THE SECOND ACTThe Scene is the same as in the preceding Act.It is afternoon. When the curtain risesPorteousandLady Kitty,AnnaandTeddieare playing bridge.ElizabethandChampion-Cheneyare watching.PorteousandLady Kittyare partners.C.-C.When will Arnold be back, Elizabeth?Elizabeth.Soon, I think.C.-C.Is he addressing a meeting?Elizabeth.No, it’s only a conference with his agent and one or two constituents.Porteous.[Irritably.] How anyone can be expected to play bridge when people are shouting at the top of their voices all round them, I for one cannot understand.Elizabeth.[Smiling.] I’m so sorry.Anna.I can see your hand, Lord Porteous.Porteous.It may help you.Lady Kitty.I’ve told you over and over again to hold your cards up. It ruins one’s game when one can’t help seeing one’s opponent’s hand.Porteous.One isn’t obliged to look.Lady Kitty.What was Arnold’s majority at the last election?Elizabeth.Seven hundred and something.C.-C.He’ll have to fight for it if he wants to keep his seat next time.Porteous.Are we playing bridge, or talking politics?Lady Kitty.I never find that conversation interferes with my game.Porteous.You certainly play no worse when you talk than when you hold your tongue.Lady Kitty.I think that’s a very offensive thing to say, Hughie. Just because I don’t play the same game as you do you think I can’t play.Porteous.I’m glad you acknowledge it’s not the same game as I play. But why in God’s name do you call it bridge?C.-C.I agree with Kitty. I hate people who play bridge as though they were at a funeral and knew their feet were getting wet.Porteous.Of course you take Kitty’s part.Lady Kitty.That’s the least he can do.C.-C.I have a naturally cheerful disposition.Porteous.You’ve never had anything to sour it.Lady Kitty.I don’t know what you mean by that, Hughie.Porteous.[Trying to contain himself.] Must you trump my ace?Lady Kitty.[Innocently.] Oh, was that your ace, darling?Porteous.[Furiously.] Yes, it was my ace.Lady Kitty.Oh, well, it was the only trump I had. I shouldn’t have made it anyway.Porteous.You needn’t have told them that. Now she knows exactly what I’ve got.Lady Kitty.She knew before.Porteous.How could she know?Lady Kitty.She said she’d seen your hand.Anna.Oh, I didn’t. I said I could see it.Lady Kitty.Well, I naturally supposed that if she could see it she did.Porteous.Really, Kitty, you have the most extraordinary ideas.C.-C.Not at all. If anyone is such a fool as to show me his hand, of course I look at it.Porteous.[Fuming.] If you study the etiquette of bridge, you’ll discover that onlookers are expected not to interfere with the game.C.-C.My dear Hughie, this is a matter of ethics, not of bridge.Anna.Anyhow, I get the game. And rubber.Teddie.I claim a revoke.Porteous.Who revoked?Teddie.You did.Porteous.Nonsense. I’ve never revoked in my life.Teddie.I’ll show you. [He turns over the tricks to show the faces of the cards.] You threw away a club on the third heart trick and you had another heart.Porteous.I never had more than two hearts.Teddie.Oh, yes, you had. Look here. That’s the card you played on the last trick but one.Lady Kitty.[Delighted to catch him out.] There’s no doubt about it, Hughie. You revoked.Porteous.I tell you I did not revoke. I never revoke.C.-C.You did, Hughie. I wondered what on earth you were doing.Porteous.I don’t know how anyone can be expected not to revoke when there’s this confounded chatter going on all the time.Teddie.Well, that’s another hundred to us.Porteous.[ToChampion-Cheney.] I wish you wouldn’t breathe down my neck. I never can play bridge when there’s somebody breathing down my neck.[The party have risen from the bridge-table, and they scatter about the room.Anna.Well, I’m going to take a book and lie down in the hammock till it’s time to dress.Teddie.[Who has been adding up.] I’ll put it down in the book, shall I?Porteous.[Who has not moved, setting out the cards for a patience.] Yes, yes, put it down. I never revoke.[Annagoes out.Lady Kitty.Would you like to come for a little stroll, Hughie?Porteous.What for?Lady Kitty.Exercise.Porteous.I hate exercise.C.-C.[Looking at the patience.] The seven goes on the eight.[Porteoustakes no notice.Lady Kitty.The seven goes on the eight, Hughie.Porteous.I don’t choose to put the seven on the eight.C.-C.That knave goes on the queen.Porteous.I’m not blind, thank you.Lady Kitty.The three goes on the four.C.-C.All these go over.Porteous.[Furiously.] Am I playing this patience, or are you playing it?Lady Kitty.But you’re missing everything.Porteous.That’s my business.C.-C.It’s no good losing your temper over it, Hughie.Porteous.Go away, both of you. You irritate me.Lady Kitty.We were only trying to help you, Hughie.Porteous.I don’t want to be helped. I want to do it by myself.Lady Kitty.I think your manners are perfectly deplorable, Hughie.Porteous.It’s simply maddening when you’re playing patience and people won’t leave you alone.C.-C.We won’t say another word.Porteous.That three goes. I believe it’s coming out. If I’d been such a fool as to put that seven up I shouldn’t have been able to bring these down.[He puts down several cards while they watch him silently.Lady KittyandC.-C.[Together.] The four goes on the five.Porteous.[Throwing down the cards violently.] Damn you! why don’t you leave me alone? It’s intolerable.C.-C.It was coming out, my dear fellow.Porteous.I know it was coming out. Confound you!Lady Kitty.How petty you are, Hughie!Porteous.Petty, be damned! I’ve told you over andover again that I will not be interfered with when I’m playing patience.Lady Kitty.Don’t talk to me like that, Hughie.Porteous.I shall talk to you as I please.Lady Kitty.[Beginning to cry.] Oh, you brute! You brute! [She flings out of the room.]Porteous.Oh, damn! now she’s going to cry.[He shambles out into the garden.Champion-Cheney,ElizabethandTeddieare left alone. There is a moment’s pause.Champion-Cheneylooks fromTeddietoElizabeth,with an ironical smile.C.-C.Upon my soul, they might be married. They frip so much.Elizabeth.[Frigidly.] It’s been nice of you to come here so often since they arrived. It’s helped to make things easy.C.-C.Irony? It’s a rhetorical form not much favoured in this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.Elizabeth.What exactly are you getting at?C.-C.How slangy the young women of the present day are! I suppose the fact that Arnold is a purist leads you to the contrary extravagance.Elizabeth.Anyhow you know what I mean.C.-C.[With a smile.] I have a dim, groping suspicion.Elizabeth.You promised to keep away. Why did you come back the moment they arrived?C.-C.Curiosity, my dear child. A surely pardonable curiosity.Elizabeth.And since then you’ve been here all the time. You don’t generally favour us with so much of your company when you’re down at your cottage.C.-C.I’ve been excessively amused.Elizabeth.It has struck me that whenever they started fripping you took a malicious pleasure in goading them on.C.-C.I don’t think there’s much love lost between them now, do you?[Teddieis making as though to leave the room.Elizabeth.Don’t go, Teddie.C.-C.No, please don’t. I’m only staying a minute. We were talking about Lady Kitty just before she arrived. [ToElizabeth.] Do you remember? The pale, frail lady in black satin and old lace.Elizabeth.[With a chuckle.] You are a devil, you know.C.-C.Ah, well, he’s always had the reputation of being a humorist and a gentleman.Elizabeth.Didyouexpect her to be like that, poor dear?C.-C.My dear child, I hadn’t the vaguest idea. You were asking me the other day what she was like when she ran away. I didn’t tell you half. She was so gay and so natural. Who would have thought that animation would turn into such frivolity, and that charming impulsiveness lead to such a ridiculous affectation?Elizabeth.It rather sets my nerves on edge to hear the way you talk of her.C.-C.It’s the truth that sets your nerves on edge, not I.Elizabeth.You loved her once. Have you no feeling for her at all?C.-C.None. Why should I?Elizabeth.She’s the mother of your son.C.-C.My dear child, you have a charming nature, as simple, frank, and artless as hers was. Don’t let pure humbug obscure your common sense.Elizabeth.We have no right to judge. She’s only been here two days. We know nothing about her.C.-C.My dear, her soul is as thickly rouged as her face. She hasn’t an emotion that’s sincere. She’s tinsel. You think I’m a cruel, cynical old man. Why, when I think of what she was, if I didn’t laugh at what she has become I should cry.Elizabeth.How do you know she wouldn’t be justthe same now if she’d remained your wife? Do you think your influence would have had such a salutary effect on her?C.-C.[Good-humouredly.] I like you when you’re bitter and rather insolent.Elizabeth.D’you like me enough to answer my question?C.-C.She was only twenty-seven when she went away. She might have become anything. She might have become the woman you expected her to be. There are very few of us who are strong enough to make circumstances serve us. We are the creatures of our environment. She’s a silly, worthless woman because she’s led a silly, worthless life.Elizabeth.[Disturbed.] You’re horrible to-day.C.-C.I don’t say it’s I who could have prevented her from becoming this ridiculous caricature of a pretty woman grown old. But life could. Here she would have had the friends fit to her station, and a decent activity, and worthy interests. Ask her what her life has been all these years among divorced women and kept women and the men who consort with them. There is no more lamentable pursuit than a life of pleasure.Elizabeth.At all events she loved and she loved greatly. I have only pity and affection for her.C.-C.And if she loved what d’you think she felt when she saw that she had ruined Hughie? Look at him. He was tight last night after dinner and tight the night before.Elizabeth.I know.C.-C.And she took it as a matter of course. How long do you suppose he’s been getting tight every night? Do you think he was like that thirty years ago? Can you imagine that that was a brilliant young man, whom everyone expected to be Prime Minister? Look at him now. A grumpy sodden old fellow with false teeth.Elizabeth.You have false teeth, too.C.