  A hall in Mrs. Worthley’s house on the River. Gerald and Nellie are seated in arm-chairs. She stifles a yawn. Then he yawns. Gerald. I beg your pardon. Nellie. [Yawning.] I never saw any one who yawned so much as you. Gerald. [Ironically.] I suppose you’ve never looked at yourself in the glass? Nellie. Is your family very long-lived, Gerald? Gerald. [Rather surprised.] Are you already asking yourself how you’ll look in widow’s weeds? Nellie. You may very well live for forty years, mayn’t you? Gerald. My maternal grandfather survived to plague his descendants to the ripe age of ninety-seven. Nellie. How many days are there in forty years? Gerald. I should think about fifteen thousand. Nellie. Has it occurred to you that we may eat fifteen thousand breakfasts sitting opposite one another, and fifteen thousand luncheons, and fifteen thousand dinners? Gerald. [Gloomily.] Yes, it had occurred to me. Nellie. And how do you look upon the prospect? Gerald. [Grimly.] It fills me with satisfaction, naturally. Nellie. [Abruptly.] I suppose you’re very much in love with me? Gerald. What an extraordinary question! Nellie. I don’t think any one but a lunatic would describe you as an ardent lover. Gerald. [Coldly.] I regret that my behaviour doesn’t meet with your satisfaction. Nellie. Do you know that since we became definitely engaged you’ve never told me that you cared for me? Gerald. [Apologetically.] Yes, I ought to have done that, oughtn’t I? I suppose I thought you’d take it for granted. Nellie. Every girl likes a suspicion of romance thrown over her love-affairs. Gerald. Your mother will tell you that the certainty of marriage is much more satisfactory. Nellie. [Dryly.] You would have made an excellent husband—for mother. Gerald. Have you noticed that when we do think of something to talk about, we get perilously near a squabble? Nellie. I sometimes think it would be better to quarrel outright now and then than be always so desperately polite to one another. Gerald. I’m afraid I have an admirable temper. Nellie. Mother always says you have all the virtues. Gerald. Shall we look at the Sketch together? Nellie. We’ve looked at the Sketch together three times. [Following his eye, which goes to other illustrated papers on the table.] And the Illustrated, and the Sphere, and the Graphic. Gerald. Then what would you like to do? Nellie. I should like to SCREAM. Gerald. Would you, by George? So would I. Nellie. Oh, Gerald, let’s have a good scream together. Enter Lady Sellenger and Mrs. Dot. Lady Sellenger. [With a bland smile.] What a picture they make! Mrs. Dot. [Acidly.] It’s quite charming to see two young things so engrossed in one another’s society. Lady Sellenger. Now, you really mustn’t waste this beautiful afternoon. You must go and have a nice long walk together. Nellie. We had a nice long walk this morning. Mrs. Dot. [Sweetly.] Then why don’t you go on the river? You can take your tea with you and spend the whole afternoon there. Gerald. We spent the whole afternoon on the river yesterday, and you kindly gave us our tea to take with us. Lady Sellenger. It reminds me of the happy days when I was engaged to your poor father, Nellie. We were just like you and Gerald. We couldn’t bear to be out of one another’s sight. Now, run and get your hat, darling. Nellie. Oh, mamma, I’ve got the most dreadful headache that I’ve ever had in my life, and I must really go and lie down. Lady Sellenger. Nonsense. An afternoon in the fresh air with Gerald is just the thing to put you right. Gerald. I’m so sorry, but I have some very important letters to write. I must catch the post. Mrs. Dot. [Sweetly.] You’ll have lots of time when you come in. The post doesn’t go till after dinner. Lady Sellenger. If you make excuses like that, poor Nellie will think she bores you already. Gerald. In that case I shall be only too glad to go on the river. Mrs. Dot. Take my sunshade, darling. You won’t want a hat. Nellie. [Savagely.] Thank you, dear. [Nellie and Gerald go out gloomily. Lady Sellenger. Just like humming-birds, aren’t they? Mrs. Dot. Do you mean turtle-doves by any chance? Lady Sellenger. I was never very good at natural history.... Dear Mrs. Worthley, I must really thank you for the tact with which you’ve thrown Gerald and Nellie in one another’s society every moment of the day. Mrs. Dot. I can flatter myself that they’ve thoroughly enjoyed their week here. [Aunt Eliza, comes in with Blenkinsop. Lady Sellenger. [With a look of intelligence.] Dear Mr. Blenkinsop, you wicked, wicked cynic. [Meaningly.] I shall go and lie down. Are you coming upstairs, Miss MacGregor? Aunt Eliza. In one minute. Lady Sellenger. I want to have a little talk with you. [As Blenkinsop holds open the door for her, in a whisper.] Aren’t I tactful? [Lady Sellenger goes out. Blenkinsop. What villainy is that old woman up to now? Mrs. Dot. You idiot! Don’t you see that she’s discovered the passion that devours our hearts—your manly bosom and my timid, fluttering heart—and she wants to leave us alone. Blenkinsop. I’m beginning to feel very unwell. Mrs. Dot. [Archly.] Wouldn’t you be rather