CINDERELLA (_with polite surprise_). What’s that?
MRS. M. It’s the penny.
CINDERELLA. So it is! Good night, Mrs. Maloney.
MRS. M. Good night, Cinders.
(_She departs. The penny falls into_ CINDERELLA’S _box with
a pleasant clink_.)
CINDERELLA. Next.
(_A woman of 35 comes forward. She is dejected, thin-lipped,
and unlovable._)
MARION (_tossing her head_). You’re surprised to see _me_, I
daresay.
CINDERELLA (_guardedly_). I haven’t the pleasure of knowing you.
MARION (_glancing at the remaining occupant of the bench_). Is that
man sleeping? Who is he? I don’t know him.
CINDERELLA. He’s sleeping. What can I do for you?
MARION (_harshly_). Nothing, I daresay. I’m at Catullo’s Buildings.
Now they’re turning me out. They say I’m not respectable.
CINDERELLA (_enlightened_). You’re—that woman?
MARION (_defiantly_). That’s me.
CINDERELLA (_shrinking_). I don’t think there’s nothing I could do
for you.
MARION (_rather appealing_). Maybe there is. I see you’ve heard my
story. They say there’s a man comes to see me at times though he
has a wife in Hoxton.
CINDERELLA. I’ve heard.
MARION. So I’m being turned out.
CINDERELLA. I don’t think it’s a case for me.
MARION. Yes, it is.
CINDERELLA. Are you terrible fond of him?
MARION. Fond of him! Damn him!
(CINDERELLA _shrinks_. MARION _makes sure that the man is
asleep_.)
Cinders, they’ve got the story wrong; it’s me as is his wife; I was
married to him in a church. He met that woman long after and took
up with her.
CINDERELLA. What! Then why do you not tell the truth?
MARION. It’s my pride keeps me from telling. I would rather be
thought to be the wrong ’un he likes than the wife the law makes
him help.
CINDERELLA. Is that pride?
MARION. It’s all the pride that’s left to me.
CINDERELLA. I’m awful sorry for you, but I can’t think of no advice
to give you.
MARION. It’s not advice I want.
CINDERELLA. What is it then?
MARION. It’s pity. I fling back all the gutter words they fling at
me, but my heart, Cinders, is wet at times. It’s wet for one to
pity me.
CINDERELLA. I pity you.
MARION. You’ll tell nobody?
CINDERELLA. No.
MARION. Can I come in now and again at a time?
CINDERELLA. I’ll be glad to see you—if I’m here.
MARION. I’ll be slipping away now; he’s waking up. (_She puts down
her penny._)
CINDERELLA. I’m not doing it for no penny.
MARION. You’ve got to take it. That’s my pride. But—I wish you
well, Cinders.
CINDERELLA. I like you. I wish you would wish me luck. Say ‘Good
luck to you to-night, Cinderella.’
MARION. Why to-night?
(_The little waif, so practical until now, is afire inside
again. She needs a confidant almost as much as_ MARION.)