_EDWARD CHURT’S studio in Knightsbridge is furnished with mingled opulence
and good taste—he is a successful modern portrait-painter._
[_When the curtain rises it is about 2.30 a.m. There is a faint glow
from the fireplace on the left; a table stands more or less C.,
upon which is a reading lamp illumining a decanter of whisky, some
siphons, a plate of biscuits and another of sandwiches, and two or
three glasses; there are also a box of cigarettes and matches. The
rest of the room is in comparative darkness. There is the sound of
a taxi drawing up in the street, then after a suitable pause the
noise of the front door being opened. CAROL CHURT enters, followed
by HARRY CHALLONER. They are both in evening dress. CAROL is lovely
and exquisitely gowned; her vivid personality is composed of a
minimum of intellect and a maximum of sex. HARRY possesses all the
earmarks of a social success—he is an excellent ballroom dancer,
compared with which his activities in the city are negligible._]
CAROL
Don’t make a noise.
HARRY
I wasn’t.
CAROL
I didn’t say you were—I said don’t.
HARRY
All right.
CAROL
Do you want a drink?
HARRY
Yes, please.
CAROL
Help yourself then—and give me one.
[_She takes off her cloak and lights a cigarette._]
HARRY
Say when.
CAROL
That’s enough.
[_He fills up the glass with soda and hands it to her._]
HARRY
Here.
CAROL
Thanks.
HARRY
You are a marvel.
CAROL
Why?
HARRY
You’re so steady.
CAROL
I don’t see any reason for being anything else.
HARRY
You don’t think he’ll find out?
CAROL
Of course not.
HARRY
Where does he sleep?
CAROL
[_Pointing to door, R._]
In there.
[_HARRY, with big drink in his hand, tiptoes over and listens at the
door._]
HARRY
I can’t hear a sound.
CAROL
He doesn’t snore unless he’s taken to it lately.
HARRY
[_Returning_]
Darling, do you love me?
CAROL
What a silly question!
HARRY
It’s all been so wonderful.
CAROL
[_Smiling_]
Has it?
HARRY
Well, hasn’t it?
CAROL
Yes, it has rather. [_He puts down his drink and takes her in his arms._]
Look out—
[_She is holding her glass out at arm’s length to prevent it
upsetting._]
HARRY
Put it down, darling—
[_There is a good deal of passion in his voice when he says,
“darling.”_]
CAROL
Why?
HARRY
I want to kiss you.
CAROL
Again?
HARRY
Yes, again and again and again—forever.
[_He takes her glass and slams it down on the table._]
CAROL
Shhh! Don’t be a fool.
HARRY
I don’t care—
[_He kisses her lingeringly._]
CAROL
[_Gently disentangling herself_]
I do—it’s silly to be reckless.
HARRY
I don’t believe you love me as much as you did before.
CAROL
It isn’t that at all—you know it isn’t.
HARRY
Kiss me then.
CAROL
Very well.
[_She goes up to him and quietly kisses him on the mouth. They stand
there motionless for a moment._]
HARRY
I want you—all over again—for the first time.
CAROL
[_Stroking his face_]
Darling.
HARRY
I’m crazy about you.
CAROL
You must go home to bed now.
HARRY
Will you telephone me?
CAROL
Yes.
HARRY
First thing?
CAROL
Yes.
HARRY
Promise.
CAROL
Promise.
[_They go out of the door. There is a little whispering in the hall.
Then a silence and the sound of the front door closing gently. CAROL
comes back into the studio pensively. She finishes her whisky and
soda, takes a biscuit, and flings her cloak over her arm; then she
switches off the light and goes slowly off up R. Her door closes.
After a slight pause EDWARD CHURT rises from the big armchair by
the fire in which he has been sitting with his back to the audience,
and goes over to the table. He switches on the lamp again and helps
himself to a sandwich; he munches it thoughtfully for a moment, then
with an air of determination picks up the whole plate, switches off
the lamp and—retires to his room._]
CURTAIN