ACT IV

SCENE: _BROXOPP is back at No. 26. The room looks much the same as

it did those many years ago, but it has been improved by one or two

pieces of furniture saved from the wreck._

_The BROXOPPS are out, and SIR ROGER TENTERDEN is waiting for the

return of one of them. He is getting impatient. He looks at his watch

and decides that he can wait no longer. He picks up his hat, and is on

his way to the door, when NANCY comes in with some parcels in a string

bag._

* * * * *

NANCY (_taken by surprise_). Oh, how you startled me!... Why, it’s Sir

Roger!

TENTERDEN. I must apologise——

NANCY (_smiling_). So must I. I’ve been shopping. And it’s the maid’s

afternoon out.

TENTERDEN (_a little blankly_). Oh—ah—yes. They told me down below

to come up and—ah——

NANCY. That’s right. I just went out to get some kidneys. (_She holds

up a parcel, and SIR ROGER shudders._) I haven’t bought kidneys for I

don’t know how many years; it feels quite strange. Do come and sit

down. How’s Iris? We haven’t seen her lately. (_She leads the way to

the table and puts the bag down on it._)

TENTERDEN. Well, it was really about Iris that I ventured to come and

see you so informally, Mrs. Chillingham. I happened to have a

business appointment just across the road, and—ah——

NANCY. How nice of you!

TENTERDEN. Is Iris quite well?

NANCY. Oh, I think so. Jack seems to be very busy. We have a note from

him every now and then saying that they will come and see us when his

picture is finished.

TENTERDEN. Ah! So he’s painting. Excellent.

NANCY. They’ve a studio in St. John’s Wood. But surely Iris must have

told you?

TENTERDEN. I assure you, Mrs. Chillingham, that Iris has not

condescended to communicate with me since—ah——

NANCY. Since we lost all our money.

TENTERDEN. Since that very unfortunate Excelsior business. Upon my

word, I don’t know what the City is coming to nowadays. With so many

rogues about, it is almost impossible for a gentleman to make an

honest living. However, things have been looking up lately. (_Smiling

to himself_) Oh yes, looking up—decidedly. But then I knew they

would. I only wish, my dear Mrs. Chillingham, that your husband could

have been participating in my good fortune.

NANCY. Well, we had no money left, you see.

TENTERDEN (_holding up a hand_). Don’t think I am blaming your

husband. Pray don’t think that. I assure you, I quite understand. And

so Jack is painting? Making quite a good living by it, what? You

relieve my mind considerably, Mrs. Chillingham. I shall go away happy

now. I shouldn’t have liked to think that my daughter was

uncomfortable. What a thing it is to be born with such a gift! Lucky

Jack! And Mr. Chillingham, I trust, quite well?

NANCY. Very well indeed, thank you. He hasn’t looked so well for a

long time.

TENTERDEN. Excellent, excellent. And making his fortune again, I’ve no

doubt. I’m delighted to hear it. Well, Mrs. Chillingham, I must be

getting on. I am most relieved to hear your good news. Remember me to

your husband, please, and tell him that if, at any time, he wants a

good investment, I shall only be too delighted to be of any service.

No, don’t thank me. I should be only too glad to. It would be a

privilege. (_He shakes her warmly by the hand_) Good-bye, good-bye.

[_He goes out magnificently._

(_As soon as she has recovered, NANCY takes off her hat and goes

to the table to work. She is drawing an advertisement for BROXOPP,

as we can see by the way she bites her pencil and frowns to

herself._

_A cheerful voice, singing a song without words, is heard outside,

and the GREAT ONE comes in. He is wearing the old sombrero—the

Broxopp hat—and (a novelty this) a pale grey tail-coat and

trousers. He carries two or three parcels in his hand._)

BROXOPP. Nancy!

NANCY (_jumping up_). Jim!

BROXOPP. My darling! Just wait a moment till I put down these

parcels.... Now then! (_He holds out his arms and she comes to him.

After he has kissed her, he says solemnly_) I’ve thanked Heaven every

day since we’ve been here that I can kiss you now without being

observed by butlers. Another one! (_He kisses her again, and then

holds her at arms’ length_) All right?

NANCY. Of course I am.

BROXOPP (_taking off his hat_). I met Sir Roger just outside.

NANCY. Did you speak to him?

BROXOPP. I said “Hallo!” and he said, “Ah, Chillingham, Chillingham!”

Has he been here?

NANCY. Just to ask after Iris and (_smiling_) to say how glad he was

that you were making your fortune again.

BROXOPP. Did you tell him that I was making my fortune again?

NANCY. He told himself. I didn’t say anything.

BROXOPP. Well, it’s true. I’m going to. And what have _you_ been

doing?

NANCY. Shopping. And—(_looking rather sadly at her drawing_)—and

Ajax. (_She sits down to it again._)

BROXOPP. Ajax?

NANCY. Ajax defying the lightning.

BROXOPP (_pleased_). Ah, that was a good idea, wasn’t it?

(_Declaiming_) “Ajax defied the lightning. Why? Because he knew that

he was insured against fire with the West End Insurance Company.”

(_Going over to her work_) Have you been doing that for me?

NANCY. Yes, darling, but I can’t get Ajax properly. He doesn’t look as

though he’s defying anything.

BROXOPP (_looking at Ajax_). No, he doesn’t, does he? Yet what a touch

you had with suspenders in the old days!

NANCY (_sadly_). I think suspenders must be easier than

Ajaxes—unless, perhaps, it’s because I’m getting old.

BROXOPP (_indignantly_). Old? You get younger every day.

NANCY. Of course, in a way it’s fun beginning all over again——

BROXOPP. Fun! It’s Life! Did you ever hear of a man called Stephenson?

He invented the first steam-engine. He said, “To travel hopefully is a

better thing than to arrive.” Just what I’ve always said myself. Going

there is better fun than getting there. We got there once, Nancy, and

now we are going there again.

NANCY. But we’re twenty-five years older.

BROXOPP. And twenty-five years wiser, and twenty-five years more in

love with each other.

NANCY. Yes, but what I’m rather afraid of is that we’ve had—well,

fifteen years of _spending_ money, and——

BROXOPP. You needn’t be afraid. We’re going to have money to spend

again. But we’ll have the fun of making it again first. (_With an

air_) Madam, you see before you The Great Chillingham!... (_A little

hurt_) You don’t say anything.

NANCY (_at her drawing again_). Darling! (_But how she would have

flown to him twenty-five years ago!_)

BROXOPP. Perhaps it is as well. The Great Chillingham is not yet

before you. I spoke too soon. (_He begins to undo the parcels._)

NANCY (_mechanically_). Yes, darling.

BROXOPP. Wait! (_He opens the parcels—a Chillingham grey hat and a

Chillingham pink tie are disclosed_) Permit me, madam, to introduce to

you the Chillingham hat and the Chillingham tie! (_He holds them up._)

NANCY (_wistfully_). There has never been more than one Broxopp baby!

BROXOPP. This is not babyness; it’s business. I called on the Aquavim

people to-day—the Brain Tonic for Tired Workers. I announced that I

was willing to undertake the entire management and reconstruction of

their business for them. They declined. I then said that temporarily,

and until greater opportunities offered, I might be induced to

advertise their poison for them. They replied that they no longer

wrote their own advertisements; they were written for them by eminent

authors, actors, painters, soldiers, and statesmen, in exchange for a

few bottles and the publicity which it brought them. I said modestly

that, if it came to that, I myself was at one time not unknown in the

world of commerce. The manager looked at my card again, and regretted

that he could not seem to recall the name of Chillingham. That opened

my eyes, Nancy, and I decided that all the world should know (_putting

on the bowler hat and striking an attitude_) The Great Chillingham!

But you’ll see it better directly, when I’ve got the tie on.

NANCY (_going to him_). Say you don’t regret Broxopp very much!

BROXOPP. Does an artist regret selling a picture after he has painted

it? I made the name of Broxopp, and when I had made it, I sold it. Now

I’m going to make the name of Chillingham. I can make any name—with

you helping me, Nancy.

NANCY (_hopefully_). Of course you can. (_Twenty-five years ago how

certain she would have been!_) Have you decided what we shall make the

name of Chillingham famous about?

BROXOPP (_offhand_). Well, well, there’s no hurry. I shall find

something. I shall think of something directly. Don’t let us be in a

hurry. (_Taking off his hat and regarding it_) I think the new hat is

striking—don’t you? But keep the old one, Nancy. When the story of my

life comes to be written, the author may wish to see it personally.

Well, I’ll go and put the tie on.... But I was forgetting. Who do you

think I saw to-day?

NANCY (_eagerly_). Not Jack?

BROXOPP. Jack.

NANCY. But why didn’t you tell me? How is he? How is he looking?

BROXOPP. You’ll see for yourself directly. He and Iris are coming

round this afternoon.

NANCY. How nice! Then I suppose his picture is finished. How is Iris?

BROXOPP. He didn’t tell me anything, except that

he was coming. We were both of us in a hurry. Well,

I’ll go and put on this tie. On this day The Great

Chillingham was born.

[_BROXOPP goes out._

(_NANCY returns to Ajax, but she has hardly begun to do anything

to it when there is a gentle tap at the door._)

NANCY. Come in!

IRIS (_her head round the door_). May I come in?

NANCY. Oh, Iris! And I’m not dressed or anything. (_She gets up._)

IRIS. Well, I’m not very grand myself. (_Kissing her_) You look as

young as ever, Nancy. Is Jack here?

NANCY. No. He’s coming, isn’t he?

IRIS. He was going to meet me here. (_Looking round the room she says

sadly_) Oh, Nancy!

NANCY. Why “Oh, Nancy!”?

IRIS. To see you in this room—after what you’re accustomed to.

NANCY (_smiling_). But I’m accustomed to this. This is where we lived

before Jack was born.

IRIS. I know. And now Jack and I have brought you back to it.... Do

you forgive me?

NANCY. I shan’t if you talk so foolishly.

IRIS. You’ll never forgive Father, of course. Neither shall I. I told

him so.

NANCY. Yes. I’m not sure that you ought to have.... You see, Jim

wasn’t happy at the Manor House. I thought at first that he might

manage to be, but he wasn’t. And now here we are, dear, and Jim is as

happy as can be.

IRIS. And is Nancy?

NANCY (_a little sadly_). Well, of course, I do love the country.

(_With a sudden smile_) But this is fun, you know. It’s like a second

honeymoon.

IRIS. Oh, Nancy!... And how is Daddy Broxopp getting on?

NANCY. Oh, we shall be all right. He’ll get hold of some idea soon.

Come and take off your hat. You mustn’t be a visitor. (_There is a

knock at the door_) There! That’s Jack!

_Enter JACK._

JACK (_announcing himself_). The Return of the Prodigal!

NANCY. Oh, Jack, how nice to see you again, dear!

JACK (_kissing her_). How _are_ you, darling? You look remarkably

blooming. (_Shaking hands with IRIS_) How do you do, madam?

IRIS. How do you do, sir?

NANCY. Iris is just coming into my room. We won’t be long.

JACK. Right. Where’s Dad?

NANCY. He’ll be here in a moment.

JACK. Good man. (_He opens the door for them. To IRIS_) You haven’t

broken the bad news yet?

IRIS. No.

NANCY. Jack! There’s nothing——?

IRIS (_smiling_). It’s all right, dear. It’s only a little discovery

we’ve made.

NANCY. There are plenty of discoveries to be made when you are poor.

