ACT III[157]Three days later, and evening again.ANNEis busy with a pencil and paper, an A.B.C., and her purse. She is trying to work out how much it costs to go home, and subtracting three and fourpence ha’penny from it. Having done this, she puts the paper, pencil, and purse in her bag, returns the A.B.C. to its home, and goes towards the door. One gathers that she has come to a decision.ANNE(calling). Nich-o-las!NICHOLAS(from outside). Hallo!ANNE. Where—are—you?NICHOLAS. Coming. (He comes.) Just went upstairs to get a pipe. (Putting his hand to his pocket) And now I’ve forgotten it.(They go to the sofa together.)ANNE. Oh, Nicholas, how silly you are! (She sits down.)NICHOLAS(sitting close). I don’t want to smoke, you know.ANNE. I thought men always did.NICHOLAS. Well, it depends what they’re doing.(There is no doubt what he is doing. He is making love toANNE,the dog, andANNEis encouraging him.)ANNE(looking away). Oh![158]NICHOLAS. I say, it has been rather jolly here the last three days, don’t you think?ANNE. Ithasbeen rather nice.NICHOLAS. We’ve sort of got so friendly.ANNE. We have, haven’t we?NICHOLAS. You’ve been awfully nice to me.ANNE. You’ve been nice tome.NICHOLAS. I should have gone, you know, if it hadn’t been for you.ANNE. I don’t knowwhatI should have done if you had gone.NICHOLAS. You did ask me to stay, didn’t you?ANNE. Yes, I couldn’t let you go.NICHOLAS. Do you know what you said? You said, “Please, Mr. Nicholas, I want you to stay.” I shall always remember that. (Fatuously to himself) “Please, Mr. Nicholas, I want you to stay.” I wonder what made you think of saying that?ANNE. I wanted us to be friends. I wanted to get to know you; to make you think of me as—as your friend.NICHOLAS. Wearefriends, Anne, aren’t we?ANNE. I think we are now, Nicholas.NICHOLAS(with a sentimental sigh). Friends!(ANNElooks at him, wondering if she shall risk it; then away again; then summons up her courage and takes the plunge.)ANNE. Nicholas!NICHOLAS. Yes?ANNE(timidly). I—I want you to do something for me.NICHOLAS. Anything, Anne, anything.ANNE. I don’t know whether I ought to ask you.NICHOLAS. Of course you ought!ANNE. But you see, wearefriends—almost like brother andsister——[159]NICHOLAS(disappointed). Well, I shouldn’t put it quite likethat——ANNE. And I thought I might askyou——NICHOLAS. Of course, Anne! You know I would do anything for you.ANNE. Yes.... Well—well——(In a rush) Well, then, will you lend me one pound two and sixpence till next Monday?NICHOLAS. Lendyou——!ANNE. To-day’s Friday, I’ll send you the money off on Sunday. I promise. Of course I know one oughtn’t to borrow from men, but you’re different. Almost like a brother. I knew you would understand.NICHOLAS. But—but—Idon’tunderstand.ANNE(ashamed). You see, I—I only have three and fourpence ha’penny. And it costs one pound five and twopence to get home. (Indignantly) Oh, it’s a shame the way men always pay for us, and then when we really want money we haven’t got any.... But I will pay you back on Sunday. I have some money at home; I meant to have brought it.NICHOLAS. But—but why do yousuddenly——ANNE. Suddenly? I’ve been wanting it ever since that first morning. I went upstairs to get my hat, meaning to walk straight out of the house—and then I looked in my purse and found—(pathetically) three and fourpence ha’penny. What was I to do?NICHOLAS. Any one would have lent you anything.ANNE(coldly). Leonard, for instance?NICHOLAS(thoughtfully). Well ... no.... No. You couldn’t very well have touched Leonard. ButLatimer——ANNE. Mr. Latimer! The man who had brought us here, locked us up here, and started playing Providence to us—I was to go on my knees tohimand say,[160]“Please, dear Mr. Latimer, could you lend me one pound two and sixpence, so that I may run away from your horrid house?” Really!NICHOLAS. Well, you seem to have been pretty friendly with him these three days.ANNE. Naturally I am polite to a man when I am staying in his house. That’s different.NICHOLAS. As a matter of fact, Latimer has been jolly decent. Anyway, he has saved us both from making silly asses of ourselves.ANNE. And you think I am grateful to him for that?... Doesn’tanyman understandanywoman?NICHOLAS(annoyed). Are you suggesting thatIdon’t understand women?ANNE. I’m suggesting that you should lend me one pound two shillings and sixpence.NICHOLAS(sulkily, feeling in his pockets). Of course, if you’re in such a confounded hurry to get away fromhere——Do you mind all silver?ANNE. Not at all.NICHOLAS. In such a confounded hurry to get away fromhere——(He counts the money.)ANNE. Why ever should I want to stay?NICHOLAS. Well—well——(With a despairing shrug) Oh, Lord!... Ten shillings ... fourteen and six ... why should she want to stay! Why do you thinkI’mstaying?ANNE(wickedly). Because you’re so fond of Mr. Latimer. He’s so jolly decent.NICHOLAS(looking at the money in his hand). One pound two shillings and sixpence. I suppose if I told you what I really thought about it all, you’d get on your high horse again and refuse the money fromme. So I won’t tell you. Here you are.ANNE(gently). You didn’t think I was in love with[161]you, Nicholas? (NICHOLASlooks uncomfortable.) In three days? Oh, Nicholas!NICHOLAS. Well—well, I don’tsee——(He holds out the money. ButANNEwon’t take it on those terms.)ANNE. From a friend?NICHOLAS. From a friend.ANNE. Lent to a friend?NICHOLAS. Lent to a friend.ANNE(taking it). Thank you, Nicholas. (She hurries out, clasping the precious money.NICHOLASwill never see her again.... And then, suddenly, her head comes round the door) Thank you very much, Nicholas! (She is gone.)NICHOLAS. Well, I’m damned!(He sits there gloomily, his legs stretched out, and regards his shoes. So far as we can tell he goes on saying, “Well, I’m damned” to himself.EUSTASIAandLEONARDcome in. He is properly dressed now, but still underEUSTASIA’Scare, and she has his arm, as if he were attempting a very difficult feat in walking across the hall.)NICHOLAS(looking round). Hallo! (Getting up) Do you want to come here?LEONARD(hastily). Don’t go, old boy, don’t go. Plenty of room for us all.EUSTASIA. Thank you so much. Leonard is not very strong yet. His temperature is up again to-day. (ToLEONARD) You will be better on the sofa, darling. (Distantly toNICHOLAS) I’m so sorry to trouble you.NICHOLAS. Not at all. I was just going anyhow.LEONARD(sitting on the sofa). Oh, nonsense. Stay and talk to us. Plenty of room for us all.NICHOLAS(feeling in his pockets). Got to get my pipe. Left it upstairs, like an ass.[162]LEONARD(taking out his case). Have a cigarette instead?NICHOLAS. Rather have a pipe, thanks. (He makes for the door.)LEONARD(anxiously). But you’ll come back?NICHOLAS(unwillingly). Oh—er—righto.