Enter Dr. Mary Bevan.
VICTORIA.
Why should a woman have children and a man have none?
ENID.
But a man has children!
DOCTOR.
Only vicariously.
VICTORIA.
Here’s Dr. Mary!
[Rushing up to Doctor. Enid has rushed up to the other side of her.
DOCTOR [pragmatically].
But I am not without hope that, when the attention of science is directed to the unequal incidence of the burden of maternity, some method of re-adjustment may be devised.
LADY WARGRAVE [who has risen].
Pardon me, ladies; but if you are about to consult your physician, you would no doubt prefer to be alone.
[They turn and see her for the first time.
VICTORIA.
Pray, don’t move.
GERALD.
My aunt, Lady Wargrave. Colonel Cazenove.
DOCTOR.
These matters are best discussed openly. A morbid modesty has too long closed our eyes. But the day of awakening has come. Sylvester, in her “Aspirations after a Higher Morality,” Bethune, in her “Man, the Betrayer,” Vivash, in her “Foolish Virgins,” have postulated the sexual problem from every conceivable point of view; and I have myself contributed to the discussion a modest little treatise——
ENID.
No, no, not modest!
VICTORIA.
Profound!
DOCTOR.
“Naked and Unashamed!”
ENID.
Man has done all the talking up to now——
VICTORIA.
He has had things all his own way——
DOCTOR.
And a nice mess he’s made of them!
ENID.
Now it is our turn.
VICTORIA.
We mean to put things right!
DOCTOR.
Man has departed. Woman has arrived.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Excuse my ignorance, but I have been away from England for so many years. Can this be the New Woman I have read about?
COLONEL.
Everything’s New nowadays! We have a New Art——
ENID.
A New Journalism——
VICTORIA.
A New Political Economy——
DOCTOR.
A New Morality——
COLONEL.
A New Sex!
LADY WARGRAVE [smiling].
Ah!
DOCTOR.
Do you object to modernity?
LADY WARGRAVE.
I’ve only one objection to new things; they are so old.
VICTORIA.
Not the New Woman!
LADY WARGRAVE.
No; she is generally middle-aged.
[Colonel turns to Gerald, to hide his chuckles.
ENID.
Then, do you take Man’s part in the discussion?
LADY WARGRAVE.
I take no part in it.
DOCTOR.
Do you deny that Woman has arrived, Man has departed?
LADY WARGRAVE.
I don’t wonder at it. But Man has an awkward habit of coming back again.
TRIO.
Never!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Then Woman will go after him.
[Colonel roars out aloud—the Women survey him with disgust.
Re-enter Wells, L., and whispers to Gerald.
GERALD.
Tea is quite ready, ladies!
ENID.
Ah! a cup of tea!
[Exit L., followed by Victoria, Doctor Mary and Wells.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Theodore, your arm. These ladies interest me. Besides, they sadly want a chaperone.
COLONEL.
They want a husband—that’s what they want, badly!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Gerald, call Margery. [Gerald goes to door R.] Well, they are looking for one.
[Glancing after Gerald.
COLONEL.
And they’ve found you, Caroline.
[Exeunt both, laughing, L. Each time the door, L., is opened, a babel of female voices is heard from within, and such phrases as “Peter Robinson’s,” “Swan and Edgar’s,” “Stagg and Mantle’s,” are distinctly audible above the clink of teacups, etc.
Re-enter Margery, R.; she goes straight to Lady Wargrave’s chair, and is about to carry the cushion into the room, L., when Gerald, who has stood back, watching her, advances.
GERALD.
Margery! [Margery drops the cushion and turns.] Thank you! God bless you!
MARGERY.
For what, sir?
GERALD.
You have not told my aunt.
MARGERY.
Of course I haven’t told her! [Slight pause.] May I go?
GERALD.
Not yet. Margery, can you ever forgive me?
MARGERY.
For being a man? Oh yes!
GERALD.
Can you ever respect me again?
MARGERY.
I do respect you, sir.
GERALD.
Not as I do you, Margery. You don’t know what you did for me that day. If you had rounded on me, I should not have cared—but to be silent—to do nothing—to forgive me!
MARGERY.