-C.Yes, but damn it all, they fit. She’s ruined him and she knows she’s ruined him.Elizabeth.[Looking at him suspiciously.] Why are you saying all this to me?C.-C.Am I hurting your feelings?Elizabeth.I think I’ve had enough for the present.C.-C.I’ll go and have a look at the gold-fish. I want to see Arnold when he comes in. [Politely.] I’m afraid we’ve been boring Mr. Luton.Teddie.Not at all.C.-C.When are you going back to the F.M.S.?Teddie.In about a month.C.-C.I see.[He goes out.Elizabeth.I wonder what he has at the back of his head.Teddie.D’you think he was talking at you?Elizabeth.He’s as clever as a bagful of monkeys.[There is a moment’s pause.Teddiehesitates a little and when he speaks it is in a different tone. He is grave and somewhat nervous.Teddie.It seems very difficult to get a few minutes alone with you. I wonder if you’ve been making it difficult?Elizabeth.I wanted to think.Teddie.I’ve made up my mind to go away to-morrow.Elizabeth.Why?Teddie.I want you altogether or not at all.Elizabeth.You’re so arbitrary.Teddie.You said you—you said you cared for me.Elizabeth.I do.Teddie.Do you mind if we talk it over now?Elizabeth.No.Teddie.[Frowning.] It makes me feel rather shy and awkward. I’ve repeated to myself over and over again exactly what I want to say to you, and now all I’d prepared seems rather footling.Elizabeth.I’m so afraid I’m going to cry.Teddie.I feel it’s all so tremendously serious and I think we ought to keep emotion out of it. You’re rather emotional, aren’t you?Elizabeth.[Half smiling and half in tears.] So are you for the matter of that.Teddie.That’s why I wanted to have everything I meant to say to you cut and dried. I think it would be awfully unfair if I made love to you and all that sort of thing, and you were carried away. I wrote it all down and thought I’d send it you as a letter.Elizabeth.Why didn’t you?Teddie.I got the wind up. A letter seems so—so cold. You see, I love you so awfully.Elizabeth.For goodness’ sake don’t say that.Teddie.You mustn’t cry. Please don’t, or I shall go all to pieces.Elizabeth.[Trying to smile.] I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean anything really. It’s only tears running out of my eyes.Teddie.Our only chance is to be awfully matter-of-fact.[He stops for a moment. He finds it quite difficult to control himself. He clears his throat. He frowns with annoyance at himself.Elizabeth.What’s the matter?Teddie.I’ve got a sort of lump in my throat. It is idiotic. I think I’ll have a cigarette.[She watches him in silence while he lights a cigarette.You see, I’ve never been in love with anyone before, not really. It’s knocked me endways. I don’t know how I can live without you now. . . . Does that old fool know I’m in love with you?Elizabeth.I think so.Teddie.When he was talking about Lady Kitty smashing up Lord Porteous’ career I thought there was something at the back of it.Elizabeth.I think he was trying to persuade me not to smash up yours.Teddie.I’m sure that’s very considerate of him, but I don’t happen to have one to smash. I wish I had. It’s the only time in my life I’ve wished I were a hell of a swell so that I could chuck it all and show you how much more you are to me than anything else in the world.Elizabeth.[Affectionately.] You’re a dear old thing, Teddie.Teddie.You know, I don’t really know how to make love, but if I did I couldn’t do it now because I just want to be absolutely practical.Elizabeth.[Chaffing him.] I’m glad you don’t know how to make love. It would be almost more than I could bear.Teddie.You see, I’m not at all romantic and that sort of thing. I’m just a common or garden business man. All this is so dreadfully serious and I think we ought to be sensible.Elizabeth.[With a break in her voice.] You owl!Teddie.No, Elizabeth, don’t say things like that to me. I want you to consider all theprosandcons,and my heart’s thumping against my chest, and you know I love you, I love you, I love you.Elizabeth.[In a sigh of passion.] Oh, my precious!Teddie.[Impatiently, but with himself, rather than withElizabeth.] Don’t be idiotic, Elizabeth. I’m not going to tell you that I can’t live without you and a lot of muck like that. You know that you mean everything in the world to me. [Almost giving it up as a bad job.] Oh, my God!Elizabeth.[Her voice faltering.] D’you think there’s anything you can say to me that I don’t know already?Teddie.[Desperately.] But I haven’t said a single thing I wanted to. I’m a business man and I want to put it all in a business way, if you understand what I mean.Elizabeth.[Smiling.] I don’t believe you’re a very good business man.Teddie.[Sharply.] You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a first-rate business man, but somehow this is different. [Hopelessly.] I don’t know why it won’t go right.Elizabeth.What are we going to do about it?Teddie.You see, it’s not just because you’re awfully pretty that I love you. I’d love you just as much if you were old and ugly. It’s you I love, not what you look like. And it’s not only love; love be blowed! It’s that Ilikeyou so tremendously. I think you’re such a ripping good sort. I just want to be with you. I feel so jolly and happy just to think you’re there. I’m so awfullyfondof you.Elizabeth.[Laughing through her tears.] I don’t know if this is your idea of introducing a business proposition.Teddie.Damn you, you won’t let me.Elizabeth.You said “Damn you.”Teddie.I meant it.Elizabeth.Your voice sounded as if you meant it, you perfect duck!Teddie.Really, Elizabeth, you’re intolerable.Elizabeth.I’m doing nothing.Teddie.Yes, you are, you’re putting me off my blow. What I want to say is perfectly simple. I’m a very ordinary business man.Elizabeth.You’ve said that before.Teddie.[Angrily.] Shut up. I haven’t got a bob besides what I earn. I’ve got no position. I’m nothing. You’re rich and you’re a big pot and you’ve got everything that anyone can want. It’s awful cheek my saying anything to you at all. But after all there’s only one thing that really matters in the world, and that’s love. I love you. Chuck all this, Elizabeth, and come to me.Elizabeth.Are you cross with me?Teddie.Furious.Elizabeth.Darling!Teddie.If you don’t want me tell me so at once and let me get out quickly.Elizabeth.Teddie, nothing in the world matters anything to me but you. I’ll go wherever you take me. I love you.Teddie.[All to pieces.] Oh, my God!Elizabeth.Does it mean as much to you as that? Oh, Teddie!Teddie.[Trying to control himself.] Don’t be a fool, Elizabeth.Elizabeth.It’s you’re the fool. You’re making me cry.Teddie.You’re so damned emotional.Elizabeth.Damned emotional yourself. I’m sure you’re a rotten business man.Teddie.I don’t care what you think. You’ve made me so awfully happy. I say, what a lark life’s going to be!Elizabeth.Teddie, you are an angel.Teddie.Let’s get out quick. It’s no good wasting time. Elizabeth.Elizabeth.What?Teddie.Nothing. I just like to say Elizabeth.Elizabeth.You fool!Teddie.I say, can you shoot?Elizabeth.No.Teddie.I’ll teach you. You don’t know how ripping it is to start out from your camp at dawn and travel through the jungle. And you’re so tired at night and the sky’s all starry. It’s a fair treat. Of course I didn’t want to say anything about all that till you’d decided. I’d made up my mind to be absolutely practical.Elizabeth.[Chaffing him.] The only practical thing you said was that love is the only thing that really matters.Teddie.[Happily.] Pull the other leg next time, will you? I should have to have one longer than the other.Elizabeth.Isn’t it fun being in love with some one who’s in love with you?Teddie.I say, I think I’d better clear out at once, don’t you? It seems rather rotten to stay on in—in this house.Elizabeth.You can’t go to-night. There’s no train.Teddie.I’ll go to-morrow. I’ll wait in London till you’re ready to join me.Elizabeth.I’m not going to leave a note on the pincushion like Lady Kitty, you know. I’m going to tell Arnold.Teddie.Are you? Don’t you think there’ll be an awful bother?Elizabeth.I must face it. I should hate to be sly and deceitful.Teddie.Well, then, let’s face it together.Elizabeth.No, I’ll talk to Arnold by myself.Teddie.You won’t let anyone influence you?Elizabeth.No.[He holds out his hand and she takes it. They look into one another’s eyes with grave, almost solemn affection. There is the sound outside of a car driving up.Elizabeth.There’s the car. Arnold’s come back. I must go and bathe my eyes. I don’t want them to see I’ve been crying.Teddie.All right. [As she is going.] Elizabeth.Elizabeth.[Stopping.] What?Teddie.Bless you.Elizabeth.[Affectionately.] Idiot![She goes out of the door andTeddiethrough the French window into the garden. For an instant the room is empty.Arnoldcomes in. He sits down and takes some papers out of his despatch-case.Lady Kittyenters. He gets up.Lady Kitty.I saw you come in. Oh, my dear, don’t get up. There’s no reason why you should be so dreadfully polite to me.Arnold.I’ve just rung for a cup of tea.Lady Kitty.Perhaps we shall have the chance of a little talk. We don’t seem to have had five minutes by ourselves. I want to make your acquaintance, you know.Arnold.I should like you to know that it’s not by my wish that my father is here.Lady Kitty.But I’m so interested to see him.Arnold.I was afraid that you and Lord Porteous must find it embarrassing.Lady Kitty.Oh, no. Hughie was his greatest friend. They were at Eton and Oxford together. I think your father has improved so much since I saw him last. He wasn’t good-looking as a young man, but now he’s quite handsome.