[He goes out.LEONARD. Come and keep us company. (ToEUSTASIA,who is tucking him up) Thanks, Eustasia, thanks. That’s quite all right.EUSTASIA. Another cushion for your back, darling?LEONARD. No, thanks.EUSTASIA. Quite sure?LEONARD. Quite sure, thanks.EUSTASIA. I can easily get it for you.LEONARD(weakly). Oh, very well.EUSTASIA. That’s right. (Getting the cushion) You must be comfortable. Now, are you sure that’s all right?LEONARD. Quite all right, thank you.EUSTASIA. Sure, darling? Anything else you want, I can get it for you at once. A rug over your knees?LEONARD. No, thank you, Eustasia. (Nowheis saying it.)EUSTASIA. You wouldn’t like a hot-water bottle?LEONARD(with a sigh). No, thank you, Eustasia.EUSTASIA. You’ve only got to say, you know. Now shall we talk, or would you like me to read to you? (She settles down next to him.)LEONARD(choosing the lesser evil). I think read—no, I mean, talk—no, read to me.EUSTASIA. It’s for you to say, darling.LEONARD(his eyes closed). Read to me, Eustasia.EUSTASIA(opening her book). We’ll go on from where we left off. We didn’t get very far—I marked the place.... Yes, here we are. “... the sandy[163]deserts of Arabia and Africa.... 4.” And then there’s a little footnote at the bottom; that’s how I remember it. (Reading the footnote) “Tacit. Annal. l. ii., Dion Cassius l. lvi. p. 833, and the speech of Augustus himself.” That doesn’t seem to mean much. “It receives great light from the learned notes of his French translator, M. Spanheim.” Well, that’s a good thing. Spanheim—sounds more like a German, doesn’t it? Now are you sure you’re quite comfortable, dear?LEONARD(his eyes closed). Yes, thank you, Eustasia.EUSTASIA. Then I’ll begin. (In her reading-aloud voice) “Happily for the repose of mankind, the moderate system recommended by the wisdom of Augustus was adopted by the fears and vices of his immediate successors. Engaged in the pursuit of pleasure or the exercise of tyranny, the first Caesars seldom showed themselves to the armies or to the provinces; nor were they disposed to suffer that those triumphs which their indolence neglected should be usurped by the conduct and valour of their lieutenants.” (Speeding up) “The military fame of a subject was considered as an insolent invasion of the Imperial prerogative; and it became the duty as well as interest of every Roman General to guard the frontiers entrusted to his care”—(recklessly) “without aspiring for conquests which might have proved no less fatal to himself than to the vanquished barbarians.”... And then there’s another little footnote. Perhaps it would be better if I read all the little footnotes afterwards—what do you think, darling? Or shall we take them as they come?LEONARD(without opening his eyes). Yes, dear.EUSTASIA. Very well. This is footnote 5. “Germanicus, Suetonius Paulinus and Agricola”—(she stumbles over the names)—“were checked and recalled in the course of their victories. Corbulo was put to[164]death.” Oh, what a shame! “Military merit, as it is admirably expressed by Tacitus, was, in the strictest sense of theword——”well, there aretwowords, and they are both in Latin. I suppose Tacitus wrote in Latin. But it doesn’t really matter, because it’s only a little footnote. (Anxiously) Are you liking the book, darling?LEONARD. Very much, dear.EUSTASIA. It’s nicely written, but I don’t think it’s very exciting. I don’t think Mr. Latimer has a very good taste in books. I asked him to recommend me something really interesting to read aloud, and he said that the two most interesting books he knew were Carlyle’sFrench Revolutionand—and—(looking at the cover) Gibbon’sRoman Empire.... Fancy, there are four volumes of it and six hundred pages in a volume. We’re at page 3 now. (She reads a line or two to herself.) Oh, now, this is rather interesting, because it’s all aboutus. “The only accession which the Roman Empire received during the first century of the Christian era was the province of Britain.” Fancy! “The proximity of its situation to the coast of Gaul seemed to invite their arms, the pleasing though doubtful intelligence of a pearl fishery attracted their avarice.” And then there’s a little footnote—I suppose that’s to say it was Whitstable. (Getting to it) Oh no—“The British pearls proved, however, of little value, on account of their dark and livid colour.” How horrid. “Tacitusobserves——”well, then, Tacitus says something again.... Iwishhe would write in English.... Now where was I? Something about the pearls. Oh yes. “After a war of about forty years”—good gracious!—“undertaken by the most stupid, maintained by the most dissolute,and——”(NICHOLASreturns with his pipe.)[165]NICHOLAS. Oh, sorry, I’m interrupting.LEONARD(waking up). No, no. Eustasia was just reading to me. (To her) You mustn’t tire yourself, dear. (ToNICHOLAS) Stay and talk.NICHOLAS. What’s the book? Carlyle’sFrench Revolution?EUSTASIA(primly). Certainly not. (Looking at the title again) Gibbon’sRoman Empire.NICHOLAS. Any good?EUSTASIA. Fascinating, isn’t it, Leonard?LEONARD. Very.NICHOLAS. You ought to try Carlyle, old chap.LEONARD. Ishegood?NICHOLAS(who has had eight pages read aloud to him byEUSTASIA). Oh, topping.EUSTASIA(looking at her watch). Good gracious! I ought to be dressing.LEONARD(looking at his). Yes, itisabout time.NICHOLAS(looking at his). Yes.EUSTASIA. Leonard, darling, I don’t think it would be safe for you to change. Not to-night; to-morrow if you like.LEONARD. I say, look here, you said that last night.EUSTASIA. Ah, but your temperature has gone up again.NICHOLAS. I expect that’s only because the book was so exciting.LEONARD. Yes, that’s right.EUSTASIA. But I took his temperaturebeforeI began reading.NICHOLAS. Perhaps yesterday’s instalment was still hanging about a bit.EUSTASIA(toLEONARD). No, darling, not to-night. Just to please his Eustasia.LEONARD(sulkily). All right.[166]EUSTASIA. That’s a good boy. (She walks to the door,NICHOLASgoing with her to open it.) And if he’sverygood, and Eustasia isveryquick dressing, perhaps she’ll read him another little bit of that nice book before dinner.[She goes out.LEONARD. I say, don’t go, old chap. You can change in five minutes.NICHOLAS. Righto.(He comes back. There is silence for a little.)LEONARD. I say!NICHOLAS. Yes?LEONARD(thinking better of it). Oh, nothing.NICHOLAS(after a pause). Curious creatures, women.LEONARD. Amazing.NICHOLAS. They’re so unexpected.LEONARD. So unreasonable.NICHOLAS. Yes....LEONARD(suddenly). I hate England at this time of year.NICHOLAS. So do I.LEONARD. Do you go South as a rule?NICHOLAS. As a rule.LEONARD. Monte?NICHOLAS. Sometimes. Wehadthought—I half thought of Nice.LEONARD. Not bad. We were—I think I prefer Cannes myself.NICHOLAS. There’s not much in it.LEONARD. No.... (After a pause) Between ourselves, you know—quite between ourselves—I’m about fed up with women.NICHOLAS. Absolutely.LEONARD. You are too?NICHOLAS. Rather. I should think so.LEONARD. They’re so dashed unreasonable.[167]NICHOLAS. So unexpected....LEONARD(suddenly). Had you booked your rooms?NICHOLAS. At Nice? Yes.LEONARD. So had I.NICHOLAS. At Cannes?LEONARD. Yes.... I say, what about it?NICHOLAS. Do youmean——(He waves a hand at the door.)LEONARD. Yes.NICHOLAS. Evaporating?LEONARD. Yes. Quite quietly, you know.NICHOLAS. Without ostentation.LEONARD. That’s it.NICHOLAS. It’s rather a scheme. And then we shouldn’t waste the rooms. At least, only one set of them. I’ll tell you what. I’ll toss you whether we go to Nice or Cannes.LEONARD. Right. (He takes out a coin and tosses.)NICHOLAS. Tails.LEONARD(uncovering the coin). Heads. Do you mind coming to Cannes?NICHOLAS. Just as soon, really. When shall we go? To-morrow?LEONARD. Mightn’t get a chance to-morrow. Why not to-night? It seems a pity to waste the opportunity.NICHOLAS. You mean while Eustasia’s dressing?LEONARD. The—er—opportunity. Sleep the night at Dover and cross to-morrow morning.NICHOLAS. She’ll be after us.LEONARD. Nonsense.NICHOLAS. My dear man, you don’t know Eustasia.LEONARD. I don’t know Eustasia? Well!NICHOLAS(with conviction). She’ll be after you like a bird. You’ve never seen Eustasia when she has got somebody ill to look after.