ACT II

Jean(interceptingMiss Levering). I want to begin to understand something of—I'm horribly ignorant.Miss L.(Looks at her searchingly). I'm a rather busy person——Jean.(interrupting). I have a quite special reason for wantingnotto be ignorant. (Impulsively). I'll go to town to-morrow, if you'll come and lunch with me.Miss L.Thank you—I (catchesMrs. Heriot'seye)—I must go and put my hat on.[Exit upstairs.Mrs. H.(aside). How little she minds all these horrors!Lady John.They turn me cold. Ugh! (Rising, harassed.) I wonder if she's signed the visitors' book!Mrs. H.For all her Shelter schemes, she's a hard woman.Jean.Miss Levering is?Mrs. H.Oh, of courseyouwon't think so. She has angled very adroitly for your sympathy.Jean.She doesn't look hard.Lady John(glancing atJeanand taking alarm). I'm not sure but what she does. Her mouth—alwayslike this ... as if she were holding back something by main force!Mrs. H.(half under her breath). Well, so she is.[ExitLady Johninto the lobby to look at the visitors' book.Jean.Why haven't I seen her before?Mrs. H.Oh, she's lived abroad. (Debating with herself.) You don't know about her, I suppose?Jean.I don't know how Aunt Ellen came to know her.Mrs. H.That was my doing. But I didn't bargain for her being introduced to you.Jean.She seems to go everywhere. And why shouldn't she?Mrs. H.(quickly). You mustn't ask her to Eaton Square.Jean.I have.Mrs. H.Then you'll have to get out of it.Jean(with a stubborn look). I must have a reason. And a very good reason.Mrs. H.Well, it's not a thing I should have preferred to tell you, but I know how difficult you are to guide ... so I suppose you'll have to know. (Lowering her voice.) It was ten or twelve years ago. I found her horribly ill in a lonely Welsh farmhouse. We had taken the Manor for that August. The farmer's wife was frightened, and begged me to go and see what I thought. I soon saw how it was—I thought she was dying.Jean.Dying!What was the——Mrs. H.I got no more out of her than the farmer's wife did. She had had no letters. There had been no one to see her except a man down from London, ashady-looking doctor—nameless, of course. And then this result. The farmer and his wife, highly respectable people, were incensed. They were for turning the girl out.Jean.Oh!but——Mrs. H.Yes. Pitiless some of these people are! I insisted they should treat the girl humanely, and we became friends ... that is, "sort of." In spite of all I did for her——Jean.What did you do?Mrs. H.I—I've told you, and I lent her money. No small sum either.Jean.Has she never paid it back?Mrs. H.Oh, yes, after a time. But Ialwayskept her secret—as much as I knew of it.Jean.But you've been telling me!Mrs. H.That was my duty—and Ineverhad her full confidence.Jean.Wasn't it natural she——Mrs. H.Well, all things considered, she might have wanted to tell me who was responsible.Jean.Oh! Aunt Lydia!Mrs. H.All she ever said was that she was ashamed—(losing her temper and her fine feeling for the innocence of her auditor)—ashamed that she "hadn't had the courage to resist"—not the original temptation but the pressure brought to bear on her "not to go through with it," as she said.Jean(wrinkling her brows). You are being so delicate—I'm not sure I understand.Mrs. H.(irritably). The only thing you need understand is that she's not a desirable companion for a young girl.(Pause.)Jean.When did you see her after—after——Mrs. H.(with a slight grimace). I met her last winter at the Bishop's. (Hurriedly.) She's a connection of his wife's. They'd got her to help with some of their work. Then she took hold of ours. Your aunt and uncle are quite foolish about her, and I'm debarred from taking any steps, at least till the Shelter is out of hand.Jean.I do rather wonder she can bring herself to talk about—the unfortunate women of the world.Mrs. H.The effrontery of it!Jean.Or ... the courage! (Puts her hand up to her throat as if the sentence had caught there.)Mrs. H.Even presumes to setmeright! Of course I don'tmindin the least, poor soul ... but I feel I owe it to your dead mother to tell you about her, especially as you're old enough now to know something about life——Jean(slowly).—and since a girl needn't be very old to suffer for her ignorance. (Moves a little away.) Ifeltshe was rather wonderful.Mrs. H.Wonderful!Jean(pausing). ... To have lived throughthatwhen she was ... how old?Mrs. H.(rising). Oh, nineteen or thereabouts.Jean.Five years younger than I. To be abandoned and to come out of it like this!Mrs. H.(laying her hand on the girl's shoulder). It was too bad to have to tell you such a sordid story to-day of all days.Jean.It is a very terrible story, but this wasn't a bad time. I feel very sorry to-day for women who aren't happy.(Motor horn heard faintly.)(Jumping up.) That's Geoffrey!Mrs. H.Mr. Stonor! What makes you think...?Jean.Yes, yes. I'm sure, I'm sure——(Checks herself as she is flying off. Turns and seesLord Johnentering from the garden.)(Motor horn louder.)Lord J.Who do you think is motoring up the drive?Jean(catching hold of him). Oh, dear! how am I ever going to be able to behave like a girl who isn't engaged to the only man in the world worth marrying?Mrs. H.You were expecting Mr. Stonor all the time!Jean.He promised he'd come to luncheon if it was humanly possible; but I was afraid to tell you for fear he'd be prevented.Lord J.(laughing as he crosses to the lobby). You felt we couldn't have borne the disappointment.Jean.I felt I couldn't.(The lobby door opens.Lady Johnappears radiant, followed by a tall figure in a dust-coat, &c., no goggles. He has straight, firm features, a little blunt; fair skin, high-coloured; fine, straight hair, very fair; grey eyes, set somewhat prominently and heavy when not interested; lips full, but firmly moulded.Geoffrey Stonoris heavier than a man of forty should be, but otherwise in the pink of physical condition. TheFootmanstands waiting to help him off with his motor coat.)Lady John.Here's an agreeable surprise!(Jeanhas gone forward only a step, and stands smiling at the approaching figure.)Lord J.How do you do? (As he comes between them and briskly shakes hands withStonor.)(Farnboroughappears at the French window.)Farn.Yes, by Jove! (Turning to the others clustered round the window.) What gigantic luck!(Those outside crane and glance, and then elaborately turn their backs and pretend to be talking among themselves, but betray as far as manners permit the enormous sensation the arrival has created.)Stonor.How do you do?(Shakes hands withMrs. Heriot,who has rushed up to him with both hers outstretched. He crosses toJean,who meets him half way; they shake hands, smiling into each other's eyes.)Jean.Such a long time since we met!Lord J.(toStonor). You're growing very enterprising. I could hardly believe my ears when I heard you'd motored all the way from town to see a supporter on Sunday.Stonor.I don't know how we covered the ground in the old days. (ToLady John.) It's no use to stand for your borough any more. The American, you know, he "runs" for Congress. By and by we shall all be flying after the thing we want.(Smiles atJean.)Jean.Sh! (Smiles and then glances over her shoulder and speaks low.) All sorts of irrelevant people here.Farn.(unable to resist the temptation, comes forward). How do you do, Mr. Stonor?Stonor.Oh—how d'you do.Farn.Some of them were arguing in the smoking-room last night whether it didn't hurt a man's chances going about in a motor.Lord J.Yes, we've been hearing a lot of stories about the unpopularity of motor-cars—among the class that hasn't got 'em, of course. What do you say?Lady John.I'm sure you gain more votes by being able to reach so many more of your constituency than we used——Stonor.Well, I don't know—I've sometimes wondered whether the charm of our presence wasn't counterbalanced by the way we tear about smothering our fellow-beings in dust and running down their pigs and chickens, not to speak of their children.Lord J.(anxiously). What on the whole are the prospects?(Farnboroughcranes forward.)Stonor(gravely). We shall have to work harder than we realised.Farn.Ah!(Retires towards group.)Jean(in a half-aside as she slips her arm in her uncle's and smiles atGeoffrey). He says he believes I'll be able to make a real difference to his chances. Isn't it angelic of him?Stonor(in a jocular tone). Angelic? Macchiavelian. I pin all my hopes on your being able to counteract the pernicious influence of my opponent's glib wife.Jean.You want me to have arealshare in it all, don't you, Geoffrey?Stonor(smiling into her eyes). Of course I do.(Farnboroughdrops down again on pretence of talking toMrs. Heriot.)Lord J.I don't gather you're altogether sanguine. Any complication?(JeanandLady Johnstand close together(C.),the girl radiant, followingStonorwith her eyes and whispering to the sympathetic elder woman.)Stonor.Well (taking Sunday paper out of pocket), there's this agitation about the Woman Question. Oddly enough, it seems likely to affect the issue.Lord J.Why should it? Can't you do what the other four hundred have done?Stonor(laughs). Easily. But, you see, the mere fact that four hundred and twenty members have been worried into promising support—and then once in the House have let the matter severely alone——Lord J.(toStonor). Let it alone! Bless my soul, I should think so indeed.Stonor.Of course. Only it's a device that's somewhat worn.