[_NANCY and IRIS go out together._

(_JACK wanders round the room and comes to the unfinished Ajax on

the table._)

JACK (_catching sight of it_). Good heavens! who’s this? (_Looking at

it carefully_) It can’t be anybody at the Club.

(_Enter BROXOPP, in hat and tie, with a terrific air. The GREAT

CHILLINGHAM! He pulls up at seeing only JACK._)

BROXOPP. Hallo, boy. So you’ve come.

JACK. Hallo, Dad.

BROXOPP. Iris here?

JACK. Yes, she’s in with mother.

BROXOPP. How are you getting on? We haven’t seen much of you lately.

JACK. Well, we’ve all been working so hard. (_Going up to him_) You’re

looking extraordinarily bright, Dad. (_He puts an arm affectionately

round his father’s shoulder and fingers the Chillingham tie_) Who’s

your lady friend?

BROXOPP (_with dignity_). Have you never heard of the Chillingham tie,

boy?

JACK. Never. Is that it?

BROXOPP. It is. (_Simply_) It will be heard of one day.

JACK (_smiling_). I’m sure it will. I can almost hear it now.

(_Patting him affectionately_) Dear old Dad—I’ve been a rotten son to

you, haven’t I? (_He drops into a chair._)

BROXOPP (_considering it fairly_). No, I won’t say that, Jack. You

were a very good son to me when you were a baby. You did a lot for the

Broxopp business, and I used to like telling people in the City all

the funny little things you said. Besides, you made your mother very

happy. And then, when you were growing up, I used to enjoy talking

about my boy at Eton and my boy at Oxford. One way and another I’ve

got a good deal of happiness out of you.

JACK. And then, when I was grown up, you suddenly found that I was a

selfish beast.

BROXOPP. You can’t expect father and son to see things the same way.

One or the other has got to be selfish. It’s generally the father....

Well, and how’s the picture? Finished?

JACK. Wait till Iris comes in. We’ve decided to tell you our sad story

hand in hand. Besides, while we’ve got the chance, there’s something I

want you to tell _me_.

BROXOPP. Well, what is it?

JACK. Well, then—as man to man—how are you getting on?

BROXOPP. As man to man, Jack, I am really happy again.

JACK. Yes, I know, but I didn’t ask if you were happy. I asked you how

you were getting on.

BROXOPP (_refusing to be cornered_). This is the life I like, my boy.

It’s harder than it was when I first began, but I made good once, and

I can do it again. (_Thumping the table_) I like doing it.

JACK (_plaintively_). Yes, but you still haven’t told me how you are

getting on.

BROXOPP. Don’t you worry about _me_. I’ll make my fortune again long

before you make yours with painting.

JACK. Yes, you might well do that.... Look here, you gave me £500 a

year out of the wreck. Did you leave anything for yourself?

BROXOPP. Of course I did. Don’t you worry about me. The moment will

come and I shall seize it. Just at present I am looking round. Don’t

you worry about _me_.

JACK. Well, all I can say is you’re a sportsman, and good luck to you.

_NANCY and IRIS come in._

IRIS. Hallo, Daddy Broxopp.

BROXOPP (_kissing her_). Hallo, my girl. You haven’t called me that

for a long time.

IRIS. I know. Let’s try and forget that. Are you going to forgive me?

She has.

BROXOPP. Forgive you for what?

IRIS. Well, for not having been an orphan for one thing.

NANCY (_shaking her head at her with a smile_). Iris!

IRIS. And for putting a lot of nonsense into Jack’s head, and making

an utter mess of things.

JACK. My dear girl, any nonsense in my head came there of itself; it

wasn’t put in by you.

IRIS. Well, there it was, anyhow. The fact is, Daddy Broxopp, we’ve

made a discovery in the last few months.

BROXOPP. Hallo, what’s that?

IRIS. Well, it’s rather important. Are you ready, Jack? (_Taking

JACK’S hand_) We have discovered——

JACK. Once, finally and for all——

IRIS. That Jack Chillingham——

JACK. _Né_ Broxopp——

IRIS. Cannot paint.

JACK. He cannot paint.

JACK and IRIS (_together_). He cannot, cannot paint.

NANCY (_knowing what it feels like_). Oh, Jack, what a disappointment

for you!

BROXOPP. How did you discover it, boy?

JACK. By regarding my latest masterpiece in a dispassionate light. You

ought to have seen it, Dad. It was called “The First Meeting of

Henry V. with Katherine of France.”

IRIS. I sat for Katherine.

JACK. She also stood for Henry V. I wish you had seen her as Henry V.;

it would have been a surprise for you.

IRIS. I was jolly good.

JACK. It was going to be my Academy picture. That was why I chose

that subject. It was the dullest I could think of. Unfortunately, when

I had finished it, I regarded it in a dispassionate light,

and—(_frankly_) it was rotten.

IRIS. Very rotten.

JACK. Very, very rotten.

NANCY. Oh, poor Jack! I understand how you must have felt.

JACK. Well, then, we put our heads together.

IRIS (_leaning her head against his_). Like this.

JACK. And decided that we were taking your money under false

pretences.

IRIS. Because, you see, he cannot paint.

JACK. He cannot paint.

JACK and IRIS (_together_). He cannot, cannot paint.

BROXOPP. Well, what are you going to do, then?

IRIS (_surprised_). Give you back your money, of course.

BROXOPP. Don’t be silly. I didn’t mean that. What work are you going

to do?

JACK (_wandering round the room_). Well, that’s rather the question.

Iris thought—(_He stops suddenly at the sight of his mother’s

drawing_) Oh, Lord, here’s this again. What on earth——?

BROXOPP (_off-handedly_). Just a rough sketch for an advertisement—a

little idea of mine—Ajax defying the lightning—your mother was——

Well, then, Jack, you——

JACK (_looking up at his mother reproachfully_). Mother, darling!

NANCY. Oh, Jack, Ajaxes are so hard.

JACK (_sitting down and picking up the pencil_). Oh, but—Iris, you’ll

have to stand for Ajax. Imagine Dad’s the lightning and defy him like

the dickens. (_Beginning to draw_) Right foot out a bit more. Hands

behind the back, I think. Keep the head well up—as though you thought

nothing of him.

IRIS. Daddy Broxopp, I defy you. (_She gives a glance at JACK to make

sure he is not looking, blows a hasty kiss to BROXOPP, and hastily

resumes her defiant attitude._)

JACK (_drawing_). You’d find yourself much safer with a model, Mother,

even for a rough sketch. You get so much more life into it.

NANCY. Oh, Jack, I wish I could draw like that.

IRIS. He isn’t bad, is he?

JACK (_still at it_). Keep your head up.... I can’t draw—but when I

say I can’t draw, I don’t mean the same as when I say I can’t paint.

You see—Listen!

(_A loud knocking is heard at the outer door._)

IRIS (_nodding her head at BROXOPP_). That’s you, Daddy Broxopp. You

did the lightning so well that you’ve brought on the thunder.

NANCY. Oh, I’d better go. The maid’s out.

JACK (_getting up_). No, you don’t; I’ll go. It’s Dad’s lady

friend—I’ll bet you what you like—come to see his tie. Perhaps I can

buy her off on the mat.

[_He goes out._

IRIS (_relaxing_). Well, I suppose he won’t want Ajax any more. (_She

goes over to look at the sketch_) Doesn’t he draw nicely? (_To

BROXOPP_) That squiggly bit is you. (_Looking from one to the other_)

No, I shouldn’t recognise you.

BROXOPP (_picking up the sketch_). Yes, that’s the way to draw. (_To

NANCY_) All the same, darling, I shall never forget the way you drew

those suspenders in the old days. There was something about them——

_JACK and MISS JOHNS come in._

JACK (_protesting as he comes in_). Oh, but I assure you I remember

you perfectly. Mother, this is Miss Johns. You remember her, don’t

you? (_He doesn’t himself at all._) She was—er—in the old

days—don’t you remember——?

NANCY (_holding out her hand_). How do you do, Miss Johns? It’s very

nice of you to come and see us now. (_Hopefully to BROXOPP_) Jim, you

remember Miss Johns?

BROXOPP (_the only one who does, and he can’t place her for the

moment_). Delighted to see you again, Miss Johns. Of course, I

remember you perfectly. (_He looks at her with a puzzled expression._)

MISS JOHNS. It’s very good of you to remember me, Mr. Broxopp—I mean

Chillingham. I can hardly expect you to. I only just came because I’m

your neighbour, and—(_looking round her awkwardly_)—but perhaps

you’d rather I——

BROXOPP. Oh, not at all. You know Jack’s wife, don’t you? (_They bow

to each other._) Sit down and tell us what you have been doing lately.

(_She sits down. JACK wanders back to his sketch and IRIS goes

with him, looking over his shoulder as he touches it up._)

MISS JOHNS. You know, I don’t believe you do remember me,

Mr. Broxopp—I beg your pardon, I mean Mr. Chillingham.

BROXOPP (_grimly_). I don’t, but I’m going to. (_He looks at her with

a frown._)

NANCY (_kindly, as MISS JOHNS is obviously getting uncomfortable under

BROXOPP’S gaze_). Darling one——

BROXOPP. Wait! (_Thumping his hand with his fist_) I’ve got it!

(_Pointing to her_) You interviewed me on that day—of course, I

remember you now.

MISS JOHNS. Oh, Mr. Brox—Oh, how wonderful of you to remember when

you must have been interviewed so often.

BROXOPP. Yes, but you were the last person to interview The Great

Broxopp. You heard that I had changed my name?

MISS JOHNS. Oh, I was so sorry! I heard about it all, and how you——

BROXOPP. Oh, well, you mustn’t pity us too much. We’re quite happy

here, aren’t we, Nancy?

NANCY. This is where we began, you know, Miss Johns.

BROXOPP. Why, of course she knows. I remember your saying that you

lived on the floor below. And are you still on the same paper?

MISS JOHNS. Yes, but—er—— (_She is obviously uncomfortable._)

BROXOPP. But they don’t want an interview with The Great Chillingham?

(_With utter confidence_) They will, Miss Johns, they will.

MISS JOHNS (_enthusiastically_). Oh, I’m sure they will.

BROXOPP (_suddenly_). How’s your brother?

MISS JOHNS (_very much flattered_). Oh, do you remember him? How

wonderful you are!

BROXOPP (_struggling with his memories_). Yes—I remember. He had some

invention—what was it?—a Chicken Food, wasn’t it?

MISS JOHNS. Yes, that was it. Fancy you remembering!

BROXOPP. Oh, I have a wonderful memory. My wife would tell you.

(_Garrulously_) Yes, I remember your telling me about this food which

he had invented. You wanted me to take it up. I said—now, what was it

I said?—I said——

JACK (_looking up alertly_). What’s happened to that Chicken Food?

MISS JOHNS. Er—nothing. He hadn’t the money—he didn’t know how——

BROXOPP (_still talking_). “Yes,” I said, “if you had come to me

twenty years earlier——”

JACK (_sharply_). Where is your brother now? In the country?

MISS JOHNS (_frightened_). Yes!

JACK. Can you get him up to London?

MISS JOHNS. Y—yes. I think——

IRIS (_excitedly_). Jack!

BROXOPP. What is it, boy?

JACK. How far away is it? Can you get him up at once? This evening?

MISS JOHNS. I—I think—it’s in Surrey——

JACK. Send him a telegram now—don’t be afraid of a long one—I’m

paying for it. (_Taking out half-a-crown_) Here you are. (_Going with

her to the door_) That’s right, now, off you go. Remember, I’ve got to

see him to-night. Got that? Good!