[168]LEONARD. I’ve never seen Eustasia? Well!NICHOLAS. My dear chap, you’ve only had three days of her; I’ve had six.... Lord!... Look here. We shall haveto——EnterLATIMER.LATIMER. What, Leonard, all alone?NICHOLAS. I say, you’re the very man we want.LEONARD(frowning——).S’sh.LATIMER. Leonard, don’t “s’sh” Nicholas when he wants to speak to me.NICHOLAS(toLEONARD). It’s all right, old chap, Latimer is a sportsman.LATIMER(toLEONARD). There! You see the sort of reputation I have in the West End. (ToNICHOLAS) What is it you want to do? Run away?LEONARD. Well—er——NICHOLAS. I say, however did you guess?LATIMER. Leonard’s car has had steam up for the last twenty-four hours, waiting for a word from its owner.LEONARD(seeing the south of France). By Jove!LATIMER. And you are going with him, Nicholas?NICHOLAS. Yes. Thought I might as well be getting on. Very grateful and all that, but can’t stay here for ever.LATIMER(wondering what has happened betweenNICHOLASandANNE). So you are going too! Ithought——Well! Nicholas is going too.LEONARD. I say, you do understand—I mean about—er—I mean, when I’m quite well again—start afresh and all that. Cossethera bit. But when you’re ill—or supposed to beill——Well, I mean, ask Nicholas.NICHOLAS. Oh, rather.LATIMER. My dear Leonard, why these explanations?[169]Who am I to interfere in other people’s matrimonial affairs? You and Nicholas are going away—good-bye. (He holds out his hand.)NICHOLAS. Yes, but what about Eustasia? She’s not going to miss the chance of cosseting Leonard just when she is getting into it. She’ll be after him like a bird.LATIMER. I see. So you want me to keep her here?NICHOLAS. That’s the idea, if you could.LATIMER. How can I keep her here if she doesn’t want to stay?LEONARD. Well, how do you keepanybody here?LATIMER. Really, Leonard, I am surprised at you. By the charm of my old-world courtesy and hospitality, of course.LEONARD. Oh! Well, I doubt if that keeps Eustasia.LATIMER(shaking his head sadly). I am afraid that that is only too true. In fact, the more I think of it, the more I realise that there is only one thing which will keep this devoted wife from her afflicted and suffering husband.LEONARDandNICHOLAS. What?DOMINICcomes in.LATIMER. His lordship and Mr. Nicholas are leaving at once. His lordship’s car will wait for them outside the gates. See that a bag is packed for them.DOMINIC. Yes, sir.LATIMER. And come back when you’ve seen about that.DOMINIC. Yes, sir.[He goes out.LATIMER. The car can return for the rest of your luggage, and take it over in the morning.NICHOLAS. Good![170]LEONARD. Er—thanks very much. (Anxiously) What were you going to say about the only way of—er——LATIMER. The only way of keeping this devoted wife from her afflicted and suffering husband?LEONARD(gruffly). Yes. What is it?LATIMER. Somebody else must have a temperature. Somebody else must be ill. Eustasia must have somebody else to cosset.NICHOLAS. I say, how awfully sporting of you!LATIMER. Sporting?NICHOLAS. To sacrifice yourself like that.LATIMER. I? You don’t thinkIam going to sacrifice myself, do you? No, no, it’s Dominic.DOMINIC(coming in). Yes, sir.LATIMER. Dominic, are you ever ill?DOMINIC. Never, sir, barring a slight shortness of the breath.LATIMER(to the others). That’s awkward. I don’t think you can cosset a shortness of the breath.NICHOLAS(toDOMINIC). I say, you could pretend to be ill, couldn’t you?DOMINIC. With what object, sir?NICHOLAS. Well—er——LATIMER. Her ladyship is training to be a nurse. She has already cured two very obstinate cases of nasal catarrh accompanied by debility and a fluctuating temperature. If she brings one more case off successfully, she earns the diploma and the gold medal of the Royal Therapeutical Society.NICHOLAS. That’s right.DOMINIC. And you would wish me to be that third case, sir?NICHOLAS. That’s the idea.DOMINIC. And be cosseted back to health by her ladyship?[171]LATIMER. Such would be your inestimable privilege.DOMINIC. I am sorry, sir. I must beg respectfully to decline.NICHOLAS. I say, be a sport.LEONARD(awkwardly). Of course weshould——Naturally you would not—er—lose anything by—er——LATIMER. His lordship wishes to imply that not only would your mental horizon be widened during the period of convalescence, but that material blessings would also flow. Isn’t that right, Leonard?NICHOLAS. A commission on the gold medal. Naturally.DOMINIC. I am sorry, sir. I am afraid I cannot see my way.NICHOLAS. Isay——LATIMER. Thank you, Dominic.DOMINIC. Thank you, sir.[He goes out.NICHOLAS. Well, that’s torn it. (ToLATIMER) If you’re quite sure that you wouldn’t like to have a go? It’s the chance of a lifetime to learn all about the French Revolution.LATIMER. Well, well! Something must be done. (He smiles suddenly) After all, why not?LEONARD(eagerly). You will?LATIMER. I will.NICHOLAS. Isay——LATIMER(waving them off). No, no. Don’t wait. Fly.LEONARD. Yes, we’d better be moving. Come on!NICHOLAS(with a grin, as he goes). There’s an awfully good bit in the secondchapter——LATIMER(holding up a finger). Listen! I hear her coming.LEONARD. Good LordLATIMER. Oh, Dominic. In consequence of your obstinate good-health, I am going to sacrifice myself—I mean, I myself am going to embrace this great opportunity of mental and spiritual development.DOMINIC. Yes, sir. Very good of you, I’m sure, sir.LATIMER. What sort of illness would you recommend?DOMINIC. How about a nice sprained ankle, sir?LATIMER. You think that would go well?DOMINIC. It would avoid any interference with the customary habits at meal-time, sir. There’s a sort of monotony about bread-and-milk; no inspiration about it, sir, whether treated as a beverage or as a comestible.LATIMER. I hadn’t thought about bread-and-milk.DOMINIC. You’ll find that you will have little else to think about, sir, if you attempt anything stomachic. Of course you could have the usual nasty cold, sir.LATIMER. No, no, not that. Let us be original....DOMINIC. How about Xerostomia, sir? Spelt with an x.LATIMER. Is that good?DOMINIC. Joseph tells me that his father has had it for a long time.LATIMER. Oh! Then perhaps we oughtn’t to deprive him of it.DOMINIC. I looked it up in the dictionary one Sunday afternoon, sir. They describe it there as “an abnormal dryness of the mouth.”LATIMER. I said I wanted to be original, Dominic.DOMINIC. Quite so, sir.(They both think in silence.)LATIMER. Perhaps I had better leave it to the inspiration of the moment.[173]EUSTASIA(off). Dominic! Dominic!DOMINIC. This appears to be the moment, sir.LATIMER. Quick. (Bustling him off) Don’t let her ladyship come in for a moment. I must assume a recumbent position.DOMINIC. Yes, sir.[He goes out.(LATIMERlies down at full length on the sofa and begins to groan; putting a hand first on his stomach, then on his head, then on his elbow.EUSTASIAdoes not come. He cautiously raises his head; the room is empty.)LATIMER(disappointedly). Throwing it away! (He hears footsteps, and settles down again.)