(EnterMiss Levering,with hat on; gloves and veil in her hand.)Lord J.Still if they think they're getting a future Cabinet Minister on their side——Stonor.... it will be sufficiently embarrassing for the Cabinet Minister.(Stonorturns to speak toJean.Stops dead seeingMiss Levering.)Jean(smiling). You know one another?Miss L.(looking atStonorwith intentness but quite calmly). Everybody in this part of the world knows Mr. Stonor, but he doesn't know me.Lord J.Miss Levering.(They bow.)(EnterGreatorex,sidling in with an air of givingMrs. Freddya wide berth.)Jean(toMiss Leveringwith artless enthusiasm). Oh, have you been hearing him speak?Miss L.Yes, I was visiting some relations near Dutfield. They took me to hear you.Stonor.Oh—the night the Suffragettes made their customary row.Miss L.The night they asked you——Stonor(flying at the first chance of distraction, shakes hands withMrs. Freddy). Well, Mrs. Freddy, what do you think of your friends now?Mrs. F.My friends?Stonor(offering her the Sunday paper). Yes, the disorderly women.Mrs. F.(with dignity). They are not my friends, but I don't think you must call them——Stonor.Why not? (Laughs.) I can forgive them for worrying the late Government. But theyaredisorderly.Miss L.(quietly). Isn't the phrase consecrated to a different class?Great.(who has got hold of the Sunday paper). He's perfectly right. How do you do? Disorderly women! That's what they are!Farn.(reading over his shoulder). Ought to be locked up! every one of 'em.Great.(assenting angrily). Public nuisances! Going about with dog whips and spitting in policemen's faces.Mrs. F.(with a harassed air). I wonder if they did spit?Great.(exulting). Ofcoursethey did.Mrs. F.(turns on him). You're no authority on what they do.Yourun away.Great.(trying to turn the laugh). Run away? Yes. (Backing a few paces.) And if ever I muster up courage to come back, it will be to vote for better manners in public life, not worse than we have already.Mrs. F.(meekly). So should I. Don't think thatIdefend the Suffragette methods.Jean.(with cheerful curiosity). Still, youarean advocate of the Suffrage, aren't you?Mrs. F.Here?(Shrugs.) I don't beat the air.Great.(mocking). Only policemen.Mrs. F.(plaintively). If you cared to know the attitude of the real workers in the reform, you might have noticed in any paper last week we lost no time in dissociating ourselves from the little group of hysterical——(Catches her husband's eye, and instantly checks her flow of words.)Mrs. H.They have lowered the whole sex in the eyes of the entire world.Jean(joiningGeoffrey Stonor). I can't quite see what they want—those Suffragettes.Great.Notoriety.Farn.What they want? A good thrashin'—that's what I'd give 'em.Miss L.(murmurs). Spirited fellow!Lord J.Well, there's one sure thing—they've dished their goose.(Greatorexchuckles, still reading the account.)I believe these silly scenes are a pure joy to you.Great.Final death-blow to the whole silly business!Jean(mystified, looking from one to the other). The Suffragettes don't seem toknowthey're dead.Great.They still keep up a sort of death-rattle. But they've done for themselves.Jean(clasping her hands with fervour). Oh, I hope they'll last till the election's over.Farn.(stares). Why?Jean.Oh, we want them to get the working man to—(stumbling and a little confused)—to vote for ... the Conservative candidate. Isn't that so?(Looking round for help. General laughter.)Lord J.Fancy, Jean——!Great.The working man's a good deal of an ass, but even he won't listen to——Jean(again appealing to the silentStonor). But hedoeslisten like anything! I asked why there were so few at the Long Mitcham meeting, and I was told, "Oh, they've all gone to hear Miss——"Stonor.Just for a lark, that was.Lord J.It has no real effect on the vote.Great.Not the smallest.Jean(wide-eyed, toStonor). Why, I thought you said——Stonor(hastily, rubbing his hand over the lower part of his face and speaking quickly). I've a notion a little soap and water wouldn't do me any harm.Lord J.I'll take you up. You know Freddy Tunbridge.(Stonorpauses to shake hands. Exeunt all three.)Jean(perplexed, asStonorturns away, says toGreatorex). Well, if women are of no importance in politics, it isn't for the reason you gave. There is now and then a week-ender among them.Great.(shuffles about uneasily). Hm—Hm. (Finds himself nearMrs. Freddy.) Lord! The perils that beset the feet of man!(With an air of comic caution, moves away,L.)Jean(toFarnborough,aside, laughing). Why does he behave like that?Farn.His moral sense is shocked.Jean.Why, I saw him and Mrs. Freddy together at the French Play the other night—as thick as thieves.Miss L.Ah, that was before he knew her revolting views.Jean.What revolting views?Great.Sh! Sunday.(AsGreatorexsidles cautiously further away.)Jean(laughing in spite of herself). I can't believe women are so helpless when I see men so afraid of them.Great.The great mistake was in teaching them to read and write.Jean(overMiss Levering'sshoulder, whispers).Saysomething.Miss L.(toGreatorex,smiling). Oh no, that wasn't the worst mistake.Great.Yes, it was.Miss L.No. Believe me. The mistake was in letting women learn to talk.Great.Ah!(Wheels about with sudden rapture.) I see now what's to be the next great reform.Miss L.(holding up the little volume). When women are all dumb, no more discussions of the "Paradiso."Great.(with a gesture of mock rapture). The thing itself! (Aside.) That's a great deal better than talking about it, as I'm sureyouknow.Miss L.Why do you think I know?Great.Only the plain women are in any doubt.(JeanjoinsMiss Levering.)Great.Wait for me, Farnborough. I cannot go about unprotected.[ExeuntFarnboroughandGreatorex.Mrs. F.It's true what that old cynic says. The scene in the House has put back the reform a generation.Jean.I wish 'd been there.Mrs. F.Iwas.Jean.Oh, was it like the papers said?Mrs. F.Worse. I've never been so moved in public. No tragedy, no great opera ever gripped an audience as the situation in the House did that night. There we all sat breathless—with everything more favourable to us than it had been within the memory of women. Another five minutes and the Resolution would have passed. Then ... all in a moment——Lady John(toMrs. Heriot). Listen—they're talking about the female hooligans.Mrs. H.No, thank you! (Sits apart with the "Church Times.")Mrs. F.(excitedly). All in a moment a horrible dingy little flag was poked through the grille of the Woman's Gallery—cries—insults—scuffling—the police—the ignominious turning out of the women—usas well as the——Oh, I can'tthinkof it without——(Jumps up and walks to and fro.)(Pauses.) Then the next morning! The people gloating. Our friends antagonised—people who were wavering—nearly won over—all thrown back—heart breaking! Even my husband! Freddy's been an angel about letting me take my share when I felt I must—but of course I've always known he doesn't really like it. It makes him shy. I'm sure it gives him a horrid twist inside when he sees my name among the speakers on the placards. But he's always been an angel about it before this. After the disgraceful scene he said, "It just shows how unfit women are for any sort of coherent thinking or concerted action."Jean.To think that it should be women who've given the Cause the worst blow it ever had!Mrs. F.The work of forty years destroyed in five minutes!Jean.They must have felt pretty sick when they woke up the next morning—the Suffragettes.Mrs. F.I don't waste any sympathy onthem. I'm thinking of the penaltyallwomen have to pay because a handful of hysterical——Jean.Still I think I'm sorry for them. It must be dreadful to find you've done such a lot of harm to the thing you care most about in the world.Miss L.Do you picture the Suffragettes sitting in sackcloth?Mrs. F.Well, they can't help realisingnowwhat they've done.Miss L.(quietly). Isn't it just possible they realise they've waked up interest in the Woman Question so that it's advertised in every paper and discussed in every house from Land's End to John o'Groats? Don't you thinktheyknow there's been more said and written about it in these ten days since the scene, than in the ten years before it?Mrs. F.You aren't saying you think it was a good way to get what they wanted?Miss L.(shrugs). I'm only pointing out that it seems not such a bad way to get it known theydowant something—and (smiling) "want it bad."Jean(getting up). Didn't Mr. Greatorex say women had been politely petitioning Parliament for forty years?Miss L.And men have only laughed.Jean.But they'd come round. (She looks from one to the other.) Mrs. Tunbridge says, before that horrid scene, everything was favourable at last.Miss L.At last? Hadn't it been just as "favourable" before?Mrs. F.No. We'd never had so many members pledged to our side.Miss L.I thought I'd heard somebody say the Bill had got as far as that, time and time again.Jean.Oh no. Surely not——Mrs. F.(reluctantly). Y-yes. This was only a Resolution. The Bill passed a second reading thirty-seven years ago.Jean(with wide eyes). And what difference did it make?Miss L.The men laughed rather louder.Mrs. F.Oh, it's got as far as a second reading several times—but we never had so many friends in the House before——Miss L.