HILDA. And ungainly.
GIOCONDA. A brow like H. G. Wells' my fancy draws,
An eye like Bennett's and a beard like Shaw's.
I know your Harry--just the English type,
A silent strong man married to his pipe,
With so few words, except about machines,
That he can never tell you what he means:
But were _I_ his, and we two went a-walking,
What should that matter? _I_ could do the talking.
HILDA. Surely you see, Gioconda, I require
A lover who can make love with some fire.
GIOCONDA. And I a lover so much overcome
By deep emotion that it leaves him dumb.
HILDA. No poetry? Then, so far as I can tell,
The Twentieth Century ought to suit you well....
I've an idea!
GIOCONDA. What is it?
HILDA. This: that you
Show me how best you'd like a man to woo.
GIOCONDA. I will, I will!
HILDA. Imagine, then, that I
Am she for whom you say you'd gladly die.
This is my room at Baystead: that's the street:
You must come in from there.... (_Leading her left._)
and then we meet.
GIOCONDA. By Holy Church, a pretty sport to play!
God shield you, Signorina Hilda Gray! (_Exit left._)
HILDA. Now--what's the time? It must be half-past four.
It is. I'll give him just one minute more.
(_Looking at herself in a pocket-mirror, and making a toilet._)
Goodness! I do look horrid.... Will he bring
An emerald or a pearl engagement-ring?
He comes! I'll take pearls as a last resort.
(_Enter, left_, GIOCONDA _carrying a pipe and a
walking-stick_.)
GIOCONDA. Well, and how _are_ you? In the pink, old sport?
HILDA. I'm glad to see you, Harry. Do sit down.
GIOCONDA. 'Some' heat to-day, what? Even here. In town
Perfectly awful. Got a match?
(_She tries in vain to light the pipe from a match struck by_
HILDA.)
I say,
Old thing--you really look top-hole to-day.
HILDA. Well, naturally: I knew that you were coming.
(GIOCONDA _pulls at her pipe in silence, pokes the floor with her
stick, and shifts it from hand to hand_.)
You're very quiet.
GIOCONDA (_with a start_). Oh! what's that you're thumbing?
(_Goes over to_ HILDA _and looks over her shoulder_.)
HILDA. Addington Symonds.
GIOCONDA. Any good?
HILDA. Why--gorgeous!
You ought to read it--all about the Borgias.
GIOCONDA. What are they? Oh, I see! I had enough
Up at the 'Varsity of that sort of stuff.
I say--oh, blast the thing, this pipe's a dud! (_She puts the pipe
on the table._)
HILDA. You smoke too much. They say it slows the blood,
And _that_ you simply can't afford. (_Pause._)