[_She goes out, overwhelmed._

NANCY (_the hostess_). Jack, dear!

BROXOPP. What is it, boy?

JACK. You said the moment would come. It has come. (_In the BROXOPP

manner_) Chillingham’s Cheese for Chickens!

IRIS (_eagerly_). Yes, yes! What fun!

BROXOPP. Are you suggesting that I should take up this food—patent

it—put it on the market?

JACK. I—you—we—all of us. You’re in it, Iris?

IRIS. Rather!

BROXOPP. But—but——

JACK. Chillingham’s Cheese for Chickens. It’s the idea of a century.

NANCY. But do chickens like cheese?

IRIS (_firmly_). They’ve got to like this.

BROXOPP (_doubtfully_). Yes, yes, why cheese, boy?

JACK. Why not?

BROXOPP. Er—well——

JACK. We’ll have a hen sitting on an enormous egg—this is where _I_

come in, drawing the posters. Above, Chillingham’s Cheese for

Chickens. Underneath, Makes Hens Lay.

BROXOPP. Does it make them lay? I thought Chicken Food only made

chickens grow.

JACK (_grimly_). If we say that it makes them lay, it makes them lay.

IRIS. It’s a question of faith, Daddy Broxopp. If the hen knows you

have faith in her, she will respond. She’s jolly well got to.

JACK. That’s right. We’re not going to stand any nonsense from a Buff

Orpington.

BROXOPP. Jack, are you serious about this?

JACK (_surprised_). Serious? Good Lord, yes.

BROXOPP (_nervously_). It’s a risk. What do you say, Nancy?

NANCY. I’m used to risks, dear.

JACK (_excitedly_). Of course it’s a risk. That’s what makes it such

fun. By Jove, to be really doing something at last! Makes Hens Lay! A

Poultry Farm in every back-garden! Eggs on every breakfast-table.

Chillingham eggs!

IRIS. Chillingham and bacon for breakfast, Daddy Broxopp.

BROXOPP (_shaking his head_). It’s a risk. It will want a lot of

capital. What do you say, Nancy?

NANCY. We’ve got a little left.

IRIS. There’s what you gave Jack. We can do it on that, can’t we?

JACK. Of course we can.

BROXOPP (_unnerved_). I—I must think it over. One wants to think

things over. There’s no hurry, after all. One naturally wants to

look round a little before deciding. _If_ we decide on this, Iris,

then——

JACK. Who was that fellow you were so keen on—came over from the

office when you were ill—young chap—wrote your letters for you—what

was his name?

BROXOPP. Driver?

JACK. Driver. That’s the chap. How can I get hold of him? Is he still

at the office?

BROXOPP. They’d know his address, anyhow.

JACK. He’s good, isn’t he?

BROXOPP. Excellent. You remember, Nancy, my telling you that I was

going to promote him as soon as——

IRIS. What do you want him for?

JACK. Business manager. Terribly keen. We must have somebody like

that.... What about offices?

BROXOPP (_vaguely_). Offices?

NANCY. We went to Pritchard the agents. In Victoria Street

somewhere——

JACK (_getting into his hat and coat_). That’s _your_ job, Iris. Get

orders for half-a-dozen—three to four rooms, I should think. Central.

We’d better make the stuff down at this chap’s place to start

with—enlarge whatever plant he’s got. I’ll go after Driver, while

you’re Pritcharding.

IRIS (_getting her things together_). Right. Pritchard, Victoria

Street. What number?

JACK. Telephone book at the chemist’s round the corner.

IRIS. Righto. (_To NANCY_) Good-bye, dear.

JACK (_to NANCY_). We shall have supper with you, dear, so see that

there’s some food. So will Miss Johns and her brother, probably. Food

for six at eight, say. But we’ll be back before that, I expect. So

long. (_He goes to the door._)

IRIS. Good-bye, Daddy Broxopp. We’re making our fortune again.

BROXOPP (_still bewildered_). Yes, but, Jack—Jack, you mustn’t——

JACK (_a last shout from the passage_). That’s all right, Dad, leave

it to me!

(_The door slams. They are gone. BROXOPP and NANCY are alone

together. He is unhappy; she feels that he is unhappy. They sit

there, saying nothing...._)

BROXOPP (_almost to himself_). What did I call myself? The Great

Chillingham. (_With a sad, disillusioned little laugh_) The Great

Chillingham!

NANCY (_comforting him_). Darling!

BROXOPP. I said that the moment would come. It came. I said that I

would seize it. (_He shrugs his shoulders._)

NANCY. You were going to. Jack was too quick for you.

BROXOPP. No. I was afraid.... I’m getting old.... I talk and I talk,

and then when the moment comes—(_Sadly_) The Great Chillingham!

NANCY. You wanted to think it over—of course you did.

BROXOPP. Was there ever a Great Broxopp? Or was it just a fluke,

Nancy, twenty-five years ago?

NANCY. No, no!

BROXOPP. Then why——?

NANCY (_with a sigh_). It was twenty-five years ago.

BROXOPP. Yes. Never again. On this day The Great Chillingham died.

(_He drops his head into his hands._)

NANCY. But something else was born. (_He shakes his head._) (_She says

quietly_) Yes, Chillingham—and Son.

(_Slowly he raises his head and looks at her. His eyes begin to

light up. He rises, slowly. There is a smile about his mouth now.

He is seeing himself as the Head of CHILLINGHAM AND SON. Look—he

is striking an attitude! All is saved. NANCY regards him fondly.

CHILLINGHAM AND SON._)

THE DOVER ROAD

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

PEOPLE IN THE PLAY

THE HOUSE

Dominic.

The Staff.

Mr. Latimer.

THE GUESTS

Leonard.

Anne.

Eustasia.

Nicholas.

* * * * *

_The Scene is the reception-room of MR. LATIMER’S house, a little way

off the Dover Road._

* * * * *

The first performance of this play in London took place at the Theatre

Royal, Haymarket, on June 7, 1922, with the following cast:

_Dominic_ Allan Aynesworth.

_Mr. Latimer_ Henry Ainley.

_Leonard_ Nicholas Hannen.

_Anne_ Nancy Atkin.

_Eustasia_ Athene Seyler.

_Nicholas_ John Deverell.

THE DOVER ROAD

ACT I

_What MR. LATIMER prefers to call the reception-room of his house is

really the hall. You come straight into it through the heavy oak front

door. But this door is so well built, so well protected by a thick

purple curtain, and the room so well warmed by central heating, that

none of the usual disadvantages of a hall on a November night attaches

to it. Just now, of course, all the curtains are drawn, so that the

whole of this side of the hall is purple-hung. In the middle of the

room, a little to the right, is a mahogany table, clothless, laid for

three. A beautiful blue bowl, filled with purple anemones, helps, with

the silver and the old cut glass, to decorate it. Over the whole room

there is something of an Arabian-night-adventure air. In the daytime,

perhaps, it is an ordinary hall, furnished a trifle freakishly, but in

the night time one wonders what is going to happen next._

_DOMINIC, tall, stout, and grave, the major-domo of the house, in a

butler’s old-fashioned evening-dress, comes in. He stands looking at

the room to see that all is as it should be, then walks to the table

and gives a little touch to it here and there. He turns round and

waits a moment. The Staff materialises suddenly—two footmen and two

chambermaids. The men come from the left, the women from the right;

over their clothes, too, MR. LATIMER has been a little freakish. They

stand in a line._

* * * * *

DOMINIC. The blue room in the east wing is ready?

THE MEN. Yes, Mr. Dominic.

DOMINIC. The white room in the west wing is ready?

THE WOMEN. Yes, Mr. Dominic.

DOMINIC. The procedure will be as before.

THE FOUR. Yes, Mr. Dominic.

DOMINIC. See to it that I have no fault to find. That will do.

(_They go out. He looks at his watch and then follows the men. He

is hardly out of the room when a bell rings. He returns slowly,

draws the curtain from the front door, and opens it. LEONARD, in

fur-coat and cap, is seen standing outside. He is a big, well-made

man of about thirty-five—dark, with a little black tooth-brush

moustache. When the door opens he gets his first sight of the

interior of the room, and is evidently taken by surprise._)

LEONARD. Oh—er—is this—er—an hotel? My chauffeur said—we’ve had

an accident, been delayed on the way—he said that we could put up

here. (_He turns round and calls_) Here, Saunders! This can’t be the

place. (_To DOMINIC_) Perhaps you could tell me——

ANNE (_from outside, invisible_). Saunders has gone, Leonard.

LEONARD (_turning round_). Gone! What the devil——(_He plunges into

the darkness._)

DOMINIC. Saunders was perfectly correct, my lord. This _is_ a sort of

hotel.

ANNE (_getting out of the car, but still invisible_). He went off as

soon as you got out of the car. Leonard, are you sure——?

(_She comes into the light; he is holding her arm. Pretty she is,

to the first sight; but what holds you is the mystery of her

youthfulness; her aloof, untouched innocence; her grave coolness;

her—well, we shall let her speak for herself. Just at present she

is a little upset by the happenings of the night._)

DOMINIC. Saunders was perfectly correct, my lord. This _is_ a sort of

hotel.

LEONARD (_puzzled_). What the devil’s happened to him? (_He looks out

into the darkness._)

DOMINIC. Doubtless he has gone round to the garage to get the doors

open. Won’t your lordship——

LEONARD. You can put us up? Just for to-night. My—er—wife and

myself——

DOMINIC. If your lordship and her ladyship will come in—— (_He waits

for them._)

LEONARD (_to ANNE_). It’s the best we can do, dear. I’m frightfully

sorry about it, but, after all, what difference——

ANNE (_giving him a look which means “Don’t talk like this in front of

hotel servants”_). I daresay it will be quite comfortable. It’s only

for one night. (_She comes in, followed by LEONARD._)

DOMINIC. Thank you, my lady.

(_He shuts and bolts the doors, then draws the curtains. There is

an air of finality about it. ANNE looks back at the noise of the

bolts going home with something of a start. They are locked in now

for good. LEONARD, his eye on the supper-table, is saying to

himself, “Dashed rummy sort of hotel.”_)

DOMINIC. Allow me, my lady. (_He helps them off with their coats._)

LEONARD. You can give us something to eat?

ANNE. I don’t want anything, Leonard.

LEONARD. Nonsense, dear.

DOMINIC. Supper will be served in five minutes, my lord.

ANNE (_suddenly_). Do you know who we are?

DOMINIC. I have not that pleasure, my lady.

ANNE. Then why do you call me “my lady”?

LEONARD (_disliking a scene_). My dear!

ANNE (_waving back LEONARD’S protesting arm_). No, Leonard. (_To

DOMINIC_) Well?

DOMINIC. His lordship mentioned that your ladyship was his wife.

ANNE. Y—yes.... Then you know _him_ by sight?

LEONARD (_complacently_). Well, my dear, that need not surprise you.

DOMINIC. I know his lordship’s rank, my lady. Not his lordship’s name.

LEONARD (_surprised_). My rank? How the devil——

DOMINIC. Supper will be served in five minutes, my lady. (_He bows and

goes out._)

(_There is silence for a little. They look at the table, at the

room, at each other. Then LEONARD says it aloud._)

LEONARD. Dashed rummy sort of hotel!

ANNE (_coming closer and holding his arm_). Leonard, I don’t like it.

LEONARD. Pooh! Nonsense, dear.

ANNE. It almost seems as though they had expected us.

LEONARD (_laughing_). My dear child, how could they? In the ordinary

way we should have been at Dover—why, almost at Calais by this time.