flattered if I really were in love with you? Blenkinsop. [Alarmed.] Dot, don’t make these horrible suggestions. You make my flesh creep. Mrs. Dot. But you’ve been so cold, you haven’t given me a chance. Blenkinsop. Cold! Heaven knows what would have happened if I’d given you any encouragement. I’ve never been able to take my eyes off the ground without finding yours fixed on me with the languishing expression of a dying duck in a thunderstorm. I’ve never been able to go near you without your stroking me as if I were a velvet cushion or a Persian cat. I’ve not eaten a single meal in peace in case you suddenly took it into your head to press my foot under the table. Mrs. Dot. What would you have done if I had? Blenkinsop. [With outraged dignity.] I should have screamed! And the thought of that special licence has cast a chill in my heart. I don’t know what it’s all coming to. You are my witness, Miss MacGregor, that I won’t marry her, however deeply she compromises me. Aunt Eliza. [Smiling.] I am your witness. Blenkinsop. She shan’t make an honest man of me. [Mrs. Dot takes from a drawer of the escritoire one of the licences. Mrs. Dot. [Smiling.] Frances Annandale Worthley—James Blenkinsop. Blenkinsop. I feel as though some one were walking over my grave. Aunt Eliza. But how on earth are you going to get Nellie Sellenger and Freddie to use the other licence? Mrs. Dot. When the right moment comes I shall leave it under their noses, and allow them to draw what Blenkinsop. But what on earth do you want me to do? Mrs. Dot. Good heavens, throw a little passion into your behaviour. Look at me as though you’d never seen any one so ravishing in your life. When you take my hand, hold it as if you would never let it go. [She takes his hand. Blenkinsop. Remember, there’s no one but Miss MacGregor present. Mrs. Dot. [With a yearning glance.] Look into my eyes like this. Blenkinsop. Don’t. You make me feel very uncomfortable. Mrs. Dot. [Impatiently.] Oh, you’re too stupid. You’re a Blenkinsop. Temper, temper. Mrs. Dot. You’ll ruin my whole life, because you’re such a perfect fool that you can’t make love to a woman. [She breaks away from him and begins to cry. He walks up and down, then looks at her with a smile. He makes a sign to Miss MacGregor that Mrs. Dot cannot see. Blenkinsop. [In a different voice.] Dot, this little game of ours has lasted long enough. Mrs. Dot. [Sobbing in her handkerchief.] Yes, it has. I’m sick to death of the whole thing. Blenkinsop. You asked me to play a part, and you didn’t know that it might be deadly earnest. Mrs. Dot. Fiddlesticks! Blenkinsop. I have a secret that I can no longer keep from you. Mrs. Dot. Well, tell it to the horse-marines. Blenkinsop. Dot, I love you! Mrs. Dot. Oh, don’t be so silly. Blenkinsop. But I tell you I’m not joking. Mrs. Dot. Thank heaven for that. I’m weary of your bad jokes. Blenkinsop. The thing started as a bad joke, but it has ended in something very different. A change has come over me, and I’m ashamed. Mrs. Dot. [Looking up.] Eh? Blenkinsop. Don’t you see that I’m a different man? Dot, it’s you who’ve changed me. Mrs. Dot. I really believe he’s waking up. Blenkinsop. If I was shy and awkward, it’s because I wouldn’t give in to myself. I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t understand. Mrs. Dot. That’s much better. There really is a ring of emotion in your voice. Blenkinsop. How shouldn’t there be, when I’m saying at last what has trembled on the tip of my tongue for ten days? Mrs. Dot. [Delighted.] There! That’s just the tone I want. Talk with that quiver in your voice when you ask me to pass you the mustard at dinner. Blenkinsop. I lie awake at night thinking of you, and when I fall asleep I seem to hold you in my arms. Mrs. Dot. That’s splendid. Why couldn’t you say all this before? Blenkinsop. Dot, Dot, don’t torture me. Don’t you see I mean it. Mrs. Dot. What! Blenkinsop. I’m not jesting now. I wish to heaven I were. Mrs. Dot. [Forcing a laugh.] My dear James, you’re really piling it on too much. Blenkinsop. You must be mad or blind. Can’t you feel that I love you? Mrs. Dot. Don’t be so absurd. You know you’re only—you’re only pulling my leg. Blenkinsop. Oh, I’ve been a perfect ass. I should never have consented to play this ghastly trick. If you only knew what tortures I’ve suffered! Mrs. Dot. He isn’t really serious, Aunt Eliza? Aunt Eliza. [Smiling.] Upon my soul, it looks very much like it. Blenkinsop. What did you expect? You’ve played on my heart-strings as though they were an instrument that had no feeling. You’ve put a caress into every tone of your voice. Mrs. Dot. [Ruefully.] Of course, I am fascinating. I can’t deny that. Blenkinsop. When you touched my hand, every nerve of my body thrilled. Mrs. Dot. You’re not really in love with me? Blenkinsop. Passionately. Mrs. Dot. You’re ridiculous, James Blenkinsop. Blenkinsop. I was a fool. I played with fire, and I never dreamed I’d burn myself. Mrs. Dot. But you mustn’t be in love with me. I won’t hear of it. Blenkinsop. It’s too late to say that now. I adore you. Mrs. Dot. But what on earth’s to be