I had a reason for forgiving you.
GERALD.
What?
MARGERY.
That’s my business.
GERALD.
But, Margery, you do forgive me?
MARGERY.
Don’t let’s talk about it.
GERALD.
Really forgive me?
MARGERY.
Really!
GERALD.
Prove it to me.
MARGERY.
How can I?
GERALD [still holding her].
Be my wife!
MARGERY [recoiling].
Mr. Cazenove!
GERALD.
My name is Gerald.
MARGERY.
Mr. Gerald!
GERALD.
Gerald! Call me so, Margery.
MARGERY.
I couldn’t, sir. Don’t ask me!
GERALD.
Then you refuse me? [Margery is silent—he turns away.] Well, I don’t deserve you.
MARGERY [approaching him.]
Oh, don’t think I mean that! Do you suppose you are the only man that’s ever made love to me? It’s a man’s business to make love; and it’s a woman’s business to stop him—when he makes love too hard. But if we can’t be lovers, Mr. Gerald, we can be friends.
GERALD.
It’s got past friendship with me, Margery. Since I came back to town, everything’s changed. My pursuits all feel so empty and so meaningless; every woman I meet seems different from what she was: and oh, how different from you!
MARGERY.
Gentry are different. We’re different breeds. That’s why we can’t be lovers.
GERALD.
We can be man and wife!
MARGERY.
Isn’t that being lovers?
GERALD.
In my case, it would be!
MARGERY.
Hush! Mr. Gerald, that’s impossible. My lady will be asking for me. Let me go!
GERALD.
Not till I’ve told you how I love you, Margery. Seeing you again is breathing the pure air. It seems a younger and a sweeter world, now you have come again. Nothing else matters. All my life beside appears a folly and a waste of time. My real life was lived with you down yonder, out in the fields, and rambling through the woods and listening to the music of the weir. The life that we began together so pleasantly, cannot we live together to the end? I was quite honest when I said I loved you. And couldn’t you love me,—just a little bit?
MARGERY.
You oughtn’t to ask that!
GERALD.
I mean to have an answer.
MARGERY.
Please, Mr. Gerald, don’t! It makes it very hard for me——
GERALD.
Answer me! Could you love me, Margery?
MARGERY.
Oh, what’s the use of asking? You only want to make me tell a lie.
GERALD.
Answer me!
MARGERY.
I have answered you!
GERALD.
Margery, then you do!
MARGERY.
That is what made it easy to forgive you. Now let me go.
GERALD.
Not till you’ve said that you will be my wife.
MARGERY.
Oh, Mr. Gerald.
GERALD.
Gerald! say Gerald!
MARGERY.
It’s no use. I can’t!
GERALD.
Say you will marry me!
MARGERY.
If you will let me call you “Mr. Gerald.”
[Embrace.
COLONEL [off, opens door L.].
Margery! where are you?
Re-enter L., just as Margery is withdrawing from Gerald’s arms, stands thunderstruck. Exit Margery, L.
GERALD.
It’s all right, uncle.
COLONEL.
All right, you call it? Look here, you young cub! None of your higher morality with Margery!
GERALD.
I tell you, it’s all right. Margery’s going to be your niece—my wife.
COLONEL.
Margery, your wife! [Slight pause.] You’re a damned lucky dog!
GERALD.
That I am, uncle!
COLONEL.
’Gad, sir, you’re a man; and I thought you were a monkey. I congratulate you!
GERALD [shaking hands].
You don’t object then?
COLONEL.
I thought a Cazenove would come right side up.
GERALD.
But what will aunt say?
COLONEL [suddenly collapses].
I was forgetting Caroline!
GERALD.
She must be told.
COLONEL.
But cautiously. Courage! I’ll back you up!
GERALD.
I’ll tell her now!
COLONEL.
Stay! Don’t do anything rash! I wouldn’t risk a private interview. Safety in numbers.
GERALD.
I will tell them all!
COLONEL.
Sht! what a bomb-shell! Courage!
GERALD.
Courage, yourself! You’re shaking all over.
COLONEL.
No matter. I’ll stand by you!
LADY WARGRAVE [opening door, L.].
Gerald!
COLONEL.