ANNE. I know. (_In distress_) Why aren’t we?

LEONARD. The car—Saunders, a fool of a chauffeur—a series of

unfortunate accidents——

ANNE. Do you often have these unfortunate accidents, Leonard?

LEONARD. My dear Anne, you aren’t suggesting that I’ve done this on

purpose!

ANNE. No, no. (_She leaves him, and goes and sits down._) But why

to-night of all nights?

LEONARD. Of course, it’s damned annoying missing the boat, but we can

get it to-morrow morning. We shall be in Paris to-morrow night.

ANNE. To-morrow night—but that makes such a difference. I hate every

hour we spend together like this in England.

LEONARD. Well, really, I don’t see why——

ANNE. You must take it that I do, Leonard. I told you from the first

that it was run-away or nothing with me; there was going to be no

intrigue, no lies and pretences and evasions. And somehow it seems

less—less sordid, if we begin our new life together in a new country.

(_With a little smile_) Perhaps the French for what we are doing is

not quite so crude as the English.... Yes, I know it’s absurd of me,

but there it is.

LEONARD (_with a shrug_). Oh, well! (_Taking out his case_) Do you

mind a cigarette?

ANNE (_violently_). Oh, why do men _always_ want to smoke, even up to

the moment when they’re going to eat? Can’t you breathe naturally for

five minutes?

LEONARD (_sulkily, putting his case back_). I beg your pardon.

ANNE. No, I beg yours.

LEONARD. You’re all to bits.

ANNE. Nerves, I suppose.

LEONARD. Nonsense! My Anne with nerves? (_Bitterly_) Now if it had

been Eustasia——

ANNE (_coldly_). Really, Leonard, I think we had better leave your

wife out of the conversation.

LEONARD. I beg your pardon.

ANNE (_to herself_). Perhaps you’re right. In a crisis we are all

alike, we women.

LEONARD (_going over to her_). No, damn it, I won’t have that.

It’s—it’s blasphemy. Anne, my darling——(_She stands up and he takes

her hands._)

ANNE. Oh!... I _am_ different, aren’t I?

LEONARD. Darling!

ANNE. I’m not a bit like—like anybody else, am I, not even when I’m

cross?

LEONARD. Darling!

ANNE. And you do love me?

LEONARD. Darling! (_He wants to kiss her, but she stops him._)

ANNE. No. Now you’re going to smoke. (_She settles him in his chair,

takes a cigarette from his case, and puts it in his mouth_) I’ll light

it for you. Matches? (_She holds out her hand for them._)

DOMINIC (_who has a way of being there when wanted_). Matches, my

lady. (_He hands them to her. They are both rather confused._)

ANNE. Thank you.

LEONARD (_annoyed_). Thanks. (_He gets up, takes the matches from

ANNE, and lights his cigarette. DOMINIC gives a professional touch to

the table and goes out._) Damn that fellow!

ANNE (_smiling_). After all, darling, he thinks I’m your wife.... Or

don’t wives light their husband’s cigarettes?

LEONARD. I believe you’re right, Anne. There’s something odd about

this place.

ANNE. So _you_ feel it now?

LEONARD. What did he mean by saying he knew my rank, but not my name?

ANNE (_lightly_). Perhaps he looked inside your cap—like Sherlock

Holmes—and saw the embroidered coronet.

LEONARD. How do you mean? There’s nothing inside my cap.

ANNE. No, darling. That was a joke. (_He nods tolerantly._)

LEONARD. And the table laid. Only one table.

ANNE. Yes, but it’s for three. They didn’t expect _us_.

LEONARD (_relieved_). So it is.... It’s probably a new idea in

hotels—some new stunt of Harrods—or what’s the fellow’s

name?—Lyons. A country-house hotel. By the way, what will you drink?

DOMINIC (_there as usual_). Bollinger 1906, my lord. (_He has startled

them again._) Mr. Latimer will be down in two minutes, my lady. He

asks you to forgive him for not being here to receive you.

LEONARD. Mr. Latimer? Who on earth’s Mr. Latimer?

DOMINIC. If you would wish to be shown your room, my lady——

ANNE (_who has not taken her eyes off him_). No, thank you.

LEONARD (_stepping forward_). Look here, my man, is this an hotel or

have we come to a private house by mistake?

DOMINIC. A sort of hotel, my lord. I assure your lordship there is no

mistake. Thank you, my lady.

[_He goes out._

ANNE (_laughing half-hysterically as she sits down_). Very original

man, Harrod. Or is it Lyons?

LEONARD. Look here, I’m going to get to the bottom of this. (_He

starts after DOMINIC._)

ANNE. Why bother? Mr. Latimer will be here in two minutes.

LEONARD (_turning back_). Yes, but who the devil’s Mr. Latimer?

ANNE (_with interest_). Leonard, do you always arrange something

fascinating like this when you elope? I think it’s so romantic of you.

But don’t you think that the mere running away is enough just at

first? Leaving the fogs and the frets of England, the weariness and

the coldness of it, and escaping together to the warm, blue,

sun-filled South—isn’t that romantic enough? Why drag in a mysterious

and impossible inn, a mysterious and impossible Mr. Latimer? You

should have kept them for afterwards; for the time when the poetry was

wearing out, and we were beginning to get used to each other.

LEONARD. My dear girl, what _are_ you driving at? I say again—do you

really think that I _arranged_ all this?

ANNE. Well, somebody did.

(_The two Footmen and the two Chambermaids come in and take up

positions on each side of the table. They are followed by

DOMINIC._)

DOMINIC. Mr. Latimer!

(_MR. LATIMER comes in, looks at the visitors, goes off

absent-mindedly with DOMINIC and his Staff, and then comes

apologetically back again._)

LATIMER. Good evening!

(_He bows with an air; an airy gentleman, neither young nor old,

dressed rather fantastically as regards his tie and his

dinner-jacket and the flower in his button-hole, and enjoying

impishly every word of it._)

LEONARD. Good evening. Er——

LATIMER (_confidentially_). You will forgive me for being announced in

my own house, but I find that it saves so much trouble. If I had just

come in and said, “I am Mr. Latimer,” then _you_ would have had to

say, “And I am—er—So-and-so, and this is—er——” Exactly. I mean we

can get on so much better without names. But of course——

LEONARD. You will excuse me, sir, but——

LATIMER (_going happily on_). But of course, as you were just going to

say, we must call each other _something_. (_Thoughtfully_) I think I

shall call you Leonard. There is something about you—forgive the

liberty—something Leonardish. (_With a very sweet smile to ANNE_) I

am sure you agree with me.

ANNE. I am wondering whether this is really happening, or whether I am

dreaming it.

LATIMER (_his back to LEONARD_). And Leonard isn’t wondering at all;

he is just tapping his forehead with a great deal of expression.

(_LEONARD, who was doing this, stops in some confusion._)

LEONARD (_coldly_). I think we have had enough of this, Mr. Latimer. I

was giving you the benefit of the doubt. If you are not mad, then I

will ask you for some other explanation of all this nonsense.

LATIMER (_sniffing at the flower in his button-hole_). An impetuous

character, Leonard. It must be so obvious to everybody else in the

room that an explanation will be forthcoming. But why not a friendly

explanation following a friendly supper?

ANNE. Are we your guests?

LATIMER. Please.

ANNE. Thank you.

LATIMER. But there is still this question of names. Now we agreed

about Leonard——

ANNE (_looking at him fearlessly_). My name is Anne.

LATIMER. Thank you, Miss Anne.

LEONARD (_awkwardly_). Er—my wife.

LATIMER. Then I am tempted to leave out the “Miss.”

LEONARD (_annoyed again_). Look here——

LATIMER (_turning to him_). But there is nothing to look at if I do,

Leonard. (_The Staff comes in._) Ah, supper! Will you sit here, Anne?

(_He goes to the head of the table, and indicates the chair on the

right of him._) And you here, Leonard? (_The chair on the left._)

That’s right. (_They all sit down._)

(_DOMINIC and the Staff serve the supper. Five of them, so things

go quickly._)

LATIMER. “A little fish, a bird, a little sweet. Enough to drink, but

not too much to eat.” I composed that in my bath this morning. The

wine has been waiting for you since 1906. How different from the

turbot! ’Twas but yesterday it scarce had heard the name of Le-o-nard.

(_They are all served with fish, and the wine has been poured out._)

Dominic, dismiss the Staff. We would be alone. (_They are alone. He

rises, glass in hand_) My friends, I will give you a toast. (_He

raises his glass_) A Happy Ending!

ANNE (_lifting her glass_). A Happy Ending!

LATIMER. You don’t drink, Leonard. You would have the adventure end

unhappily, as is the way of the modern novel?

LEONARD. I don’t understand the beginning of it, Mr. Latimer. I

don’t—you will forgive me for saying so—I don’t see how _you_ came

into it. Who _are_ you?

ANNE. Our host, Leonard.

LEONARD. So it seems, my dear. But in that case, how did we come here?

My chauffeur told us that this was an hotel—your man assured me, when

I asked, that it was an hotel, a sort of hotel. And now it seems that

we are in a private house. Moreover, we seem to have been expected.

And then again—if you will forgive me—it appears to be an unusual

kind of house. I tell you frankly that I don’t understand it.

LATIMER. I see your difficulty, Leonard.

LEONARD (_stiffly_). Nor am I accustomed to being called Leonard by a

perfect stranger.

LATIMER. What you are saying for yourself is, “Who is this man

Latimer? Is he _known_? Is he in the Stud Book?—I mean Debrett. Is he

perhaps one of the Hammersmith Latimers, or does he belong to the

Ealing Branch?”

ANNE (_calmly eating_). What does it matter?

LATIMER. Yes, but then _you_ like the fish. Leonard doesn’t.

LEONARD. I have no fault to find with the fish. You have an excellent

cook.

LATIMER (_gravely bowing_). I beg your pardon, I thank you. (_DOMINIC

comes in._) His lordship likes the fish.

DOMINIC. Thank you, sir. I will inform the cook.

[_He goes out._

ANNE. When you are giving us your tiresome explanations after supper,

Mr. Latimer, I wish you would just add one more to them.

LATIMER. But of course!

ANNE. Your Mr. Dominic’s appearances are so apt. How is it done?

LATIMER (_pulling down his cuff_). Yes, I’ll make a note of that. (_He

writes on it_) Dominic—Apt appearance of.

_DOMINIC reappears._

LATIMER. Admit the bird, Dominic.

[_DOMINIC goes out._

LEONARD (_rising stiffly_). I’m afraid we shall have to be getting on

now, Mr. Latimer.... Anne, dear.... We are much obliged for your

hospitality, but—er—I imagine we are not far from Dover——

LATIMER. On the Dover Road, certainly.

LEONARD. Exactly. So if you would—er—have instructions given to my

chauffeur—er—— (_He hesitates as the Staff comes in._)

LATIMER. Dominic, his lordship’s glass is empty. He wishes to drink my

health.

DOMINIC. I beg your pardon, my lord. (_The glass is filled._)

LATIMER. And while he is up, just find his lordship a more comfortable

chair. He has been a little uneasy on that one all through the fish.

DOMINIC. I beg your pardon, my lord. (_The chair is changed._)

LATIMER (_rising with his glass and drinking to LEONARD_). Your

happiness! (_He sits down, and LEONARD mechanically sits down too._)

Now for the bird. (_To ANNE_) I like these little ceremonies in

between the courses. Don’t you?

ANNE. I’m liking my supper.

LATIMER. I am so glad. (_As ANNE is helped_) I shot this bird myself.