[TheFootmanbrings in a tray on which are tea-things.Lady Kitty.Shall I pour it out for you?Arnold.Thank you very much.Lady Kitty.Do you take sugar?Arnold.No. I gave it up during the war.Lady Kitty.So wise of you. It’s so bad for the figure. Besides being patriotic, of course. Isn’t it absurd that I should ask my son if he takes sugar or not? Life is really very quaint. Sad, of course, but oh, so quaint! Often I lie in bed at night and have a good laugh to myself as I think how quaint life is.Arnold.I’m afraid I’m a very serious person.Lady Kitty.How old are you now, Arnold?Arnold.Thirty-five.Lady Kitty.Are you really? Of course, I was a child when I married your father.Arnold.Really. He always told me you were twenty-two.Lady Kitty.Oh, what nonsense! Why, I was married out of the nursery. I put my hair up for the first time on my wedding-day.Arnold.Where is Lord Porteous?Lady Kitty.My dear, it sounds too absurd to hearyou call him Lord Porteous. Why don’t you call him—Uncle Hughie?Arnold.He doesn’t happen to be my uncle.Lady Kitty.No, but he’s your godfather. You know, I’m sure you’ll like him when you know him better. I’m so hoping that you and Elizabeth will come and stay with us in Florence. I simply adore Elizabeth. She’s too beautiful.Arnold.Her hair is very pretty.Lady Kitty.It’s not touched up, is it?Arnold.Oh, no.Lady Kitty.I just wondered. It’s rather a coincidence that her hair should be the same colour as mine. I suppose it shows that your father and you are attracted by just the same thing. So interesting, heredity, isn’t it?Arnold.Very.Lady Kitty.Of course, since I joined the Catholic Church I don’t believe in it any more. Darwin and all that sort of thing. Too dreadful. Wicked, you know. Besides, it’s not very good form, is it?[Champion-Cheneycomes in from the garden.C.-C.Do I intrude?Lady Kitty.Come in, Clive. Arnold and I have been having such a wonderful heart-to-heart talk.C.-C.Very nice.Arnold.Father, I stepped in for a moment at the Harveys’ on my way back. It’s simply criminal what they’re doing with that house.C.-C.What are they doing?Arnold.It’s an almost perfect Georgian house and they’ve got a lot of dreadful Victorian furniture. I gave them my ideas on the subject, but it’s quite hopeless. They said they were attached to their furniture.C.-C.Arnold should have been an interior decorator.Lady Kitty.He has wonderful taste. He gets that from me.Arnold.I suppose I have a certainflair.I have a passion for decorating houses.Lady Kitty.You’ve made this one charming.C.-C.D’you remember, we just had chintzes and comfortable chairs when we lived here, Kitty.Lady Kitty.Perfectly hideous, wasn’t it?C.-C.In those days gentlemen and ladies were not expected to have taste.Arnold.You know, I’ve been looking at this chair again. Since Lord Porteous said the legs weren’t right I’ve been very uneasy.Lady Kitty.He only said that because he was in a bad temper.C.-C.His temper seems to me very short these days, Kitty.Lady Kitty.Oh, it is.Arnold.You feel he knows what he’s talking about. I gave seventy-five pounds for that chair. I’m very seldom taken in. I always think if a thing’s right you feel it.C.-C.Well, don’t let it disturb your night’s rest.Arnold.But, my dear father, that’s just what it does. I had a most horrible dream about it last night.Lady Kitty.Here is Hughie.Arnold.I’m going to fetch a book I have on Old English furniture. There’s an illustration of a chair which is almost identical with this one.[Porteouscomes in.Porteous.Quite a family gathering, by George!C.-C.I was thinking just now we’d make a very pleasing picture of a typical English home.Arnold.I’ll be back in five minutes. There’s something I want to show you, Lord Porteous.[He goes out.C.-C.Would you like to play piquet with me, Hughie?Porteous.Not particularly.C.-C.You were never much of a piquet player, were you?Porteous.My dear Clive, you people don’t know what piquet is in England.C.-C.Let’s have a game then. You may make money.Porteous.I don’t want to play with you.Lady Kitty.I don’t know why not, Hughie.Porteous.Let me tell you that I don’t like your manner.C.-C.I’m sorry for that. I’m afraid I can’t offer to change it at my age.Porteous.I don’t know what you want to be hanging around here for.C.-C.A natural attachment to my home.Porteous.If you’d had any tact you’d have kept out of the way while we were here.C.-C.My dear Hughie, I don’t understand your attitude at all. If I’m willing to let bygones be bygones why should you object?Porteous.Damn it all, they’re not bygones.C.-C.After all, I am the injured party.Porteous.How the devil are you the injured party?C.-C.Well, you did run away with my wife, didn’t you?Lady Kitty.Now, don’t let’s go into ancient history. I can’t see why we shouldn’t all be friends.Porteous.I beg you not to interfere, Kitty.Lady Kitty.I’m very fond of Clive.Porteous.You never cared two straws for Clive. You only say that to irritate me.Lady Kitty.Not at all. I don’t see why he shouldn’t come and stay with us.C.-C.I’d love to. I think Florence in spring-time is delightful. Have you central heating?Porteous.I never liked you, I don’t like you now, and I never shall like you.C.-C.How very unfortunate! because I liked you, I like you now, and I shall continue to like you.Lady Kitty.There’s something very nice about you, Clive.Porteous.If you think that, why the devil did you leave him?Lady Kitty.Are you going to reproach me because I loved you? How utterly, utterly, utterly detestable you are!C.-C.Now, now, don’t quarrel with one another.Lady Kitty.It’s all his fault. I’m the easiest person in the world to live with. But really he’d try the patience of a saint.C.-C.Come, come, don’t get upset, Kitty. When two people live together there must be a certain amount of give and take.Porteous.I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about.C.-C.It hasn’t escaped my observation that you are a little inclined to frip. Many couples are. I think it’s a pity.Porteous.Would you have the very great kindness to mind your own business?Lady Kitty.It is his business. He naturally wants me to be happy.C.-C.I have the very greatest affection for Kitty.Porteous.Then why the devil didn’t you look after her properly?C.-C.My dear Hughie, you were my greatest friend. I trusted you. It may have been rash.Porteous.It was inexcusable.Lady Kitty.I don’t know what you mean by that, Hughie.Porteous.Don’t, don’t, don’t try and bully me, Kitty.Lady Kitty.Oh, I know what you mean.Porteous.Then why the devil did you say you didn’t?Lady Kitty.When I think that I sacrificed everything for that man! And for thirty years I’ve had to live in a filthy marble palace with no sanitary conveniences.C.-C.D’you mean to say you haven’t got a bathroom?Lady Kitty.I’ve had to wash in a tub.C.-C.My poor Kitty, how you’ve suffered!Porteous.Really, Kitty, I’m sick of hearing of the sacrifices you made. I suppose you think I sacrificed nothing. I should have been Prime Minister by now if it hadn’t been for you.Lady Kitty.Nonsense!Porteous.What do you mean by that? Everyone said I should be Prime Minister. Shouldn’t I have been Prime Minister, Clive?C.-C.It was certainly the general expectation.Porteous.I was the most promising young man of my day. I was bound to get a seat in the Cabinet at the next election.Lady Kitty.They’d have found you out just as I’ve found you out. I’m sick of hearing that I ruined your career. You never had a career to ruin. Prime Minister! You haven’t the brain. You haven’t the character.C.-C.Cheek, push, and a gift of the gab will serve very well instead, you know.Lady Kitty.Besides, in politics it’s not the men that matter. It’s the women at the back of them. I could have made Clive a Cabinet Minister if I’d wanted to.Porteous.Clive?Lady Kitty.With my beauty, my charm, my force of character, my wit, I could have done anything.Porteous.Clive was nothing but my political secretary. When I was Prime Minister I might have made him Governor of some Colony or other. Western Australia, say. Out of pure kindliness.Lady Kitty.[With flashing eyes.] D’you think I would have buried myself in Western Australia? With my beauty? My charm?Porteous.Or Barbadoes, perhaps.Lady Kitty.[Furiously.] Barbadoes! Barbadoes can go to—Barbadoes.Porteous.That’s all you’d have got.Lady Kitty.Nonsense! I’d have India.Porteous.I would never have given you India.Lady Kitty.You would have given me India.Porteous.I tell you I wouldn’t.Lady Kitty.The King would have given me India. The nation would have insisted on my having India. I would have been a vice-reine or nothing.Porteous.I tell you that as long as the interests of the British Empire—Damn it all, my teeth are coming out![He hurries from the room.Lady Kitty.It’s too much. I can’t bear it any more. I’ve put up with him for thirty years and now I’m at the end of my tether.C.-C.Calm yourself, my dear Kitty.Lady Kitty.I won’t listen to a word. I’ve quite made up my mind. It’s finished, finished, finished. [With a change of tone.] I was so touched when I heard that you never lived in this house again after I left it.C.-C.The cuckoos have always been very plentiful. Their note has a personal application which, I must say, I have found extremely offensive.Lady Kitty.When I saw that you didn’t marry again I couldn’t help thinking that you still loved me.C.-C.I am one of the few men I know who is able to profit by experience.Lady Kitty.In the eyes of the Church I am still your wife. The Church is so wise. It knows that in the end a woman always comes back to her first love. Clive, I am willing to return to you.C.-C.My dear Kitty, I couldn’t take advantage of your momentary vexation with Hughie to let you take a step which I know you would bitterly regret.Lady Kitty.You’ve waited for me a long time. For Arnold’s sake.C.-C.Do you think we really need bother about Arnold? In the last thirty years he’s had time to grow used to the situation.Lady Kitty.[With a little smile.] I think I’ve sown my wild oats, Clive.C.-C.I haven’t. I was a good young man, Kitty.Lady Kitty.I know.C.-C.And I’m very glad, because it has enabled me to be a wicked old one.Lady Kitty.I beg your pardon.[Arnoldcomes in with a large book in his hand.Arnold.I say, I’ve found the book I was hunting for. Oh! isn’t Lord Porteous here?Lady Kitty.One moment, Arnold. Your father and I are busy.Arnold.I’m so sorry.[He goes out into the garden.Lady Kitty.Explain yourself, Clive.C.