Form square! Prepare to receive cavalry!
[Retires up.
Re-enter Lady Wargrave, L.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Where are you? Why have you deserted me? To leave me at the mercy of that crew! My poor, dear, Gerald! however did you get into this set?
GERALD.
It was my poem did it.
LADY WARGRAVE.
I thought, that crime would bring its punishment. Now, they’re upon the marriage service! As though that concerned them! Gerald, if you marry any of that tribe, you’ll really break my heart!
[Colonel comes down R. of Gerald.
GERALD.
I hope I shall never do that!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Marry a woman, whatever else she is.
COLONEL [aside to Gerald].
Courage!
GERALD.
Or isn’t, aunt!
[Effusively.
COLONEL [aside to Gerald].
Caution!
[Retires up.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Or isn’t!
The door L. is thrown open, and re-enter Dr. Mary, Enid, and Victoria, all talking, followed by Margery, who takes up her original position at the back.
DOCTOR.
“Obey,” forsooth!
VICTORIA.
To promise to love is ridiculous, for how can one control the mysterious expansions of the heart?
DOCTOR.
It is the brain that loves. A still more complicated mechanism.
ENID.
It is impossible to honour a man who has invariably lived a revolting, ante-nuptial life——
VICTORIA.
But to “obey!”
[Colonel works down stage, interested.
DOCTOR.
Lady Wargrave, even you surely wouldn’t promise to “obey” a man?
LADY WARGRAVE.
Not till he asked me, certainly.
COLONEL.
Ha! ha!
[The trio turn on him; he retires up.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Gerald, I must be going.
DOCTOR.
So must I.
ENID.
And I.
DOCTOR.
I have a clinical lecture——
VICTORIA.
I have an engagement.
GERALD.
One moment, ladies! Stay one moment, aunt! Before you go I want to tell you all of my engagement.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Your engagement, Gerald?
GERALD.
Yes, I am going to be married.
[Pause.
ENID [with jealousy].
To Agnes Syl—? Oh, I forgot; she’s married.
LADY WARGRAVE.
To whom?
[All stand expectantly.
GERALD.
To Margery.
[All stand transfixed. Exit Colonel, door in flat.
DOCTOR.
Mr. Cazenove, I offer you my congratulations. Having a clinical lecture to deliver, you will excuse me if I say good afternoon.
ENID.
Wait for me, Doctor. [Exit Dr. Mary, door in flat.] You have my best wishes.
[Exit, door in flat.
VICTORIA.
And thank you for the plot of my next novel.
[Exit, door in flat.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Gerald, is this a trick?
GERALD.
No, aunt; it is the truth.
LADY WARGRAVE.
And you, a Cazenove! It is out of the question! I won’t permit it! I forbid it, Gerald!
GERALD.
But, my dear aunt, you said only just now——
LADY WARGRAVE.
No matter!
GERALD.
Marry a woman——
LADY WARGRAVE.
Don’t repeat my words! A Cazenove marry Margery! Ridiculous!
GERALD.
But, aunt——
LADY WARGRAVE.
Silence! You said just now, you hoped that you would never break my heart. Well, Gerald, you have broken it. A Cazenove!
[Exit, door in flat. Margery takes up the cushion, and is about to follow.
GERALD.
Put that thing down. [She puts it down.] You are mine now; not hers.
MARGERY.
Yes, Mr. Gerald.
GERALD [sits, drawing her to him].
For better, for worse, Margery.
MARGERY.
For better, for worse.
GERALD.
You are not frightened?
MARGERY.
Not now, Mr. Gerald.
GERALD.
Then call me, Gerald.
MARGERY.
Gerald!
[Dropping on her knee by his side.
GERALD.
You’re not afraid to make those promises!
MARGERY.
No, Gerald!
GERALD.
To love—to honour.
MARGERY.
And obey!
[Looking up at him.
Twelve months have elapsed.
Scene.—Study at Gerald’s, opening upon a little boudoir, through curtains which are drawn across part of the stage at back. Doors, R., and L.U.E. Mantelpiece, between doors, R.