(ANNEcomes in, hat on, bag in hand. She is just at the door when a groan reaches her. She stops. Another groan comes. She puts down her bag and comes towards the sofa with an “Oh!” of anxiety.)LATIMER. Oh, my poor—er—head! (He clasps it.)ANNE(alarmed). What is it? (She kneels by him.)LATIMER. Oh,my——(Cheerfully) Hallo, Anne, is it you? (He sits up.)ANNE(still anxious). Yes, what is it?LATIMER(bravely). Oh, nothing, nothing. A touch of neuralgia.ANNE. Oh!... You frightened me.LATIMER. Did I, Anne? I’m sorry.ANNE. You were groaning so. I thought—I didn’t know what had happened.... (Sympathetically) Is it very bad?LATIMER. Not so bad as it sounded.ANNE(taking off her gloves). I know how bad it can be. Father has it sometimes. Then I have to send it away. (She has her gloves off now) May I try?LATIMER(remorsefully). AnneANNE. Close your eyes.LATIMER. Ah, but I don’t want to now.(She laughs without embarrassment.)ANNE. It will go soon.LATIMER. Not too soon....ANNE(laughing suddenly). Aren’t faces funny when they’re upside down?LATIMER. You have the absurdest little upside-down face that ever I saw, Anne.ANNE(happily). Have I?LATIMER. Why do you wear a hat on your chin? (She laughs.) Why do you wear a hat?ANNE. I was going away.LATIMER. Without saying good-bye?ANNE(ashamed). I—I think so.LATIMER. Oh, Anne!ANNE(hastily). I should have written.LATIMER. A post-card!ANNE. A letter.LATIMER. With many thanks for your kind hospitality, yours sincerely.ANNE. Yoursverysincerely.LATIMER. P.S.—I shall never see you again.ANNE. P.S.—I shall never forget.LATIMER. Ah, but youmustforget....ANNE(after a pause). Is it better?LATIMER(lazily). It is just the same. It will always be the same. It is unthinkable that anything different should ever happen. In a hundred years’ time we shall still be like this. You will be a little tired, perhaps; your fingers will ache; but I shall be lying here, quite, quite happy.[175]ANNE. You shall have another minute—no more.LATIMER. Then I shall go straight to the chemist and ask for three pennyworth of Anne’s fingers. (They are silent for a little. Then she stops and listens.) What is it?ANNE. I heard something. Whispers.LATIMER. Don’t look round.(LEONARDandNICHOLAS,in hats and coats, creep cautiously in. Very noiselessly, fingers to lips, they open the front door and creep out.)ANNE. What was it? Wasit——LATIMER. An episode in your life. Over, buried, forgotten....ANNE(pleadingly). It never really happened, did it?LATIMER. Of course not! We must have read about it somewhere—or was it in a play?ANNE(eagerly). That was it! We were in a box together.LATIMER. Munching chocolates. (With a sigh) What a child she was—that girl in the play—with her little, funny, grown-up airs!(DOMINICcomes in, and stops suddenly on seeing them.)DOMINIC. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir.LATIMER. Go on, Anne. (Happily) I am having neuralgia, Dominic.DOMINIC. Yes, sir. A stubborn complaint, as I have heard, sir.LATIMER. Miss Anne is making me well.... What did you want?DOMINIC. Her ladyship says will you please excuse her if she is not down to-night.LATIMER(toANNE). Shall we excuse her if she is not down to-night?[176]DOMINIC. The fact is, sir, that Joseph is taken ill suddenly,and——LATIMER(to himself). I never thought of Joseph!ANNE. Oh, poor Joseph! What is it?DOMINIC. A trifling affection of the throat, but necessitating careful attention, her ladyship says.LATIMER. Please tell her ladyship how very much I thank her for looking after Joseph ... and tell Joseph how very sorry I am for him.DOMINIC. Yes, sir.[He goes out.LATIMER. You can’t go now, Anne. You will have to stay and chaperone Eustasia and me. (She laughs and shakes her head.) Must you go?ANNE. Yes.LATIMER. Back to your father?ANNE. Yes. (He looks at her. She is so very pretty; so brave.)LATIMER(it must be somebody else speaking—he hardly recognises the voice). Let us say good-bye now. There is a magic in your fingers which goes to my head, and makes me think ridiculous things. Let us say good-bye now.ANNE(taking his hand). Good-bye! (Impulsively) I wishyouhad been my father.(Then she goes out. And she has won, after all. ForMR. LATIMERstands there dumb, wondering what has happened. He walks across to a mirror to have a look at himself. While he is there,DOMINICcomes in to superintend the laying of the table.)LATIMER(at the mirror). Dominic, how old would you say I was?DOMINIC. More than that, sir.LATIMER(with a sigh). Yes, I’m afraid I am. And yet I look very young. Sometimes I think I look too young.[177]DOMINIC. Yes, sir.LATIMER. Miss Anne has just asked me to be her father.DOMINIC. Very considerate of her, I’m sure, sir.LATIMER. Yes.... To prevent similar mistakes in the future, I think I shall wear a long white beard.DOMINIC. Yes, sir. Shall I order one from the Stores?LATIMER. Please.DOMINIC. Thank you, sir.... Is Miss Anne leaving us, sir?LATIMER. Yes.... Don’t overdo the length, Dominic, and I like the crinkly sort.DOMINIC. Yes, sir.... One of our most successful weeks on the whole, if I may say so, sir.LATIMER(thoughtfully). Yes.... Well, well, we must all do what we can, Dominic.DOMINIC. That’s the only way, isn’t it, sir?(They stand looking at each other. Just for a momentDOMINICis off duty. That grave face relaxes; the eyes crease into a smile.MR. LATIMERsmiles back.... Very gently they begin to laugh together; old friends; master and servant no longer. “Dear, dear! These children!” saysDOMINIC’Slaugh. “How very amusing they are, to be sure!”LATIMER’Slaugh is a little rueful; a moment ago he, too, was almost a child. Yet he laughs. “Good oldDOMINIC!”Suddenly the front-door bell rings. Instinctively they stiffen to attention. They are on duty again. They turn and march off, almost, as it were, saluting each other;MR. LATIMERto his quarters,DOMINICto his bolts and bars. He draws the curtains and opens the big front door.)[178]A MANLY VOICE. Oh, is this—er—an hotel?DOMINIC. A sort of hotel, your Grace.HIS GRACE(coming in, a lady on his arm). My chauffeur said—we’ve had an accident—been delayed on the way—he saidthat——(Evidently another romantic couple. Let us leave them toMR. LATIMER.)
Three days later, and evening again.ANNEis busy with a pencil and paper, an A.B.C., and her purse. She is trying to work out how much it costs to go home, and subtracting three and fourpence ha’penny from it. Having done this, she puts the paper, pencil, and purse in her bag, returns the A.B.C. to its home, and goes towards the door. One gathers that she has come to a decision.
Three days later, and evening again.ANNEis busy with a pencil and paper, an A.B.C., and her purse. She is trying to work out how much it costs to go home, and subtracting three and fourpence ha’penny from it. Having done this, she puts the paper, pencil, and purse in her bag, returns the A.B.C. to its home, and goes towards the door. One gathers that she has come to a decision.
ANNE(calling). Nich-o-las!
NICHOLAS(from outside). Hallo!
ANNE. Where—are—you?
NICHOLAS. Coming. (He comes.) Just went upstairs to get a pipe. (Putting his hand to his pocket) And now I’ve forgotten it.
(They go to the sofa together.)
ANNE. Oh, Nicholas, how silly you are! (She sits down.)
NICHOLAS(sitting close). I don’t want to smoke, you know.
