couldn’t sit down to table with you; I’m not entitled to do that. Fetch me a glass of wine and a biscuit—[appealingly]—don’t let a servant bring it, John. [He goes to the dining-room door, she rises, and calls him.] John!—[her head drooping]—do you think we shall ever sit at the same table again, you and I?
John.
John.
John.
[After a pause, sitting, looking away from her.] Oh, Olive, Olive! remember——!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Fidgeting with the cigarette-box.] Not for many years, of course—three or four years, at least. Time makes the oddest things possible.
John.
John.
John.
[Thoughtfully.] I suppose so.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
It would appear supremely ridiculous to the world, you’re afraid?
John.
John.
John.
Pish! the world don’t matter a damn.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Softly.] Ah, that’s delicious!
John.
John.
John.
What is——?
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
I haven’t heard a man swear since I turned you out of Pont Street. [Dreamily, almost inaudibly, as she plays with a cigarette.] Damn! [He looks roundat her; she is lost in thought; suddenly she crushes the cigarette, and flings it from her fiercely.] Ah! Theo Fraser smokes!
John.
John.
John.
[Starting up in a rage.] Hah! hah!
[He goes out of the room.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Following him a few steps, penitently.] Oh, John!—— [There is a knock at the upper door.] Yes?
[Quaifeenters, with some cards on a salver.]
[Quaifeenters, with some cards on a salver.]
[Quaifeenters, with some cards on a salver.]
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
[Looking round.] I beg pardon, ma’am; a lady and two gentlemen would like to see Mr. Allingham, if it’s not disturbing him.
[She goes to the table and examines the cards.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[In a hard voice.] Are these people friends of Mr. Allingham’s? Have they ever called on him before?
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
No, ma’am. [Hesitatingly.] I fancy the eldest ofthe two gentlemen came once, if not twice, to Pont Street in—in—in your time, ma’am.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
I’ll give those to Mr. Allingham. [He lays the cards out on the table.] You’ll be rung for. [He goes towards the door.] You haven’t mentioned that I am here?
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Oh, no, ma’am. I simply said Mr. Allingham was engaged for the moment.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Quite right; thank you.
[He withdraws. She eagerly scrutinises the cards, re-arranges them upon the table, then goes to the fireplace and stands waiting impatiently.Johnre-enters, carrying a decanter of champagne and some biscuits in a silver dish, which he places on a side-table.
John.
John.
John.
This is the Moet we had just begun to drink when we—— You rather liked it, I fancy.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Some people have called; they’re waiting to see you.
John.
John.
John.
[Turning.] People—so late?
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Pointing to the table.] These are their cards.
John.
John.
John.
[Picking up the cards.] “Mrs. Cloys,” “Mr. Claude Aylmer Emptage,” “Sir Fletcher Portwood.” Mrs. Cloys—that’s an aunt.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Stonily.] An aunt——?
John.
John.
John.
An aunt of Mrs. Fraser’s. What can they want with me?
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Isn’t it curious!
John.
John.
John.
I assure you I haven’t the slightest idea. I suppose nothing has happened to her!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
To Mrs. Fraser?
John.
John.
John.
Yes.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Oh, no, nothing ever happens to these women with fair hair and heavy eyelids.
John.
John.
John.
[Biting his lip.] Really?
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
You will see them, I suppose?
John.
John.
John.
I can’t refuse to see them.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
May I—may I wait till they have gone?
John.
John.
John.
Oh, Olive——! [She walks to the dining-room, he following her.] I won’t let them detain me very long.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Rapidly, agitatedly, facing him, her hand on the door-handle.] This is a most extraordinary visitation. These three people—her relatives—to come down on you like this, at such an hour!
John.
John.
John.
I am sure you will find that their visit admits of a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
I’ve no doubt!
John.
John.
John.
You shall have the fullest account of what passes between us.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
How shall I know it is a full account?
John.
John.
John.
[Leaving her.] Oh——!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Advancing quickly.] No, I don’t mean that! [Her hand to her heart.] Oh, do make some allowance for me, for my state of mind!