Gerald discovered, seated at a writing table, with his back to the curtains, writing busily. Margery’s head appears through the curtains, which she holds closely round it, so that only her face is visible. She watches Gerald for a few moments, with a broad smile on her face.
MARGERY.
Bo!
[Withdraws her head.
GERALD [starts and looks round].
Margery, of course!
[Resumes his writing. A peal of laughter behind the curtains, and Margery’s head reappears, laughing. Gerald throws down his pen.
MARGERY [running in].
Did I startle you?
GERALD.
Not much; I’m getting used to it.
MARGERY.
Well, don’t be cross!
GERALD.
I’m not cross, dear; but these repeated interludes make composition rather difficult.
MARGERY.
Oh, bother! you’ve been all the morning at that stupid book, and I’m so happy, I can’t help it. Kiss me, and say that you forgive me!
GERALD.
Of course I forgive you!
MARGERY.
Kiss me, then!
GERALD.
My dear——
MARGERY.
Gerald! will you kiss me?
GERALD [kisses her].
How many times does that make?
MARGERY.
Only three this morning. You used to like kissing me.
GERALD.
Yes, dear, but——
MARGERY.
What?
GERALD.
This isn’t writing my book.
MARGERY.
No, but it’s being happy, and that’s worth all the books that ever were written.
GERALD.
Yes—being happy—that’s the great thing.
[Sighs.
MARGERY.
Why do you sigh?
GERALD.
Did I sigh?
[Smiling.
MARGERY.
Yes.
GERALD.
I didn’t know I sighed. Writing’s hard work.
MARGERY.
Then put the book away! [Thrusts the MS. aside.] I’ve such news for you!
GERALD.
News?
MARGERY.
Such good news. Guess what it is. I’ll give you three tries.
GERALD [deprecatingly].
Margery!
MARGERY.
You’ll never guess!
GERALD.
Then what’s the use of trying?
MARGERY.
Because I want you to guess wrong.
GERALD.
I shan’t do that!
MARGERY.
You will! I’m sure you will!
GERALD.
I’m sure I shan’t, because I am not going to guess at all.
MARGERY [grimaces].
Cross again! You’d better not be, or you know the penalty!
GERALD.
Come! what is the good news?
MARGERY.
That’s the good news.
[Gives him a card.
GERALD [with real pleasure].
Margery!
MARGERY [pouting].
You might have guessed!
GERALD.
A card from Lady Wargrave! And addressed to you!
MARGERY.
Asking us to a party at her house.
GERALD.
Don’t say a party, Margery!
MARGERY.
Well, isn’t it a party?
GERALD.
Call it an At Home.
MARGERY.
Oh, that’s another lesson! Never call things by their right names, it’s vulgar!
GERALD.
This is an olive-branch, and no mistake! So aunt is thawing at last.
MARGERY.
Stop a bit, Gerald!
GERALD.
Wait a moment, Margery!
MARGERY.
Is that another lesson? Never use one syllable when two will do? Very well, Gerald, I’ll remember that. But what do you mean by olive-branch?
GERALD [looks at her, and sighs again].
Oh, never mind!
MARGERY.
Yes, tell me. I want to make sure as I go along.
GERALD.
An overture—a sign of reconciliation—like holding out your hand.
MARGERY.
Ah, now I understand! But what a funny thing to call it—olive-branch!
[Bursts into a peal of laughter.
GERALD [shivers slightly and goes over to the mantelpiece. Aside].
It didn’t sound like that in Mapledurham! [Conquering himself, returns to her.] I’m so glad aunt’s come round. You don’t know how it’s worried me—her estrangement.
MARGERY.
They’ve all come round now. They’ve all recognized me. Oh, I’m so happy, Gerald! It isn’t half as hard to be a lady as I thought!
GERALD [thoughtfully].
Of course you’ll have to answer this!
MARGERY.
Of course!
GERALD.
Show me the answer when you’ve written it!
MARGERY.
Oh, I shan’t spell it wrong!
GERALD.
No, dear, but——
MARGERY.
I know what you mean. I might use all short words instead of long ones. [Gerald laughs.] Don’t be afraid: I’ll pick the longest in the dictionary. [Kisses him.] Ah, Gerald, dear! short words were good enough for you once!
[Archly.