ANNE. I thought men always did.
NICHOLAS. Well, it depends what they’re doing.
(There is no doubt what he is doing. He is making love toANNE,the dog, andANNEis encouraging him.)
ANNE(looking away). Oh!
[158]NICHOLAS. I say, it has been rather jolly here the last three days, don’t you think?
ANNE. Ithasbeen rather nice.
NICHOLAS. We’ve sort of got so friendly.
ANNE. We have, haven’t we?
NICHOLAS. You’ve been awfully nice to me.
ANNE. You’ve been nice tome.
NICHOLAS. I should have gone, you know, if it hadn’t been for you.
ANNE. I don’t knowwhatI should have done if you had gone.
NICHOLAS. You did ask me to stay, didn’t you?
ANNE. Yes, I couldn’t let you go.
NICHOLAS. Do you know what you said? You said, “Please, Mr. Nicholas, I want you to stay.” I shall always remember that. (Fatuously to himself) “Please, Mr. Nicholas, I want you to stay.” I wonder what made you think of saying that?
ANNE. I wanted us to be friends. I wanted to get to know you; to make you think of me as—as your friend.
NICHOLAS. Wearefriends, Anne, aren’t we?
ANNE. I think we are now, Nicholas.
NICHOLAS(with a sentimental sigh). Friends!
(ANNElooks at him, wondering if she shall risk it; then away again; then summons up her courage and takes the plunge.)
ANNE. Nicholas!
NICHOLAS. Yes?
ANNE(timidly). I—I want you to do something for me.
NICHOLAS. Anything, Anne, anything.
ANNE. I don’t know whether I ought to ask you.
NICHOLAS. Of course you ought!
ANNE. But you see, wearefriends—almost like brother andsister——
[159]NICHOLAS(disappointed). Well, I shouldn’t put it quite likethat——
ANNE. And I thought I might askyou——
NICHOLAS. Of course, Anne! You know I would do anything for you.
ANNE. Yes.... Well—well——(In a rush) Well, then, will you lend me one pound two and sixpence till next Monday?
NICHOLAS. Lendyou——!
ANNE. To-day’s Friday, I’ll send you the money off on Sunday. I promise. Of course I know one oughtn’t to borrow from men, but you’re different. Almost like a brother. I knew you would understand.
NICHOLAS. But—but—Idon’tunderstand.
ANNE(ashamed). You see, I—I only have three and fourpence ha’penny. And it costs one pound five and twopence to get home. (Indignantly) Oh, it’s a shame the way men always pay for us, and then when we really want money we haven’t got any.... But I will pay you back on Sunday. I have some money at home; I meant to have brought it.
NICHOLAS. But—but why do yousuddenly——
ANNE. Suddenly? I’ve been wanting it ever since that first morning. I went upstairs to get my hat, meaning to walk straight out of the house—and then I looked in my purse and found—(pathetically) three and fourpence ha’penny. What was I to do?
NICHOLAS. Any one would have lent you anything.
ANNE(coldly). Leonard, for instance?
NICHOLAS(thoughtfully). Well ... no.... No. You couldn’t very well have touched Leonard. ButLatimer——
ANNE. Mr. Latimer! The man who had brought us here, locked us up here, and started playing Providence to us—I was to go on my knees tohimand say,[160]“Please, dear Mr. Latimer, could you lend me one pound two and sixpence, so that I may run away from your horrid house?” Really!
NICHOLAS. Well, you seem to have been pretty friendly with him these three days.
ANNE. Naturally I am polite to a man when I am staying in his house. That’s different.
NICHOLAS. As a matter of fact, Latimer has been jolly decent. Anyway, he has saved us both from making silly asses of ourselves.
ANNE. And you think I am grateful to him for that?... Doesn’tanyman understandanywoman?
NICHOLAS(annoyed). Are you suggesting thatIdon’t understand women?
ANNE. I’m suggesting that you should lend me one pound two shillings and sixpence.
NICHOLAS(sulkily, feeling in his pockets). Of course, if you’re in such a confounded hurry to get away fromhere——Do you mind all silver?
ANNE. Not at all.
NICHOLAS. In such a confounded hurry to get away fromhere——(He counts the money.)
ANNE. Why ever should I want to stay?
NICHOLAS. Well—well——(With a despairing shrug) Oh, Lord!... Ten shillings ... fourteen and six ... why should she want to stay! Why do you thinkI’mstaying?
ANNE(wickedly). Because you’re so fond of Mr. Latimer. He’s so jolly decent.
NICHOLAS(looking at the money in his hand). One pound two shillings and sixpence. I suppose if I told you what I really thought about it all, you’d get on your high horse again and refuse the money fromme. So I won’t tell you. Here you are.
ANNE(gently). You didn’t think I was in love with[161]you, Nicholas? (NICHOLASlooks uncomfortable.) In three days? Oh, Nicholas!
NICHOLAS. Well—well, I don’tsee——(He holds out the money. ButANNEwon’t take it on those terms.)
ANNE. From a friend?
NICHOLAS. From a friend.
ANNE. Lent to a friend?
NICHOLAS. Lent to a friend.
ANNE(taking it). Thank you, Nicholas. (She hurries out, clasping the precious money.NICHOLASwill never see her again.... And then, suddenly, her head comes round the door) Thank you very much, Nicholas! (She is gone.)
NICHOLAS. Well, I’m damned!
(He sits there gloomily, his legs stretched out, and regards his shoes. So far as we can tell he goes on saying, “Well, I’m damned” to himself.EUSTASIAandLEONARDcome in. He is properly dressed now, but still underEUSTASIA’Scare, and she has his arm, as if he were attempting a very difficult feat in walking across the hall.)
NICHOLAS(looking round). Hallo! (Getting up) Do you want to come here?
LEONARD(hastily). Don’t go, old boy, don’t go. Plenty of room for us all.
EUSTASIA. Thank you so much. Leonard is not very strong yet. His temperature is up again to-day. (ToLEONARD) You will be better on the sofa, darling. (Distantly toNICHOLAS) I’m so sorry to trouble you.
NICHOLAS. Not at all. I was just going anyhow.
LEONARD(sitting on the sofa). Oh, nonsense. Stay and talk to us. Plenty of room for us all.
NICHOLAS(feeling in his pockets). Got to get my pipe. Left it upstairs, like an ass.
[162]LEONARD(taking out his case). Have a cigarette instead?
NICHOLAS. Rather have a pipe, thanks. (He makes for the door.)
LEONARD(anxiously). But you’ll come back?
NICHOLAS(unwillingly). Oh—er—righto.
[He goes out.
LEONARD. Come and keep us company. (ToEUSTASIA,who is tucking him up) Thanks, Eustasia, thanks. That’s quite all right.
EUSTASIA. Another cushion for your back, darling?
LEONARD. No, thanks.
EUSTASIA. Quite sure?
LEONARD. Quite sure, thanks.
EUSTASIA. I can easily get it for you.
LEONARD(weakly). Oh, very well.
EUSTASIA. That’s right. (Getting the cushion) You must be comfortable. Now, are you sure that’s all right?
LEONARD. Quite all right, thank you.
EUSTASIA. Sure, darling? Anything else you want, I can get it for you at once. A rug over your knees?
LEONARD. No, thank you, Eustasia. (Nowheis saying it.)
EUSTASIA. You wouldn’t like a hot-water bottle?
LEONARD(with a sigh). No, thank you, Eustasia.
EUSTASIA. You’ve only got to say, you know. Now shall we talk, or would you like me to read to you? (She settles down next to him.)
LEONARD(choosing the lesser evil). I think read—no, I mean, talk—no, read to me.
EUSTASIA. It’s for you to say, darling.