(_He looks at it through his glass_) What is it, Dominic?

DOMINIC. _Poulet en casserole_ with mushrooms, sir.

LATIMER. _Poulet en casserole_ with mushrooms. I shot the

mushrooms.... A large help for his lordship, Dominic. (_To LEONARD_)

Let me introduce your chicken to you, Leonard. One of the

Buff-Orpingtons. I daresay you know the family. His mother was a

Wyandotte. He was just about to contract an alliance with one of the

Rock girls, the Plymouth Rocks, when the accident happened.

(_They are alone again now, plates and glasses well filled.

LEONARD, who has been waiting impatiently for the Staff to go,

pushes back his chair and gets up._)

LATIMER. Dear me! Not a third chair, surely?

LEONARD. Now look here, Mr. Latimer, this farce has gone on long

enough. I do not propose to sit through a whole meal without some

further explanation. Either we have that explanation now, or

else—Anne, dear—or else we’ll be getting on our way.

LATIMER (_thoughtfully_). Ah, but which is your way?

LEONARD. Dover. My chauffeur seems to have got off the track a little,

but if you can put us on to the Dover Road——

LATIMER (_to himself_). The Dover Road! The Dover Road! A dangerous

road, my friends. And you’re travelling in the dark.

LEONARD. Really, Mr. Latimer, that needn’t frighten us.

ANNE (_putting her hand on his arm_). What do you mean?

LATIMER. A strange road, Anne, for _you_. A new, untravelled road.

LEONARD. Nonsense. She’s often been this way before. Haven’t you,

dear?

ANNE (_shaking her head_). No.... But I’m not frightened, Mr. Latimer.

(_There is silence for a little. Then DOMINIC appears noiselessly._)

LATIMER. Dominic, supper is over. His lordship loved the chicken—too

well to eat it. He adored the mushrooms—in silence. Inform the cook.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir.

LATIMER (_offering his case to ANNE_). A cigarette?

ANNE. No, thank you.

LATIMER. You permit it?

ANNE. Of course.

LATIMER. Thank you.

DOMINIC (_to LEONARD_). Cigar, my lord?

LEONARD. Er—er—(_but they are good ones_)—thanks.

LATIMER. Well, shall we——?

(_They get up, and move into more comfortable chairs, LATIMER

talking._)

LATIMER. Which chair would you like, Anne? There? (_She sits down._)

That’s right. Now then, Leonard, we want something especially

comfortable for you. You are a little finicky about chairs, if you

don’t mind my saying so.... What about _that_ one? Just try it and see

how you like it. (_LEONARD tries it, and sinks into it up to the

neck._) Yes, I think you will be happy there. And I shall sit here.

Now everything is ready. (_They are alone again._)

LEONARD (_with as much dignity as is possible from that sort of

chair_). I am waiting, Mr. Latimer.

LATIMER. I am waiting, Leonard, for your questions.

ANNE. Let me begin with one. (_He turns to her._) Your table was laid

for three. For whom were the other two places intended?

LATIMER. For yourself and Leonard.

ANNE. You expected us?

LATIMER. Yes.

ANNE. How did you know we were coming?

LATIMER. Saunders had his instructions to bring you.

LEONARD (_starting up from his chair—or trying to_). Saunders! My

chauffeur! Do you mean to say——

LATIMER. Let me help you up, Leonard. You have the wrong chair again.

It is difficult to be properly indignant in that one. (_He helps him

into a sitting position_) That’s better. You were saying——

LEONARD. You mean to tell me that you had the audacity to bribe my

chauffeur?

LATIMER. No, no, Leonard. What I mean is that _you_ had the

foolhardiness to bribe my friend Saunders to be your chauffeur.

LEONARD. Upon my word——

ANNE. Who is Saunders?

LATIMER. Saunders? He’s Joseph’s brother. Joseph was the gentleman in

orange. He helped you to fish.

LEONARD (_out of the chair at last_). How dare you interfere in my

concerns in this way, sir!

ANNE. Before you explain how you dare, Mr. Latimer, I should like to

know _why_ you are so interested in us. Who are you?

LATIMER. No more than Mr. Latimer. It is a purely impersonal interest

which I take—and I take it just because you are going the Dover Road,

my dear, and it is a dangerous road for a young girl to travel.

ANNE (_very cool, very proud_). I don’t think I asked you to be

interested in me.

LATIMER. Nobody does, my dear. But I am. Very interested. In all my

fellow-travellers. It is my hobby.

LEONARD. Anne! (_He means, “Let’s get out of this.” He makes a

movement to the front door._)

LATIMER. The door is locked, Leonard.

LEONARD (_bending over him and putting his face very close to

LATIMER’S_). Ah! Then I will give you one minute in which to open it.

_DOMINIC has come in._

LATIMER. Dominic, his lordship’s face is just a little too close to

mine. Could you—thank you! (_LEONARD has started back on noticing

DOMINIC._) Coffee? Excellent. (_The Footmen are there with coffee._)

ANNE. No, thank you.

LEONARD. No, thanks. (_He sits on another chair._)

LATIMER. No, thank you. By the way, Dominic, did you go round to the

Hospital this afternoon?

DOMINIC. Yes, sir. The young gentleman is getting on nicely. He was

able to take a little bread-and-milk this morning.

LATIMER. Ah, I’m glad. Nothing solid yet?

DOMINIC. No, sir. The jaw is still very tender.

[_He goes out._

LATIMER (_to LEONARD_). He bumped it against my knuckles last week. An

impetuous young fellow. He was running away with—dear me, I forget

her name—I always forget names. I think he called her Pussy. She had

several children. (_Unconsciously he has shot his cuff, and sees

suddenly the note he has made_) What’s this? “Dominic—Apt appearance

of.” Ah, yes. (_He turns to ANNE_) It’s very simple. A little fad of

mine. There are bells everywhere in this room—in every chair, on the

table, in the floor; wherever I am, I can press a bell for Dominic. He

is always close at hand on reception-evenings. Yes.

ANNE. That was a little warning which you were giving us just now?

LATIMER (_apologetically_). Yes. I thought it better. Leonard is so

impetuous. Joseph and Jacob were both amateur champions in their day.

Dominic is a very heavy fall-er. He never has to fall on a man twice.

If all this is quite understood at the beginning, it makes it so much

easier.

ANNE (_getting up_). Mr. Latimer, I assure you that this is not a

sudden freak of fancy, and that I know my own mind. I ask you, as a

gentleman, to open the door.

LATIMER (_shaking his head_). I am afraid it is impossible, Anne.

(_She shrugs her shoulders and sits down._)

LEONARD (_calm for the moment_). So we are kept here by force?

LATIMER. Need we insist upon it? Let us rather say that you have

postponed your visit to France in order to spend a few days with a

friend.

LEONARD. I prefer to say force.

LATIMER (_with a bow_). I do not dictate your words to you. Your

movements for the moment, yes. So let us say “force.”

LEONARD. We are prisoners, in fact?

LATIMER. Within the limits of my house.

LEONARD. And if my—my wife chooses to walk out of your front door

to-morrow morning, your—your fellow-conspirators would lay hands on

her and stop her?

LATIMER. My dear Leonard, why should your—your wife want to walk out

of the front door to-morrow? What would she want to do in the garden

in November? Do be reasonable.

LEONARD. Suppose she wished to walk to the nearest police-station?

LATIMER (_to ANNE_). Do you?

ANNE (_with a smile_). Could I?

LATIMER. If you stood on Leonard’s shoulders you might just reach the

top of the wall.... Dominic tells me that they have lost the key of

the gates. Very careless of them.

LEONARD. Well, I’m—— It’s monstrous!

ANNE. Yes, but we can’t keep on saying that. Here we are apparently,

and here we have to stay. But I still want to know very much _why_

Mr. Latimer has this great desire for our company.

LEONARD. You have the advantage of me now, sir, but you will not

always have it. The time will come when I shall demand satisfaction

for this insult.

LATIMER (_with an air—rising and bowing_). My lord! Letters addressed

to me at the Charing Cross Post Office will always be forwarded!

LEONARD (_slightly upset_). This gross insult to myself and—er—my

wife.

LATIMER. No, no, not your wife.

LEONARD. How dare you!

LATIMER (_in alarm_). Surely I haven’t made a mistake. (_To ANNE_) You

and he are running away together, aren’t you?

LEONARD (_a step nearer_). Look here, sir——

ANNE. Oh, Leonard, what’s the good? We aren’t ashamed of it, are we?

Yes, Mr. Latimer, we are running away together.

LATIMER. Of course! Why not? Leonard, _you_ aren’t ashamed of it, are

you?

LEONARD. I object to this interference in my private affairs by a——

LATIMER. Yes, yes, but you’ve said all that. It’s interfering of me,

damnably interfering. But I am doing it because I want you both to be

happy.

LEONARD. I can look after my own happiness.

LATIMER. _And_ this lady’s?

LEONARD. She is good enough to believe it.

ANNE. I am not a child. Do you think I haven’t thought? The scandal,

the good name I am going to lose, the position of that other woman, I

have thought of all these things.

LATIMER. There is one thing of which you haven’t thought, Anne.

ANNE (_how young she is_). I am afraid you are old-fashioned. You are

going to talk to me of morality.

LATIMER (_smiling_). Oh no, I wasn’t.

ANNE (_not heeding him_). Living alone here, a bachelor, within these

high walls which keep the world out, you believe what the fairy-books

tell us, that once two people are married they live happy ever after.

LATIMER. Oh, no, I don’t.

ANNE. I am the wicked woman, coming between the happy husband and

wife, breaking up the happy home. Is that it, Mr. Latimer?

LEONARD. Rubbish! The happy home! Why, this is my first real chance of

happiness.

LATIMER. His first real chance of happiness! As he said when he

proposed to Eustasia.

LEONARD (_upset_). What’s that?

LATIMER (_to ANNE_). May I ask _you_ some questions now?

ANNE. Yes?

LATIMER. Eustasia will divorce him?

LEONARD. We shall not defend the suit.

LATIMER. And then you will marry Anne?

LEONARD. Another insult. I shall not forget it.

LATIMER. I beg your pardon. I simply wanted an answer.

ANNE. He will marry me.

LATIMER. I see. And then, as the fairy-books tell us, you will live

happy ever after? (_ANNE is silent._)

LEONARD. I need hardly say that I shall do my best to——

LATIMER (_to ANNE_). And then, as the fairy-books tell us, you will

live happy ever after? (_ANNE is silent._) I live within my high walls

which keep the world out; I am old-fashioned, Anne. You are modern,

you know the world. You don’t believe the fairy-books, and yet—you

are going to live happy ever after?

LEONARD. I don’t see what you’re driving at.

LATIMER. Anne does.

ANNE (_raising her eyes to his_). I take the risk, Mr. Latimer.

LATIMER. But a big risk.... Oh, believe me, I am not so much out of

the world as you think. Should I have known all about you, should I

have brought you here, if I were? I know the world; I know the risks

of marriage. Marriage is an art—well, it’s a profession in itself.

(_Sharply_) And what are you doing? Marrying a man whose only

qualification for the profession is that he has tried it once, and

made a damned hash of it.

LEONARD. Well, really, sir!

LATIMER. Isn’t it true?

LEONARD. Well—er—I admit my marriage has not been a happy one, but I

venture to say—well, I don’t wish to say anything against

Eustasia——

LATIMER. Go on. Life is too short for us to be gentlemen all the time.

LEONARD (_explosively_). Well, then, I say that not even St. Michael

and all his angels could have made a success of it. I mean, not even

St. Michael.