done? Blenkinsop. You must marry me. Mrs. Dot. Nothing will induce me to do anything of the sort. Blenkinsop. [Going up to her with outstretched arms.] You can’t realise the wealth of tenderness and affection which I’ll lavish upon you. Mrs. Dot. Go away! Don’t come near me. Blenkinsop. Why should you care for Gerald? Do you think if he loved you, he would let a trifling engagement with somebody else stand in the way? Mrs. Dot. The fact is that men are never to be trusted. Blenkinsop. I can’t live without you now. I’ll give up my whole life to make you happy. Mrs. Dot. But I’m in love with Gerald. I’m not in love with you. I shall never be in love with you. Blenkinsop. You owe me something for all the agony you’ve made me endure. Dot, remember that licence. It was bought in jest, but the Archbishop of Canterbury was in earnest. Mrs. Dot. But my dear James, for heaven’s sake be reasonable. You know just as well as I do that you’re not a marrying man. Blenkinsop. Give me the chance, and you’ll see. Mrs. Dot. I’m sure you wouldn’t like me. I’m horrid really. Blenkinsop. I know that you’re full of faults, but, bless you, I love them all. Mrs. Dot. I’ve got a beastly temper. Blenkinsop. I dote upon you when I see your eyes flash with anger. Mrs. Dot. I’m awfully extravagant, and if the Government brings in temperance legislation I shall be ruined. Blenkinsop. I’m rich. I should look upon it as the greatest happiness to spend my last penny to gratify your smallest wish. Mrs. Dot. I won’t marry you. I won’t marry you. I won’t! Blenkinsop. Dot, Dot! [He catches her in his arms and kisses her. At this moment Gerald comes in, Mrs. Dot breaks away from Blenkinsop. There is an awkward pause. Mrs. Dot. [To Gerald.] I thought you were on the river. Gerald. Hang the river! [She goes to the door, which Blenkinsop opens for her. She goes out. As Aunt Eliza follows, he speaks to her in a low tone. Blenkinsop. There’s passion for you. Aunt Eliza. You brutes, you can all do it. You positively made my heart beat. [She goes out. Gerald. What did Miss MacGregor say? Blenkinsop. A vague suggestion of bigamy if I understood correctly. Gerald. [Frigidly.] I’m afraid I came at an inopportune moment. Blenkinsop. It appears to be one of your happy little ways. Gerald. Every one seems to kiss every one else in this house. Blenkinsop. [With effrontery.] You have only to envelop Lady Sellenger in your arms, and the picture will be complete. Gerald. Would you kindly explain this incident? Blenkinsop. If you’ll allow me to say so, I really can’t see that it’s any business of yours. Gerald. [Hotly.] Look here, Blenkinsop, you’ve got no right to play your fool-tricks with Mrs. Dot. She’s a very excitable and thoughtless woman. She’s.... Blenkinsop. Well? Gerald. Oh, damn you! Blenkinsop. Not at all, not at all. Gerald. [Angrily.] What the deuce is the meaning of all this tomfoolery? Blenkinsop. [Blandly.] I suppose you couldn’t be a little more civil, could you? Gerald. Look here, Blenkinsop, the best thing you can do is to receive a telegram that requires your immediate presence in town. Blenkinsop. Thanks very much, but I’m extremely comfortable down here. Gerald. You’d be rather surprised if I threw you out of the window, wouldn’t you? Blenkinsop. I should not only be surprised, but I should look upon it as an odious familiarity. Gerald. Would you like to know my private opinion of you? Blenkinsop. Spare me my blushes, dear boy. It always embarrasses me to be flattered to my face. Gerald. You silly old fool. Blenkinsop. I believe you’re considerably annoyed. Gerald. Not in the least. What the dickens is there about you that should annoy me? Blenkinsop. Now that I come to think of it, you are certainly in a passion. Your face is red, your attire is disordered, and you have a slight squint in your eye. Gerald. My dear fellow, if I hadn’t the best temper in the world, I should kick you. Blenkinsop. You’d far better go and lie down. You’ll only say something which you’ll regret. Gerald. I suppose you’re not for a moment under the impression that Mrs. Dot cares twopence about you. Blenkinsop. May I ask how that can in the least concern you? Gerald. Mrs. Dot is an old friend of mine. I’m not going to see her made ridiculous by a conceited nincompoop. Blenkinsop. By the way, has it slipped your memory that you’re engaged to Miss Sellenger? Gerald. Good Lord, no! Blenkinsop. I daresay you wish it had. Gerald. That’s a confounded impertinent thing to say. Blenkinsop. My dear fellow, I never saw any one with less common sense in my life. Surely it’s not very extraordinary that the same tender passion which inflames the chaste breasts of yourself and Miss Sellenger, should attack the equally chaste breasts of myself and Mrs. Worthley. Gerald. Don’t talk such twaddle. Blenkinsop. I suppose you’d be considerably astonished if I told you that I’d just asked Mrs. Dot to be my wife. Gerald. She must have screamed with laughter. Blenkinsop. You noticed her unconcealed hilarity when you came in. Gerald. [Going up to him quickly.] You don’t mean it! Blenkinsop. No man is quite safe from the toils of