LEONARD(his eyes closed). Read to me, Eustasia.
EUSTASIA(opening her book). We’ll go on from where we left off. We didn’t get very far—I marked the place.... Yes, here we are. “... the sandy[163]deserts of Arabia and Africa.... 4.” And then there’s a little footnote at the bottom; that’s how I remember it. (Reading the footnote) “Tacit. Annal. l. ii., Dion Cassius l. lvi. p. 833, and the speech of Augustus himself.” That doesn’t seem to mean much. “It receives great light from the learned notes of his French translator, M. Spanheim.” Well, that’s a good thing. Spanheim—sounds more like a German, doesn’t it? Now are you sure you’re quite comfortable, dear?
LEONARD(his eyes closed). Yes, thank you, Eustasia.
EUSTASIA. Then I’ll begin. (In her reading-aloud voice) “Happily for the repose of mankind, the moderate system recommended by the wisdom of Augustus was adopted by the fears and vices of his immediate successors. Engaged in the pursuit of pleasure or the exercise of tyranny, the first Caesars seldom showed themselves to the armies or to the provinces; nor were they disposed to suffer that those triumphs which their indolence neglected should be usurped by the conduct and valour of their lieutenants.” (Speeding up) “The military fame of a subject was considered as an insolent invasion of the Imperial prerogative; and it became the duty as well as interest of every Roman General to guard the frontiers entrusted to his care”—(recklessly) “without aspiring for conquests which might have proved no less fatal to himself than to the vanquished barbarians.”... And then there’s another little footnote. Perhaps it would be better if I read all the little footnotes afterwards—what do you think, darling? Or shall we take them as they come?
LEONARD(without opening his eyes). Yes, dear.
EUSTASIA. Very well. This is footnote 5. “Germanicus, Suetonius Paulinus and Agricola”—(she stumbles over the names)—“were checked and recalled in the course of their victories. Corbulo was put to[164]death.” Oh, what a shame! “Military merit, as it is admirably expressed by Tacitus, was, in the strictest sense of theword——”well, there aretwowords, and they are both in Latin. I suppose Tacitus wrote in Latin. But it doesn’t really matter, because it’s only a little footnote. (Anxiously) Are you liking the book, darling?
LEONARD. Very much, dear.
EUSTASIA. It’s nicely written, but I don’t think it’s very exciting. I don’t think Mr. Latimer has a very good taste in books. I asked him to recommend me something really interesting to read aloud, and he said that the two most interesting books he knew were Carlyle’sFrench Revolutionand—and—(looking at the cover) Gibbon’sRoman Empire.... Fancy, there are four volumes of it and six hundred pages in a volume. We’re at page 3 now. (She reads a line or two to herself.) Oh, now, this is rather interesting, because it’s all aboutus. “The only accession which the Roman Empire received during the first century of the Christian era was the province of Britain.” Fancy! “The proximity of its situation to the coast of Gaul seemed to invite their arms, the pleasing though doubtful intelligence of a pearl fishery attracted their avarice.” And then there’s a little footnote—I suppose that’s to say it was Whitstable. (Getting to it) Oh no—“The British pearls proved, however, of little value, on account of their dark and livid colour.” How horrid. “Tacitusobserves——”well, then, Tacitus says something again.... Iwishhe would write in English.... Now where was I? Something about the pearls. Oh yes. “After a war of about forty years”—good gracious!—“undertaken by the most stupid, maintained by the most dissolute,and——”
(NICHOLASreturns with his pipe.)
[165]NICHOLAS. Oh, sorry, I’m interrupting.
LEONARD(waking up). No, no. Eustasia was just reading to me. (To her) You mustn’t tire yourself, dear. (ToNICHOLAS) Stay and talk.
NICHOLAS. What’s the book? Carlyle’sFrench Revolution?
EUSTASIA(primly). Certainly not. (Looking at the title again) Gibbon’sRoman Empire.
NICHOLAS. Any good?
EUSTASIA. Fascinating, isn’t it, Leonard?
LEONARD. Very.
NICHOLAS. You ought to try Carlyle, old chap.
LEONARD. Ishegood?
NICHOLAS(who has had eight pages read aloud to him byEUSTASIA). Oh, topping.
EUSTASIA(looking at her watch). Good gracious! I ought to be dressing.
LEONARD(looking at his). Yes, itisabout time.
NICHOLAS(looking at his). Yes.
EUSTASIA. Leonard, darling, I don’t think it would be safe for you to change. Not to-night; to-morrow if you like.
LEONARD. I say, look here, you said that last night.
EUSTASIA. Ah, but your temperature has gone up again.
NICHOLAS. I expect that’s only because the book was so exciting.
LEONARD. Yes, that’s right.
EUSTASIA. But I took his temperaturebeforeI began reading.
NICHOLAS. Perhaps yesterday’s instalment was still hanging about a bit.
EUSTASIA(toLEONARD). No, darling, not to-night. Just to please his Eustasia.
LEONARD(sulkily). All right.
[166]EUSTASIA. That’s a good boy. (She walks to the door,NICHOLASgoing with her to open it.) And if he’sverygood, and Eustasia isveryquick dressing, perhaps she’ll read him another little bit of that nice book before dinner.
[She goes out.
LEONARD. I say, don’t go, old chap. You can change in five minutes.
NICHOLAS. Righto.
(He comes back. There is silence for a little.)
LEONARD. I say!
NICHOLAS. Yes?
LEONARD(thinking better of it). Oh, nothing.
NICHOLAS(after a pause). Curious creatures, women.
LEONARD. Amazing.
NICHOLAS. They’re so unexpected.
LEONARD. So unreasonable.
NICHOLAS. Yes....
LEONARD(suddenly). I hate England at this time of year.
NICHOLAS. So do I.
LEONARD. Do you go South as a rule?
NICHOLAS. As a rule.
LEONARD. Monte?
NICHOLAS. Sometimes. Wehadthought—I half thought of Nice.
LEONARD. Not bad. We were—I think I prefer Cannes myself.
NICHOLAS. There’s not much in it.
LEONARD. No.... (After a pause) Between ourselves, you know—quite between ourselves—I’m about fed up with women.
NICHOLAS. Absolutely.
LEONARD. You are too?
NICHOLAS. Rather. I should think so.
LEONARD. They’re so dashed unreasonable.
[167]NICHOLAS. So unexpected....
LEONARD(suddenly). Had you booked your rooms?
NICHOLAS. At Nice? Yes.
LEONARD. So had I.
NICHOLAS. At Cannes?
LEONARD. Yes.... I say, what about it?
NICHOLAS. Do youmean——(He waves a hand at the door.)
LEONARD. Yes.
NICHOLAS. Evaporating?
LEONARD. Yes. Quite quietly, you know.
NICHOLAS. Without ostentation.
LEONARD. That’s it.
NICHOLAS. It’s rather a scheme. And then we shouldn’t waste the rooms. At least, only one set of them. I’ll tell you what. I’ll toss you whether we go to Nice or Cannes.
LEONARD. Right. (He takes out a coin and tosses.)
NICHOLAS. Tails.
LEONARD(uncovering the coin). Heads. Do you mind coming to Cannes?
NICHOLAS. Just as soon, really. When shall we go? To-morrow?
LEONARD. Mightn’t get a chance to-morrow. Why not to-night? It seems a pity to waste the opportunity.
NICHOLAS. You mean while Eustasia’s dressing?
LEONARD. The—er—opportunity. Sleep the night at Dover and cross to-morrow morning.
NICHOLAS. She’ll be after us.
LEONARD. Nonsense.
NICHOLAS. My dear man, you don’t know Eustasia.
LEONARD. I don’t know Eustasia? Well!
