SCENE. _A Room in_ JULIET'S _Flat. Back centre, a fire. To
its right, a chair; to its left, an easy chair and a small table.
Two envelopes and a new novel lie on the table._ JULIET _is
seated in the easy chair, looking into the fire_.
JULIET (_dreamily_). Hans Andersen, when he was old and frail,
Said that his life had been a fairy-tale.... (_Looking up._)
That's what mine is! Think of it--by a freak
Of Fortune to be famous in one week,
And with my first book! Would it have made quite
Such a commotion had I dared to write
Under my name? Who knows? But if you've penned
A merciless portrait of your dearest friend,
You simply can't avow it. And a book
That bears a man's name has a weightier look
Somehow. My novel! Why, it seems an age
Since last I gloated on the title-page. (_She takes up the novel
from the table._)
'The Strong Man's Library. Number Seventeen.
"Calypso and Her Loves," by Galahad Green.
Second Impression.' Then down there, quite small.
The modest publishers--Chapman and Hall.
(_Turning to the envelopes on the table._)
Oh, and they've sent me--Is it from Chapman? Yes--
Another batch of cuttings from the Press.
Quite a lot, too! I'll give them just a glance
Before I go to supper.
(_Taking the envelope which is on top, she extracts a number of Press
cuttings, looks through them hastily and tosses them back on to the
table one by one._)
'_True romance._'
W. J. Turner--'_Shows a man's desire
To write for men.... Much promise._' J. C. Squire.--
'_At times like Gosse...._' Who wrote that? Squire again,
But in a different paper--'_Stuff for men....
Gosse-like at moments._' Edward Shanks--'_No learner,
A finished craftsman._' W. J. Turner--
'_Impressive._' J. C. Squire.--'_His novel ranks
Among the best books of the season...._' Shanks.--
'_Impressive._' Shanks.--'_Almost the true Gosse fire...._'
Turner again. '_A man's book._' J. C. Squire.--
My poor head swims! How very queer to find
Ten papers, three reviewers and one mind.
They're like the Isle of Man. Suppose I beg
Prettily? Would they make me their fourth leg?
Here's praise enough. Indeed, you'd think I knew them--
Or that they hoped I might in turn review them.
(_Looking again at the table, she picks up the second envelope._)
And here? Oh, horror! Helen's writing--hers,
I'm sure, and what wild spluttering characters!
Their wildness might be due to haste, but not
The Maenad fury of that final blot.
She's read the book, and recognized with rage
The portrait of herself on every page,
In every line. She couldn't miss it. Why
Didn't I make Calypso small and shy,
Dark and not fair? Whatever made me draw
Helen complete, even to her slightest flaw?
Everything's there--green eyes, the Chelsea flat,
The craze for Morny bath-salts, even that!...
I let Calypso live at such a pace
Too, that I daren't look Helen in the face,
I simply daren't. But stay! She might have seen
The book: she can't think I am Galahad Green.
There's hope. I'll soon see what she has to say.... (_She opens
the letter._)
'My dearest Juliet'--'dearest,' anyway!--
'I'm furious, but I shan't say what about
Until we meet. Promise you won't be out
This evening. I shall call at eight o'clock.
Helen.' At least her letter saves the shock
Of meeting unprepared, and I'll be able
To sweep these wretched cuttings from the table
What _is_ the time? Exactly eight. Oh dear,
At any minute now she may be here
Storming my ears off. What a risk I took!
And then--she's just the girl to read a book,
Find her own portrait there, done all too well,
And taxi-ing to the publishers pell-mell
Demand to have the author's home-address.
Chapman and Hall, however great their stress,
Would never give it, would they? When we met
Their manager seemed such a perfect pet....
(_A bell rings. Noise outside._)
There she is.
(HELEN _rushes in--still wearing her furs_.)
HELEN (_dramatically_). Juliet!
JULIET. Well, what's wrong, my dear?
HELEN. Nothing--at least--I _am_ so glad you're here.
(_She takes both of_ JULIET'S _hands_.)
JULIET. I read your letter just in time. The fact
Is that it caught me in the very act
Of going out to supper.
HELEN. But you'll stay
Now? It's important--what I've come to say--
And yet so horrible that I've scarce the heart
To speak of it. I don't know how to start.
JULIET. I guess. You've jilted John! I always said
You would. Or has he jilted you instead?
HELEN (_breaking_). Oh, don't be flippant, Juliet. Can't you see
It's not a laughing matter? Should I be
In such a state about a love-affair?
I'm not pre-Shaw.