GERALD.
I dare say.
MARGERY.
Yes; when you said, “I love you, Margery!” Say it again!
GERALD.
Margery, what nonsense!
MARGERY.
That’s what I like—nonsense. Say it again!
GERALD [with effort].
I love you, Margery. [Sits, and resumes his pen.] Now, let me get on with my work!
MARGERY [goes L. Aside]
Somehow it didn’t sound like that in Mapledurham. [Brightly.] Well, I suppose his head’s full of his book. I wish mine was of mine. Oh, those French verbs! and what’s the use of them? Why isn’t English good enough for England?
Enter Wells, L.
WELLS.
Captain Sylvester.
[Gerald flings down his pen in despair. Exit Wells, L.
Enter Sylvester.
MARGERY.
Ah, I’m so glad you’ve come! [Crosses to him.] I wanted somebody to talk to. Gerald’s so busy!
[Takes Sylvester’s hat and stick.
SYLVESTER.
Busy? then I’m afraid I intrude.
GERALD [resignedly].
Oh, not at all! [Sees Margery at back, who has put Sylvester’s hat on, very much askew, and is marching up and down with the stick under her arm.] Good gracious, Margery!
[Margery laughs. Sylvester laughs. Gerald goes up, snatches the hat and stick, and turns to put them down.
MARGERY.
Cross again! [As Gerald turns again, he finds himself face to face with her, holding her mouth out.] Penalty!
GERALD.
It is for Captain Sylvester to forgive you.
SYLVESTER.
Anything. Mrs. Cazenove can do no wrong. [Bows. Margery curtseys.] But where’s Agnes? Happening to pass this way, I thought I might perhaps give her a lift home.
MARGERY.
Oh! Gerald expects Mrs. Sylvester——
GERALD.
Later on, later on!
SYLVESTER.
Then may I wait for her?
GERALD.
Oh, certainly! [Taking up MSS.] If you’ll excuse me going on with my work. I’ve been a good deal interrupted.
[Goes to door, R.
SYLVESTER.
By all means, if I may talk to Mrs. Cazenove!
[Gerald bows stiffly and exit, R., watched by Margery, who makes a grimace to audience.
MARGERY.
I believe Gerald’s jealous!
SYLVESTER [laughing].
Of me?
MARGERY [laughs].
Just fancy anyone being jealous of you! [Laughs loudly, then stops suddenly.] Hush! I forgot! We mustn’t make so much noise. Clever people don’t like noise.
SYLVESTER.
Music is noise to some people. I like it!
MARGERY.
Ah, but then you’re not clever!
SYLVESTER [laughing].
I’m afraid not!
MARGERY.
There’s a pair of us!
SYLVESTER.
And what a pleasure it is to meet somebody who’s not clever. Mrs. Cazenove, I think cleverness is the most boring thing in the world. This planet would be quite a pleasant place but for the clever people.
MARGERY.
Do you mean my husband?
SYLVESTER.
I was thinking of my wife; she’s one of them. I’m not. I’m only Mrs. Sylvester’s husband.
MARGERY.
Are you sure you’re that?
SYLVESTER.
I have always been under that impression.
MARGERY.
A husband who isn’t master of his wife isn’t half a husband.
SYLVESTER.
I am content to be a fraction!
MARGERY.
But you’re a cipher.
SYLVESTER.
You’re frank, Mrs. Cazenove.
MARGERY.
I only say to your face what everybody says behind your back.
SYLVESTER.
What do they say?
MARGERY.
That Mrs. Sylvester’s too much alone.
SYLVESTER.
Never. She’s always with your husband!
MARGERY.
Well?
SYLVESTER.
As long as you don’t object——
MARGERY.
Object? Not I! But that’s a very different thing!
SYLVESTER.
How so?
MARGERY.
I am my husband’s wife, and I am not afraid of any woman in the world.
SYLVESTER.
You have no need to be. [With admiration.] And in your pre-eminence resides my safety, Margery.
MARGERY.
I’m not Margery now!
SYLVESTER [seriously].
I ask Mrs. Cazenove’s pardon. [In a casual tone] You don’t object to the collaboration, then?
MARGERY.