(with a faint smile). "Friends!"Jean.Why do you say it like that?Miss L.Perhaps because I was thinking of a funny story—he said it was funny—a Liberal Whip told me the other day. A Radical Member went out of the House after his speech in favour of the Woman's Bill, and as he came back half an hour later, he heard some Members talking in the Lobby about the astonishing number who were going to vote for the measure. And the Friend of Woman dropped his jaw and clutched the man next him: "My God!" he said, "you don't mean to say they're going to give it to them!"Jean.Oh!Mrs. F.You don't think all men in Parliament are like that!Miss L.I don't think all men are burglars, but I lock my doors.Jean(below her breath). You think that night of the scene—you think the men didn'tmeanto play fair?Miss L.(her coolness in contrast to the excitement of the others). Didn't the women sit quiet till ten minutes to closing time?Jean.Ten minutes to settle a question like that!Miss L.(quietly toMrs. Freddy). Couldn't you see the men were at their old game?Lady John(coming forward). You think they were just putting off the issue till it was too late?Miss L.(in a detached tone).Iwasn't there, but I haven't heard anybody deny that the women waited till ten minutes to eleven. Then they discovered thepoliceman who'd been sent up at the psychological moment to the back of the gallery. Then, I'm told, when the women saw they were betrayed once more, they utilised the few minutes left, to impress on the country at large the fact of their demands—did it in the only way left them.(Sits leaning forward reflectively smiling, chin in hand.)It does rather look to the outsider as if the well-behaved women had worked for forty years and made less impression on the world then those fiery young women made in five minutes.Mrs. F.Oh, come, be fair!Miss L.Well, you must admit that, next day, every newspaper reader in Europe and America knew there were women in England in such dead earnest about the Suffrage that the men had stopped laughing at last, and turned them out of the House. Men even advertised how little they appreciated the fun by sending the women to gaol in pretty sober earnest. And all the world was talking about it.(Mrs. Heriotlays down the "Church Times" and joins the others.)Lady John.I have noticed, whenever the men aren't there, the women sit and discuss that scene.Jean(cheerfully).Ishan't have to wait till the men are gone. (Leans overLady John'sshoulder and says half aside) He's in sympathy.Lady John.How do you know?Jean.He told the interrupting women so.(Mrs. Freddylooks mystified. The others smile.)Lady John.Oh!(Mr. FreddyandLord Johnappear by the door they went out of. They stop to talk.)Mrs. F.Here's Freddy! (Lower, hastily toMiss Levering.) You're judging from the outside. Those of us who have been working for years ... we all realise it was aperfectlylunatic proceeding. Why,think! The only chance of our getting what we want is bywinning overthe men.(Her watchful eye, leaving her husband for a moment, catchesMiss Levering'slittle involuntary gesture.)What's the matter?Miss L."Winning over the men" has been the woman's way for centuries. Do you think the result should make us proud of our policy? Yes? Then go and walk in Piccadilly at midnight.(The older women glance atJean.)No, I forgot——Mrs. H.(with majesty). Yes, it's not the first time you've forgotten.Miss L.I forgot the magistrate's ruling. He said no decent woman had any business to be in London's main thoroughfare at night unless she hasa man with her. I heard that in Nine Elms, too. "You're obliged to take up with a chap!" was what the woman said.Mrs. H.(rising).Jean!Come!(She takesJeanby her arm and draws her to the window, where she signalsGreatorexandFarnborough.Mrs. Freddyjoins her husband andLord John.)Lady John(kindly, aside toMiss Levering). My dear, I think Lydia Heriot's right. We oughtn't to do anything orsayanything to encourage this ferment of feminism, and I'll tell you why: it's likely to bring a very terrible thing in its train.Miss L.What terrible thing?Lady John.Sex antagonism.Miss L.(rising). It's here.Lady John(very gravely). Don't say that.(Jeanhas quietly disengaged herself fromMrs. Heriot,and the group at the window returns and stands behindLady John,looking up intoMiss Leverings'sface.)Miss L.(toLady John). You're so conscious it's here, you're afraid to have it mentioned.Lady John(turning and seeingJean.Rising hastily). If it's here, it is the fault of those women agitators.Miss L.(gently). No womanbeginsthat way. (Leans forward with clasped hands looking into vacancy.) Every woman's in a state of natural subjection (smiles atJean)—no, I'd rather say allegiance to her idea of romance and her hope of motherhood. They're embodied for her in man. They're the strongest things in life—till man kills them.(Rousing herself and looking intoLady John'sface.)Let's be fair. Each woman knows why that allegiance died.(Lady Johnturns hastily, seesLord Johncoming down withMr. Freddyand meets them at the foot of the stairs.Miss Leveringhas turned to the table looking for her gloves, &c., among the papers; unconsciously drops the handkerchief she had in her little book.)Jean(in a low voice toMiss Levering). All this talk against the wicked Suffragettes—it makes me want to go and hear what they've got to say for themselves.Miss L.(smiling with a non-committal air as she finds the veil she's been searching for). Well, they're holding a meeting in Trafalgar Square at three o'clock.Jean.This afternoon? But that's no use to people out of town——Unless I could invent some excuse....Lord J.(benevolently). Still talking over the Shelter plans?Miss L.No. We left the Shelter some time ago.Lord J.(toJean). Then what's all the chatterment about?(Jean,a little confused, looks atMiss Levering.)Miss L.The latest thing in veils. (Ties hers round her hat.)Great.The invincible frivolity of woman!Lord J.(genially). Don't scold them. It's a very proper topic.Miss L.(whimsically). Oh, I was afraid you'd despise us for it.Both Men(with condescension). Not at all—not at all.Jean(toMiss LeveringasFootmanappears). Oh, they're coming for you. Don't forget your book.(Footmanholds out a salver with a telegram on it forJean.)Why, it's for me!Miss L.But it's time I was——(Crosses to table.)Jean(opening the telegram). May I? (Reads, and glances over the paper atMiss Levering.) I've got your book. (Crosses toMiss Levering,and, looking at the back of the volume) Dante! Whereabouts are you? (Opening at the marker.) Oh, the "Inferno."Miss L.No; I'm in a worse place.Jean.I didn't know there was a worse.Miss L.Yes; it's worse with the Vigliacchi.Jean.I forget. Were they Guelf or Ghibelline?Miss L.(smiling). They weren't either, and that was why Dante couldn't stand them. (More gravely.) He said there was no place in Heaven nor in Purgatory—not even a corner in Hell—for the souls who had stood aloof from strife. (Looking steadily into the girl's eyes.) He called them "wretches who never lived," Dante did, because they'd never felt the pangs of partizanship. And so they wander homeless on the skirts of limbo among the abortions and off-scourings of Creation.Jean(a long breath after a long look. WhenMiss Leveringhas turned away to make her leisurely adieuxJean'seyes fall on the open telegram). Aunt Ellen, I've got to go to London.(Stonor,re-entering, hears this, but pretends to talk toMr. Freddy,&c.)Lady John.My dear child!Mrs. H.Nonsense! Is your grandfather worse?Jean(folding the telegram). No-o. I don't think so. But it's necessary I should go, all the same.Mrs. H.Go away when Mr. Stonor——Jean.He said he'd have to leave directly after luncheon.Lady John.I'll just see Miss Levering off, and then I'll come back and talk about it.Lord J.(toMiss Levering). Why are you saying goodbye as if you were never coming back?Miss L.(smiling). One never knows. Maybe I shan't come back. (ToStonor.) Goodbye.(Stonorbows ceremoniously. The others go up laughing.Stonorcomes down.)Jean(impulsively). There mayn't be another train! Miss Levering——Stonor(standing in front of her). What if there isn't? I'll take you back in the motor.Jean(rapturously).Willyou? (Inadvertently drops the telegram.) I must be there by three!Stonor(picks up the telegram and a handkerchief lying near, glances at the message). Why, it's only an invitation to dine—Wednesday!Jean.Sh! (Takes the telegram and puts it in her pocket.)Stonor.Oh, I see! (Lower, smiling.) It's rather dear of you to arrange our going off like that. Youarea clever little girl!Jean.It's not that I was arranging. I want to hear those women in Trafalgar Square—the Suffragettes.Stonor(incredulous, but smiling). How perfectly absurd! (Looking afterLady John.) Besides, I expect she wouldn't like my carrying you off like that.Jean.Then she'll have to make an excuse and come too.Stonor.Ah, it wouldn't be quite the same——Jean(rapidly thinking it out). We could get back here in time for dinner.(Geoffrey Stonorglances down at the handkerchief still in his hand, and turns it half mechanically from corner to corner.)Jean(absent-mindedly). Mine?Stonor(hastily, without reflection). No. (Hands it toMiss Leveringas she passes.) Yours.(Miss Levering,on her way to the lobby withLord Johnseems not to notice.)Jean(takes the handkerchief to give to her, glancing down at the embroidered corner; stops). But that's not an L! It's Vi——!(Geoffrey Stonorsuddenly turns his back and takes up the newspaper.)Lady John(from the lobby). Come, Vida, since you will go.Miss L.Yes; I'm coming.[ExitMiss Levering.Jean.Ididn't know her name was Vida; how did you?