-C.When you ran away from me, Kitty, I was sore and angry and miserable. But above all I felt a fool.Lady Kitty.Men are so vain.C.-C.But I was a student of history, and presently I reflected that I shared my misfortune with very nearly all the greatest men.Lady Kitty.I’m a great reader myself. It has always struck me as peculiar.C.-C.The explanation is very simple. Women dislike intelligence, and when they find it in their husbands they revenge themselves on them in the only way they can, by making them—well, what you made me.Lady Kitty.It’s ingenious. It may be true.C.-C.I felt I had done my duty by society and I determined to devote the rest of my life to my own entertainment. The House of Commons had always bored me excessively and the scandal of our divorce gave me an opportunity to resign my seat. I have been relieved to find that the country got on perfectly well without me.Lady Kitty.But has love never entered your life?C.-C.Tell me frankly, Kitty, don’t you think people make a lot of unnecessary fuss about love?Lady Kitty.It’s the most wonderful thing in the world.C.-C.You’re incorrigible. Do you really think it was worth sacrificing so much for?Lady Kitty.My dear Clive, I don’t mind telling you that if I had my time over again I should be unfaithful to you, but I should not leave you.C.-C.For some years I was notoriously the prey of a secret sorrow. But I found so many charming creatures who were anxious to console that in the end it grew rather fatiguing. Out of regard to my health I ceased to frequent the drawing-rooms of Mayfair.Lady Kitty.And since then?C.-C.Since then I have allowed myself the luxury of assisting financially a succession of dear little things, in a somewhat humble sphere, between the ages of twenty and twenty-five.Lady Kitty.I cannot understand the infatuation of men for young girls. I think they’re so dull.C.-C.It’s a matter of taste. I love old wine, old friends and old books, but I like young women. On their twenty-fifth birthday I give them a diamond ring and tell them they must no longer waste their youth and beauty on an old fogey like me. We have a most affecting scene, my technique on these occasions is perfect, and then I start all over again.Lady Kitty.You’re a wicked old man, Clive.C.-C.That’s what I told you. But, by George! I’m a happy one.Lady Kitty.There’s only one course open to me now.C.-C.What is that?Lady Kitty.[With a flashing smile.] To go and dress for dinner.C.-C.Capital. I will follow your example.[AsLady Kittygoes outElizabethcomes in.Elizabeth.Where is Arnold?C.-C.He’s on the terrace. I’ll call him.Elizabeth.Don’t bother.C.-C.I was just strolling along to my cottage to put on a dinner jacket. [As he goes out.] Arnold.[ExitC.-C.Arnold.Hulloa! [He comes in.] Oh, Elizabeth, I’ve found an illustration here of a chair which is almost identical with mine. It’s dated 1750. Look!Elizabeth.That’s very interesting.Arnold.I want to show it to Porteous. [Moving a chair which has been misplaced.] You know, it does exasperate me the way people will not leave things alone. I no sooner put a thing in its place than somebody moves it.Elizabeth.It must be maddening for you.Arnold.It is. You are the worst offender. I can’t think why you don’t take the pride that I do in the house. After all, it’s one of the show places in the county.Elizabeth.I’m afraid you find me very unsatisfactory.Arnold.[Good-humouredly.] I don’t know about that. But my two subjects are politics and decoration. I should be a perfect fool if I didn’t see that you don’t care two straws about either.Elizabeth.We haven’t very much in common, Arnold, have we?Arnold.I don’t think you can blame me for that.Elizabeth.I don’t. I blame you for nothing. I have no fault to find with you.Arnold.[Surprised at her significant tone.] Good gracious me! what’s the meaning of all this?Elizabeth.Well, I don’t think there’s any object in beating about the bush. I want you to let me go.Arnold.Go where?Elizabeth.Away. For always.Arnold.My dear child, whatareyou talking about?Elizabeth.I want to be free.Arnold.[Amused rather than disconcerted.] Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I daresay you’re run down and wanta change. I’ll take you over to Paris for a fortnight if you like.Elizabeth.I shouldn’t have spoken to you if I hadn’t quite made up my mind. We’ve been married for three years and I don’t think it’s been a great success. I’m frankly bored by the life you want me to lead.Arnold.Well, if you’ll allow me to say so, the fault is yours. We lead a very distinguished, useful life. We know a lot of extremely nice people.Elizabeth.I’m quite willing to allow that the fault is mine. But how does that make it any better? I’m only twenty-five. If I’ve made a mistake I have time to correct it.Arnold.I can’t bring myself to take you very seriously.Elizabeth.You see, I don’t love you.Arnold.Well, I’m awfully sorry. But you weren’t obliged to marry me. You’ve made your bed and I’m afraid you must lie on it.Elizabeth.That’s one of the falsest proverbs in the English language. Why should you lie on the bed you’ve made if you don’t want to? There’s always the floor.Arnold.For goodness’ sake don’t be funny, Elizabeth.Elizabeth.I’ve quite made up my mind to leave you, Arnold.Arnold.Come, come, Elizabeth, you must be sensible. You haven’t any reason to leave me.Elizabeth.Why should you wish to keep a woman tied to you who wants to be free?Arnold.I happen to be in love with you.Elizabeth.You might have said that before.Arnold.I thought you’d take it for granted. You can’t expect a man to go on making love to his wife after three years. I’m very busy. I’m awfully keen on politics and I’ve worked like a dog to make this house a thing of beauty. After all, a man marries to have a home, but also because he doesn’t want to be bothered with sex andall that sort of thing. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you and I’ve been in love ever since.Elizabeth.I’m sorry, but if you’re not in love with a man his love doesn’t mean very much to you.Arnold.It’s so ungrateful. I’ve done everything in the world for you.Elizabeth.You’ve been very kind to me. But you’ve asked me to lead a life I don’t like and that I’m not suited for. I’m awfully sorry to cause you pain, but now you must let me go.Arnold.Nonsense! I’m a good deal older than you are and I think I have a little more sense. In your interests as well as in mine I’m not going to do anything of the sort.Elizabeth.[With a smile.] How can you prevent me? You can’t keep me under lock and key.Arnold.Please don’t talk to me as if I were a foolish child. You’re my wife and you’re going to remain my wife.Elizabeth.What sort of a life do you think we should lead? Do you think there’d be any more happiness for you than for me?Arnold.But what is it precisely that you suggest?Elizabeth.Well, I want you to let me divorce you.Arnold.[Astounded.] Me? Thank you very much. Are you under the impression I’m going to sacrifice my career for a whim of yours?Elizabeth.How will it do that?Arnold.My seat’s wobbly enough as it is. Do you think I’d be able to hold it if I were in a divorce case? Even if it were a put-up job, as most divorces are nowadays, it would damn me.Elizabeth.It’s rather hard on a woman to be divorced.Arnold.[With sudden suspicion.] What do you mean by that? Are you in love with some one?Elizabeth.Yes.Arnold.Who?Elizabeth.Teddie Luton.[He is astonished for a moment, then bursts into a laugh.Arnold.My poor child, how can you be so ridiculous? Why, he hasn’t a bob. He’s a perfectly commonplace young man. It’s so absurd I can’t even be angry with you.Elizabeth.I’ve fallen desperately in love with him, Arnold.Arnold.Well, you’d better fall desperately out.Elizabeth.He wants to marry me.Arnold.I daresay he does. He can go to hell.Elizabeth.It’s no good talking like that.Arnold.Is he your lover?Elizabeth.No, certainly not.Arnold.It shows that he’s a mean skunk to take advantage of my hospitality to make love to you.Elizabeth.He’s never even kissed me.Arnold.I’d try telling that to the horse marines if I were you.Elizabeth.It’s because I wanted to do nothing shabby that I told you straight out how things were.Arnold.How long have you been thinking of this?Elizabeth.I’ve been in love with Teddie ever since I knew him.Arnold.And you never thought of me at all, I suppose.Elizabeth.Oh, yes, I did. I was miserable. But I can’t help myself. I wish I loved you, but I don’t.Arnold.I recommend you to think very carefully before you do anything foolish.Elizabeth.I have thought very carefully.Arnold.By God! I don’t know why I don’t give you a sound hiding. I’m not sure if that wouldn’t be the best thing to bring you to your senses.Elizabeth.Oh, Arnold, don’t take it like that.Arnold.How do you expect me to take it? You come to me quite calmly and say: “I’ve had enough of you. We’ve been married three years and I think I’d like to marry somebody else now. Shall I break up your home?What a bore for you! Do you mind my divorcing you? It’ll smash up your career, will it? What a pity!” Oh, no, my girl, I may be a fool, but I’m not a damned fool.Elizabeth.Teddie is leaving here by the first train to-morrow. I warn you that I mean to join him as soon as he can make the necessary arrangements.Arnold.Where is he?Elizabeth.I don’t know. I suppose he’s in his room.[Arnoldgoes to the door and calls.Arnold.George![For a moment he walks up and down the room impatiently.Elizabethwatches him. TheFootmancomes in.
The Scene is the same as in the preceding Act.
It is afternoon. When the curtain risesPorteousandLady Kitty,AnnaandTeddieare playing bridge.ElizabethandChampion-Cheneyare watching.PorteousandLady Kittyare partners.
C.-C.When will Arnold be back, Elizabeth?
Elizabeth.Soon, I think.
C.-C.Is he addressing a meeting?
Elizabeth.No, it’s only a conference with his agent and one or two constituents.
Porteous.[Irritably.] How anyone can be expected to play bridge when people are shouting at the top of their voices all round them, I for one cannot understand.