I think it’s fun! They are so serious over it. As if the world depended on a book! As if there were no Providence or anything, and they two had to keep creation going by scratching upon little bits of paper! I love to watch them, biting at their pens, and staring at that little crack up there. [Looking at the ceiling. Sylvester looks also.] I often think to myself, you may well look—there’s something there that’ll keep the world going round, just as it is, long after your precious book is dust and ashes.
SYLVESTER.
Then you do watch them, Margery—Mrs. Cazenove?
MARGERY.
Oh, often, from my room. [Indicates curtains.] But I can scarcely keep from laughing all the time. Some day I mean to have such fun with them! I mean to steal in here, [business] and put my head out, so—and just when they are putting the world right, say Bo!
[Runs back, and bursts into a peal of laughter. Sylvester laughs also.
Re-enter Wells, L.
WELLS.
Miss Vivash!
[Exit Wells, L.
Enter Victoria.
VICTORIA.
Good morning, dear. [Kisses Margery.] What! Captain Sylvester! you here, and Agnes not?
MARGERY.
Mrs. Sylvester is coming!
VICTORIA.
No need to apologize! A wife is just as much entitled to entertain another woman’s husband as a husband to entertain another man’s wife. You’re getting on, dear. That’s philosophy!
MARGERY.
Gerald is in the next room!
VICTORIA.
Then it’s not philosophy!
MARGERY.
I’ll go and wake him up.
[Exit, R.
VICTORIA.
Humph! [Sits.] Well, how long do you give it?
SYLVESTER.
Do you mean philosophy?
VICTORIA.
The Cazenove ménage. Another six months? These love-matches are honeymoon affairs. When once that’s over, there’s an end of everything.
SYLVESTER.
But is it over?
VICTORIA.
Everybody’s talking. Cazenove is bored to death.
SYLVESTER.
I don’t think his wife is.
VICTORIA.
Ah, that will come in time; and when it does, I mean to take Margery in hand. She is neglected shamefully. She hasn’t discovered it yet, but all her friends have.
SYLVESTER.
They’re generally first in the field.
VICTORIA.
If a husband ignores his wife, the wife is entitled to ignore her husband. What would a man do under the same circumstances?
SYLVESTER.
Is not the question rather, what a man ought to do?
VICTORIA.
That is Utopian. We must take the world as we find it.
SYLVESTER.
I’m afraid Mrs. Cazenove won’t be an apt pupil.
VICTORIA.
No spirit—no proper pride. But things can’t go on as they’re going long. Margery is on the edge of a volcano. I give it six months.
SYLVESTER.
Is it as bad as that?
VICTORIA.
Never at home—and when he is—“in the next room.” Never takes her anywhere, and I don’t wonder at it. Margery is too gauche for anything. But what could be expected, when a man throws himself away in that manner? Bless me, there were other women in the world!
SYLVESTER.
Oh, plenty, plenty.
VICTORIA.
Unluckily, he’s found that out. [Aside.] That’s one for him!
SYLVESTER.
Indeed!
VICTORIA [gives him a glance of contempt, and produces a cigarette case].
Do you mind tobacco?
SYLVESTER.
Not at all. I like it.
Re-enter Margery, R.
If Mrs. Cazenove——
MARGERY.
Gerald’s so busy, will you please excuse him?
VICTORIA.
Certainly. Will you join me?
[Offers case.
MARGERY.
Thank you, I can’t smoke.
VICTORIA.
Then you should learn at once.
[Puts a cigarette in her mouth.
Could you oblige me with a light? [Sylvester strikes a match.] Thanks.
[Lights up at the wrong end of a gold-tipped cigarette. Margery stands, arms akimbo, surveying her.
MARGERY.
Do you like smoking?
VICTORIA.
No, but I smoke on principle!
SYLVESTER.
On the wrong principle!
VICTORIA.
I beg your pardon. Men smoke cigarettes.
SYLVESTER.
Yes, but they light them at the other end.
[Victoria takes the cigarette out of her mouth and looks at it. Margery and Sylvester burst out laughing. She throws it away viciously.
Re-enter Wells, L.
WELLS.
Miss Bethune.
[Exit Wells, L.