women till he’s safely in his grave. And even then a feminine worm probably makes a dead set at him. Gerald. And does Mrs. Dot—reciprocate your affection? Blenkinsop. Really you ask me a very delicate question. Gerald. By the great Harry, the man thinks she’s in love with him. Blenkinsop. [Rather indignant.] And pray, why shouldn’t she be just as much in love with me as with you? Gerald. [With a burst of laughter.] Ha, ha, ha. Blenkinsop. What the blazes are you laughing at? Gerald. Ha! ha! ha! Blenkinsop. Shut up, you blithering idiot! Gerald. [Still laughing.] She has made a fool of you. Ha! ha! ha! [Seriously.] And did you really think any woman would care for you? My poor Blenkinsop! My poor, poor Blenkinsop! Blenkinsop. You’re a jackanapes, sir, you’re an impudent jackanapes. And why not, pray? Gerald. [Furiously.] Because you’re revolting to look upon, and your conversation is inexpressibly tedious. Blenkinsop. It’s charming of you to say so. Gerald. If you want to marry any one, marry Lady Sellenger. Blenkinsop. You are evidently under the impression that if a woman can’t be so fortunate as to marry you, she had far better retire into a nunnery. Gerald. You’re a cantankerous cynic and a fatuous donkey. Blenkinsop. I like the delicacy with which you express your appreciation of my merits. Gerald. Listen to me, Blenkinsop! Clear out of the house before you make a greater mess of things than you have already. Mrs. Dot would as soon marry her groom as marry you. Blenkinsop. You think it’s quite impossible that she should ever have dreamt of such a thing? Gerald. Not only impossible, but grotesque. [Blenkinsop goes to the drawer in which is the licence and takes it out. Blenkinsop. Perhaps, then, it would interest you to inspect this document. [Gerald takes it and looks at it, dumfounded. Gerald. It’s a special licence. Blenkinsop. So much less bother than banns, you know. Gerald. James Blenkinsop. Blenkinsop. And Frances Annandale Worthley. Gerald. It’s a mistake! It’s all a preposterous mistake. Blenkinsop. You see, the Archbishop of Canterbury calls me his right well-beloved brother. Friendly, isn’t it? [Gerald violently tears it in pieces and flings them on the ground. Blenkinsop gives a sigh of relief. Gerald stalks out of the room into the garden. Blenkinsop goes to the door and waves his hand at him. Mrs. Dot comes in. She has discovered that Blenkinsop has been making a fool of her. Blenkinsop. He’s torn up your precious licence. Mrs. Dot. [Quickly.] Which one? Blenkinsop. Ours, of course. Three guineas gone bang, my dear. Mrs. Dot. [Counting on her fingers.] I’m reckoning how many bottles of beer the British public will have to drink for us to buy another. Blenkinsop. But your refusal of my hand will happily prevent you from going to that expense. Thereby considerably forwarding the cause of temperance. Mrs. Dot. [With an assumption of overwhelming gravity.] James, I have been thinking over all you said, and I am willing to marry you. Blenkinsop. [A chill going down his spine.] I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but I cannot accept this sacrifice. Mrs. Dot. It is no sacrifice when I think that I can make you happy. Blenkinsop. But you mustn’t think of me. It’s your happiness that we have to consider. Don’t let a momentary impulse ruin your whole life. Mrs. Dot. I’ve thought it over very carefully. I cannot resist your passionate pleading. Blenkinsop. I will not be outdone in generosity. You have refused me. I accept your refusal as final. Mrs. Dot. I never realised that your nature was so great and tender. Every word you say makes me more determined to devote my life to your happiness. Blenkinsop. My dear Dot, much as I appreciate the beauty of your sentiments, I must confess that I could never marry a woman who did not love me. Mrs. Dot. [As though she were struggling with her modesty.] I see that you want to force from me the avowal that is so hard to make. Oh, you men! Blenkinsop. Good God, you don’t mean to say you’re in love with me? Mrs. Dot. [Languishing.] James. Is it so very wonderful? Blenkinsop. Half an hour ago you said you couldn’t stand me at any price. Mrs. Dot. It’s a woman’s privilege to change her mind. The passion which you threw into your proposal has completely changed me. I am touched by the vehemence with which you flung your heart at my feet. I have struggled, but I cannot resist. Take me in your arms, James, and never let me go. Blenkinsop. Dot, I have a confession to make to you. I didn’t mean a word I said. Mrs. Dot. Ah, James, do not jest. Blenkinsop. I assure you I’m perfectly serious. You taunted Mrs. Dot. [Unmoved.] James, every word you say increases my admiration for you. I can’t think now how I was ever blind to your great affection. Blenkinsop. But don’t you hear what I say? Mrs. Dot. Do you think you can take me in so easily? Blenkinsop. You don’t believe me? Mrs. Dot. Not a word. Blenkinsop. [Thoroughly alarmed.] Now, look here. I don’t love you, I’ve never loved you, and I never shall love you. I can’t put it any clearer than that. Mrs. Dot. [With rapture.] God, how he