NICHOLAS(with conviction). She’ll be after you like a bird. You’ve never seen Eustasia when she has got somebody ill to look after.
[168]LEONARD. I’ve never seen Eustasia? Well!
NICHOLAS. My dear chap, you’ve only had three days of her; I’ve had six.... Lord!... Look here. We shall haveto——
EnterLATIMER.
LATIMER. What, Leonard, all alone?
NICHOLAS. I say, you’re the very man we want.
LEONARD(frowning——).S’sh.
LATIMER. Leonard, don’t “s’sh” Nicholas when he wants to speak to me.
NICHOLAS(toLEONARD). It’s all right, old chap, Latimer is a sportsman.
LATIMER(toLEONARD). There! You see the sort of reputation I have in the West End. (ToNICHOLAS) What is it you want to do? Run away?
LEONARD. Well—er——
NICHOLAS. I say, however did you guess?
LATIMER. Leonard’s car has had steam up for the last twenty-four hours, waiting for a word from its owner.
LEONARD(seeing the south of France). By Jove!
LATIMER. And you are going with him, Nicholas?
NICHOLAS. Yes. Thought I might as well be getting on. Very grateful and all that, but can’t stay here for ever.
LATIMER(wondering what has happened betweenNICHOLASandANNE). So you are going too! Ithought——Well! Nicholas is going too.
LEONARD. I say, you do understand—I mean about—er—I mean, when I’m quite well again—start afresh and all that. Cossethera bit. But when you’re ill—or supposed to beill——Well, I mean, ask Nicholas.
NICHOLAS. Oh, rather.
LATIMER. My dear Leonard, why these explanations?[169]Who am I to interfere in other people’s matrimonial affairs? You and Nicholas are going away—good-bye. (He holds out his hand.)
NICHOLAS. Yes, but what about Eustasia? She’s not going to miss the chance of cosseting Leonard just when she is getting into it. She’ll be after him like a bird.
LATIMER. I see. So you want me to keep her here?
NICHOLAS. That’s the idea, if you could.
LATIMER. How can I keep her here if she doesn’t want to stay?
LEONARD. Well, how do you keepanybody here?
LATIMER. Really, Leonard, I am surprised at you. By the charm of my old-world courtesy and hospitality, of course.
LEONARD. Oh! Well, I doubt if that keeps Eustasia.
LATIMER(shaking his head sadly). I am afraid that that is only too true. In fact, the more I think of it, the more I realise that there is only one thing which will keep this devoted wife from her afflicted and suffering husband.
LEONARDandNICHOLAS. What?
DOMINICcomes in.
LATIMER. His lordship and Mr. Nicholas are leaving at once. His lordship’s car will wait for them outside the gates. See that a bag is packed for them.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir.
LATIMER. And come back when you’ve seen about that.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir.
[He goes out.
LATIMER. The car can return for the rest of your luggage, and take it over in the morning.
NICHOLAS. Good!
[170]LEONARD. Er—thanks very much. (Anxiously) What were you going to say about the only way of—er——
LATIMER. The only way of keeping this devoted wife from her afflicted and suffering husband?
LEONARD(gruffly). Yes. What is it?
LATIMER. Somebody else must have a temperature. Somebody else must be ill. Eustasia must have somebody else to cosset.
NICHOLAS. I say, how awfully sporting of you!
LATIMER. Sporting?
NICHOLAS. To sacrifice yourself like that.
LATIMER. I? You don’t thinkIam going to sacrifice myself, do you? No, no, it’s Dominic.
DOMINIC(coming in). Yes, sir.
LATIMER. Dominic, are you ever ill?
DOMINIC. Never, sir, barring a slight shortness of the breath.
LATIMER(to the others). That’s awkward. I don’t think you can cosset a shortness of the breath.
NICHOLAS(toDOMINIC). I say, you could pretend to be ill, couldn’t you?
DOMINIC. With what object, sir?
NICHOLAS. Well—er——
LATIMER. Her ladyship is training to be a nurse. She has already cured two very obstinate cases of nasal catarrh accompanied by debility and a fluctuating temperature. If she brings one more case off successfully, she earns the diploma and the gold medal of the Royal Therapeutical Society.
NICHOLAS. That’s right.
DOMINIC. And you would wish me to be that third case, sir?
NICHOLAS. That’s the idea.
DOMINIC. And be cosseted back to health by her ladyship?
[171]LATIMER. Such would be your inestimable privilege.
DOMINIC. I am sorry, sir. I must beg respectfully to decline.
NICHOLAS. I say, be a sport.
LEONARD(awkwardly). Of course weshould——Naturally you would not—er—lose anything by—er——
LATIMER. His lordship wishes to imply that not only would your mental horizon be widened during the period of convalescence, but that material blessings would also flow. Isn’t that right, Leonard?
NICHOLAS. A commission on the gold medal. Naturally.
DOMINIC. I am sorry, sir. I am afraid I cannot see my way.
NICHOLAS. Isay——
LATIMER. Thank you, Dominic.
DOMINIC. Thank you, sir.
[He goes out.
NICHOLAS. Well, that’s torn it. (ToLATIMER) If you’re quite sure that you wouldn’t like to have a go? It’s the chance of a lifetime to learn all about the French Revolution.
LATIMER. Well, well! Something must be done. (He smiles suddenly) After all, why not?
LEONARD(eagerly). You will?
LATIMER. I will.
NICHOLAS. Isay——
LATIMER(waving them off). No, no. Don’t wait. Fly.
LEONARD. Yes, we’d better be moving. Come on!
NICHOLAS(with a grin, as he goes). There’s an awfully good bit in the secondchapter——
LATIMER(holding up a finger). Listen! I hear her coming.
LEONARD. Good Lord!
[172](They fly.
LATIMER,left alone, gives himself up to thought. What illness shall he have? He rings one of his many bells, andDOMINICcomes in.)
LATIMER. Oh, Dominic. In consequence of your obstinate good-health, I am going to sacrifice myself—I mean, I myself am going to embrace this great opportunity of mental and spiritual development.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir. Very good of you, I’m sure, sir.
LATIMER. What sort of illness would you recommend?
DOMINIC. How about a nice sprained ankle, sir?
LATIMER. You think that would go well?
DOMINIC. It would avoid any interference with the customary habits at meal-time, sir. There’s a sort of monotony about bread-and-milk; no inspiration about it, sir, whether treated as a beverage or as a comestible.
LATIMER. I hadn’t thought about bread-and-milk.
DOMINIC. You’ll find that you will have little else to think about, sir, if you attempt anything stomachic. Of course you could have the usual nasty cold, sir.
LATIMER. No, no, not that. Let us be original....
DOMINIC. How about Xerostomia, sir? Spelt with an x.
LATIMER. Is that good?
DOMINIC. Joseph tells me that his father has had it for a long time.
LATIMER. Oh! Then perhaps we oughtn’t to deprive him of it.
DOMINIC. I looked it up in the dictionary one Sunday afternoon, sir. They describe it there as “an abnormal dryness of the mouth.”
LATIMER. I said I wanted to be original, Dominic.
DOMINIC. Quite so, sir.
(They both think in silence.)
LATIMER. Perhaps I had better leave it to the inspiration of the moment.
[173]EUSTASIA(off). Dominic! Dominic!
DOMINIC. This appears to be the moment, sir.
LATIMER. Quick. (Bustling him off) Don’t let her ladyship come in for a moment. I must assume a recumbent position.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir.
[He goes out.
(LATIMERlies down at full length on the sofa and begins to groan; putting a hand first on his stomach, then on his head, then on his elbow.EUSTASIAdoes not come. He cautiously raises his head; the room is empty.)
LATIMER(disappointedly). Throwing it away! (He hears footsteps, and settles down again.)