Elizabeth.[Smiling.] I’m so sorry.
Anna.I can see your hand, Lord Porteous.
Porteous.It may help you.
Lady Kitty.I’ve told you over and over again to hold your cards up. It ruins one’s game when one can’t help seeing one’s opponent’s hand.
Porteous.One isn’t obliged to look.
Lady Kitty.What was Arnold’s majority at the last election?
Elizabeth.Seven hundred and something.
C.-C.He’ll have to fight for it if he wants to keep his seat next time.
Porteous.Are we playing bridge, or talking politics?
Lady Kitty.I never find that conversation interferes with my game.
Porteous.You certainly play no worse when you talk than when you hold your tongue.
Lady Kitty.I think that’s a very offensive thing to say, Hughie. Just because I don’t play the same game as you do you think I can’t play.
Porteous.I’m glad you acknowledge it’s not the same game as I play. But why in God’s name do you call it bridge?
C.-C.I agree with Kitty. I hate people who play bridge as though they were at a funeral and knew their feet were getting wet.
Porteous.Of course you take Kitty’s part.
Lady Kitty.That’s the least he can do.
C.-C.I have a naturally cheerful disposition.
Porteous.You’ve never had anything to sour it.
Lady Kitty.I don’t know what you mean by that, Hughie.
Porteous.[Trying to contain himself.] Must you trump my ace?
Lady Kitty.[Innocently.] Oh, was that your ace, darling?
Porteous.[Furiously.] Yes, it was my ace.
Lady Kitty.Oh, well, it was the only trump I had. I shouldn’t have made it anyway.
Porteous.You needn’t have told them that. Now she knows exactly what I’ve got.
Lady Kitty.She knew before.
Porteous.How could she know?
Lady Kitty.She said she’d seen your hand.
Anna.Oh, I didn’t. I said I could see it.
Lady Kitty.Well, I naturally supposed that if she could see it she did.
Porteous.Really, Kitty, you have the most extraordinary ideas.
C.-C.Not at all. If anyone is such a fool as to show me his hand, of course I look at it.
Porteous.[Fuming.] If you study the etiquette of bridge, you’ll discover that onlookers are expected not to interfere with the game.
C.-C.My dear Hughie, this is a matter of ethics, not of bridge.
Anna.Anyhow, I get the game. And rubber.
Teddie.I claim a revoke.
Porteous.Who revoked?
Teddie.You did.
Porteous.Nonsense. I’ve never revoked in my life.
Teddie.I’ll show you. [He turns over the tricks to show the faces of the cards.] You threw away a club on the third heart trick and you had another heart.
Porteous.I never had more than two hearts.
Teddie.Oh, yes, you had. Look here. That’s the card you played on the last trick but one.
Lady Kitty.[Delighted to catch him out.] There’s no doubt about it, Hughie. You revoked.
Porteous.I tell you I did not revoke. I never revoke.
C.-C.You did, Hughie. I wondered what on earth you were doing.
Porteous.I don’t know how anyone can be expected not to revoke when there’s this confounded chatter going on all the time.
Teddie.Well, that’s another hundred to us.
Porteous.[ToChampion-Cheney.] I wish you wouldn’t breathe down my neck. I never can play bridge when there’s somebody breathing down my neck.
[The party have risen from the bridge-table, and they scatter about the room.
Anna.Well, I’m going to take a book and lie down in the hammock till it’s time to dress.
Teddie.[Who has been adding up.] I’ll put it down in the book, shall I?
Porteous.[Who has not moved, setting out the cards for a patience.] Yes, yes, put it down. I never revoke.
[Annagoes out.
Lady Kitty.Would you like to come for a little stroll, Hughie?
Porteous.What for?
Lady Kitty.Exercise.
Porteous.I hate exercise.
C.-C.[Looking at the patience.] The seven goes on the eight.
[Porteoustakes no notice.
Lady Kitty.The seven goes on the eight, Hughie.
Porteous.I don’t choose to put the seven on the eight.
C.-C.That knave goes on the queen.
Porteous.I’m not blind, thank you.
Lady Kitty.The three goes on the four.
C.-C.All these go over.
Porteous.[Furiously.] Am I playing this patience, or are you playing it?
Lady Kitty.But you’re missing everything.
Porteous.That’s my business.
C.-C.It’s no good losing your temper over it, Hughie.
Porteous.Go away, both of you. You irritate me.
Lady Kitty.We were only trying to help you, Hughie.
Porteous.I don’t want to be helped. I want to do it by myself.
Lady Kitty.I think your manners are perfectly deplorable, Hughie.
Porteous.It’s simply maddening when you’re playing patience and people won’t leave you alone.
C.-C.We won’t say another word.
Porteous.That three goes. I believe it’s coming out. If I’d been such a fool as to put that seven up I shouldn’t have been able to bring these down.
[He puts down several cards while they watch him silently.
Lady KittyandC.-C.[Together.] The four goes on the five.
Porteous.[Throwing down the cards violently.] Damn you! why don’t you leave me alone? It’s intolerable.
C.-C.It was coming out, my dear fellow.
Porteous.I know it was coming out. Confound you!
Lady Kitty.How petty you are, Hughie!
Porteous.Petty, be damned! I’ve told you over andover again that I will not be interfered with when I’m playing patience.
Lady Kitty.Don’t talk to me like that, Hughie.
Porteous.I shall talk to you as I please.
Lady Kitty.[Beginning to cry.] Oh, you brute! You brute! [She flings out of the room.]
Porteous.Oh, damn! now she’s going to cry.
[He shambles out into the garden.Champion-Cheney,ElizabethandTeddieare left alone. There is a moment’s pause.Champion-Cheneylooks fromTeddietoElizabeth,with an ironical smile.
C.-C.Upon my soul, they might be married. They frip so much.
Elizabeth.[Frigidly.] It’s been nice of you to come here so often since they arrived. It’s helped to make things easy.
C.-C.Irony? It’s a rhetorical form not much favoured in this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
Elizabeth.What exactly are you getting at?
C.-C.How slangy the young women of the present day are! I suppose the fact that Arnold is a purist leads you to the contrary extravagance.
Elizabeth.Anyhow you know what I mean.
C.-C.[With a smile.] I have a dim, groping suspicion.
Elizabeth.You promised to keep away. Why did you come back the moment they arrived?
C.-C.Curiosity, my dear child. A surely pardonable curiosity.
Elizabeth.And since then you’ve been here all the time. You don’t generally favour us with so much of your company when you’re down at your cottage.
C.-C.I’ve been excessively amused.
Elizabeth.It has struck me that whenever they started fripping you took a malicious pleasure in goading them on.
C.-C.I don’t think there’s much love lost between them now, do you?
[Teddieis making as though to leave the room.
Elizabeth.Don’t go, Teddie.
C.-C.No, please don’t. I’m only staying a minute. We were talking about Lady Kitty just before she arrived. [ToElizabeth.] Do you remember? The pale, frail lady in black satin and old lace.
Elizabeth.[With a chuckle.] You are a devil, you know.
C.-C.Ah, well, he’s always had the reputation of being a humorist and a gentleman.
Elizabeth.Didyouexpect her to be like that, poor dear?
C.-C.My dear child, I hadn’t the vaguest idea. You were asking me the other day what she was like when she ran away. I didn’t tell you half. She was so gay and so natural. Who would have thought that animation would turn into such frivolity, and that charming impulsiveness lead to such a ridiculous affectation?
Elizabeth.It rather sets my nerves on edge to hear the way you talk of her.
C.-C.It’s the truth that sets your nerves on edge, not I.
Elizabeth.You loved her once. Have you no feeling for her at all?
C.-C.None. Why should I?
Elizabeth.She’s the mother of your son.
C.-C.My dear child, you have a charming nature, as simple, frank, and artless as hers was. Don’t let pure humbug obscure your common sense.
Elizabeth.We have no right to judge. She’s only been here two days. We know nothing about her.
C.-C.My dear, her soul is as thickly rouged as her face. She hasn’t an emotion that’s sincere. She’s tinsel. You think I’m a cruel, cynical old man. Why, when I think of what she was, if I didn’t laugh at what she has become I should cry.
Elizabeth.How do you know she wouldn’t be justthe same now if she’d remained your wife? Do you think your influence would have had such a salutary effect on her?
C.-C.[Good-humouredly.] I like you when you’re bitter and rather insolent.
Elizabeth.D’you like me enough to answer my question?
C.-C.She was only twenty-seven when she went away. She might have become anything. She might have become the woman you expected her to be. There are very few of us who are strong enough to make circumstances serve us. We are the creatures of our environment. She’s a silly, worthless woman because she’s led a silly, worthless life.
Elizabeth.[Disturbed.] You’re horrible to-day.
C.-C.I don’t say it’s I who could have prevented her from becoming this ridiculous caricature of a pretty woman grown old. But life could. Here she would have had the friends fit to her station, and a decent activity, and worthy interests. Ask her what her life has been all these years among divorced women and kept women and the men who consort with them. There is no more lamentable pursuit than a life of pleasure.
Elizabeth.At all events she loved and she loved greatly. I have only pity and affection for her.
C.-C.And if she loved what d’you think she felt when she saw that she had ruined Hughie? Look at him. He was tight last night after dinner and tight the night before.
Elizabeth.I know.
C.-C.And she took it as a matter of course. How long do you suppose he’s been getting tight every night? Do you think he was like that thirty years ago? Can you imagine that that was a brilliant young man, whom everyone expected to be Prime Minister? Look at him now. A grumpy sodden old fellow with false teeth.
Elizabeth.You have false teeth, too.
C.-C.Yes, but damn it all, they fit. She’s ruined him and she knows she’s ruined him.