John.
John.
John.
[Turning abruptly.] Have you the courage to meet these people with me? If so, you can begin to-night to carry out your promise to serve Mrs. Fraser; you can tell her relatives now what your intentions are towards her.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Falteringly.] Certainly, I have the courage to meet them. [Advancing, tremblingly, breathlessly.] But do you know where you are drifting, John?
John.
John.
John.
Where I am drifting——?
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
Yes. I mean—what position are you willing to give me before these people?
John.
John.
John.
Position——?
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
I couldn’t submit to be treated as a culprit; and there is only one other possible position for me.
John.
John.
John.
What is that?
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
The—the—the wife.
John.
John.
John.
[Slowly.] The wife.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Tearfully.] Oh——! oh, I would try!
[He leaves her, and walks about agitatedly. She sits on the settee, weeping.
John.
John.
John.
[Rather wildly.] Well, I—I only want to cleanse the slate. My cursed stupidity has smeared poor little Mrs. Fraser’s character; I want to putthatright. It cuts me to the heart to see how wretchedyouare, Olive; I want to putthatright. Oh, if we fail again——!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
We c—c—can’t fail again—it’s impossible!
John.
John.
John.
[Desperately, throwing himself into the chair.] All right! Heaven have mercy upon us—we’re reconciled! Ring the bell. [She rises and touches the bell-press, and with the aid of the mirror over the mantelpiece attempts to adjust her hair and straighten her bonnet, he watching her.] By Jove, you have pluck!
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
To face these people?
John.
John.
John.
[With a short laugh.] I call it true courage.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
It’s nothing; I am so happy. Oh, John, you shall never regret this.
[Quaifeenters.
John.
John.
John.
[Rising.] Show Mrs. Cloys and the two gentlemen in here.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Yes, sir.
John.
John.
John.
Tell them that Mr. andMrs.Allingham are now disengaged.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Quaife.
Yes, sir. [He withdraws.
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Turning sharply.]Mrs.Allingham——?
John.
John.
John.
It wouldn’t be quite fair to spring you upon them suddenly——
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
You’ve given them warning; they may hurry away, to avoid me!
John.
John.
John.
No, no——
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
If they did do such a thing——! [Agitatedly.] Gurrrh! I can’t get my bonnet to sit straight. May I take it off, and receive them as if I were—at home?
John.
John.
John.
If you would rather do so——
Olive.
Olive.
Olive.
[Going to the dining-room door.] Is there a mirror in here?
John.
John.
John.
Yes. [She goes out hurriedly.] Let me hold the lamp for you——
[He follows her. After a brief pause,Quaifere-enters, showing inMrs. Cloys,Sir Fletcher Portwood,andClaude.Quaifewithdraws.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
[After looking round the room.] The wife.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
The wife!
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Who could have anticipated anything so extraordinary.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
[Walking about uneasily.] Harriet, your theories and suspicions have involved us in an entanglement of—ah—an unexpected kind.
Claude.
Claude.
Claude.
[Moodily.] A reg’lar mess, I call it.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
I wish your choice of expressions was a little happier, Claude——
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
The boy is right; and we must get out of this as quickly as possible.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Yes, yes; yes, yes.
Claude.
Claude.
Claude.
But I don’t believe the woman will have the daring effrontery to show her face to us; tome—the brother!
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
If she does appear, Fletcher, how on earth are we to explain our visit?
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Never explain, Harriet. I once explained in the House——
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Devil take the House!
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Harriet!
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Heaven forgive me!
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
You are unhinged—not yourself. No, no, we must simply avail ourselves of any topic that presents itself.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mercy on us! there’s only one topic thatcanpresent itself.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
I am not often nonplussed. You had better watch me closely; follow my lead—tsch!
Johnenters withOlive,who is now without her outdoorapparel.
Johnenters withOlive,who is now without her outdoorapparel.
Johnenters withOlive,who is now without her outdoor
apparel.