GEOFFREY. (_He stops her_.) Oh, I’m prepared for all that—ridicule,
abuse. “Chilvers’s Bill for the Better Regulation of Mrs. Chilvers,”
they’ll call it. I can hear their laughter. Yours won’t be among it.
ANNYS. But, Geoffrey! What is the meaning? Merely to spite me, are you
going to betray a cause that you have professed belief in—that you have
fought for?
GEOFFREY. Yes—if it is going to take you away from me. I want you. No,
I don’t want a friend—“a fellow-worker”—some interesting rival in well
doing. I can get all that outside my home. I want a wife. I want the
woman I love to belong to me—to be mine. I am not troubling about being
up to date; I’m talking what I feel—what every male creature must have
felt since the protoplasmic cell developed instincts. I want a woman to
love—a woman to work for—a woman to fight for—a woman to be a slave to.
But mine—mine, and nothing else. All the rest (_he makes a gesture_) is
talk.
(_He closes the window_, _shutting out the hubbub of the crowd_.)
ANNYS. (_A strange_, _new light has stolen in_. _She is bewildered_,
_groping_.) But—all this is new between us. You have not talked like
this for—not since— We were just good friends—comrades.
GEOFFREY. And might have remained so, God knows! I suppose we’re made
like that. So long as there was no danger passion slept. I cannot
explain it. I only know that now, beside the thought of losing you, all
else in the world seems meaningless. The Woman’s Movement! (_He makes a
gesture of contempt_.) Men have wrecked kingdoms for a woman before
now—and will again. I want you! (_He comes to her_.) Won’t you come
back to me, that we may build up the home we used to dream of? Wasn’t
the old love good? What has this new love to give you? Work that man
can do better. The cause of the women—the children! Has woman loved
woman better than man? Will the world be better for the children, man
and woman contending? Come back to me. Help me. Help me to fight for
all good women. Teach me how I may make the world better—for our
children.
ANNYS. (_The light is in her eyes_. _She stands a moment_. _Her hands
are going out to him_.)
ELIZABETH. (_She comes between them_.) Yes, go to him. He will be very
good to you. Good men are kind to women, kind even to their dogs. You
will be among the pampered few! You will be happy. And the others!
What does it matter?
(_They draw apart_. _She stands between them_, _the incarnation of the
spirit of sex war_.)
The women that have not kind owners—the dogs that have not kind
masters—the dumb women, chained to their endless, unpaid drudgery! Let
them be content. What are they but man’s chattel? To be honoured if it
pleases him, or to be cast into the dust. Man’s pauper! Bound by his
laws, subject to his whim; her every hope, her every aspiration, owed to
his charity. She toils for him without ceasing: it should be her
“pleasure.” She bears him children, when he chooses to desire them.
They are his to do as he will by. Why seek to change it? Our man is
kind. What have they to do with us: the women beaten, driven,
overtasked—the women without hope or joy, the livers of grey lives that
men may laugh and spend—the women degraded lower than the beasts to
pander to the beast in man—the women outraged and abandoned, bearing to
the grave the burden of man’s lust? Let them go their way. They are but
our sisters of sorrow. And we who could help them—we to whom God has
given the weapons: the brain, and the courage—we make answer: “I have
married a husband, and I cannot come.”
(_A silence_.)
GEOFFREY. Well, you have heard. (_He makes a gesture_.) What is your
answer?
ANNYS. (_She comes to him_.) Don’t you love me enough to humour me a
little—to put up with my vexing ways? I so want to help, to feel I am
doing just a little, to make the world kinder. I know you can do it
better, but I want so to be “in it.” (_She laughs_.) Let us forget all
this. Wake up to-morrow morning with fresh hearts. You will be Member
for East Poplar. And then you shall help me to win Manchester. (_She
puts her hands upon his breast_: _she would have him take her in his
arms_.) I am not strong enough to fight alone.
GEOFFREY. I want you. Let Manchester find some one else.
ANNYS. (_She draws away from him_.) And if I cannot—will not?
GEOFFREY. I bring in my Bill on Monday. We’ll be quite frank about it.
That is my price—you. I want you!
ANNYS. You mean it comes to that: a whole cause dependent on a man and a
woman!
GEOFFREY. Yes, that is how the world is built. On each man and woman.
“How does it shape my life, my hopes?” So will each make answer.
(LADY MOGTON _enters_. _She stands silent_.)
ELIZABETH. Is it over?
LADY MOGTON. Annys Chilvers, 3,604—Geoffrey Chilvers, 3,590.
(JANET _enters_.)
JANET. (_She rushes to_ ANNYS, _embraces her_.) You’ve won, you’ve won!
(_She flies to the window_, _opens it_, _and goes out on to the
balcony_.)
(PHOEBE _enters_, _followed by_ MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS.)
PHOEBE. Is it true?
LADY MOGTON. Pretty close. Majority of 14.
MRS. MOUNTCALM-VILLIERS. For us?
LADY MOGTON. For us.
(JANET _by this time has announced the figures_. _There is heard a
great burst of cheering_, _renewed again and again_.)
JANET. (_Re-entering_.) They want you! They want you!
(_Mingled with the cheering come cries of_ “_Speech_! _Speech_!”)
LADY MOGTON. You must say something.
(_The band strikes up_ “_The Conquering Hero_.” _The women crowd
round_ ANNYS, _congratulating her_. GEOFFREY _stands apart_.)
PHOEBE. (_Screaming above the din_.) Put on your cloak.