(Stonorstares silently over the top of his paper.)Curtain.ACT IIScene:The north side of the Nelson Column in Trafalgar Square. The Curtain rises on an uproar. The crowd, which momentarily increases, is composed chiefly of weedy youths and wastrel old men. There are a few decent artisans; three or four "beery" out-o'-works; three or four young women of the domestic servant or Strand restaurant cashier class; one aged woman in rusty black peering with faded, wondering eyes, consulting the faces of the men and laughing nervously and apologetically from time to time; one or two quiet-looking, business-like women, thirty to forty; two middle-class men, who stare and whisper and smile. A quiet old man with a lot of unsold Sunday papers under one arm stands in an attitude of rapt attention, with the free hand round his deaf ear. A brisk-looking woman of forty-five or so, wearing pince-nez, goes round with a pile of propagandist literature on her arm. Many of the men smoking cigarettes—the old ones pipes. On the outskirts of this crowd, of several hundred, a couple of smart men in tall shining hats hover a few moments, single eyeglass up, and then saunter off. Against the middle of the Column, where it rises above the stone platform, is a great red banner, one supporting pole upheld by a grimysandwichman, the other by a small, dirty boy of eight. If practicable only the lower portion of the banner need be seen, bearing the final words of the legend—"VOTES FOR WOMEN!"in immense white letters. It will be well to get, to the full, the effect of the height above the crowd of the straggling group of speakers on the pedestal platform. These are, as the Curtain rises, a working-class woman who is waving her arms and talking very earnestly, her voice for the moment blurred in the uproar. She is dressed in brown serge and looks pinched and sallow. At her side is theChairmanurging that she be given a fair hearing.Allen Trentis a tall, slim, brown-haired man of twenty-eight, with a slight stoop, an agreeable aspect, well-bred voice, and the gleaming brown eye of the visionary. Behind these two, looking on or talking among themselves, are several other carelessly dressed women; one, better turned out than the rest, is quite young, very slight and gracefully built, with round, very pink cheeks, full, scarlet lips, naturally waving brown hair, and an air of childish gravity. She looks at the unruly mob with imperturbable calm. TheChairman'svoice is drowned.Working Woman(with lean, brown finger out and voice raised shriller now above the tumult). I've got boys o' me own and we laugh at all sorts o' things, but I should be ashymed and so would they if ever they was to be'yve as you're doin' to-d'y.(In laughter the noise dies.)People 'ave been sayin' this is a middle-class woman's movement. It's a libel. I'm a workin' woman myself, the wife of a working man. (Voice: "Pore devil!") I'm a Poor Law Guardian and a——Noisy Young Man.Think of that, now—gracious me!(Laughter and interruption.)Old Newsvendor(to the noisy young man near him). Oh, shut up, cawn't yer?Noisy Young Man.Not furyou!Voice.Go'ome and darn yer old man's stockens!Voice.Just clean yerowndoorstep!Working Woman.It's a pore sort of 'ousekeeper that leaves 'er doorstep till Sunday afternoon. Maybe that's when you would doyourdoorstep. I do mine in the mornin' before you men are awake.Old Newsvendor.It's true, wot she says!—every word.Working Woman.You say we women 'ave got no business servin' on boards and thinkin' about politics. Wot'spolitics?(A derisive roar.)It's just 'ousekeepin' on a big scyle. 'Oo among you workin' men 'as the most comfortable 'omes? Those of you that gives yer wives yer wyges.(Loud laughter and jeers.)Voices.{That's it!Wantin' our money.Lord 'Igh 'Ousekeeper of England.Working Woman.If it wus only to use furourcomfort, d'ye think many o' you workin' men would be found turnin' over their wyges to theirwives? No! Wot's the reason thousands do—and the best and the soberest? Because the workin' man knows that wot's a pound to'imis twenty shillin's to 'is wife. And she'll myke every penny in every one o' them shillin'stell. She gets more fur'imout of 'is wyges than wot 'e can! Some o' you know wot the 'omes is like w'ere the men don't let the women manage. Well, the Poor Laws and the 'ole Government is just in the syme muddle because the men 'ave tried to do the national 'ousekeepin' without the women.(Roars.)But, like I told you before, it's a libel to say it's only the well-off women wot's wantin' the vote. Wot about the 96,000 textile workers? Wot about the Yorkshire tailoresses? I can tell you wot plenty o' the poor women think about it. I'm one of them, and I can tell you we see there's reforms needed.We ought to 'ave the vote(jeers), and we know 'ow to appreciate the other women 'oo go to prison fur tryin' to get it fur us!(With a little final bob of emphasis and a glance over shoulder at the old woman and the young one behind her, she seems about to retire, but pauses as the murmur in the crowd grows into distinct phrases."They get their 'air cut free." "Naow they don't, that's only us!" "Silly Suffragettes!" "Stop at 'ome!" "'Inderin' policemen—mykin' rows in the streets!")Voice(louder than the others). They sees yer ain't fit t'ave——Other Voices."Ha, ha!" "Shut up!" "Keep quiet, cawn't yer?" (General uproar.)Chairman.You evidently don't know what had to be done bymenbefore the extension of the Suffrage in '67. If it hadn't been for demonstrations of violence——(His voice is drowned.)Working Woman(coming forward again, her shrill note rising clear). You s'y woman's plyce is 'ome! Don't you know there's a third of the women o' this country can't afford the luxury of stayin' in their 'omes? Theygotto go out and 'elp make money to p'y the rent and keep the 'ome from bein' sold up. Then there's all the women that 'aven't got even miseerable 'omes. They 'aven't got any 'omesat all.Noisy Young Man.You saidyougot one. W'y don't you stop in it?Working Woman.Yes, that's like a man. If one o' you is all right, he thinks the rest don't matter. We women——Noisy Young Man.The lydies! God bless 'em!(Voices drown her and theChairman.)Old Newsvendor(toNoisy Young Man). Oh, take that extra 'alf pint 'ome andsleep it off!Working Woman.P'r'apsyour'omes are all right. P'r'aps you aren't livin', old and young, married and single, in one room. I come from a plyce where many fam'lies 'ave to live like that if they're to go on livin'at all. If you don't believe me, come and let me show you! (She spreads out her lean arms.) Come with me to Canning Town!—come with me to Bromley—come to Poplar and to Bow! No. You won't eventhinkabout the overworked women and the underfedchildren and the 'ovels they live in. And you want that we shouldn't think neither——A Vagrant.We'll do the thinkin'. You go 'ome and nuss the byby.Working Woman.I do nurse my byby! I've nursed seven. What 'ave you done for yours? P'r'aps your children never goes 'ungry, and maybe you're satisfied—though I must say I wouldn't a' thought it from thelooko' you.Voice.Oh, I s'y!Working Woman.But we women are not satisfied. We don't only want better things for our own children. We want better things for all.Everychild is our child. We know in our 'earts we oughtn't to rest till we've mothered 'em every one.Voice."Women"—"children"—wot about themen? Aretheyall 'appy?(Derisive laughter and"No! no!" "Not precisely." "'Appy? Lord!")Working Woman.No, there's lots o' you men I'm sorry for (Shrill Voice: "Thanks awfully!"), an' we'll 'elp you if you let us.Voice.'Elp us? You tyke the bread out of our mouths. You women are black-leggin' the men!Working Woman.W'ydoes any woman tyke less wyges than a man for the same work? Only because we can't get anything better. That's part the reason w'y we're yere to-d'y. Do you reely think we tyke them there low wyges because we got alykin'for low wyges? No. We're just like you. We want as much as ever we can get. ("'Ear! 'Ear!"and laughter.) We got a gryte deal to do with our wyges, we women has. We got the children to think about. And w'en we getour rights, a woman's flesh and blood won't be so much cheaper than a man's that employers can get rich on keepin' you out o' work, and sweatin' us. If you men only could see it, we got thesymecause, and if you 'elped us you'd be 'elpin yerselves.Voices."Rot!" "Drivel."Old Newsvendor.True as gospel!(She retires against the banner with the others. There is some applause.)A Man(patronisingly). Well, now, that wusn't so bad—fur a woman.Another.N-naw.Not fur a woman.Chairman(speaking through this last). Miss Ernestine Blunt will now address you.(Applause, chiefly ironic, laughter, a general moving closer and knitting up of attention.Ernestine Bluntis about twenty-four, but looks younger. She is very downright, not to say pugnacious—the something amusing and attractive about her is there, as it were, against her will, and the more fetching for that. She has no conventional gestures, and none of any sort at first. As she warms to her work she uses her slim hands to enforce her emphasis, but as though unconsciously. Her manner of speech is less monotonous than that of the average woman-speaker, but she, too, has a fashion of leaning all her weight on the end of the sentence. She brings out the final word or two with an effort of underscoring, and makes a forward motion of the slim body as if the better to drive the last nail in. She evidently means to be immensely practical—the kind who is pleased to think she hasn't a grain of sentimentality in her composition, and whose feeling, when it does all but master her, communicates itself magnetically to others.)