LATIMER. Yet you chose her.

LEONARD. Er—well—— (_But he has nothing to say._)

LATIMER (_after a pause_). Miss Anne, I am not being moral. You see, I

am a very rich man, and we know on good authority that it is difficult

for a very rich man to be a very good man. But being a very rich man I

try to spend my money so that it makes somebody else happy besides

myself. It’s the only happy way of spending money, isn’t it? And it’s

my hobby to prevent people—to try if I can prevent people—making

unhappy marriages.... It’s wonderful what power money gives you.

Nobody realises it, because nobody ever spends it save in the obvious

ways.... You may say that I should have prevented Leonard from

marrying Eustasia in the first place. I have done that sometimes. I

have asked two young people here—oh, properly chaperoned—and

guests, not prisoners as you are—two young people who thought that

they were in love, and I have tried to show each to the other in the

most unromantic light.... Sometimes the engagement has been broken

off. Sometimes they have married and—lived happy ever after.... But

mostly it is my hobby to concentrate on those second marriages into

which people plunge—with no parents now to restrain them—so much

more hastily even than they plunge into their first adventure. Yet how

much more carefully they should be considered, seeing that one at

least of the parties has already proved his utter ignorance of the art

of marriage.... And so, my dear friends, when I hear—and a rich man

has many means of hearing—when I hear that two people are taking the

Dover Road, as you were taking it to-night, I venture to stop them,

and say, in the words of the fairy-book, “Are you _sure_ you are going

to live happy ever after?”

LEONARD. Your intentions may be good, but I can only repeat that your

interference is utterly unwarranted, and you are entirely mistaken as

to the power and authority which your money gives you.

LATIMER. Authority, none. But power? (_He laughs_) Why, my dear

Leonard, if I offered you a hundred thousand pounds to go back to your

wife to-night, this lady would never see you again.

LEONARD. Well, of all the damnable things to say——

LATIMER. How damnable the truth is! Think it over to-night, Leonard.

You are a poor man for your position—think of all the things you

could do with a hundred thousand pounds. Turn it over in your

mind—and then over and over again. A hundred thousand pounds.

(_For a moment it seems as if LEONARD is beginning to turn it, but

ANNE interrupts._)

ANNE (_scornfully_). Is this part of the treatment? Am I being shown

my lover when he is mercenary?

LATIMER (_with a laugh_). Oh no! If that were part of my treatment,

there would be no marriages at all. Oh no, it isn’t a genuine offer.

(_To LEONARD_) It’s off, Leonard. You needn’t think it out any more.

(_LEONARD wakes up suddenly, a poor man._) Besides, you misunderstand

me. I don’t want to separate you by force—I have no right to.

ANNE. But how modest suddenly!

LATIMER (_with a bow and a smile_). Madam, I admire your spirit.

ANNE. Leonard, I am receiving the attentions of another man. Beware of

jealousy.... All part of the treatment, Mr. Latimer?

LATIMER. You’re splendid. (_Seriously_) But I meant what I said just

now. I am not preventing you from going the Dover Road, I am only

asking you to wait a few days and see how you get on. It may be that

you two are the perfect soul-mates; that your union has already been

decreed in Heaven and will be watched over by the angels. If so,

nobody will rejoice in your happiness more than I. I shall not say,

“You have no right to be happy together. Leonard must remain with his

lawfully-wedded Eustasia.” Believe me, I do not waste my money, my

time, my breath in upholding the sanctity of an unhappy marriage. I

was brought up in the sanctity of an unhappy marriage; even as a child

I knew all about it. (_Less seriously_) But oh, my dear Anne, let us

have a little common sense before we adventure marriage with a man who

is always making a mess of it. We know what Leonard is—how perfectly

hopeless as a husband.

ANNE. I don’t think that is quite fair.

LATIMER. Well, as far as we can tell. You’ve never made a happy

marriage yet, have you, Leonard?

LEONARD (_sulkily_). I don’t want to say anything against Eustasia——

LATIMER. Good God, man, aren’t you shouting it all the time? Why else

are you here? But don’t try to pretend that it’s all Eustasia’s fault.

LEONARD (_doubtfully_). Well——

LATIMER. Or that it will be all Anne’s fault _next_ year.

LEONARD. What do you mean, next year?

LATIMER. I beg your pardon. I should have said the year after next.

(_There is a little silence._)

ANNE (_getting up_). I think I will go to bed. How long do you want us

to wait?

LATIMER. Can you spare a week? You with so many years in front of you.

ANNE (_deciding that the moment has come to put MR. LATIMER in his

place_). I have a father. I left him a note to say what I was doing.

We don’t see much of each other, but I thought it polite.

(_Triumphantly_) Does _that_ interfere with your plans at all?

LATIMER (_smiling_). Not at all. There was a little mistake about the

delivery of that note. Your father is under the impression that you

are staying with friends—in Kent.... A great power, money.

ANNE (_deciding, with dignity, that the moment has not come_). I

congratulate you on the perfection of your methods. Good night.

(_DOMINIC is in the room._)

LATIMER. Her ladyship will retire.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir.

[_He goes out._

LATIMER. Good night, Miss Anne.

ANNE (_holding out her hand suddenly_). Without prejudice.

LATIMER (_bending over it gallantly_). Ah, but you are prejudicing me

entirely.

_A MAID comes in._

MAID. This way, my lady.

(_She leads the way to a door on the right, and ANNE follows

her._)

LATIMER (_pleasantly, to LEONARD_). And did _you_ leave a note for

_your_ father, Leonard?

LEONARD. You ought to know. You appear to have your conspirators

everywhere. Saunders—and, I suppose, Anne’s maid—and God knows who

else.

LATIMER. Money, Leonard, money. A pity you refused that hundred

thousand pounds. You could have bribed the Archbishop of Canterbury to

curse me.... Well, a week here won’t do either of you any harm. Have a

whisky and soda?

LEONARD. I am not at all sure that I ought to drink in your house.

LATIMER. You will be thirsty before you go.

LEONARD (_hesitating_). Well——

(_A Footman appears with the whisky._)

LATIMER. That’s right. Help yourself, won’t you?

LEONARD (_helping himself_). Please understand that I do this, as I do

everything else in your house, under protest.

LATIMER (_shooting his cuff and taking out his pencil_). Your protest

is noted.

LEONARD (_returning to the too comfortable chair_). As I have already

said, your conduct is perfectly outrageous. (_He sinks into its

depths._)

LATIMER. And as I have already said, you can’t do moral indignation

from that chair. Remember what happened to you last time.

LEONARD. Perfectly outrageous. (_He drinks._)

LATIMER. Have another cigar?

LEONARD. I shall go to bed as soon as I have drunk this. (_He

drinks._)

LATIMER. You wouldn’t care for a game of billiards first?

LEONARD. I am not in the mood for billiards.

LATIMER. By the way, we have another runaway couple here. But their

week of probation is just over. They expect to leave to-morrow.

LEONARD. I am not interested in your earlier crimes.

LATIMER. I think you would be interested in _this_ couple, Leonard.

LEONARD. I assure you I am not.

LATIMER. Ah! (_Picking up a review and settling himself_) Very good

article this month by Sidney Webb. You ought to read it.

LEONARD. I am not interested in Sidney Webb.

LATIMER. Breakfast is at ten o’clock. In here.

LEONARD (_struggling out of his chair_). I shall eat it under protest.

LATIMER. You’re off? Then I’ll say good night.

(_DOMINIC and the two Footmen, JOSEPH and JACOB, have come in._)

LEONARD (_stiffly_). Good night.

(_He walks up to the door on the right. JACOB is in front of it.

LEONARD is pulled up at sight of him. DOMINIC indicates the door

on the left._)

DOMINIC. _This_ way, my lord.

LEONARD. Er—er—thank you.

(_He goes out, followed by JOSEPH.... MR. LATIMER is alone with

Sidney Webb._)

ACT II

_It is next morning. EUSTASIA, LEONARD’S wife (who should be sitting

patiently at home wondering when he will return), is having breakfast

with a harmless young man called NICHOLAS. She is what people who talk

like that call a “nice little thing,” near enough to thirty-five to

begin to wish it were twenty-five. At present she is making a good

deal of fuss over this dear boy NICHOLAS. Breakfast is practically

over. NICHOLAS, in fact, is wiping his mouth._

* * * * *

EUSTASIA. Finished, darling?

NICHOLAS. Yes, thank you, Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. A little more toast?

NICHOLAS. No, thank you, Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. Just a little tiny teeny-weeny bit, if his Eustasia butters

it for him?

NICHOLAS. No, thank you. I’ve really finished.

EUSTASIA. Another cup of coffee?

NICHOLAS (_with a sigh_). No, thank you, Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. Just a little bit of a cup if his Eustasia pours it out for

her own Nicholas, and puts the sugar in with her own ickle fingers?

NICHOLAS. No more coffee, thank you.

EUSTASIA. Then he shall sit in a more comfy chair while he smokes his

nasty, horrid pipe, which he loves so much better than his Eustasia.

(_He gets up without saying anything._) He doesn’t really love it

better?

NICHOLAS (_laughing uneasily_). Of course he doesn’t.

EUSTASIA. Kiss her to show that he doesn’t.

NICHOLAS (_doing it gingerly_). You baby!

EUSTASIA. And now give me your pipe. (_He gives it to her reluctantly.

She kisses it and gives it back to him._) There! And she doesn’t

really think it’s a nasty, horrid pipe, and she’s ever so sorry she

said so.... Oh! (_She sees a dish of apples suddenly._)

NICHOLAS. What is it?

EUSTASIA. Nicholas never had an apple!

NICHOLAS. Oh no, thanks, I don’t want one.

EUSTASIA. Oh, but he must have an apple! It’s so good for him. An

apple a day keeps the doctor away. You _must_ keep the doctor away,

darling, else poor Eustasia will be miserable.

NICHOLAS (_with an effort_). I’ve finished my breakfast.

EUSTASIA. Not even if his Eustasia peels it for him?

NICHOLAS. No, thank you. I assure you that I have had all I want.

EUSTASIA. Sure?

NICHOLAS. Quite sure, thank you. Where are you going to sit?

EUSTASIA (_indicating the sofa_). Nicholas sit there and Eustasia sit

next to him.

NICHOLAS (_without much enthusiasm_). Right. (_They sit down._)

EUSTASIA. Shall Eustasia fill his pipe for him? (_She takes it._)

NICHOLAS (_taking it back_). No, thank you. It is filled. (_They are

silent for a little, and at last he speaks uncomfortably_)

Er—Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. Yes, darling.

NICHOLAS. We’ve been here a week.

EUSTASIA. Yes, darling. A wonderful, wonderful week. And now to-day we

leave this dear house where we have been so happy together, and go out

into the world together——

NICHOLAS (_who has not been listening to her_). A week. Except for the

first day, we have had all our meals alone together.

EUSTASIA (_sentimentally_). Alone, Nicholas.

NICHOLAS. Four meals a day—that’s twenty-four meals.

EUSTASIA. Twenty-four!

NICHOLAS. And at every one of those meals you have asked me at least

four times to have something more, when I had already said that I

didn’t want anything more; or, in other words, you have forced me to

say “No, thank you, Eustasia,” ninety-six times when there was

absolutely no need for it.

EUSTASIA (_hurt_). Nicholas!

NICHOLAS (_inexorably_). We are both young. I am twenty-six, you

are——

EUSTASIA (_hopefully_). Twenty-five.