Enter Enid.
ENID.
How are you, dear? [Kisses Margery.] Victoria!
[Goes to Victoria, who presents her cheek.
SYLVESTER [to Margery].
Now you have company, I’ll say good-day. I’ve waited for my wife quite long enough!
MARGERY [with outstretched hand].
But you will come and see me again soon?
[Enid and Victoria exchange glances.
SYLVESTER [holding her hand, and in a lower voice].
Shall you be in to-morrow?
MARGERY [frankly].
Yes. [Sylvester smiles and presses her hand; she sees her mistake.] If Gerald is.
[Enid and Victoria are exchanging whispers.
SYLVESTER [drops her hand; aside].
Women are like Bradshaw—a guide and a puzzle!
[Exit, L.
ENID.
Does Captain Sylvester often call, my dear?
MARGERY.
He has done lately.
ENID.
Quite a change for him! He must occasionally meet his wife!
VICTORIA [who has gone to the mantelpiece for a match].
Now that that man has gone——
[Lights another cigarette.
ENID.
Victoria!
VICTORIA [offering case to Margery].
Can’t I prevail on you?
MARGERY [takes one].
Well, I don’t mind trying.
[Lights hers from Victoria’s, Victoria putting the case on the table.
ENID.
How can you, Margery? I call it shocking! To take a nasty, evil-smelling thing like this [taking a cigarette out of Victoria’s case]—and put it to your lips—brrh! [Shudders, but puts it in her mouth. Margery presses her burning cigarette against it till it is alight.] Don’t, Margery, don’t! I call it horrid—most unladylike!
MARGERY.
Now puff!
[All three sit and puff vigorously. Margery perched on table.
VICTORIA.
Well, dear, and how are you getting on?
MARGERY.
Oh, famously!
ENID.
I hope you’ve taken my advice to heart!
VICTORIA.
And mine! Have you a latch-key yet?
MARGERY.
Oh, yes!
ENID.
Margery, you shock me!
MARGERY.
Well, you’re easily shocked!
VICTORIA.
You have a latch-key?
[Triumphantly.
MARGERY [simply].
Yes, we have a latch-key!
BOTH [in different tones].
We?
MARGERY.
What would Gerald do without one?
VICTORIA [with contempt].
Gerald!
MARGERY.
When he comes home late.
ENID.
Does he come home late?
VICTORIA.
All men do!
ENID.
Before marriage. Would that were all they did. [Mysteriously.] Has he told you everything?
MARGERY.
He’s told me everything I’ve asked him.
VICTORIA [with curiosity, putting down cigarette].
What have you asked him?
MARGERY.
Nothing!
ENID.
Margery! [rises] it’s such women as you on whom men prey!
[Turns off.
VICTORIA [rises].
And it’s such men as him that women marry!
[Turns off.
MARGERY.
When they get the chance! [Grimace at audience.
Re-enter Wells, L.
WELLS.
Colonel Cazenove.
[Enid hides her cigarette behind her back; Margery flings hers away, jumps down and runs to meet him. Exit Wells, L.
Enter Colonel.
MARGERY.
Uncle!
[Flings her arms round his neck, and gives him three smacking kisses. Colonel smiles all over his face. Enid and Victoria exchange shrugs.
COLONEL.
Bless me! what a smell of tobacco! [Looks about, sniffing, sees Victoria.] Ah, the foolish—beg pardon!—Miss Vivash! [Bow.] Dear me, something burning!
[Sniffs. Victoria sits again.
ENID [confused].
Yes, Mr. Cazenove—the next room
COLONEL [seeing her].
Man the Be—— Miss Bethune, I think?
[Holds out his hand. Enid has to change the cigarette into her left hand behind her back; shakes hands, then turns to wipe the nicotine from her lips, unconsciously presenting the turning cigarette to Colonel’s eyeglass. Margery laughs. Colonel grins at audience.
COLONEL.
I thought something was burning. [Enid throws cigarette into the grate, and covers her face. Colonel lifts his finger.] And you said Mr. Cazenove!
ENID.
Well, it wasn’t a story. He is in the next room.
COLONEL.
So man has not a monopoly of the vices!
ENID.