Jean(interceptingMiss Levering). I want to begin to understand something of—I'm horribly ignorant.

Miss L.(Looks at her searchingly). I'm a rather busy person——

Jean.(interrupting). I have a quite special reason for wantingnotto be ignorant. (Impulsively). I'll go to town to-morrow, if you'll come and lunch with me.

Miss L.Thank you—I (catchesMrs. Heriot'seye)—I must go and put my hat on.

[Exit upstairs.

Mrs. H.(aside). How little she minds all these horrors!

Lady John.They turn me cold. Ugh! (Rising, harassed.) I wonder if she's signed the visitors' book!

Mrs. H.For all her Shelter schemes, she's a hard woman.

Jean.Miss Levering is?

Mrs. H.Oh, of courseyouwon't think so. She has angled very adroitly for your sympathy.

Jean.She doesn't look hard.

Lady John(glancing atJeanand taking alarm). I'm not sure but what she does. Her mouth—alwayslike this ... as if she were holding back something by main force!

Mrs. H.(half under her breath). Well, so she is.

[ExitLady Johninto the lobby to look at the visitors' book.

Jean.Why haven't I seen her before?

Mrs. H.Oh, she's lived abroad. (Debating with herself.) You don't know about her, I suppose?

Jean.I don't know how Aunt Ellen came to know her.

Mrs. H.That was my doing. But I didn't bargain for her being introduced to you.

Jean.She seems to go everywhere. And why shouldn't she?

Mrs. H.(quickly). You mustn't ask her to Eaton Square.

Jean.I have.

Mrs. H.Then you'll have to get out of it.

Jean(with a stubborn look). I must have a reason. And a very good reason.

Mrs. H.Well, it's not a thing I should have preferred to tell you, but I know how difficult you are to guide ... so I suppose you'll have to know. (Lowering her voice.) It was ten or twelve years ago. I found her horribly ill in a lonely Welsh farmhouse. We had taken the Manor for that August. The farmer's wife was frightened, and begged me to go and see what I thought. I soon saw how it was—I thought she was dying.

Jean.Dying!What was the——

Mrs. H.I got no more out of her than the farmer's wife did. She had had no letters. There had been no one to see her except a man down from London, ashady-looking doctor—nameless, of course. And then this result. The farmer and his wife, highly respectable people, were incensed. They were for turning the girl out.

Jean.Oh!but——

Mrs. H.Yes. Pitiless some of these people are! I insisted they should treat the girl humanely, and we became friends ... that is, "sort of." In spite of all I did for her——

Jean.What did you do?

Mrs. H.I—I've told you, and I lent her money. No small sum either.

Jean.Has she never paid it back?

Mrs. H.Oh, yes, after a time. But Ialwayskept her secret—as much as I knew of it.

Jean.But you've been telling me!

Mrs. H.That was my duty—and Ineverhad her full confidence.

Jean.Wasn't it natural she——

Mrs. H.Well, all things considered, she might have wanted to tell me who was responsible.

Jean.Oh! Aunt Lydia!

Mrs. H.All she ever said was that she was ashamed—(losing her temper and her fine feeling for the innocence of her auditor)—ashamed that she "hadn't had the courage to resist"—not the original temptation but the pressure brought to bear on her "not to go through with it," as she said.

Jean(wrinkling her brows). You are being so delicate—I'm not sure I understand.

Mrs. H.(irritably). The only thing you need understand is that she's not a desirable companion for a young girl.

(Pause.)

Jean.When did you see her after—after——

Mrs. H.(with a slight grimace). I met her last winter at the Bishop's. (Hurriedly.) She's a connection of his wife's. They'd got her to help with some of their work. Then she took hold of ours. Your aunt and uncle are quite foolish about her, and I'm debarred from taking any steps, at least till the Shelter is out of hand.

Jean.I do rather wonder she can bring herself to talk about—the unfortunate women of the world.

Mrs. H.The effrontery of it!

Jean.Or ... the courage! (Puts her hand up to her throat as if the sentence had caught there.)

Mrs. H.Even presumes to setmeright! Of course I don'tmindin the least, poor soul ... but I feel I owe it to your dead mother to tell you about her, especially as you're old enough now to know something about life——

Jean(slowly).—and since a girl needn't be very old to suffer for her ignorance. (Moves a little away.) Ifeltshe was rather wonderful.

Mrs. H.Wonderful!

Jean(pausing). ... To have lived throughthatwhen she was ... how old?

Mrs. H.(rising). Oh, nineteen or thereabouts.

Jean.Five years younger than I. To be abandoned and to come out of it like this!

Mrs. H.(laying her hand on the girl's shoulder). It was too bad to have to tell you such a sordid story to-day of all days.

Jean.It is a very terrible story, but this wasn't a bad time. I feel very sorry to-day for women who aren't happy.

(Motor horn heard faintly.)

(Jumping up.) That's Geoffrey!

Mrs. H.Mr. Stonor! What makes you think...?

Jean.Yes, yes. I'm sure, I'm sure——

(Checks herself as she is flying off. Turns and seesLord Johnentering from the garden.)(Motor horn louder.)

(Checks herself as she is flying off. Turns and seesLord Johnentering from the garden.)

(Motor horn louder.)

Lord J.Who do you think is motoring up the drive?

Jean(catching hold of him). Oh, dear! how am I ever going to be able to behave like a girl who isn't engaged to the only man in the world worth marrying?

Mrs. H.You were expecting Mr. Stonor all the time!

Jean.He promised he'd come to luncheon if it was humanly possible; but I was afraid to tell you for fear he'd be prevented.

Lord J.(laughing as he crosses to the lobby). You felt we couldn't have borne the disappointment.

Jean.I felt I couldn't.

(The lobby door opens.Lady Johnappears radiant, followed by a tall figure in a dust-coat, &c., no goggles. He has straight, firm features, a little blunt; fair skin, high-coloured; fine, straight hair, very fair; grey eyes, set somewhat prominently and heavy when not interested; lips full, but firmly moulded.Geoffrey Stonoris heavier than a man of forty should be, but otherwise in the pink of physical condition. TheFootmanstands waiting to help him off with his motor coat.)

Lady John.Here's an agreeable surprise!

(Jeanhas gone forward only a step, and stands smiling at the approaching figure.)

Lord J.How do you do? (As he comes between them and briskly shakes hands withStonor.)

(Farnboroughappears at the French window.)

Farn.Yes, by Jove! (Turning to the others clustered round the window.) What gigantic luck!

(Those outside crane and glance, and then elaborately turn their backs and pretend to be talking among themselves, but betray as far as manners permit the enormous sensation the arrival has created.)

Stonor.How do you do?

(Shakes hands withMrs. Heriot,who has rushed up to him with both hers outstretched. He crosses toJean,who meets him half way; they shake hands, smiling into each other's eyes.)

Jean.Such a long time since we met!

Lord J.(toStonor). You're growing very enterprising. I could hardly believe my ears when I heard you'd motored all the way from town to see a supporter on Sunday.

Stonor.I don't know how we covered the ground in the old days. (ToLady John.) It's no use to stand for your borough any more. The American, you know, he "runs" for Congress. By and by we shall all be flying after the thing we want.

(Smiles atJean.)

Jean.Sh! (Smiles and then glances over her shoulder and speaks low.) All sorts of irrelevant people here.

Farn.(unable to resist the temptation, comes forward). How do you do, Mr. Stonor?

Stonor.Oh—how d'you do.

Farn.Some of them were arguing in the smoking-room last night whether it didn't hurt a man's chances going about in a motor.

Lord J.Yes, we've been hearing a lot of stories about the unpopularity of motor-cars—among the class that hasn't got 'em, of course. What do you say?

Lady John.I'm sure you gain more votes by being able to reach so many more of your constituency than we used——

Stonor.Well, I don't know—I've sometimes wondered whether the charm of our presence wasn't counterbalanced by the way we tear about smothering our fellow-beings in dust and running down their pigs and chickens, not to speak of their children.

Lord J.(anxiously). What on the whole are the prospects?

(Farnboroughcranes forward.)

Stonor(gravely). We shall have to work harder than we realised.

Farn.Ah!

(Retires towards group.)

Jean(in a half-aside as she slips her arm in her uncle's and smiles atGeoffrey). He says he believes I'll be able to make a real difference to his chances. Isn't it angelic of him?

Stonor(in a jocular tone). Angelic? Macchiavelian. I pin all my hopes on your being able to counteract the pernicious influence of my opponent's glib wife.

Jean.You want me to have arealshare in it all, don't you, Geoffrey?

Stonor(smiling into her eyes). Of course I do.

(Farnboroughdrops down again on pretence of talking toMrs. Heriot.)

Lord J.I don't gather you're altogether sanguine. Any complication?

(JeanandLady Johnstand close together(C.),the girl radiant, followingStonorwith her eyes and whispering to the sympathetic elder woman.)

Stonor.Well (taking Sunday paper out of pocket), there's this agitation about the Woman Question. Oddly enough, it seems likely to affect the issue.

Lord J.Why should it? Can't you do what the other four hundred have done?

Stonor(laughs). Easily. But, you see, the mere fact that four hundred and twenty members have been worried into promising support—and then once in the House have let the matter severely alone——

Lord J.(toStonor). Let it alone! Bless my soul, I should think so indeed.

Stonor.Of course. Only it's a device that's somewhat worn.

(EnterMiss Levering,with hat on; gloves and veil in her hand.)

Lord J.Still if they think they're getting a future Cabinet Minister on their side——

Stonor.... it will be sufficiently embarrassing for the Cabinet Minister.

(Stonorturns to speak toJean.Stops dead seeingMiss Levering.)

Jean(smiling). You know one another?

Miss L.(looking atStonorwith intentness but quite calmly). Everybody in this part of the world knows Mr. Stonor, but he doesn't know me.

Lord J.Miss Levering.

(They bow.)(EnterGreatorex,sidling in with an air of givingMrs. Freddya wide berth.)

(They bow.)

(EnterGreatorex,sidling in with an air of givingMrs. Freddya wide berth.)

Jean(toMiss Leveringwith artless enthusiasm). Oh, have you been hearing him speak?