NICHOLAS (_looking at her quickly and then away again_). You are

twenty-five. If all goes well, we may look to have fifty years more

together. Say two thousand five hundred weeks. Multiply that by a

hundred, and we see that in the course of our joint lives you will, at

the present rate, force me to say “No, thank you, Eustasia,” two

hundred and fifty thousand times more than is necessary. (_He relights

his pipe._)

EUSTASIA (_pathetically_). Nicholas! (_She applies her handkerchief._)

NICHOLAS. I wondered if we couldn’t come to some arrangement about it.

That’s all.

EUSTASIA. You’re cruel! Cruel! (_She sobs piteously._)

NICHOLAS (_doggedly_). I just wondered if we couldn’t come to some

arrangement.

EUSTASIA (_completely overcome_). Oh! Oh! Nicholas! My darling!

(_NICHOLAS, his hands clenched, looks grimly in front of him. He

winces now and then at her sobs. He tries desperately hard not

to give way, but in the end they are too much for him._)

NICHOLAS (_putting his arms round her_). Darling! Don’t! (_She goes on

sobbing._) There! There! I’m sorry. Nicholas is sorry. I oughtn’t to

have said it. Forgive me, darling.

EUSTASIA (_between sobs_). It’s only because I love you so much, and

w-want you to be well. And you m-must eat.

NICHOLAS. Yes, yes, Eustasia, I know. It is dear of you.

EUSTASIA. Ask any d-doctor. He would say you m-must eat.

NICHOLAS. Yes, darling.

EUSTASIA. You m-must eat.

NICHOLAS (_resignedly_). Yes, darling.

EUSTASIA (_sitting up and wiping her eyes_). What’s a wife for, if it

isn’t to look after her husband when he’s ill, and to see that he

eats?

NICHOLAS. All right, dear, we won’t say anything more about it.

EUSTASIA. And when you had that horrid cold and were so ill, the first

day after we came here, I did look after you, didn’t I, Nicholas, and

take care of you and make you well again?

NICHOLAS. You did, dear. Don’t think I am not grateful. You were very

kind. (_Wincing at the recollection_) Too kind.

EUSTASIA. Not too kind, darling. I love looking after you, and doing

things for you, and taking care of you, and cosseting you.

(_Thoughtfully to herself_) Leonard was _never_ ill.

NICHOLAS. Leonard?

EUSTASIA. My husband.

NICHOLAS. Oh!... I’d never thought of him as Leonard. I prefer not to

think about him. I’ve never seen him, and I don’t want to talk about

him.

EUSTASIA. No, darling. _I_ don’t want to either.

NICHOLAS. We’ve taken the plunge and—(_bravely_) and we’re not going

back on it.

EUSTASIA (_surprised_). Darling!

NICHOLAS. As a man of honour I—— Besides, you can’t go back now—I

mean I took you away, and—— Well, here we are. (_With

determination_) Here we are.

EUSTASIA. Darling, you aren’t regretting?

NICHOLAS (_hastily_). No, no! (_She takes out her handkerchief

ominously._) No, no, no! (_She begins to sob._) _No! No!_ (_He is

almost shouting._) Eustasia, listen! I love you! I’m _not_ regretting!

I’ve _never_ been so happy! (_She is sobbing tumultuously._) So happy,

Eustasia! I have never, never been so happy! _Can’t_ you hear?

EUSTASIA (_throwing herself into his arms_). Darling!

NICHOLAS. There, there!

EUSTASIA (_drying her eyes_). Oh, Nicholas, you frightened me so! Just

for a moment I was afraid you were regretting.

NICHOLAS. No, no!

EUSTASIA. How right Mr. Latimer was!

NICHOLAS (_with conviction_). He was indeed.

EUSTASIA. How little we really knew of each other when you asked me to

come away with you!

NICHOLAS. How little!

EUSTASIA. But this week has shown us to each other as we really are.

NICHOLAS. It has.

EUSTASIA. And now I feel absolutely safe. We are ready to face the

world together, Nicholas. (_She sighs and leans back happily in his

arms._)

NICHOLAS. Ready to face the world together.

(_He has his pipe in his right hand, which is round her waist. Her

eyes are closed, her left hand, encircling his neck, holds his

left hand. He tries to bend his head down so as to get hold of his

pipe with his teeth. Several times he tries and just misses it.

Each time he pulls her a little closer to him, and she sighs

happily. At last he gets hold of it. He leans back with a gasp of

relief._)

EUSTASIA (_still with her eyes closed_). What is it, darling?

NICHOLAS. Nothing, Eustasia, nothing. Just happiness.

(_But they are not to be alone with it for long, for MR. LATIMER

comes in._)

LATIMER. Good morning, my friends, good morning.

(_They move apart and NICHOLAS jumps up._)

NICHOLAS. Oh, good morning.

EUSTASIA. Good morning.

LATIMER. So you are leaving me this morning and going on your way?

NICHOLAS (_without enthusiasm_). Yes.

EUSTASIA. But we shall never forget this week, dear Mr. Latimer.

LATIMER. You have forgiven me for asking you to wait a little so as to

make sure?

EUSTASIA. Oh, but you were so right! I was just saying so to Nicholas.

Wasn’t I, Nicholas?

NICHOLAS. Yes. About a minute ago. About two minutes ago.

LATIMER. And so now you are sure of yourselves?

EUSTASIA. Oh, so sure, so very sure. Aren’t we, Nicholas?

NICHOLAS. Absolutely sure.

LATIMER. That’s right. (_Looking at his watch_) Well, I don’t want to

hurry you, but if you have any little things to do, the car will be

here in half an hour, and——

EUSTASIA. Half an hour? Oh, I must fly. (_She begins._)

NICHOLAS (_not moving_). Yes, we must fly.

LATIMER (_going to the door with EUSTASIA_). By the way, you will be

interested to hear that I had two other visitors last night.

EUSTASIA (_stopping excitedly_). Mr. Latimer! You don’t mean

another—couple?

LATIMER. Yes, another romantic couple.

EUSTASIA. Oh, if I could but see them before we go! Just for a moment!

Just to reconcile them to this week of probation! To tell them what a

wonderful week it can be!

LATIMER. You shall. I promise you that you shall.

EUSTASIA. Oh, thank you, dear Mr. Latimer!

(_He goes to the door with her. As he comes back, NICHOLAS is

coming slowly towards him._)

NICHOLAS. I say?

LATIMER. Yes?

NICHOLAS (_thoughtfully_). I say, what would _you_—I

mean—supposing—— Because you see—I mean, it isn’t as if—— Of

course, _now_—— (_He looks at his watch and finishes up sadly_) Half

an hour. Well, I suppose I must be getting ready. (_He goes towards

the door._)

LATIMER (_as he gets there_). Er—Nicholas.

NICHOLAS. Yes?

LATIMER. Just a moment.

NICHOLAS (_coming back to him_). Yes?

(_LATIMER takes him by the arm, and looks round the room to see

that they are alone._)

LATIMER (_in a loud whisper_). Cheer up!

NICHOLAS (_excitedly_). What?

(_LATIMER has let go of his arm and moved away, humming casually

to himself. The light dies out of NICHOLAS’ eyes, and he shrugs

his shoulders despairingly._)

NICHOLAS (_without any hope_). Well, I’ll go and get ready.

[_He goes out._

(_DOMINIC comes in and begins to rearrange the breakfast-table._)

LATIMER. Ah, good morning, Dominic.

DOMINIC. Good morning, sir. A nicish morning it seems to be, sir.

LATIMER. A very nicish morning. I have great hopes of the world

to-day.

DOMINIC. I am very glad to hear it, sir.

LATIMER. We must all do what we can, Dominic.

DOMINIC. That’s the only way, isn’t it, sir?

LATIMER. Great hopes, great hopes.

DOMINIC (_handing him “The Times”_). The paper, sir.

LATIMER. Thank you. (_He looks at the front page_). Any one married

this morning? Dear me, quite a lot. One, two, three, four ... ten.

Ten! Twenty happy people, Dominic!

DOMINIC. Let us hope so, sir.

LATIMER. Let us hope so.... By the way, how was his lordship this

morning?

DOMINIC. A little depressed, sir.

LATIMER. Ah!

DOMINIC. There seems to have been some misunderstanding about his

luggage. A little carelessness on the part of somebody, I imagine,

sir.

LATIMER. Dear me! Didn’t it come with him?

DOMINIC. I’m afraid not, sir.

LATIMER. Tut, tut, how careless of somebody. Can’t we lend him

anything?

DOMINIC. Joseph offered to lend him a comb, sir—his own comb—a

birthday present last year, Joseph tells me. His lordship decided not

to avail himself of the offer.

LATIMER. Very generous of Joseph, seeing that it was a birthday

present.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir. Unfortunately Joseph had come down to the last

blade of his safety razor this morning. His lordship is rather upset

about the whole business, sir.

LATIMER. Well, well, I daresay a little breakfast will do him good.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir. Are you ready for breakfast now, sir?

(_ANNE comes in. All this is rather fun. She is not so sure of

LEONARD now, but LEONARD doesn’t matter. Dover is a long way off.

Meanwhile this is fun. The jolly house, the excitement of not

knowing what will happen next; and MR. LATIMER—to be put in his

place._)

LATIMER (_getting up and going to her_). Good morning, Anne. May I

hope that you slept well?

ANNE. Very well, thank you.

LATIMER. I am so glad.... All right, Dominic.

DOMINIC. Thank you, sir.

[_He goes out._

LATIMER. You are ready for breakfast?

ANNE. Quite ready. But what about Leonard?

LATIMER. Leonard?

ANNE. I made sure that I was to have a practice breakfast with

Leonard this morning. I have been thinking of a few things to say up

in my room.

LATIMER (_smiling_). Say them to me instead.

ANNE. They are very wifely. (_She sits down._)

LATIMER. But think what good practice.

ANNE. Very well. (_At the cups_) Tea or coffee, darling?

LATIMER. Oh no, that will never do. You know by now that I always have

coffee—half milk and three lumps of sugar.

ANNE. Of course, how silly of me. (_She pours out the coffee._)

LATIMER (_taking the covers off the dishes_). Omelette—fish—kidney

and bacon?

ANNE. Now _you’re_ forgetting.

LATIMER (_putting back the covers_). No, I’m remembering. Toast and

marmalade—isn’t that right?

ANNE. Quite right, dear.

LATIMER (_to himself_). I knew she would like marmalade. No wonder

that Leonard ran away with her. (_He puts the toast and marmalade

close to her._)

ANNE. Your coffee, darling.

LATIMER. Thank you, my love.... “My love” is very connubial, I think.

ANNE. Delightfully so. Do go on.

LATIMER. Er—I am sorry to see in the paper this morning—which I

glanced at, my precious, before you came down—— How do you like “My

precious”?

ANNE. Wonderfully life-like. Are you sure you haven’t been married

before?

LATIMER. Only once. Eustasia. You had not forgotten, Eustasia?

ANNE. I am afraid I had. In fact, I had forgotten for the moment that

you were being Leonard.

LATIMER (_bowing_). Thank you. I could wish no better compliment.

ANNE (_laughing in spite of herself_). Oh, you’re too absurd.

LATIMER (_in LEONARD’S manner_). Of course I don’t wish to say

anything against Eustasia——

ANNE. My dear Leonard, I really think we might leave your first wife

out of it.

LATIMER. Yes, you want to get that off pat. You’ll have to say that a

good deal, I expect. Well, to resume. I am sorry to see in the paper

this morning that Beelzebub, upon whom I laid my shirt for the 2.30

race at Newmarket yesterday—and incidentally your shirt too,

darling—came in last, some five minutes after the others had finished

the course.... Tut, tut, how annoying!