Elizabeth.[Looking at him suspiciously.] Why are you saying all this to me?
C.-C.Am I hurting your feelings?
Elizabeth.I think I’ve had enough for the present.
C.-C.I’ll go and have a look at the gold-fish. I want to see Arnold when he comes in. [Politely.] I’m afraid we’ve been boring Mr. Luton.
Teddie.Not at all.
C.-C.When are you going back to the F.M.S.?
Teddie.In about a month.
C.-C.I see.
[He goes out.
Elizabeth.I wonder what he has at the back of his head.
Teddie.D’you think he was talking at you?
Elizabeth.He’s as clever as a bagful of monkeys.
[There is a moment’s pause.Teddiehesitates a little and when he speaks it is in a different tone. He is grave and somewhat nervous.
Teddie.It seems very difficult to get a few minutes alone with you. I wonder if you’ve been making it difficult?
Elizabeth.I wanted to think.
Teddie.I’ve made up my mind to go away to-morrow.
Elizabeth.Why?
Teddie.I want you altogether or not at all.
Elizabeth.You’re so arbitrary.
Teddie.You said you—you said you cared for me.
Elizabeth.I do.
Teddie.Do you mind if we talk it over now?
Elizabeth.No.
Teddie.[Frowning.] It makes me feel rather shy and awkward. I’ve repeated to myself over and over again exactly what I want to say to you, and now all I’d prepared seems rather footling.
Elizabeth.I’m so afraid I’m going to cry.
Teddie.I feel it’s all so tremendously serious and I think we ought to keep emotion out of it. You’re rather emotional, aren’t you?
Elizabeth.[Half smiling and half in tears.] So are you for the matter of that.
Teddie.That’s why I wanted to have everything I meant to say to you cut and dried. I think it would be awfully unfair if I made love to you and all that sort of thing, and you were carried away. I wrote it all down and thought I’d send it you as a letter.
Elizabeth.Why didn’t you?
Teddie.I got the wind up. A letter seems so—so cold. You see, I love you so awfully.
Elizabeth.For goodness’ sake don’t say that.
Teddie.You mustn’t cry. Please don’t, or I shall go all to pieces.
Elizabeth.[Trying to smile.] I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean anything really. It’s only tears running out of my eyes.
Teddie.Our only chance is to be awfully matter-of-fact.
[He stops for a moment. He finds it quite difficult to control himself. He clears his throat. He frowns with annoyance at himself.
Elizabeth.What’s the matter?
Teddie.I’ve got a sort of lump in my throat. It is idiotic. I think I’ll have a cigarette.
[She watches him in silence while he lights a cigarette.
You see, I’ve never been in love with anyone before, not really. It’s knocked me endways. I don’t know how I can live without you now. . . . Does that old fool know I’m in love with you?
Elizabeth.I think so.
Teddie.When he was talking about Lady Kitty smashing up Lord Porteous’ career I thought there was something at the back of it.
Elizabeth.I think he was trying to persuade me not to smash up yours.
Teddie.I’m sure that’s very considerate of him, but I don’t happen to have one to smash. I wish I had. It’s the only time in my life I’ve wished I were a hell of a swell so that I could chuck it all and show you how much more you are to me than anything else in the world.
Elizabeth.[Affectionately.] You’re a dear old thing, Teddie.
Teddie.You know, I don’t really know how to make love, but if I did I couldn’t do it now because I just want to be absolutely practical.
Elizabeth.[Chaffing him.] I’m glad you don’t know how to make love. It would be almost more than I could bear.
Teddie.You see, I’m not at all romantic and that sort of thing. I’m just a common or garden business man. All this is so dreadfully serious and I think we ought to be sensible.
Elizabeth.[With a break in her voice.] You owl!
Teddie.No, Elizabeth, don’t say things like that to me. I want you to consider all theprosandcons,and my heart’s thumping against my chest, and you know I love you, I love you, I love you.
Elizabeth.[In a sigh of passion.] Oh, my precious!
Teddie.[Impatiently, but with himself, rather than withElizabeth.] Don’t be idiotic, Elizabeth. I’m not going to tell you that I can’t live without you and a lot of muck like that. You know that you mean everything in the world to me. [Almost giving it up as a bad job.] Oh, my God!
Elizabeth.[Her voice faltering.] D’you think there’s anything you can say to me that I don’t know already?
Teddie.[Desperately.] But I haven’t said a single thing I wanted to. I’m a business man and I want to put it all in a business way, if you understand what I mean.
Elizabeth.[Smiling.] I don’t believe you’re a very good business man.
Teddie.[Sharply.] You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a first-rate business man, but somehow this is different. [Hopelessly.] I don’t know why it won’t go right.
Elizabeth.What are we going to do about it?
Teddie.You see, it’s not just because you’re awfully pretty that I love you. I’d love you just as much if you were old and ugly. It’s you I love, not what you look like. And it’s not only love; love be blowed! It’s that Ilikeyou so tremendously. I think you’re such a ripping good sort. I just want to be with you. I feel so jolly and happy just to think you’re there. I’m so awfullyfondof you.
Elizabeth.[Laughing through her tears.] I don’t know if this is your idea of introducing a business proposition.
Teddie.Damn you, you won’t let me.
Elizabeth.You said “Damn you.”
Teddie.I meant it.
Elizabeth.Your voice sounded as if you meant it, you perfect duck!
Teddie.Really, Elizabeth, you’re intolerable.
Elizabeth.I’m doing nothing.
Teddie.Yes, you are, you’re putting me off my blow. What I want to say is perfectly simple. I’m a very ordinary business man.
Elizabeth.You’ve said that before.
Teddie.[Angrily.] Shut up. I haven’t got a bob besides what I earn. I’ve got no position. I’m nothing. You’re rich and you’re a big pot and you’ve got everything that anyone can want. It’s awful cheek my saying anything to you at all. But after all there’s only one thing that really matters in the world, and that’s love. I love you. Chuck all this, Elizabeth, and come to me.
Elizabeth.Are you cross with me?
Teddie.Furious.
Elizabeth.Darling!
Teddie.If you don’t want me tell me so at once and let me get out quickly.
Elizabeth.Teddie, nothing in the world matters anything to me but you. I’ll go wherever you take me. I love you.
Teddie.[All to pieces.] Oh, my God!
Elizabeth.Does it mean as much to you as that? Oh, Teddie!
Teddie.[Trying to control himself.] Don’t be a fool, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.It’s you’re the fool. You’re making me cry.
Teddie.You’re so damned emotional.
Elizabeth.Damned emotional yourself. I’m sure you’re a rotten business man.
Teddie.I don’t care what you think. You’ve made me so awfully happy. I say, what a lark life’s going to be!
Elizabeth.Teddie, you are an angel.
Teddie.Let’s get out quick. It’s no good wasting time. Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.What?
Teddie.Nothing. I just like to say Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.You fool!
Teddie.I say, can you shoot?
Elizabeth.No.
Teddie.I’ll teach you. You don’t know how ripping it is to start out from your camp at dawn and travel through the jungle. And you’re so tired at night and the sky’s all starry. It’s a fair treat. Of course I didn’t want to say anything about all that till you’d decided. I’d made up my mind to be absolutely practical.
Elizabeth.[Chaffing him.] The only practical thing you said was that love is the only thing that really matters.
Teddie.[Happily.] Pull the other leg next time, will you? I should have to have one longer than the other.
Elizabeth.Isn’t it fun being in love with some one who’s in love with you?
Teddie.I say, I think I’d better clear out at once, don’t you? It seems rather rotten to stay on in—in this house.
Elizabeth.You can’t go to-night. There’s no train.
Teddie.I’ll go to-morrow. I’ll wait in London till you’re ready to join me.
Elizabeth.I’m not going to leave a note on the pincushion like Lady Kitty, you know. I’m going to tell Arnold.
Teddie.Are you? Don’t you think there’ll be an awful bother?
Elizabeth.I must face it. I should hate to be sly and deceitful.
Teddie.Well, then, let’s face it together.
Elizabeth.No, I’ll talk to Arnold by myself.
Teddie.You won’t let anyone influence you?
Elizabeth.No.
[He holds out his hand and she takes it. They look into one another’s eyes with grave, almost solemn affection. There is the sound outside of a car driving up.
Elizabeth.There’s the car. Arnold’s come back. I must go and bathe my eyes. I don’t want them to see I’ve been crying.
Teddie.All right. [As she is going.] Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.[Stopping.] What?
Teddie.Bless you.
Elizabeth.[Affectionately.] Idiot!
[She goes out of the door andTeddiethrough the French window into the garden. For an instant the room is empty.Arnoldcomes in. He sits down and takes some papers out of his despatch-case.Lady Kittyenters. He gets up.
Lady Kitty.I saw you come in. Oh, my dear, don’t get up. There’s no reason why you should be so dreadfully polite to me.
Arnold.I’ve just rung for a cup of tea.
Lady Kitty.Perhaps we shall have the chance of a little talk. We don’t seem to have had five minutes by ourselves. I want to make your acquaintance, you know.
Arnold.I should like you to know that it’s not by my wish that my father is here.
Lady Kitty.But I’m so interested to see him.
Arnold.I was afraid that you and Lord Porteous must find it embarrassing.
Lady Kitty.Oh, no. Hughie was his greatest friend. They were at Eton and Oxford together. I think your father has improved so much since I saw him last. He wasn’t good-looking as a young man, but now he’s quite handsome.
[TheFootmanbrings in a tray on which are tea-things.
Lady Kitty.Shall I pour it out for you?
Arnold.Thank you very much.
Lady Kitty.Do you take sugar?
Arnold.No. I gave it up during the war.