Miss L.Yes, I was visiting some relations near Dutfield. They took me to hear you.

Stonor.Oh—the night the Suffragettes made their customary row.

Miss L.The night they asked you——

Stonor(flying at the first chance of distraction, shakes hands withMrs. Freddy). Well, Mrs. Freddy, what do you think of your friends now?

Mrs. F.My friends?

Stonor(offering her the Sunday paper). Yes, the disorderly women.

Mrs. F.(with dignity). They are not my friends, but I don't think you must call them——

Stonor.Why not? (Laughs.) I can forgive them for worrying the late Government. But theyaredisorderly.

Miss L.(quietly). Isn't the phrase consecrated to a different class?

Great.(who has got hold of the Sunday paper). He's perfectly right. How do you do? Disorderly women! That's what they are!

Farn.(reading over his shoulder). Ought to be locked up! every one of 'em.

Great.(assenting angrily). Public nuisances! Going about with dog whips and spitting in policemen's faces.

Mrs. F.(with a harassed air). I wonder if they did spit?

Great.(exulting). Ofcoursethey did.

Mrs. F.(turns on him). You're no authority on what they do.Yourun away.

Great.(trying to turn the laugh). Run away? Yes. (Backing a few paces.) And if ever I muster up courage to come back, it will be to vote for better manners in public life, not worse than we have already.

Mrs. F.(meekly). So should I. Don't think thatIdefend the Suffragette methods.

Jean.(with cheerful curiosity). Still, youarean advocate of the Suffrage, aren't you?

Mrs. F.Here?(Shrugs.) I don't beat the air.

Great.(mocking). Only policemen.

Mrs. F.(plaintively). If you cared to know the attitude of the real workers in the reform, you might have noticed in any paper last week we lost no time in dissociating ourselves from the little group of hysterical——(Catches her husband's eye, and instantly checks her flow of words.)

Mrs. H.They have lowered the whole sex in the eyes of the entire world.

Jean(joiningGeoffrey Stonor). I can't quite see what they want—those Suffragettes.

Great.Notoriety.

Farn.What they want? A good thrashin'—that's what I'd give 'em.

Miss L.(murmurs). Spirited fellow!

Lord J.Well, there's one sure thing—they've dished their goose.

(Greatorexchuckles, still reading the account.)

I believe these silly scenes are a pure joy to you.

Great.Final death-blow to the whole silly business!

Jean(mystified, looking from one to the other). The Suffragettes don't seem toknowthey're dead.

Great.They still keep up a sort of death-rattle. But they've done for themselves.

Jean(clasping her hands with fervour). Oh, I hope they'll last till the election's over.

Farn.(stares). Why?

Jean.Oh, we want them to get the working man to—(stumbling and a little confused)—to vote for ... the Conservative candidate. Isn't that so?

(Looking round for help. General laughter.)

Lord J.Fancy, Jean——!

Great.The working man's a good deal of an ass, but even he won't listen to——

Jean(again appealing to the silentStonor). But hedoeslisten like anything! I asked why there were so few at the Long Mitcham meeting, and I was told, "Oh, they've all gone to hear Miss——"

Stonor.Just for a lark, that was.

Lord J.It has no real effect on the vote.

Great.Not the smallest.

Jean(wide-eyed, toStonor). Why, I thought you said——

Stonor(hastily, rubbing his hand over the lower part of his face and speaking quickly). I've a notion a little soap and water wouldn't do me any harm.

Lord J.I'll take you up. You know Freddy Tunbridge.

(Stonorpauses to shake hands. Exeunt all three.)

Jean(perplexed, asStonorturns away, says toGreatorex). Well, if women are of no importance in politics, it isn't for the reason you gave. There is now and then a week-ender among them.

Great.(shuffles about uneasily). Hm—Hm. (Finds himself nearMrs. Freddy.) Lord! The perils that beset the feet of man!

(With an air of comic caution, moves away,L.)

Jean(toFarnborough,aside, laughing). Why does he behave like that?

Farn.His moral sense is shocked.

Jean.Why, I saw him and Mrs. Freddy together at the French Play the other night—as thick as thieves.

Miss L.Ah, that was before he knew her revolting views.

Jean.What revolting views?

Great.Sh! Sunday.

(AsGreatorexsidles cautiously further away.)

Jean(laughing in spite of herself). I can't believe women are so helpless when I see men so afraid of them.

Great.The great mistake was in teaching them to read and write.

Jean(overMiss Levering'sshoulder, whispers).Saysomething.

Miss L.(toGreatorex,smiling). Oh no, that wasn't the worst mistake.

Great.Yes, it was.

Miss L.No. Believe me. The mistake was in letting women learn to talk.

Great.Ah!(Wheels about with sudden rapture.) I see now what's to be the next great reform.

Miss L.(holding up the little volume). When women are all dumb, no more discussions of the "Paradiso."

Great.(with a gesture of mock rapture). The thing itself! (Aside.) That's a great deal better than talking about it, as I'm sureyouknow.

Miss L.Why do you think I know?

Great.Only the plain women are in any doubt.

(JeanjoinsMiss Levering.)

Great.Wait for me, Farnborough. I cannot go about unprotected.

[ExeuntFarnboroughandGreatorex.

Mrs. F.It's true what that old cynic says. The scene in the House has put back the reform a generation.

Jean.I wish 'd been there.

Mrs. F.Iwas.

Jean.Oh, was it like the papers said?

Mrs. F.Worse. I've never been so moved in public. No tragedy, no great opera ever gripped an audience as the situation in the House did that night. There we all sat breathless—with everything more favourable to us than it had been within the memory of women. Another five minutes and the Resolution would have passed. Then ... all in a moment——

Lady John(toMrs. Heriot). Listen—they're talking about the female hooligans.

Mrs. H.No, thank you! (Sits apart with the "Church Times.")

Mrs. F.(excitedly). All in a moment a horrible dingy little flag was poked through the grille of the Woman's Gallery—cries—insults—scuffling—the police—the ignominious turning out of the women—usas well as the——Oh, I can'tthinkof it without——

(Jumps up and walks to and fro.)

(Pauses.) Then the next morning! The people gloating. Our friends antagonised—people who were wavering—nearly won over—all thrown back—heart breaking! Even my husband! Freddy's been an angel about letting me take my share when I felt I must—but of course I've always known he doesn't really like it. It makes him shy. I'm sure it gives him a horrid twist inside when he sees my name among the speakers on the placards. But he's always been an angel about it before this. After the disgraceful scene he said, "It just shows how unfit women are for any sort of coherent thinking or concerted action."

Jean.To think that it should be women who've given the Cause the worst blow it ever had!

Mrs. F.The work of forty years destroyed in five minutes!

Jean.They must have felt pretty sick when they woke up the next morning—the Suffragettes.

Mrs. F.I don't waste any sympathy onthem. I'm thinking of the penaltyallwomen have to pay because a handful of hysterical——

Jean.Still I think I'm sorry for them. It must be dreadful to find you've done such a lot of harm to the thing you care most about in the world.

Miss L.Do you picture the Suffragettes sitting in sackcloth?

Mrs. F.Well, they can't help realisingnowwhat they've done.

Miss L.(quietly). Isn't it just possible they realise they've waked up interest in the Woman Question so that it's advertised in every paper and discussed in every house from Land's End to John o'Groats? Don't you thinktheyknow there's been more said and written about it in these ten days since the scene, than in the ten years before it?

Mrs. F.You aren't saying you think it was a good way to get what they wanted?

Miss L.(shrugs). I'm only pointing out that it seems not such a bad way to get it known theydowant something—and (smiling) "want it bad."

Jean(getting up). Didn't Mr. Greatorex say women had been politely petitioning Parliament for forty years?

Miss L.And men have only laughed.

Jean.But they'd come round. (She looks from one to the other.) Mrs. Tunbridge says, before that horrid scene, everything was favourable at last.

Miss L.At last? Hadn't it been just as "favourable" before?

Mrs. F.No. We'd never had so many members pledged to our side.

Miss L.I thought I'd heard somebody say the Bill had got as far as that, time and time again.

Jean.Oh no. Surely not——

Mrs. F.(reluctantly). Y-yes. This was only a Resolution. The Bill passed a second reading thirty-seven years ago.

Jean(with wide eyes). And what difference did it make?

Miss L.The men laughed rather louder.

Mrs. F.Oh, it's got as far as a second reading several times—but we never had so many friends in the House before——

Miss L.(with a faint smile). "Friends!"

Jean.Why do you say it like that?

Miss L.Perhaps because I was thinking of a funny story—he said it was funny—a Liberal Whip told me the other day. A Radical Member went out of the House after his speech in favour of the Woman's Bill, and as he came back half an hour later, he heard some Members talking in the Lobby about the astonishing number who were going to vote for the measure. And the Friend of Woman dropped his jaw and clutched the man next him: "My God!" he said, "you don't mean to say they're going to give it to them!"

Jean.Oh!

Mrs. F.You don't think all men in Parliament are like that!

Miss L.I don't think all men are burglars, but I lock my doors.

Jean(below her breath). You think that night of the scene—you think the men didn'tmeanto play fair?

Miss L.(her coolness in contrast to the excitement of the others). Didn't the women sit quiet till ten minutes to closing time?