adores me! Blenkinsop. I say, look here, this is a bit too thick. Mrs. Dot. I know you only say these cruel things because you think I should be throwing myself away on you. Blenkinsop. [Huffily.] I don’t know about that. Mrs. Dot. You cannot bear to think that I should accept you from pity. But it isn’t that, James. You are handsome and noble and chivalrous. How shouldn’t a woman love you? Blenkinsop. I repeat that I do not reciprocate your passion. Mrs. Dot. You can’t deceive me so easily as that, James. I know you love me. We women have such quick intuitions. Blenkinsop. So you always say. Mrs. Dot. I see you simply quivering with restrained emotion. Oh, James, James, you’ve made me so happy. [She flings herself on his bosom and pretends to burst into tears. Blenkinsop. I say, take care. Supposing somebody saw us. Mrs. Dot. I should like all the world to see us. Blenkinsop. But it’s devilish compromising. Mrs. Dot. I want to compromise myself. Only thus can I make you certain of my love. Oh, think of the many happy years we shall spend in one another’s arms, James. Blenkinsop. [Extricating himself from her embrace.] Is there nothing I can say to undeceive you? Mrs. Dot. Nothing! I am yours till death. Blenkinsop. I will never give way to my sense of humour again. Mrs. Dot. [Archly.] Do you mind if I leave you just for one minute? After so much agitation I must really go and powder my nose. Blenkinsop. [Ironically.] Pray don’t let me detain you. Mrs. Dot. Remember I am yours till death. Blenkinsop. It is very good of you to say so. [She goes out. He rings the bell impatiently. The Butler comes in. Blenkinsop. Tell my servant I want him. [The Butler goes out. Blenkinsop walks up and down, wringing his hands. The Servant enters. George, pack up my things at once and get the motor. There’s not a moment to lose. George. Are you going away, sir? Blenkinsop. [Flying into a passion.] You blithering fool, do you suppose I should want my things packed if I were staying? I’m going abroad to-night. George. Very well, sir. Blenkinsop. You must take the train and go to Cook’s at once and get some tickets. George. Very well, sir. Where to, sir? Blenkinsop. Don’t argue, sir, but do as I tell you. George. I must know where to get the tickets for, sir. Blenkinsop. Oh, what it is to have a fool for a servant! Take a month’s notice. I dismiss you. Where to, sir? Anywhere, sir? Somewhere that’s a damned long way off. South Africa! I’ll go and shoot lions in Uganda. And if there isn’t a boat sailing at once, I’ll go to America and shoot grizzlies in the Rocky Mountains. George. Very dangerous climate, sir. Blenkinsop. Dangerous climate, sir? I would have you know it’s not half such a dangerous climate as the valley of the Thames. George. Very good, sir. [He goes out. Mrs. Dot comes in. At the sight of her Blenkinsop at once cools down. Mrs. Dot. James, dear, did I hear you give orders for your things to be packed up? Blenkinsop. [Calmly.] No, my love. What could have put such an idea in your head? Mrs. Dot. You wouldn’t leave me—darling? Blenkinsop. My angel, nothing now shall tear me from your side. Mrs. Dot. Dearest! Blenkinsop. [Trying to restrain himself.] Pet! [He goes into the garden. Mrs. Dot begins to laugh. Freddie comes in, with letters in his hand. Freddie. I say, I wish you’d just have a look at these letters. Mrs. Dot. Oh, yes. I want to have a little talk with you, Freddie. [She takes one of the letters and reads.] “I am directed by Mrs. Worthley to congratulate you on the recent addition to your family, but to express her regret that she cannot accede to your request.” How brutal you are, Freddie! Surely Mrs. Murphy is an old friend. Freddie. I looked her out in my note-book. Six months ago we sent her fifteen pounds because she had nine children. Now she has eleven. Mrs. Dot. And yet they complain that the birth-rate is falling. I think we’d better send her five pounds. Freddie. You really can’t encourage a woman who has twins twice a year, when her husband is not only bed-ridden but a hopeless lunatic. Mrs. Dot. Perhaps she is a little prolific. Freddie. Here is my answer to Mrs. MacTavish, who wants help to bury a husband. Mrs. Dot. Poor thing! You’d better send her ten pounds. Freddie. I’ve answered: “Madam, I regret to see that this is the third time you have lost your husband within two years. The mortality among the unhappy gentlemen on whom you bestow your hand is so great that I can only recommend you in future to remain a widow. Yours faithfully, Frederick Perkins.” Mrs. Dot. [Reading a letter which he hands to her.] Freddie. I’m so hard up, I can only afford to make other people’s jokes. Mrs. Dot. [With a shrewd look at him.] Freddie, I’ve been exceedingly pleased with your behaviour during the last week. I’ve watched you carefully, and I’m glad to see that you’ve done all that was possible to destroy poor Nellie’s affection for you. Freddie. [Gravely.] I’ve tried to do my duty. Mrs. Dot. I know. And in recognition of this I want you to accept a little present. Where is my cheque-book? Freddie. [Producing it promptly.] Oh, no, really, I