Lady Kitty.So wise of you. It’s so bad for the figure. Besides being patriotic, of course. Isn’t it absurd that I should ask my son if he takes sugar or not? Life is really very quaint. Sad, of course, but oh, so quaint! Often I lie in bed at night and have a good laugh to myself as I think how quaint life is.
Arnold.I’m afraid I’m a very serious person.
Lady Kitty.How old are you now, Arnold?
Arnold.Thirty-five.
Lady Kitty.Are you really? Of course, I was a child when I married your father.
Arnold.Really. He always told me you were twenty-two.
Lady Kitty.Oh, what nonsense! Why, I was married out of the nursery. I put my hair up for the first time on my wedding-day.
Arnold.Where is Lord Porteous?
Lady Kitty.My dear, it sounds too absurd to hearyou call him Lord Porteous. Why don’t you call him—Uncle Hughie?
Arnold.He doesn’t happen to be my uncle.
Lady Kitty.No, but he’s your godfather. You know, I’m sure you’ll like him when you know him better. I’m so hoping that you and Elizabeth will come and stay with us in Florence. I simply adore Elizabeth. She’s too beautiful.
Arnold.Her hair is very pretty.
Lady Kitty.It’s not touched up, is it?
Arnold.Oh, no.
Lady Kitty.I just wondered. It’s rather a coincidence that her hair should be the same colour as mine. I suppose it shows that your father and you are attracted by just the same thing. So interesting, heredity, isn’t it?
Arnold.Very.
Lady Kitty.Of course, since I joined the Catholic Church I don’t believe in it any more. Darwin and all that sort of thing. Too dreadful. Wicked, you know. Besides, it’s not very good form, is it?
[Champion-Cheneycomes in from the garden.
C.-C.Do I intrude?
Lady Kitty.Come in, Clive. Arnold and I have been having such a wonderful heart-to-heart talk.
C.-C.Very nice.
Arnold.Father, I stepped in for a moment at the Harveys’ on my way back. It’s simply criminal what they’re doing with that house.
C.-C.What are they doing?
Arnold.It’s an almost perfect Georgian house and they’ve got a lot of dreadful Victorian furniture. I gave them my ideas on the subject, but it’s quite hopeless. They said they were attached to their furniture.
C.-C.Arnold should have been an interior decorator.
Lady Kitty.He has wonderful taste. He gets that from me.
Arnold.I suppose I have a certainflair.I have a passion for decorating houses.
Lady Kitty.You’ve made this one charming.
C.-C.D’you remember, we just had chintzes and comfortable chairs when we lived here, Kitty.
Lady Kitty.Perfectly hideous, wasn’t it?
C.-C.In those days gentlemen and ladies were not expected to have taste.
Arnold.You know, I’ve been looking at this chair again. Since Lord Porteous said the legs weren’t right I’ve been very uneasy.
Lady Kitty.He only said that because he was in a bad temper.
C.-C.His temper seems to me very short these days, Kitty.
Lady Kitty.Oh, it is.
Arnold.You feel he knows what he’s talking about. I gave seventy-five pounds for that chair. I’m very seldom taken in. I always think if a thing’s right you feel it.
C.-C.Well, don’t let it disturb your night’s rest.
Arnold.But, my dear father, that’s just what it does. I had a most horrible dream about it last night.
Lady Kitty.Here is Hughie.
Arnold.I’m going to fetch a book I have on Old English furniture. There’s an illustration of a chair which is almost identical with this one.
[Porteouscomes in.
Porteous.Quite a family gathering, by George!
C.-C.I was thinking just now we’d make a very pleasing picture of a typical English home.
Arnold.I’ll be back in five minutes. There’s something I want to show you, Lord Porteous.
[He goes out.
C.-C.Would you like to play piquet with me, Hughie?
Porteous.Not particularly.
C.-C.You were never much of a piquet player, were you?
Porteous.My dear Clive, you people don’t know what piquet is in England.
C.-C.Let’s have a game then. You may make money.
Porteous.I don’t want to play with you.
Lady Kitty.I don’t know why not, Hughie.
Porteous.Let me tell you that I don’t like your manner.
C.-C.I’m sorry for that. I’m afraid I can’t offer to change it at my age.
Porteous.I don’t know what you want to be hanging around here for.
C.-C.A natural attachment to my home.
Porteous.If you’d had any tact you’d have kept out of the way while we were here.
C.-C.My dear Hughie, I don’t understand your attitude at all. If I’m willing to let bygones be bygones why should you object?
Porteous.Damn it all, they’re not bygones.
C.-C.After all, I am the injured party.
Porteous.How the devil are you the injured party?
C.-C.Well, you did run away with my wife, didn’t you?
Lady Kitty.Now, don’t let’s go into ancient history. I can’t see why we shouldn’t all be friends.
Porteous.I beg you not to interfere, Kitty.
Lady Kitty.I’m very fond of Clive.
Porteous.You never cared two straws for Clive. You only say that to irritate me.
Lady Kitty.Not at all. I don’t see why he shouldn’t come and stay with us.
C.-C.I’d love to. I think Florence in spring-time is delightful. Have you central heating?
Porteous.I never liked you, I don’t like you now, and I never shall like you.
C.-C.How very unfortunate! because I liked you, I like you now, and I shall continue to like you.
Lady Kitty.There’s something very nice about you, Clive.
Porteous.If you think that, why the devil did you leave him?
Lady Kitty.Are you going to reproach me because I loved you? How utterly, utterly, utterly detestable you are!
C.-C.Now, now, don’t quarrel with one another.
Lady Kitty.It’s all his fault. I’m the easiest person in the world to live with. But really he’d try the patience of a saint.
C.-C.Come, come, don’t get upset, Kitty. When two people live together there must be a certain amount of give and take.
Porteous.I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about.
C.-C.It hasn’t escaped my observation that you are a little inclined to frip. Many couples are. I think it’s a pity.
Porteous.Would you have the very great kindness to mind your own business?
Lady Kitty.It is his business. He naturally wants me to be happy.
C.-C.I have the very greatest affection for Kitty.
Porteous.Then why the devil didn’t you look after her properly?
C.-C.My dear Hughie, you were my greatest friend. I trusted you. It may have been rash.
Porteous.It was inexcusable.
Lady Kitty.I don’t know what you mean by that, Hughie.
Porteous.Don’t, don’t, don’t try and bully me, Kitty.
Lady Kitty.Oh, I know what you mean.
Porteous.Then why the devil did you say you didn’t?
Lady Kitty.When I think that I sacrificed everything for that man! And for thirty years I’ve had to live in a filthy marble palace with no sanitary conveniences.
C.-C.D’you mean to say you haven’t got a bathroom?
Lady Kitty.I’ve had to wash in a tub.
C.-C.My poor Kitty, how you’ve suffered!
Porteous.Really, Kitty, I’m sick of hearing of the sacrifices you made. I suppose you think I sacrificed nothing. I should have been Prime Minister by now if it hadn’t been for you.
Lady Kitty.Nonsense!
Porteous.What do you mean by that? Everyone said I should be Prime Minister. Shouldn’t I have been Prime Minister, Clive?
C.-C.It was certainly the general expectation.
Porteous.I was the most promising young man of my day. I was bound to get a seat in the Cabinet at the next election.
Lady Kitty.They’d have found you out just as I’ve found you out. I’m sick of hearing that I ruined your career. You never had a career to ruin. Prime Minister! You haven’t the brain. You haven’t the character.
C.-C.Cheek, push, and a gift of the gab will serve very well instead, you know.
Lady Kitty.Besides, in politics it’s not the men that matter. It’s the women at the back of them. I could have made Clive a Cabinet Minister if I’d wanted to.
Porteous.Clive?
Lady Kitty.With my beauty, my charm, my force of character, my wit, I could have done anything.
Porteous.Clive was nothing but my political secretary. When I was Prime Minister I might have made him Governor of some Colony or other. Western Australia, say. Out of pure kindliness.
Lady Kitty.[With flashing eyes.] D’you think I would have buried myself in Western Australia? With my beauty? My charm?
Porteous.Or Barbadoes, perhaps.
Lady Kitty.[Furiously.] Barbadoes! Barbadoes can go to—Barbadoes.
Porteous.That’s all you’d have got.
Lady Kitty.Nonsense! I’d have India.
Porteous.I would never have given you India.
Lady Kitty.You would have given me India.
Porteous.I tell you I wouldn’t.
Lady Kitty.The King would have given me India. The nation would have insisted on my having India. I would have been a vice-reine or nothing.
Porteous.I tell you that as long as the interests of the British Empire—Damn it all, my teeth are coming out!
[He hurries from the room.
Lady Kitty.It’s too much. I can’t bear it any more. I’ve put up with him for thirty years and now I’m at the end of my tether.
C.-C.Calm yourself, my dear Kitty.
Lady Kitty.I won’t listen to a word. I’ve quite made up my mind. It’s finished, finished, finished. [With a change of tone.] I was so touched when I heard that you never lived in this house again after I left it.
C.-C.The cuckoos have always been very plentiful. Their note has a personal application which, I must say, I have found extremely offensive.
Lady Kitty.When I saw that you didn’t marry again I couldn’t help thinking that you still loved me.
C.-C.I am one of the few men I know who is able to profit by experience.
Lady Kitty.In the eyes of the Church I am still your wife. The Church is so wise. It knows that in the end a woman always comes back to her first love. Clive, I am willing to return to you.
C.-C.My dear Kitty, I couldn’t take advantage of your momentary vexation with Hughie to let you take a step which I know you would bitterly regret.
Lady Kitty.You’ve waited for me a long time. For Arnold’s sake.
C.-C.Do you think we really need bother about Arnold? In the last thirty years he’s had time to grow used to the situation.
Lady Kitty.[With a little smile.] I think I’ve sown my wild oats, Clive.