ANNE. Oh, my poor darling!

LATIMER. The word “poor” is well chosen. We are ruined. I shall have

to work.

ANNE. You know what I _want_ you to do, Leonard?

LATIMER. No, I have forgotten.

ANNE (_seriously_). I should like to see you in the House of Lords,

taking your rightful place as a leader of men, making great speeches.

LATIMER. My dear Anne! I may be a peer, but I am not a dashed

politician.

ANNE (_wistfully_). I wish you were, Leonard.

LATIMER. I will be anything you like, Anne. (_He leans towards her,

half-serious, half-mocking._)

ANNE (_with a little laugh_). How absurd you are! Some more coffee?

LATIMER (_passing his cup_). To which I answer, “A little more milk.”

Do you realise that this goes on for fifty years?

ANNE. Well, and why not?

LATIMER. Fifty years. A solemn thought. But do not let it mar our

pleasure in the meal that we are having together now. Let us continue

to talk gaily together. Tell me of any interesting dream you may have

had last night—any little adventure that befell you in the bath—any

bright thought that occurred to you as you were dressing.

ANNE (_thoughtfully_). I had a very odd dream last night.

LATIMER. I am longing to hear it, my love.

ANNE. I dreamt that you and I were running away together, Leonard, and

that we lost our way and came to what we thought was an hotel. But it

was not an hotel. It was a very mysterious house, kept by a very

mysterious man called Mr. Latimer.

LATIMER. How very odd. Latimer? Latimer? No, I don’t seem to have

heard of the fellow.

ANNE. He told us that we were his prisoners. That we must stay in his

house a week before we went on our way again. That all the doors were

locked, and there were high walls round the garden, that the gates

from the garden were locked, so that we could not escape, and that we

must wait a week together in his house to see if we were really suited

to each other.

LATIMER. My dear, what an extraordinary dream!

ANNE. It _was_ only a dream, wasn’t it?

LATIMER. Of course! What is there mysterious about this house? What is

there mysterious about this—er—Mr. Latimer? And as for any one being

kept prisoner—here—in this respectable England—why!

ANNE. It is absurd, isn’t it?

LATIMER. Quite ridiculous.

ANNE (_getting up—now she will show him_). I thought it was. (_She

goes to the front door and turns the handle. To her surprise the door

opens. But MR. LATIMER mustn’t know that she is surprised._) You see,

I thought it was! (_She steps out into the garden._) You see, the

gates are open too! (_She comes back._) What an absurd dream to have

had! (_She sits down again._)

LATIMER. There’s no accounting for dreams. I had an absurd one too

last night.

ANNE. What was it?

LATIMER. A lonely house. Father and daughter living together. Father

old, selfish, absorbed in his work. Daughter left to herself; her only

companion, books; knowing nothing of the world. A man comes into her

life—the first. He makes much of her. It is a new experience for the

daughter. She is grateful to him, so grateful, so very proud that she

means anything to him. He tells her when it is too late that he is

married; talks of an impossible wife; tells her that she is his real

mate. Let her come with him and see something of the world which she

has never known. She comes.... Dear me, what silly things one dreams!

ANNE. Absurd things.... (_So he knows! He knows all about it! But she

will not be treated as a child. She will carry it off yet._) When can

we have the car? (_Now she is carrying it off._)

LATIMER. The car?

ANNE. Leonard’s car.

LATIMER. You wish to continue the adventure?

ANNE. Why not?

LATIMER. Dear, dear! What a pity! (_Looking at his watch._) In

twenty-five minutes?

ANNE. That will do nicely, thank you.

LATIMER. We must let Leonard have a little breakfast first, if he is

to cross the Channel to-day. (_He gets up._) In twenty-five minutes

then.

ANNE (_half holding out her hand_). I shall see you again?

LATIMER (_bending over it_). If only to wish you Godspeed.

(_She looks at him for a moment, and then turns and goes out. He

picks up his paper and settles with it in an arm-chair, his back

to the breakfast-table. LEONARD comes in. He is in a dirty, rather

disreputable, once white, bath-gown. His hair is unbrushed, his

cheeks—the cheeks of a dark man—unshaved and blue. He has a

horrible pair of bedroom slippers on his feet, above which, not

only his socks, but almost a hint of pantaloons, may be seen on

the way to the dressing-gown. He comes in nervously, and is

greatly relieved to find that the breakfast-table is empty. He

does not notice MR. LATIMER. On his way to the table he stops at a

mirror on the wall, and standing in front of it, tries to persuade

himself that his chin is not so bad after all. Then he pours

himself out some coffee, helps himself to a kipper and falls to

ravenously._)

LATIMER. Ah, good morning, Leonard.

LEONARD (_starting violently and turning round_). Good Lord! I didn’t

know you were there.

LATIMER. You were so hungry.... I trust you slept well.

LEONARD. Slept well! Of all the damned draughty rooms—— Yes, and

what about my luggage?

LATIMER (_surprised_). Your luggage?

LEONARD. Yes, never put on the car, your fellow, what’s ’is

name—Joseph says.

LATIMER. Dear me, we must enquire into this. Lost your luggage? Dear

me, that’s a very unfortunate start for a honeymoon. That means bad

luck, Leonard. (_DOMINIC comes in._) Dominic, what’s this about his

lordship’s luggage?

DOMINIC. Joseph tells me there must have been some misunderstanding

about it, sir. A little carelessness on the part of somebody, I

imagine, sir.

LATIMER. Dear me! Didn’t it come with him?

DOMINIC. I’m afraid not, sir.

LATIMER. Tut, tut, how careless of somebody! Thank you, Dominic.

DOMINIC. Thank you, sir.

[_He goes out._

LATIMER. Lost your luggage. How excessively annoying! (_Anxiously_) My

dear Leonard, what is it?

LEONARD (_whose face has been shaping for it for some seconds_)

A-tish-oo!

LATIMER. At any rate I can find you a handkerchief. (_He does so.

LEONARD takes it just in time, and sneezes violently again._)

LEONARD. Thank you.

LATIMER. Not at all. That’s a very nasty cold you’ve got. How wise of

you to have kept on a dressing-gown.

LEONARD. The only thing I had to put on.

LATIMER. But surely you were travelling in a suit yesterday? I seem to

remember a brown suit.

LEONARD. That fool of a man of yours——

LATIMER (_distressed_). You don’t mean to tell me——(_DOMINIC comes

in._) Dominic, what’s this about his lordship’s brown suit?

DOMINIC. Owing to a regrettable misunderstanding, sir, his lordship’s

luggage——

LATIMER. Yes, but I’m not talking about his twenty-five other suits, I

mean the nice brown suit that he was wearing yesterday. It must be

somewhere. I remember noticing it. I remember—— (_He holds up his

hand_) Just a moment, Dominic——

LEONARD. A-tish-oo!

LATIMER. I remember saying to myself, “What a nice brown suit Leonard

is wearing.” Well, where is it, Dominic?

DOMINIC. Yes, sir. I seem to remember the suit to which you are

referring. I regret to say that Joseph had an unfortunate accident

with it.

LEONARD (_growling_). Damned carelessness.

DOMINIC. Joseph was bringing back the clothes after brushing them,

sir, and happened to have them in his arms while bending over the bath

in order to test the temperature of the water for his lordship. A

little surprised by the unexpected heat of the water, Joseph

relinquished the clothes for a moment, and precipitated them into the

bath.

LATIMER. Dear me, how extremely careless of Joseph!

DOMINIC. Yes, sir, I have already reprimanded him.

LEONARD. The fellow ought to be shot.

LATIMER. You’re quite right, Leonard. Dominic, shoot Joseph this

morning.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir.

LATIMER. And see that his lordship’s suit is dried as soon as

possible.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir. It is being dried now, sir.

LATIMER. But it must be dried thoroughly, Dominic. His lordship has a

nasty cold, and——

LEONARD. A-tish-oo!

LATIMER. A very nasty one. I’m afraid you are subject to colds,

Leonard?

LEONARD. The first one I’ve ever had in my life.

LATIMER. Do you hear that, Dominic? The first one he’s ever had in his

life.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir. If you remember, sir, Mr. Nicholas, and one or two

other gentlemen who have slept there, caught a very nasty cold. Almost

looks as if there must be something the matter with the room.

LEONARD. Damned draughtiest room——

LATIMER. Dear me! You should have told me of this before. We must have

the room seen to at once. And be sure that his lordship has a

different room to-night.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir; thank you, sir.

[_He goes out._

LATIMER (_sympathetically_). My dear fellow, I am distressed beyond

words. But you know the saying, “Feed a cold, starve a fever.” You

must eat, you must eat. (_He pushes all the dishes round Leonard._) We

must be firm with this cold. We must suffocate it. (_Pressing more

dishes upon him._) You were quite right not to shave. The protection

offered by the beard, though small, is salutary. But I was

forgetting—perhaps your razor is lost too?

LEONARD. Damned careless fellows!

LATIMER. I must lend you mine.

LEONARD (_feeling his chin_). I say, I wish you would.

LATIMER. I will get it at once. Meanwhile, eat. No half measures with

this cold of yours. My poor fellow!

(_He hurries out. Just as LEONARD is getting busy with his

breakfast again, ANNE comes in._)

ANNE. Leonard, my dear! (_She observes him more thoroughly_) My _dear_

Leonard!

LEONARD (_his mouth full_). G’morning, Anne.

ANNE (_coldly_). Good morning.

LEONARD (_getting up, napkin in hand_). How are you this morning? (_He

comes towards her, wiping his mouth._)

ANNE. No, please go on with your breakfast. (_In alarm_) What is it?

(_His face assumes an agonized expression. He sneezes. ANNE

shudders._)

LEONARD. Got a nasty cold. Can’t understand it. First I’ve ever had in

my life.

ANNE. Do you sneeze like that much?

LEONARD. Off and on.

ANNE. Oh!... Hadn’t you better get on with your breakfast?

LEONARD. Well, I will if you don’t mind. Good thing for a cold, isn’t

it? Eat a lot.

ANNE. I really know very little about colds.... Do get on with your

breakfast.

LEONARD (_going back_). Well, I will, if you don’t mind. You had

yours?

ANNE. Yes.

LEONARD. That’s right. (_Resuming it_) Did you have one of these

kippers?

ANNE. No.

LEONARD. Ah! A pity. I will say that for Latimer’s cook. She knows how

to do a kipper. Much more difficult than people think.

ANNE. I really know very little about kippers.

LEONARD. I have often wondered why somebody doesn’t invent one without

bones. (_He takes a mouthful._) Seeing what science can do

nowadays—— (_He stops. ANNE’S eye is on him. He says nothing, but

waves his hand for her to look the other way._)

ANNE. What is it? (_He frowns fiercely and continues to wave. She

turns away coldly._) I beg your pardon. (_He removes a mouthful of

bones._)

LEONARD (_cheerfully_). Right oh, darling.... After all, what do they

_want_ all these bones for? Other fish manage without them. (_He

continues his kipper._)

ANNE. Leonard, when you can spare me a moment I should like to speak

to you.

LEONARD (_eating_). My darling, all my time is yours.

ANNE. I should like your undivided attention if I can have it.

LEONARD. Fire away, darling, I’m listening.

ANNE (_going up to him_). Have you finished your—kipper? (_She takes

the plate away_) What are you going to have next?

LEONARD. Well—what do you recommend?