JULIET. With such a pretty hat?
HELEN (_returning_). You never said you liked it.
JULIET. No. I've been
So worried all day by this Galahad Green.
For really, Helen, once and for all be certain
It's not from _your_ life that he's wrenched the curtain.
You can still face the world. You've not the least
Cause to abominate the loathsome beast--
Except as I'm your friend: and since I know,
Now, that your strange mistake has hurt you so,
Believe me, I rejoice--yes, even rejoice--
That I, not you, suffer by Galahad's choice.
I bear it willingly. Must I prove my case?
Give me one moment, while I find the place....
(_She opens the book and searches through it feverishly._)
HELEN (_opening copy_). Oh, if it comes to evidence...! But indeed
I simply can't go through it!
JULIET. Let me read
Page twenty-four: 'Between him and his wife
A deep gulf lay. She wanted to see life
Through her own eyes, but he preferred, she knew,
The monocle of _The Saturday Review_'--
There! Don't you see? That paper's just the one
I always said would patronize the sun.
HELEN. That? Why, look here--page forty-two--'Her eyes
Were green, her honey-coloured----'
JULIET. Mere disguise!
He _had_ to change a little here and there.
Listen: 'She glowered----'
HELEN. 'Her honey-coloured hair
Lay in profusion on her shoulders----'
JULIET. 'Then
She thought "It's time----"
HELEN. 'To win the love of men--
"What's that?" she cried. "I ever hated sin----"
JULIET. "But now I'll change. To-morrow I'll begin....
My sins are many. Can they be washed away?"'
HELEN. 'So she used Morny bath-salts every day.
Often she'd sponge herself for hours, and dream
Of love, veiled only by the bashful steam.
Sometimes, perhaps, an over-amorous drop
Would trickle down----'
JULIET (_shocked_). Helen, my dear--do stop!
Really!
HELEN. But that's conclusive!
JULIET. I admit
That she had beauty, savoir-faire, and wit,
But she was wicked, too, reckless and haughty----
HELEN. I can't pretend that I was never naughty.
JULIET. Naughty, perhaps; but you could never trip so
Continually as Mr. Green's Calypso.
HELEN. I do believe you think I wouldn't dare
Calypso's deeds. I've done them all--so there!
JULIET. Well, you shall have the truth. I'll make a clean
Breast of it. Who, you ask, is Galahad Green?
I know him!
HELEN. Juliet! And he dares affirm
That I was not.... The lily-livered worm!
JULIET. But if he writes a letter to the Press
Declaring that he never saw you----
HELEN. Yes,
And makes me look a fool. What can I do
When every one I meet says 'Is it you....
That wicked gorgeous creature, that wild thing
Ecstatic and unmoral as the Spring...?'
Of course I owned it.
JULIET. Helen--I can still
Save you. I'll make him write----
HELEN. No, no!
JULIET. I will--
And now, at once. The telephone!
HELEN (_stopping_ JULIET). But I say
You're not to!
JULIET (_struggling_). Let me go! We can't delay.
HELEN. Juliet, for goodness' sake don't be so dense!
JULIET. What _do_ you mean?
HELEN. Where's your intelligence,
Your tact, your feminine intuition? Where
Your sympathy? Must I lay my soul quite bare?
JULIET (_returning and collapsing into her chair_). So far as I'm
concerned you're talking Greek.
HELEN. They've sold nine thousand copies in one week.
JULIET. Why, one would think, in spite of all that's passed,
You liked the book.
HELEN. So you've got there at last!
You _are_ an also-ran.
JULIET. Good heavens!
HELEN. I had
To _say_ that I was furious, and not glad;
But what girl wouldn't feel some little stir
Of pride when all the town's in love with her?
You don't know half that's happened. This new novel
Has simply made all other writers grovel.
Bennett's gone mad with envy. J. C. Snaith
Is in decline. Galsworthy's a mere wraith.
Chesterton, having burnt his cap and bells,
Drowned himself in a butt of Malmesey. Wells
Vowed to the Press he'd never write again.
May Sinclair, Violet Hunt, and Clemence Dane
Have gone--forevermore to breathe the air
Of Iceland. Poor Hugh Walpole's in despair.
Now do you see my point? Didn't you lie
When you said that Calypso wasn't I?
JULIET. Yes.
HELEN. And the author learnt it all from you.
I think you owe me something.
JULIET. Very true....
What do you want?
HELEN. Oh, Juliet--since I've been
His model, do you think that Mr. Green
Would possibly--just some day--take me out
To supper?
JULIET. When? To-night?
HELEN. Could he?
JULIET. No doubt.
HELEN. Let's ring him up.
JULIET (_stopping her_). Who said that _I_ was dense?
HELEN. But if he's free----?
JULIET. Use your intelligence,
Your feminine intuition.
HELEN. Yes, but how?
JULIET. Galahad does invite you here and now.
All is not masculine that's Green.
HELEN (_collapsing_). Your book!
JULIET. Here are my notices, if you care to look.
HELEN. My dear!... And all those famous novelists, too--
Just shrivelling up with jealousy of _you_!
JULIET. Ah, but the poets! They are delighted--they
Whose rustic hearts envy could never sway.
Read what they've said.
HELEN. I'm sure it's very sweet.
But somehow I can never keep my seat
On Pegasus.
JULIET. Pegasus! No one rides _him_ now:
But ah, how steadily up Parnassus' brow,
With farmyard straw, not vine-leaves, in his hair,
Squire Turner Pounds on Shanks's de la Mare!
1922.