Staffurth. Barbara, the doctors have given their verdict. My wife has only two years to live.

Barbara. John, but she looks so well! What's the matter with her?

Staffurth. Well, it's a little difficult to explain. But without being technical I may say that it is—er—not exactly appendicitis and yet—er—not exactly mumps. Anyhow, it's always very fatal on the stage.

Barbara. Two years! John, I'm not quite clear whether I'm your relation or Diana's, or, in fact, what I'm doing in the house at all, but as an old friend of somebody's may I give you a word of advice?

Staffurth (looking at his watch). Certainly, but you must be quick. I have to be back at the House in five seconds.

Barbara. Then, John, give Diana a good time for those two years. Ask her to recite sometimes, tell her about Welsh Disestablishment, at all costs keep her amused.

Staffurth (amazed.) My dear girl, do you realise I'm an Opposition Member? The Government may spring a snap division on us at any moment. (Taking out his engagement book.) Still, let me see what I can do. On July 15th, 1916—— Oh no, that will be too late. November 25th, 1915—how's that? We might have an afternoon at Kew then if the Whips don't want me. (Looking at his watch.) Well, I must be off. Don't let Diana know she's ill.

Diana. I listened outside the door! Two years, and he won't even ask me to recite to him! He doesn't love me.

Barbara. He does, he does! But he's one of those men who never show it till the Last Act.

Diana. Well, I know somebody who doesn't mind showing it in the First Act. (Goes to telephone.) Is that you, Captain Furness? I've just learnt a new little piece.... Yes, don't be long.

Curtain.

II.

Furness. There, dear, now we can have a nice little supper together. You do love me, don't you?

Diana. I suppose so. I love talking to you on the telephone, anyway. I can't think what we should have done in this play without the telephone.

Furness. And you will come away with me to-morrow?

Diana. Yes. (To the audience) Oh, I've only got eighteen months—— (To Furness) Excuse me, Philip, this is a soliloquy; would you mind not listening for a moment? (He turns away and prepares the supper.) Oh, I've only got eighteen months more, and I want to live! I want to talk on the telephone to people, and keep on changing my clothes, and recite—and—and—Philip! You don't mean to say those are marrons glacÉs you've got there?

Furness. Rather. Don't you like 'em?

Diana. How dare you? You know the doctors won't let me touch them.

Furness. My dear, you never told me what the doctors said to you. What did they say?

Diana. Well, anyhow, they said, "No more marrons glacÉs."

Furness. Really, Diana, how could I know?

Diana. You ought to have guessed. You've insulted me and I'm going home. And I shan't run away with you now. (Picks up her cloak and goes to the door.) Er—if I should change my mind in the morning I'll—er—telephone.

Furness (at the telephone). Yes—yes—no, Lorenzo—both ways. What? Oh, I beg your pardon, I thought it was—is it you, Diana?... You will come? Good.

Staffurth. Good morning. (Looking at his watch.) I want a little talk with you if you aren't busy,

Furness. Certainly. (Handing box.) Won't you begin a cigarette?

Staffurth (taking out case). Thanks, I'll begin one of my own. (Does so.) Now then. My sister-in-law—or cousin or—anyhow, my friend Miss—or Mrs.—Cullen, Barbara Cullen, who—er—is still with us, told me some days ago that you were about to elope with my wife. Is that so?

Furness. Yes.

Staffurth. Yes. I ought to have spoken to you about it before, but I have been very busy lately at the House. The Government is bringing in its Bill for the Abolition of Telephones on the Stage, and it is necessary for the full strength of the Opposition to be there. As I said in my speech, any such Bill would, to take a case, ruin Mr. Temple Thurston's new play at the Haymarket, and recent by-elections have shown that the country was—— However, I need not bother you with that. The point is that I have at last managed to get away to see you, and I want to know what it is you propose to do.

Furness. I'm going to send in my papers and take your wife away with me.

Staffurth. Ah! Then perhaps before you ruin your career I'd better tell you what the doctors say about her, She is not——

Furness (impatiently). My dear chap, I know. She told me last night. But it's all right, I don't much care for them myself.

Staffurth.—— not likely to live for more than eighteen months.

Furness. My God!

Staffurth. That's what we all said several times when we heard it. Well?

Furness. Well, I mean, this wants thinking about. I had no—— My career—only eighteen months——

Staffurth (breaking out at last). You beastly egotist! You think of nothing but your rotten career. You cur, you hound, you dog! You——

Furness (annoyed). Now I warn you, Staffurth, I may only be about half your size, but I shall have to thrash you severely if you talk like that.

Staffurth. You dog.

Furness (with dignity). For the sake of your wife, go before I climb up you and strike you.

Curtain.

III.

Barbara (joyfully). Diana, I've got some exciting news for you. Guess!

Diana. You're going away?

Barbara. No!

Diana. Oh, well, after all you've only stayed with us six months. Er—you've got a new dress?