Jean.Ten minutes to settle a question like that!

Miss L.(quietly toMrs. Freddy). Couldn't you see the men were at their old game?

Lady John(coming forward). You think they were just putting off the issue till it was too late?

Miss L.(in a detached tone).Iwasn't there, but I haven't heard anybody deny that the women waited till ten minutes to eleven. Then they discovered thepoliceman who'd been sent up at the psychological moment to the back of the gallery. Then, I'm told, when the women saw they were betrayed once more, they utilised the few minutes left, to impress on the country at large the fact of their demands—did it in the only way left them.

(Sits leaning forward reflectively smiling, chin in hand.)

It does rather look to the outsider as if the well-behaved women had worked for forty years and made less impression on the world then those fiery young women made in five minutes.

Mrs. F.Oh, come, be fair!

Miss L.Well, you must admit that, next day, every newspaper reader in Europe and America knew there were women in England in such dead earnest about the Suffrage that the men had stopped laughing at last, and turned them out of the House. Men even advertised how little they appreciated the fun by sending the women to gaol in pretty sober earnest. And all the world was talking about it.

(Mrs. Heriotlays down the "Church Times" and joins the others.)

Lady John.I have noticed, whenever the men aren't there, the women sit and discuss that scene.

Jean(cheerfully).Ishan't have to wait till the men are gone. (Leans overLady John'sshoulder and says half aside) He's in sympathy.

Lady John.How do you know?

Jean.He told the interrupting women so.

(Mrs. Freddylooks mystified. The others smile.)

Lady John.Oh!

(Mr. FreddyandLord Johnappear by the door they went out of. They stop to talk.)

Mrs. F.Here's Freddy! (Lower, hastily toMiss Levering.) You're judging from the outside. Those of us who have been working for years ... we all realise it was aperfectlylunatic proceeding. Why,think! The only chance of our getting what we want is bywinning overthe men.

(Her watchful eye, leaving her husband for a moment, catchesMiss Levering'slittle involuntary gesture.)

What's the matter?

Miss L."Winning over the men" has been the woman's way for centuries. Do you think the result should make us proud of our policy? Yes? Then go and walk in Piccadilly at midnight.

(The older women glance atJean.)

No, I forgot——

Mrs. H.(with majesty). Yes, it's not the first time you've forgotten.

Miss L.I forgot the magistrate's ruling. He said no decent woman had any business to be in London's main thoroughfare at night unless she hasa man with her. I heard that in Nine Elms, too. "You're obliged to take up with a chap!" was what the woman said.

Mrs. H.(rising).Jean!Come!

(She takesJeanby her arm and draws her to the window, where she signalsGreatorexandFarnborough.Mrs. Freddyjoins her husband andLord John.)

Lady John(kindly, aside toMiss Levering). My dear, I think Lydia Heriot's right. We oughtn't to do anything orsayanything to encourage this ferment of feminism, and I'll tell you why: it's likely to bring a very terrible thing in its train.

Miss L.What terrible thing?

Lady John.Sex antagonism.

Miss L.(rising). It's here.

Lady John(very gravely). Don't say that.

(Jeanhas quietly disengaged herself fromMrs. Heriot,and the group at the window returns and stands behindLady John,looking up intoMiss Leverings'sface.)

Miss L.(toLady John). You're so conscious it's here, you're afraid to have it mentioned.

Lady John(turning and seeingJean.Rising hastily). If it's here, it is the fault of those women agitators.

Miss L.(gently). No womanbeginsthat way. (Leans forward with clasped hands looking into vacancy.) Every woman's in a state of natural subjection (smiles atJean)—no, I'd rather say allegiance to her idea of romance and her hope of motherhood. They're embodied for her in man. They're the strongest things in life—till man kills them.

(Rousing herself and looking intoLady John'sface.)

Let's be fair. Each woman knows why that allegiance died.

(Lady Johnturns hastily, seesLord Johncoming down withMr. Freddyand meets them at the foot of the stairs.Miss Leveringhas turned to the table looking for her gloves, &c., among the papers; unconsciously drops the handkerchief she had in her little book.)

Jean(in a low voice toMiss Levering). All this talk against the wicked Suffragettes—it makes me want to go and hear what they've got to say for themselves.

Miss L.(smiling with a non-committal air as she finds the veil she's been searching for). Well, they're holding a meeting in Trafalgar Square at three o'clock.

Jean.This afternoon? But that's no use to people out of town——Unless I could invent some excuse....

Lord J.(benevolently). Still talking over the Shelter plans?

Miss L.No. We left the Shelter some time ago.

Lord J.(toJean). Then what's all the chatterment about?

(Jean,a little confused, looks atMiss Levering.)

Miss L.The latest thing in veils. (Ties hers round her hat.)

Great.The invincible frivolity of woman!

Lord J.(genially). Don't scold them. It's a very proper topic.

Miss L.(whimsically). Oh, I was afraid you'd despise us for it.

Both Men(with condescension). Not at all—not at all.

Jean(toMiss LeveringasFootmanappears). Oh, they're coming for you. Don't forget your book.

(Footmanholds out a salver with a telegram on it forJean.)

Why, it's for me!

Miss L.But it's time I was——

(Crosses to table.)

Jean(opening the telegram). May I? (Reads, and glances over the paper atMiss Levering.) I've got your book. (Crosses toMiss Levering,and, looking at the back of the volume) Dante! Whereabouts are you? (Opening at the marker.) Oh, the "Inferno."

Miss L.No; I'm in a worse place.

Jean.I didn't know there was a worse.

Miss L.Yes; it's worse with the Vigliacchi.

Jean.I forget. Were they Guelf or Ghibelline?

Miss L.(smiling). They weren't either, and that was why Dante couldn't stand them. (More gravely.) He said there was no place in Heaven nor in Purgatory—not even a corner in Hell—for the souls who had stood aloof from strife. (Looking steadily into the girl's eyes.) He called them "wretches who never lived," Dante did, because they'd never felt the pangs of partizanship. And so they wander homeless on the skirts of limbo among the abortions and off-scourings of Creation.

Jean(a long breath after a long look. WhenMiss Leveringhas turned away to make her leisurely adieuxJean'seyes fall on the open telegram). Aunt Ellen, I've got to go to London.

(Stonor,re-entering, hears this, but pretends to talk toMr. Freddy,&c.)

Lady John.My dear child!

Mrs. H.Nonsense! Is your grandfather worse?

Jean(folding the telegram). No-o. I don't think so. But it's necessary I should go, all the same.

Mrs. H.Go away when Mr. Stonor——

Jean.He said he'd have to leave directly after luncheon.

Lady John.I'll just see Miss Levering off, and then I'll come back and talk about it.

Lord J.(toMiss Levering). Why are you saying goodbye as if you were never coming back?

Miss L.(smiling). One never knows. Maybe I shan't come back. (ToStonor.) Goodbye.

(Stonorbows ceremoniously. The others go up laughing.Stonorcomes down.)

Jean(impulsively). There mayn't be another train! Miss Levering——

Stonor(standing in front of her). What if there isn't? I'll take you back in the motor.

Jean(rapturously).Willyou? (Inadvertently drops the telegram.) I must be there by three!

Stonor(picks up the telegram and a handkerchief lying near, glances at the message). Why, it's only an invitation to dine—Wednesday!

Jean.Sh! (Takes the telegram and puts it in her pocket.)

Stonor.Oh, I see! (Lower, smiling.) It's rather dear of you to arrange our going off like that. Youarea clever little girl!

Jean.It's not that I was arranging. I want to hear those women in Trafalgar Square—the Suffragettes.

Stonor(incredulous, but smiling). How perfectly absurd! (Looking afterLady John.) Besides, I expect she wouldn't like my carrying you off like that.

Jean.Then she'll have to make an excuse and come too.

Stonor.Ah, it wouldn't be quite the same——

Jean(rapidly thinking it out). We could get back here in time for dinner.

(Geoffrey Stonorglances down at the handkerchief still in his hand, and turns it half mechanically from corner to corner.)

Jean(absent-mindedly). Mine?

Stonor(hastily, without reflection). No. (Hands it toMiss Leveringas she passes.) Yours.

(Miss Levering,on her way to the lobby withLord Johnseems not to notice.)

Jean(takes the handkerchief to give to her, glancing down at the embroidered corner; stops). But that's not an L! It's Vi——!

(Geoffrey Stonorsuddenly turns his back and takes up the newspaper.)

Lady John(from the lobby). Come, Vida, since you will go.

Miss L.Yes; I'm coming.

[ExitMiss Levering.

Jean.Ididn't know her name was Vida; how did you?

(Stonorstares silently over the top of his paper.)

Curtain.