shouldn’t like you to do anything of the sort. [Putting it in front of her, and giving her a pen.] I feel that I’m amply paid for all that I do for you. I simply can’t accept anything more. Mrs. Dot. I was afraid you would object. [She writes, and he watches her carefully. Freddie. Five hundred pounds. Oh, you are a ripper! But why on earth do you give me that? Mrs. Dot. It may be useful to you. Suppose you had an idea of getting married, for instance, it would be very convenient to have a sum like that in your pocket. Freddie. But I’m not thinking of getting married. Mrs. Dot. Aren’t you? I suppose you know that when you do, I’m proposing to give you two thousand a year. Freddie. I say, that’s awfully good of you. [He takes the cheque and gloats over it. Mrs. Dot quickly takes a special licence out of the drawer and puts it on the table. Mrs. Dot. Now I’m going for a turn in the garden. Freddie. You are a brick. [She goes out. As soon as he sees the coast is clear, he gives a peculiar whistle. Nellie comes in. Nellie. I thought your whistle was never coming. They wanted me to go on the river. I had to invent all sorts of excuses. Freddie. I don’t know how it is, but somehow we never manage to get a minute by ourselves. Nellie. It’s perfectly maddening. What a good idea it was of yours to meet in the garden after they’d all gone to bed. Freddie. Was it my idea? I always thought it was yours! Nellie. [With wounded dignity.] It’s not likely I should have proposed a thing like that. Freddie. No, it isn’t likely. Nellie. I’m perfectly distracted. If you only knew how that man bores me! Freddie. I can’t think what you ever saw in him. Nellie. I was never really fond of him, you know. I only Freddie. When did you first know that you cared for me? Nellie. Oh, I don’t know. I think as soon as ever I found out you were in love with me. Freddie. [Rather taken aback.] Oh! Nellie. When did you begin to love me? Freddie. Well, you know, I was awfully flattered by your caring for me. Nellie. Oh!... [There is a pause.] I don’t think I quite understand. Freddie. [Opening his arms.] Darling! Nellie. [Cuddling in them.] Oh, it makes me feel so delightfully wicked. I know I oughtn’t to let you kiss me. I know it’s treachery to poor Gerald. Freddie. He isn’t worthy of you. Nellie. He simply worships the ground I tread on. I am a perfect beast. Freddie. We’re treating him shamefully. Nellie. I shall never forgive myself. Freddie. Poor Gerald.... He is an ass, isn’t he? Nellie. Oh, awful. [They both go into shrieks of laughter. Nellie. Take care! [Mrs. Dot comes in with flowers in her hands. Mrs. Dot. Did I leave my scissors here? Just see if you can find them, Freddie. Perhaps they’re in the next room. [He goes out.] I wonder if I left them on the writing-table. [Nellie looks, sees the licence, starts, and turns round to hide it. Nellie.] [Agitated.] No, there’s nothing here at all. [Freddie comes in with the scissors. Freddie. Here they are! Mrs. Dot. Thanks so much. [She goes out. Nellie. Freddie, how could you be so incautious? It was only by the greatest presence of mind that I was able to hide it. Freddie. What do you mean? Nellie. You ought to have told me. I don’t think it was nice of you to get a licence without saying a word to me about it. I think it was a great liberty. Freddie. A licence? Nellie. You must know that I can’t marry you. Nothing will induce me to break my promise to Gerald. I’m very angry with you. Freddie. I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about. Nellie. How can you tell such stories? [She hands him the licence. He stares at it, utterly astonished. Freddie. Where did you find this? Nellie. It was lying on the writing-table. I suppose you’re not going to deny all knowledge of it. [He stares at it still.] Freddie, how bold of you! But you really couldn’t imagine for a moment that I’d consent to run away with you. Oh, Freddie, I’m so flattered. How you must love me! Freddie. [To himself.] Two thousand a year! [He takes the cheque from his pocket and looks at it. Suddenly light dawns on him. He puts cheque and licence back into his pocket.] It’s fairly clear that a licence couldn’t have got there by itself. Nellie. What on earth made you think of sending for it? Freddie. [Brazenly.] I thought it was the only way to win you. Nellie. Have you had it long? Freddie. It only arrived this morning. Look here, why shouldn’t we bolt? You don’t care a straw for Gerald, and you do care for me. Nellie. It would break his heart. I couldn’t, I couldn’t! Besides, where are we to bolt to? I daren’t. Mamma would never forgive me. Freddie. You see, with this we can be married anywhere. Let’s jump into the motor and go down to my father near Oxford. We shall arrive by dinner-time, and he’ll marry us to-morrow morning. Nellie. You don’t mean to say your father’s in the Church? Freddie. Of course he’s in the Church. I was most careful in my choice of a parent. Nellie. Oh, how clever of you to have a father who’s a clergyman! You think of everything, Freddie. Freddie. Look here, there’s not a minute to waste. Will you risk it? Nellie. No, no, no! Freddie, how can you ask me such a thing.... I’ll just go and put on my hat. Freddie. You brick. [She runs out. He walks up and down excitedly. The servants bring in the tea. Nellie comes back with her hat on.] Freddie. Hurry up! Nellie. This is romance, isn’t it? [They go to the door that leads into the garden, hand in hand. They are confronted by Lady Sellenger and Gerald, Blenkinsop and Miss MacGregor. Lady Sellenger. Where are you going in such a hurry? Nellie. [Promptly.] We were just going to call you all in to tea. [Mrs. Dot comes in. Mrs. Dot. I’ve just had the motor brought round in case any one would like to go out. [She goes to the writing-table to see if the licence has been removed. They all sit down and have tea. Lady Sellenger. Nellie, my love, I’ve been discussing a very important matter with Gerald. Mrs. Dot. I know. You asked him to name the day. Lady Sellenger. I feel that I have no right to restrain any longer the very natural impatience of these young things. Nellie. [Aghast.] And what did Gerald say? Lady Sellenger. He wishes to leave it entirely to you. Nellie. I’m sure that’s very obliging of him. Gerald. Not at all. Mrs. Dot. Of course, he’s all eagerness. Gerald. [Grimly.] Yes. Nellie. I would much sooner—let Gerald fix it at his own convenience. Lady Sellenger. I think it’s delightful, the way they give in to one another. Gerald. We shall only bore Mrs. Dot if we discuss the matter now. Lady Sellenger. We’re all old friends here. I’m sure Mrs. Dot will help us with her advice. Mrs. Dot. My own opinion is, that in these matters the sooner the better. Blenkinsop. When you have to take a pill the best thing is to swallow it down without thinking. Lady Sellenger. Cynic! What do you say to six weeks from to-day? Nellie. That would suit me beautifully. Gerald. Then there’s no more to be said. Lady Sellenger. What a beautiful thing love is! [Nellie gets up. Nellie. [To Freddie.] Are you coming? Freddie. Certainly. Lady Sellenger. [Surprised.] Where are you going, Nellie? Nellie. Mr. Perkins has promised to take me for a little drive in the motor. I feel it’s the only thing to send away my headache. Lady Sellenger. [In an undertone.] My darling, is this wise? Remember the feelings of this poor young man. Nellie. [Also in an undertone.] I thought you’d like an opportunity of talking privately to Gerald. Lady Sellenger. Why, darling? Nellie. Dear mamma, the settlements. Lady Sellenger. [Smiling affectionately.] You sweet, practical child! You’ll be your own mother again at my age. Nellie. May I go then? Lady Sellenger. Do. But don’t be away very long. Nellie. [Kissing her.] Good-bye, mamma. [She goes out with Freddie. Almost immediately the sound of a motor-horn is heard, as they drive away. Lady Sellenger. The dear child, she has such a sweet, trusting nature. You must kiss me, too, Gerald! Gerald. I shall be delighted, I’m sure. [She puts up her cheek, which he kisses. A Servant comes in with a note. Servant. Miss Sellenger told me to give you this at once, Madam. Mrs. Dot. Oh. [She opens it and gives a cry.] Good heavens! Oh, the deceitful wretch! Lady Sellenger, how shall I tell you? It’s from Nellie. Lady Sellenger. From Nellie! Mrs. Dot. [Reading.] “Dear Mrs. Dot, I’m just off to marry Freddie. Break it to Mamma gently.” Lady Sellenger. [Starting up.] Impossible! Stop them! Stop them! Where are they? Mrs. Dot. [Reading.] “I couldn’t marry Gerald. He’s too great a”—there’s a word in big letters. I never could read capitals. [She hands the note to Gerald. Gerald. The word is “B. O. R. E.” Mrs. Dot. [Pretending to be much surprised.] Bore! Blenkinsop. [With immense satisfaction.] Bore! Aunt Eliza. [Meditatively.] Bore! Lady Sellenger. Oh, how monstrous! My poor Gerald, what shall I do? [Gerald goes into a roar of laughter. He laughs louder and louder. Lady Sellenger. Gerald! Gerald! Don’t! Pull yourself together. The poor boy, he’s perfectly hysterical. Where are my salts? Mrs. Dot, for heaven’s sake calm him down. Oh, my dear! You mustn’t upset yourself yet. Blenkinsop. He looks cut up, doesn’t he? Lady Sellenger. We’ll pursue them. There’s no harm done yet. We’ll catch them. I promise you we’ll catch them. [At this he stops suddenly and stares at her in dismay. Gerald. What are you going to do? Lady Sellenger. We must chase them. Where’s your motor, Mr. Blenkinsop? Didn’t you tell me it was the fastest machine in England? Blenkinsop. I did say something of the sort. Lady Sellenger. We shall catch them up. Gerald, you must drive me. I can’t trust any one else to go fast enough. Mrs. Dot. But you don’t know which way they’ve gone. Lady Sellenger. Don’t be so silly. Of course they’ve gone to Brighton. When people elope they always go to Brighton. [Mrs. Dot slips out of the room. Gerald. And what’ll you do if we come up to them? You can’t force them to come back. Lady Sellenger. If a woman can’t force her daughter to marry any man she chooses, I don’t know what the English nation is coming to. Gerald. I won’t marry the girl against her will. Lady Sellenger. Fiddlededee! Of course you’ll marry her. Who is this creature she’s run away with? Perkins! Perkins with a P. I never heard anything so ridiculous. Do you suppose my daughter is going to be Mrs. Perkins—Perkins with a P? Blenkinsop. You couldn’t very well spell it with a W could you? Lady Sellenger. Hold your impudent tongue, sir! Gerald. Now, let’s have this out and be done with it. I’m no more in love with Nellie than she is with me, I was going to marry her because I’d promised to, and it seemed a low down trick to draw back.... Lady Sellenger. The man’s mad. The shock has turned his brain. Gerald. When I heard she’d bolted, I could have jumped for Lady Sellenger. You monster! How dare you trifle with the affections of my daughter! You don’t mean to stand by and see her marry a man called Perkins! Gerald. I wouldn’t even mind if she married a man called Vere de Vere. Lady Sellenger. Very well, then, the chauffeur shall drive me. You’re a heartless brute. Perkins with a P. And penniless to boot. [She flounces out of the room and bangs the door. Gerald. Where’s Mrs. Dot? [He goes into the garden. Blenkinsop. What a charming mother-in-law that woman will make! [Mrs. Dot comes in with a large kitchen knife in one hand and a poker in the other. Mrs. Dot. I’ve done it! Blenkinsop. Done what? Mrs. Dot. Lady Sellenger thinks she’s going in your motor, but she isn’t. Blenkinsop. [Starting up.] What have you done to my motor? Mrs. Dot. As soon as she talked of it, I ran to the kitchen and seized this knife and I seized this poker. Blenkinsop. Woman! Mrs. Dot. I’ve ripped up all the tyres, they’re simply in ribands, James. Blenkinsop. Good Lord! Mrs. Dot. I don’t know what I’ve done to the steering gear, but I know it’ll never work again. Oh, it’s in an awful state. Blenkinsop. But that’s a bran-new motor. I’ve just paid eighteen hundred pounds for it. Mrs. Dot. And so that there shouldn’t be any risk I opened the Blenkinsop. Oh! Oh! [He buries his head in his hands. Mrs. Dot. The thing’s a wreck and a ruin. You should have seen the tyres go flop, flop, flop. Blenkinsop. But I’m going to race next week. Mrs. Dot. It’ll be impossible to move it for a month. It is in a state. Blenkinsop. Eighteen hundred pounds! Mrs. Dot. I don’t know how much it’ll cost to put right. You don’t mind, James, do you? Blenkinsop. Mind! Mrs. Dot. I shouldn’t like you to be cross with me. Blenkinsop. [Furiously.] Oh! Mrs. Dot. You won’t let this disturb your affection for me? Remember that you’re going to marry me. Blenkinsop. Marry you. I’d rather marry my cook. [He flings out of the room. Mrs. Dot. [Looking after him, innocently.] He is in a temper, isn’t he? It’s very hard to please everybody in this life. Aunt Eliza. You’re quite incorrigible. Mrs. Dot. Would you mind taking these implements away? I’m really very tired. Aunt Eliza. I suppose breaking motors is rather hard work. Mrs. Dot. And you get very little thanks for it. [Aunt Eliza goes out. Mrs. Dot sinks into a chair, with a sigh of relief. Gerald comes in. She realises that he is behind her, but Gerald. Dot! Mrs. Dot. [Pretending to start.] Oh, how you frightened me! You might remember that my nerves are in a very agitated state. Gerald. You asked me a question a little while ago. I can answer it now. Mrs. Dot. I’m so sorry, I’ve quite forgotten what it was. It can’t have been of the smallest importance. Gerald. You asked me if I loved you. Mrs. Dot. How absurd! And do you? Gerald. With all my heart, and I’ve loved you passionately from the first moment I saw you. Mrs. Dot. With never a day off? Gerald. With never a day off. I wanted to tell you every minute, and yet I couldn’t be such a cad. Mrs. Dot. [Sarcastically.] It’s awfully nice of you to say all this, and I can’t tell you how flattered I am. Gerald. Dot! Mrs. Dot. Only it’s rather late in the day. I’ve promised my hand and heart to James Blenkinsop. Gerald. Fiddle! Mrs. Dot. [Raising her eyebrows.] I beg your pardon? Gerald. [Firmly.] Fiddle! Mrs. Dot. Are you under the delusion that because a happy chance has freed you from a previous engagement, I’m going to seize the opportunity and leap into your arms? Gerald. You know, women are brutes. One tries to do the straight thing and behave more or less like a white Mrs. Dot. Do you know why Nellie jilted you? Because you’re a bore. Gerald. [Smiling.] I daresay I’m very stupid. I suppose that’s why I love you so much. Mrs. Dot. My dear Gerald, you were cured of your passion for Nellie in a month. I have no doubt that a week in Paris will make your heart whole once more. Gerald. [Calmly.] Are you packing me off by any chance? Mrs. Dot. Marked—damaged. Gerald. [With his tongue in his cheek.] Then Good-bye! Mrs. Dot. Bon voyage. [He turns to go and walks slowly to the door. She seizes a cushion and throws it at him, then turns her back on him. He stops, picks up the cushion and gravely brings it to her. Gerald. I think you dropped something. Mrs. Dot. [Gravely.] Thank you. [He looks at her, with a smile. She begins to laugh. Suddenly he takes her in his arms. Gerald. You silly little fool. THE END |
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