(ANNEcomes in, hat on, bag in hand. She is just at the door when a groan reaches her. She stops. Another groan comes. She puts down her bag and comes towards the sofa with an “Oh!” of anxiety.)
LATIMER. Oh, my poor—er—head! (He clasps it.)
ANNE(alarmed). What is it? (She kneels by him.)
LATIMER. Oh,my——(Cheerfully) Hallo, Anne, is it you? (He sits up.)
ANNE(still anxious). Yes, what is it?
LATIMER(bravely). Oh, nothing, nothing. A touch of neuralgia.
ANNE. Oh!... You frightened me.
LATIMER. Did I, Anne? I’m sorry.
ANNE. You were groaning so. I thought—I didn’t know what had happened.... (Sympathetically) Is it very bad?
LATIMER. Not so bad as it sounded.
ANNE(taking off her gloves). I know how bad it can be. Father has it sometimes. Then I have to send it away. (She has her gloves off now) May I try?
LATIMER(remorsefully). Anne!
[174](She leans over from the back of him and begins to stroke his forehead with the tips of her fingers. He looks up at her.)
ANNE. Close your eyes.
LATIMER. Ah, but I don’t want to now.
(She laughs without embarrassment.)
ANNE. It will go soon.
LATIMER. Not too soon....
ANNE(laughing suddenly). Aren’t faces funny when they’re upside down?
LATIMER. You have the absurdest little upside-down face that ever I saw, Anne.
ANNE(happily). Have I?
LATIMER. Why do you wear a hat on your chin? (She laughs.) Why do you wear a hat?
ANNE. I was going away.
LATIMER. Without saying good-bye?
ANNE(ashamed). I—I think so.
LATIMER. Oh, Anne!
ANNE(hastily). I should have written.
LATIMER. A post-card!
ANNE. A letter.
LATIMER. With many thanks for your kind hospitality, yours sincerely.
ANNE. Yoursverysincerely.
LATIMER. P.S.—I shall never see you again.
ANNE. P.S.—I shall never forget.
LATIMER. Ah, but youmustforget....
ANNE(after a pause). Is it better?
LATIMER(lazily). It is just the same. It will always be the same. It is unthinkable that anything different should ever happen. In a hundred years’ time we shall still be like this. You will be a little tired, perhaps; your fingers will ache; but I shall be lying here, quite, quite happy.
[175]ANNE. You shall have another minute—no more.
LATIMER. Then I shall go straight to the chemist and ask for three pennyworth of Anne’s fingers. (They are silent for a little. Then she stops and listens.) What is it?
ANNE. I heard something. Whispers.
LATIMER. Don’t look round.
(LEONARDandNICHOLAS,in hats and coats, creep cautiously in. Very noiselessly, fingers to lips, they open the front door and creep out.)
ANNE. What was it? Wasit——
LATIMER. An episode in your life. Over, buried, forgotten....
ANNE(pleadingly). It never really happened, did it?
LATIMER. Of course not! We must have read about it somewhere—or was it in a play?
ANNE(eagerly). That was it! We were in a box together.
LATIMER. Munching chocolates. (With a sigh) What a child she was—that girl in the play—with her little, funny, grown-up airs!
(DOMINICcomes in, and stops suddenly on seeing them.)
DOMINIC. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir.
LATIMER. Go on, Anne. (Happily) I am having neuralgia, Dominic.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir. A stubborn complaint, as I have heard, sir.
LATIMER. Miss Anne is making me well.... What did you want?
DOMINIC. Her ladyship says will you please excuse her if she is not down to-night.
LATIMER(toANNE). Shall we excuse her if she is not down to-night?
[176]DOMINIC. The fact is, sir, that Joseph is taken ill suddenly,and——
LATIMER(to himself). I never thought of Joseph!
ANNE. Oh, poor Joseph! What is it?
DOMINIC. A trifling affection of the throat, but necessitating careful attention, her ladyship says.
LATIMER. Please tell her ladyship how very much I thank her for looking after Joseph ... and tell Joseph how very sorry I am for him.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir.
[He goes out.
LATIMER. You can’t go now, Anne. You will have to stay and chaperone Eustasia and me. (She laughs and shakes her head.) Must you go?
ANNE. Yes.
LATIMER. Back to your father?
ANNE. Yes. (He looks at her. She is so very pretty; so brave.)
LATIMER(it must be somebody else speaking—he hardly recognises the voice). Let us say good-bye now. There is a magic in your fingers which goes to my head, and makes me think ridiculous things. Let us say good-bye now.
ANNE(taking his hand). Good-bye! (Impulsively) I wishyouhad been my father.
(Then she goes out. And she has won, after all. ForMR. LATIMERstands there dumb, wondering what has happened. He walks across to a mirror to have a look at himself. While he is there,DOMINICcomes in to superintend the laying of the table.)
LATIMER(at the mirror). Dominic, how old would you say I was?
DOMINIC. More than that, sir.
LATIMER(with a sigh). Yes, I’m afraid I am. And yet I look very young. Sometimes I think I look too young.
[177]DOMINIC. Yes, sir.
LATIMER. Miss Anne has just asked me to be her father.
DOMINIC. Very considerate of her, I’m sure, sir.
LATIMER. Yes.... To prevent similar mistakes in the future, I think I shall wear a long white beard.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir. Shall I order one from the Stores?
LATIMER. Please.
DOMINIC. Thank you, sir.... Is Miss Anne leaving us, sir?
LATIMER. Yes.... Don’t overdo the length, Dominic, and I like the crinkly sort.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir.... One of our most successful weeks on the whole, if I may say so, sir.
LATIMER(thoughtfully). Yes.... Well, well, we must all do what we can, Dominic.
DOMINIC. That’s the only way, isn’t it, sir?
(They stand looking at each other. Just for a momentDOMINICis off duty. That grave face relaxes; the eyes crease into a smile.MR. LATIMERsmiles back.... Very gently they begin to laugh together; old friends; master and servant no longer. “Dear, dear! These children!” saysDOMINIC’Slaugh. “How very amusing they are, to be sure!”LATIMER’Slaugh is a little rueful; a moment ago he, too, was almost a child. Yet he laughs. “Good oldDOMINIC!”
Suddenly the front-door bell rings. Instinctively they stiffen to attention. They are on duty again. They turn and march off, almost, as it were, saluting each other;MR. LATIMERto his quarters,DOMINICto his bolts and bars. He draws the curtains and opens the big front door.)
[178]A MANLY VOICE. Oh, is this—er—an hotel?
DOMINIC. A sort of hotel, your Grace.
HIS GRACE(coming in, a lady on his arm). My chauffeur said—we’ve had an accident—been delayed on the way—he saidthat——
(Evidently another romantic couple. Let us leave them toMR. LATIMER.)
THE TRUTH ABOUT BLAYDS[179]CHARACTERS[180]Oliver Blayds.Isobel(his younger daughter).Marion Blayds-Conway(his elder daughter).William Blayds-Conway(his son-in-law).Oliver Blayds-ConwaySeptima Blayds-Conway}(his grandchildren).A. L. Royce.Parsons.A room inOLIVER BLAYDS’house in Portman Square.Thisplay was first produced at the Globe Theatre on December 20, 1921, with the following cast:Oliver BlaydsNorman McKinnel.IsobelIrene Vanbrugh.Marion Blayds-ConwayIrene Rooke.William Blayds-ConwayDion Boucicault.OliverJack Hobbs.SeptimaFaith Celli.A. L. RoyceIon Swinley.ParsonsEthel Wellesley.
A room inOLIVER BLAYDS’house in Portman Square.
Thisplay was first produced at the Globe Theatre on December 20, 1921, with the following cast: