POLICEMAN. War-time, sir.
(MR. BODIE _decides that it is patriotic to ring. The_
POLICEMAN _emerges from the pantry with a slavey’s hat and
jacket_.)
These belong to the party, sir?
BODIE. I forgot. She keeps them in there. (_He surveys the articles
with some emotion._) Gaudy feathers. And yet that hat may have done
some gallant things. The brave apparel of the very poor! Who knows,
officer, that you and I are not at this moment on rather holy
ground.
POLICEMAN (_stoutly_). I see nothing wrong with the feathers. I
must say, sir, I like the feathers.
(_He slips into the pantry with the hat and jacket, but
forgets his helmet, over which the artist hastily jams a
flower bowl. There were visiting cards in the bowl and
they are scattered on the floor._ MR. BODIE _sees them
not: it is his first attempt at the conspirator, and he
sits guiltily with a cigarette just in time to deceive_
CINDERELLA, _who charges into the room as from a catapult.
This is her usual mode of entrance, and is owing to her
desire to give satisfaction._)
_Our_ POLICEMAN, _as he has told us under the arches,
was watching her through the keyhole, but his first
impressions have been so coloured by subsequent events
that it is questionable whether they would be accepted
in any court of law. Is prepared to depose that to the
best of his recollection, they were unfavourable. Does
not imply by unfavourable any aspersion on her personal
appearance. Would accept the phrase ‘far from striking’ as
summing up her first appearance. Would no longer accept
the phrase. Had put her down as being a grown woman, but
not sufficiently grown. Thought her hair looked to be run
up her finger. Did not like this way of doing the hair.
Could not honestly say that she seemed even then to be
an ordinary slavey of the areas. She was dressed as one,
but was suspiciously clean. On the other hand, she had
the genuine hungry look. Among more disquieting features
noticed a sort of refinement in her voice and manner,
which was characteristic of the criminal classes. Knew now
that this was caused by the reading of fairy tales and the
thinking of noble thoughts. Noted speedily that she was
a domineering character who talked sixteen to the dozen,
and at such times reminded him of funny old ladies. Was
much struck by her eyes, which seemed to suggest that she
was all burning inside. This impression was strengthened
later when he touched her hands. Felt at once the curious
‘homeliness’ of her, as commented on by_ MR. BODIE, _but
could swear on oath that this had not at once made him
think of Badgery. Could recall not the slightest symptoms
of love at first sight. On the contrary, listened carefully
to the conversation between her and_ MR. BODIE _and formed
a stern conclusion about her. Believed that this was all he
could say about his first impression._
CINDERELLA (_breathlessly_). Did you rang, sir?
BODIE (_ashamed_). Did I? I did—but—I—I don’t know why. If you’re a
good servant, you ought to know why.
(_The cigarette, disgusted with him, falls from his mouth;
and his little servant flings up her hands to heaven._)
CINDERELLA (_taking possession of him_). There you go again! Fifty
years have you been at it, and you can’t hold a seegarette in your
mouth _yet_! (_She sternly produces the turpentine_.)
BODIE (_in sudden alarm_). I won’t be brushed. I will not be
scraped.
CINDERELLA (_twisting him round_). Just look at that tobaccy ash!
And I cleaned you up so pretty before luncheon.
BODIE. I will _not_ be cleaned again.
CINDERELLA (_in her element_). Keep still.
(_She brushes, scrapes, and turpentines him. In the glory
of this she tosses her head at the Venus._)