Scene:The north side of the Nelson Column in Trafalgar Square. The Curtain rises on an uproar. The crowd, which momentarily increases, is composed chiefly of weedy youths and wastrel old men. There are a few decent artisans; three or four "beery" out-o'-works; three or four young women of the domestic servant or Strand restaurant cashier class; one aged woman in rusty black peering with faded, wondering eyes, consulting the faces of the men and laughing nervously and apologetically from time to time; one or two quiet-looking, business-like women, thirty to forty; two middle-class men, who stare and whisper and smile. A quiet old man with a lot of unsold Sunday papers under one arm stands in an attitude of rapt attention, with the free hand round his deaf ear. A brisk-looking woman of forty-five or so, wearing pince-nez, goes round with a pile of propagandist literature on her arm. Many of the men smoking cigarettes—the old ones pipes. On the outskirts of this crowd, of several hundred, a couple of smart men in tall shining hats hover a few moments, single eyeglass up, and then saunter off. Against the middle of the Column, where it rises above the stone platform, is a great red banner, one supporting pole upheld by a grimysandwichman, the other by a small, dirty boy of eight. If practicable only the lower portion of the banner need be seen, bearing the final words of the legend—"VOTES FOR WOMEN!"in immense white letters. It will be well to get, to the full, the effect of the height above the crowd of the straggling group of speakers on the pedestal platform. These are, as the Curtain rises, a working-class woman who is waving her arms and talking very earnestly, her voice for the moment blurred in the uproar. She is dressed in brown serge and looks pinched and sallow. At her side is theChairmanurging that she be given a fair hearing.Allen Trentis a tall, slim, brown-haired man of twenty-eight, with a slight stoop, an agreeable aspect, well-bred voice, and the gleaming brown eye of the visionary. Behind these two, looking on or talking among themselves, are several other carelessly dressed women; one, better turned out than the rest, is quite young, very slight and gracefully built, with round, very pink cheeks, full, scarlet lips, naturally waving brown hair, and an air of childish gravity. She looks at the unruly mob with imperturbable calm. TheChairman'svoice is drowned.

"VOTES FOR WOMEN!"

in immense white letters. It will be well to get, to the full, the effect of the height above the crowd of the straggling group of speakers on the pedestal platform. These are, as the Curtain rises, a working-class woman who is waving her arms and talking very earnestly, her voice for the moment blurred in the uproar. She is dressed in brown serge and looks pinched and sallow. At her side is theChairmanurging that she be given a fair hearing.Allen Trentis a tall, slim, brown-haired man of twenty-eight, with a slight stoop, an agreeable aspect, well-bred voice, and the gleaming brown eye of the visionary. Behind these two, looking on or talking among themselves, are several other carelessly dressed women; one, better turned out than the rest, is quite young, very slight and gracefully built, with round, very pink cheeks, full, scarlet lips, naturally waving brown hair, and an air of childish gravity. She looks at the unruly mob with imperturbable calm. TheChairman'svoice is drowned.

Working Woman(with lean, brown finger out and voice raised shriller now above the tumult). I've got boys o' me own and we laugh at all sorts o' things, but I should be ashymed and so would they if ever they was to be'yve as you're doin' to-d'y.

(In laughter the noise dies.)

People 'ave been sayin' this is a middle-class woman's movement. It's a libel. I'm a workin' woman myself, the wife of a working man. (Voice: "Pore devil!") I'm a Poor Law Guardian and a——

Noisy Young Man.Think of that, now—gracious me!

(Laughter and interruption.)

Old Newsvendor(to the noisy young man near him). Oh, shut up, cawn't yer?

Noisy Young Man.Not furyou!

Voice.Go'ome and darn yer old man's stockens!

Voice.Just clean yerowndoorstep!

Working Woman.It's a pore sort of 'ousekeeper that leaves 'er doorstep till Sunday afternoon. Maybe that's when you would doyourdoorstep. I do mine in the mornin' before you men are awake.

Old Newsvendor.It's true, wot she says!—every word.

Working Woman.You say we women 'ave got no business servin' on boards and thinkin' about politics. Wot'spolitics?

(A derisive roar.)

It's just 'ousekeepin' on a big scyle. 'Oo among you workin' men 'as the most comfortable 'omes? Those of you that gives yer wives yer wyges.

(Loud laughter and jeers.)

Working Woman.If it wus only to use furourcomfort, d'ye think many o' you workin' men would be found turnin' over their wyges to theirwives? No! Wot's the reason thousands do—and the best and the soberest? Because the workin' man knows that wot's a pound to'imis twenty shillin's to 'is wife. And she'll myke every penny in every one o' them shillin'stell. She gets more fur'imout of 'is wyges than wot 'e can! Some o' you know wot the 'omes is like w'ere the men don't let the women manage. Well, the Poor Laws and the 'ole Government is just in the syme muddle because the men 'ave tried to do the national 'ousekeepin' without the women.

(Roars.)

But, like I told you before, it's a libel to say it's only the well-off women wot's wantin' the vote. Wot about the 96,000 textile workers? Wot about the Yorkshire tailoresses? I can tell you wot plenty o' the poor women think about it. I'm one of them, and I can tell you we see there's reforms needed.We ought to 'ave the vote(jeers), and we know 'ow to appreciate the other women 'oo go to prison fur tryin' to get it fur us!

(With a little final bob of emphasis and a glance over shoulder at the old woman and the young one behind her, she seems about to retire, but pauses as the murmur in the crowd grows into distinct phrases."They get their 'air cut free." "Naow they don't, that's only us!" "Silly Suffragettes!" "Stop at 'ome!" "'Inderin' policemen—mykin' rows in the streets!")

Voice(louder than the others). They sees yer ain't fit t'ave——

Other Voices."Ha, ha!" "Shut up!" "Keep quiet, cawn't yer?" (General uproar.)

Chairman.You evidently don't know what had to be done bymenbefore the extension of the Suffrage in '67. If it hadn't been for demonstrations of violence——

(His voice is drowned.)

Working Woman(coming forward again, her shrill note rising clear). You s'y woman's plyce is 'ome! Don't you know there's a third of the women o' this country can't afford the luxury of stayin' in their 'omes? Theygotto go out and 'elp make money to p'y the rent and keep the 'ome from bein' sold up. Then there's all the women that 'aven't got even miseerable 'omes. They 'aven't got any 'omesat all.

Noisy Young Man.You saidyougot one. W'y don't you stop in it?

Working Woman.Yes, that's like a man. If one o' you is all right, he thinks the rest don't matter. We women——

Noisy Young Man.The lydies! God bless 'em!

(Voices drown her and theChairman.)

Old Newsvendor(toNoisy Young Man). Oh, take that extra 'alf pint 'ome andsleep it off!

Working Woman.P'r'apsyour'omes are all right. P'r'aps you aren't livin', old and young, married and single, in one room. I come from a plyce where many fam'lies 'ave to live like that if they're to go on livin'at all. If you don't believe me, come and let me show you! (She spreads out her lean arms.) Come with me to Canning Town!—come with me to Bromley—come to Poplar and to Bow! No. You won't eventhinkabout the overworked women and the underfedchildren and the 'ovels they live in. And you want that we shouldn't think neither——

A Vagrant.We'll do the thinkin'. You go 'ome and nuss the byby.

Working Woman.I do nurse my byby! I've nursed seven. What 'ave you done for yours? P'r'aps your children never goes 'ungry, and maybe you're satisfied—though I must say I wouldn't a' thought it from thelooko' you.

Voice.Oh, I s'y!

Working Woman.But we women are not satisfied. We don't only want better things for our own children. We want better things for all.Everychild is our child. We know in our 'earts we oughtn't to rest till we've mothered 'em every one.

Voice."Women"—"children"—wot about themen? Aretheyall 'appy?

(Derisive laughter and"No! no!" "Not precisely." "'Appy? Lord!")

Working Woman.No, there's lots o' you men I'm sorry for (Shrill Voice: "Thanks awfully!"), an' we'll 'elp you if you let us.

Voice.'Elp us? You tyke the bread out of our mouths. You women are black-leggin' the men!

Working Woman.W'ydoes any woman tyke less wyges than a man for the same work? Only because we can't get anything better. That's part the reason w'y we're yere to-d'y. Do you reely think we tyke them there low wyges because we got alykin'for low wyges? No. We're just like you. We want as much as ever we can get. ("'Ear! 'Ear!"and laughter.) We got a gryte deal to do with our wyges, we women has. We got the children to think about. And w'en we getour rights, a woman's flesh and blood won't be so much cheaper than a man's that employers can get rich on keepin' you out o' work, and sweatin' us. If you men only could see it, we got thesymecause, and if you 'elped us you'd be 'elpin yerselves.

Voices."Rot!" "Drivel."

Old Newsvendor.True as gospel!

(She retires against the banner with the others. There is some applause.)

A Man(patronisingly). Well, now, that wusn't so bad—fur a woman.

Another.N-naw.Not fur a woman.

Chairman(speaking through this last). Miss Ernestine Blunt will now address you.

(Applause, chiefly ironic, laughter, a general moving closer and knitting up of attention.Ernestine Bluntis about twenty-four, but looks younger. She is very downright, not to say pugnacious—the something amusing and attractive about her is there, as it were, against her will, and the more fetching for that. She has no conventional gestures, and none of any sort at first. As she warms to her work she uses her slim hands to enforce her emphasis, but as though unconsciously. Her manner of speech is less monotonous than that of the average woman-speaker, but she, too, has a fashion of leaning all her weight on the end of the sentence. She brings out the final word or two with an effort of underscoring, and makes a forward motion of the slim body as if the better to drive the last nail in. She evidently means to be immensely practical—the kind who is pleased to think she hasn't a grain of sentimentality in her composition, and whose feeling, when it does all but master her, communicates itself magnetically to others.)

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