C.-C.I haven’t. I was a good young man, Kitty.
Lady Kitty.I know.
C.-C.And I’m very glad, because it has enabled me to be a wicked old one.
Lady Kitty.I beg your pardon.
[Arnoldcomes in with a large book in his hand.
Arnold.I say, I’ve found the book I was hunting for. Oh! isn’t Lord Porteous here?
Lady Kitty.One moment, Arnold. Your father and I are busy.
Arnold.I’m so sorry.
[He goes out into the garden.
Lady Kitty.Explain yourself, Clive.
C.-C.When you ran away from me, Kitty, I was sore and angry and miserable. But above all I felt a fool.
Lady Kitty.Men are so vain.
C.-C.But I was a student of history, and presently I reflected that I shared my misfortune with very nearly all the greatest men.
Lady Kitty.I’m a great reader myself. It has always struck me as peculiar.
C.-C.The explanation is very simple. Women dislike intelligence, and when they find it in their husbands they revenge themselves on them in the only way they can, by making them—well, what you made me.
Lady Kitty.It’s ingenious. It may be true.
C.-C.I felt I had done my duty by society and I determined to devote the rest of my life to my own entertainment. The House of Commons had always bored me excessively and the scandal of our divorce gave me an opportunity to resign my seat. I have been relieved to find that the country got on perfectly well without me.
Lady Kitty.But has love never entered your life?
C.-C.Tell me frankly, Kitty, don’t you think people make a lot of unnecessary fuss about love?
Lady Kitty.It’s the most wonderful thing in the world.
C.-C.You’re incorrigible. Do you really think it was worth sacrificing so much for?
Lady Kitty.My dear Clive, I don’t mind telling you that if I had my time over again I should be unfaithful to you, but I should not leave you.
C.-C.For some years I was notoriously the prey of a secret sorrow. But I found so many charming creatures who were anxious to console that in the end it grew rather fatiguing. Out of regard to my health I ceased to frequent the drawing-rooms of Mayfair.
Lady Kitty.And since then?
C.-C.Since then I have allowed myself the luxury of assisting financially a succession of dear little things, in a somewhat humble sphere, between the ages of twenty and twenty-five.
Lady Kitty.I cannot understand the infatuation of men for young girls. I think they’re so dull.
C.-C.It’s a matter of taste. I love old wine, old friends and old books, but I like young women. On their twenty-fifth birthday I give them a diamond ring and tell them they must no longer waste their youth and beauty on an old fogey like me. We have a most affecting scene, my technique on these occasions is perfect, and then I start all over again.
Lady Kitty.You’re a wicked old man, Clive.
C.-C.That’s what I told you. But, by George! I’m a happy one.
Lady Kitty.There’s only one course open to me now.
C.-C.What is that?
Lady Kitty.[With a flashing smile.] To go and dress for dinner.
C.-C.Capital. I will follow your example.
[AsLady Kittygoes outElizabethcomes in.
Elizabeth.Where is Arnold?
C.-C.He’s on the terrace. I’ll call him.
Elizabeth.Don’t bother.
C.-C.I was just strolling along to my cottage to put on a dinner jacket. [As he goes out.] Arnold.
[ExitC.-C.
Arnold.Hulloa! [He comes in.] Oh, Elizabeth, I’ve found an illustration here of a chair which is almost identical with mine. It’s dated 1750. Look!
Elizabeth.That’s very interesting.
Arnold.I want to show it to Porteous. [Moving a chair which has been misplaced.] You know, it does exasperate me the way people will not leave things alone. I no sooner put a thing in its place than somebody moves it.
Elizabeth.It must be maddening for you.
Arnold.It is. You are the worst offender. I can’t think why you don’t take the pride that I do in the house. After all, it’s one of the show places in the county.
Elizabeth.I’m afraid you find me very unsatisfactory.
Arnold.[Good-humouredly.] I don’t know about that. But my two subjects are politics and decoration. I should be a perfect fool if I didn’t see that you don’t care two straws about either.
Elizabeth.We haven’t very much in common, Arnold, have we?
Arnold.I don’t think you can blame me for that.
Elizabeth.I don’t. I blame you for nothing. I have no fault to find with you.
Arnold.[Surprised at her significant tone.] Good gracious me! what’s the meaning of all this?
Elizabeth.Well, I don’t think there’s any object in beating about the bush. I want you to let me go.
Arnold.Go where?
Elizabeth.Away. For always.
Arnold.My dear child, whatareyou talking about?
Elizabeth.I want to be free.
Arnold.[Amused rather than disconcerted.] Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I daresay you’re run down and wanta change. I’ll take you over to Paris for a fortnight if you like.
Elizabeth.I shouldn’t have spoken to you if I hadn’t quite made up my mind. We’ve been married for three years and I don’t think it’s been a great success. I’m frankly bored by the life you want me to lead.
Arnold.Well, if you’ll allow me to say so, the fault is yours. We lead a very distinguished, useful life. We know a lot of extremely nice people.
Elizabeth.I’m quite willing to allow that the fault is mine. But how does that make it any better? I’m only twenty-five. If I’ve made a mistake I have time to correct it.
Arnold.I can’t bring myself to take you very seriously.
Elizabeth.You see, I don’t love you.
Arnold.Well, I’m awfully sorry. But you weren’t obliged to marry me. You’ve made your bed and I’m afraid you must lie on it.
Elizabeth.That’s one of the falsest proverbs in the English language. Why should you lie on the bed you’ve made if you don’t want to? There’s always the floor.
Arnold.For goodness’ sake don’t be funny, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.I’ve quite made up my mind to leave you, Arnold.
Arnold.Come, come, Elizabeth, you must be sensible. You haven’t any reason to leave me.
Elizabeth.Why should you wish to keep a woman tied to you who wants to be free?
Arnold.I happen to be in love with you.
Elizabeth.You might have said that before.
Arnold.I thought you’d take it for granted. You can’t expect a man to go on making love to his wife after three years. I’m very busy. I’m awfully keen on politics and I’ve worked like a dog to make this house a thing of beauty. After all, a man marries to have a home, but also because he doesn’t want to be bothered with sex andall that sort of thing. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you and I’ve been in love ever since.
Elizabeth.I’m sorry, but if you’re not in love with a man his love doesn’t mean very much to you.
Arnold.It’s so ungrateful. I’ve done everything in the world for you.
Elizabeth.You’ve been very kind to me. But you’ve asked me to lead a life I don’t like and that I’m not suited for. I’m awfully sorry to cause you pain, but now you must let me go.
Arnold.Nonsense! I’m a good deal older than you are and I think I have a little more sense. In your interests as well as in mine I’m not going to do anything of the sort.
Elizabeth.[With a smile.] How can you prevent me? You can’t keep me under lock and key.
Arnold.Please don’t talk to me as if I were a foolish child. You’re my wife and you’re going to remain my wife.
Elizabeth.What sort of a life do you think we should lead? Do you think there’d be any more happiness for you than for me?
Arnold.But what is it precisely that you suggest?
Elizabeth.Well, I want you to let me divorce you.
Arnold.[Astounded.] Me? Thank you very much. Are you under the impression I’m going to sacrifice my career for a whim of yours?
Elizabeth.How will it do that?
Arnold.My seat’s wobbly enough as it is. Do you think I’d be able to hold it if I were in a divorce case? Even if it were a put-up job, as most divorces are nowadays, it would damn me.
Elizabeth.It’s rather hard on a woman to be divorced.
Arnold.[With sudden suspicion.] What do you mean by that? Are you in love with some one?
Elizabeth.Yes.
Arnold.Who?
Elizabeth.Teddie Luton.
[He is astonished for a moment, then bursts into a laugh.
Arnold.My poor child, how can you be so ridiculous? Why, he hasn’t a bob. He’s a perfectly commonplace young man. It’s so absurd I can’t even be angry with you.
Elizabeth.I’ve fallen desperately in love with him, Arnold.
Arnold.Well, you’d better fall desperately out.
Elizabeth.He wants to marry me.
Arnold.I daresay he does. He can go to hell.
Elizabeth.It’s no good talking like that.
Arnold.Is he your lover?
Elizabeth.No, certainly not.
Arnold.It shows that he’s a mean skunk to take advantage of my hospitality to make love to you.
Elizabeth.He’s never even kissed me.
Arnold.I’d try telling that to the horse marines if I were you.
Elizabeth.It’s because I wanted to do nothing shabby that I told you straight out how things were.
Arnold.How long have you been thinking of this?
Elizabeth.I’ve been in love with Teddie ever since I knew him.
Arnold.And you never thought of me at all, I suppose.
Elizabeth.Oh, yes, I did. I was miserable. But I can’t help myself. I wish I loved you, but I don’t.
Arnold.I recommend you to think very carefully before you do anything foolish.
Elizabeth.I have thought very carefully.
Arnold.By God! I don’t know why I don’t give you a sound hiding. I’m not sure if that wouldn’t be the best thing to bring you to your senses.
Elizabeth.Oh, Arnold, don’t take it like that.
Arnold.How do you expect me to take it? You come to me quite calmly and say: “I’ve had enough of you. We’ve been married three years and I think I’d like to marry somebody else now. Shall I break up your home?What a bore for you! Do you mind my divorcing you? It’ll smash up your career, will it? What a pity!” Oh, no, my girl, I may be a fool, but I’m not a damned fool.
Elizabeth.Teddie is leaving here by the first train to-morrow. I warn you that I mean to join him as soon as he can make the necessary arrangements.
Arnold.Where is he?
Elizabeth.I don’t know. I suppose he’s in his room.
[Arnoldgoes to the door and calls.
Arnold.George!
[For a moment he walks up and down the room impatiently.Elizabethwatches him. TheFootmancomes in.