DRAMATIS PERSONAE--MISS PAYSLEY, _twenty-one, small, with a dignified
carriage, when she remembers it, otherwise she is as impulsive as a
little girl. She is pale, blond, blushes easily and has a way of
looking at one with a straight, honest, gaze._
MR. JARVIS, _thirty, tall, well built. Has an easy-going, tolerant
manner that is sometimes almost indifferent._
SCENE--_A lamplit piazza. The subdued light throws curious shadows on
the thick growth of vines which screen the place from the street. Here
and there where the vines are broken one may look out into the velvety
blackness of the night. The piazza is furnished in the usual way.
Rugs, wicker chairs, wicker tables. On the table a carafe with liquor
and glasses. Litter of books, smoking things, etc._
_Enter_ MISS PAYSLEY _and_ MR. JARVIS.
MISS PAYSLEY (_pulling aside the vines_)--What a sense of space
darkness gives one! I feel as if I were looking into eternity!
MR. JARVIS (_aside_)---That sounds like Millicent. (_Aloud._) Aren't
you going to keep your promise?
MISS PAYSLEY--Don't you feel the greatness of space around you in a
night like this?
Mr. Jarvis (_reproachfully_)--And I thought you were a woman of your
word. I didn't bring you out here to look into limitless space. I
brought you out here to look into my hand.
MISS PAYSLEY (_bringing her eyes to his, as if with effort, and
blushing_)--You know I warned you! I'm awfully in earnest, and
sometimes I say--well, things.
MR. JARVIS--I want the truth, you know. (_Shakes up the pillow in the
hammock._)
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--He brought me out here to get me to hold his
hand half an hour! None in mine, thanks! I'll show him! (_Aloud._) No,
here, please, _quite_ under the light.
MR. JARVIS--You'll be ever so much more comfortable in the hammock.
MISS PAYSLEY (_with a malicious smile_)--You're so thoughtful! But
light I _must_ have. Now the table. (_Moves the table between them._)
Please let both your hands lie quite naturally on it.
MR. JARVIS (_disappointed_)--On the table? Oh! (_Aside._) At this rate
palmistry won't be popular any more.
MISS PAYSLEY (_bends over his hand, then raises her eyes suddenly to
Jarvis_)--You know it makes me almost nervous to read your hand. I
feel, with some people, as if I were listening at the door and hearing
secrets I oughtn't to. (_Aside._) I wouldn't do it for any one but
Millicent. But I can't stand by and see that Orton woman---- How I
hate engaged flirts!
MR. JARVIS--I'm not afraid; if I had been, why should I have asked
you?
MISS PAYSLEY (_raising her eyes suddenly again_)--You may have
had--your reasons.
MR. JARVIS (_aside_)--That's a fetching way she has of raising her
eyes. Wonder what she meant by that just now. (_Aloud._) How becoming
the pale green of the leaves is to your hair.
MISS PAYSLEY--Turn your hands over, please. Now put your right one
directly under the light. Oh!
MR. JARVIS--What do you see?
MISS PAYSLEY--What _strange, strange nails_. I've read about it, but
I've never seen it before. Not so marked! It's the perfect type!
MR. JARVIS (_interested in spite of himself_)--What does it mean?
MISS PAYSLEY (_embarrassed, hesitating_)--It isn't pleasant.
MR. JARVIS (_looking at her_)--Go on!
MISS PAYSLEY (_reluctantly_)--Well, they mean--consumption! (_Aside._)
They'll make him serious--besides, it _is_ the type.
MR. JARVIS (_rising to the bait_)--Why, I haven't a consumptive
relative. (_Aside._) She is honest. And I was expecting the old Girdle
of Venus gag. (_Aloud._) What does this line mean, and why are the
veins of my hands so red?
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--You don't catch this child this way. No
compliments about your impressible temperaments from me. (_Aloud,
meditatingly, slowly._) Those red lines--sometimes--they mean
insanity--but in your case----
MR. JARVIS (_with sarcasm_)--Would you mind telling me at what age I
am going to lose my teeth, or if I am in danger of breaking a leg? I
had no idea palmistry was so pathological.
MISS PAYSLEY (_undisturbed_)--Hold your fingers up to the light.
MR. JARVIS (_aside_)--Now for the old "you let money slip through your
fingers."
MISS PAYSLEY--You don't know how to hold on to your fortune; you let
the best thing in your life slip through your fingers.
MR. JARVIS (_aside_)--Rather a good variant. (_Aloud._) What do you
mean?
MISS PAYSLEY (_with impatience_)--How should I know what I mean? I'm
telling you what I see. I don't know enough about you to have the
answer to the riddle of your hand. Remember, we've only met twice.
MR. JARVIS--Three times.
MISS PAYSLEY--Twice, three times, half a dozen--it doesn't signify.
MR. JARVIS--It does to me.
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--I'm sorry for you, Millicent. (_Aloud._) You
ought to know what I mean. Have you never been in danger of losing
through your own carelessness--I mean, something you are fond of?
(_Aside._) That's pretty pointed. I hope Millicent won't give me away.
MR. JARVIS--Have you ever heard about the expulsive power of a
new--interest.
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--The pill. (_With reflection._) I've heard of
changing one's mind.
MR. JARVIS (_holding up his hand, which is large and powerful_)--And
my hand shows indecision of character?
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--He's jesting. They're all alike--men. Keen for
praise. (_Aloud._) I didn't say indecisive. You know what you want,
but you often don't value what you have. You are ready to pay for a
thing of lesser value with the one of greater.
MR. JARVIS--So few things have a fixed value; it's what they seem
worth to you. You can only measure the worth of any given thing by the
pleasure it gives you.
MISS PAYSLEY--The selfish man's creed. (_Glancing at his hand._) You
are abominably selfish, you know--selfish and self-indulgent! You will
sacrifice anything to attain something you want, except your own
comfort!
MR. JARVIS (_with a fine air of impartiality_)--I don't think that's
altogether true.
MISS PAYSLEY (_studying his hand intently_)--Yes, and you will
sacrifice not only anything but anybody!
MR. JARVIS (_modestly_)--That is what has always endeared me so to my
friends. I'm a sort of modern Moloch!
MISS PAYSLEY (_raising her eyes suddenly_)--Don't joke about it. It
may be true. (_There is a strained eagerness in her manner that is
quite convincing._)
MR. JARVIS (_aside_)--Hanged if I don't think she believes this rot.
MISS PAYSLEY--Please hold up your hands with the first fingers
touching. I thought so.
MR. JARVIS--What?
MISS PAYSLEY (_with conviction_)--Your best impulses you never follow
to the end, either in your life or your work. For instance, I imagine
your studio is full of half-finished canvases, the best work you have
done, but unfinished. The work you expose, your finished stuff, is
what has let itself be finished easily!
MR. JARVIS (_suspiciously_)--You guessed that from such of my work as
you've seen.
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--That was a dead steal from Millicent! (_Aloud,
coolly._) I haven't the pleasure of knowing much of your work, Mr.
Jarvis. Please put your right hand under the light. (_Aside._) I'd
better put him in good temper again. Queer how a man loves a chance of
talking uninterruptedly about himself. (_Aloud._) You have an
exaggerated worship of strength in yourself and others.
MR. JARVIS--Where do you see that?
MISS PAYSLEY--In the whole character of your hand. (_Aside._)
Millicent said "strength and the admiration of strength is his
keynote." (_Aloud._) You must see for yourself that your hand isn't a
weak one, and see how the lines are cut--as if with a chisel.
(_Aside._) He's purring already like a Cheshire cat.
MR. JARVIS--What do you mean by an exaggerated worship of strength?
MISS PAYSLEY--I mean you underscore strength too much among the other
virtues.
MR. JARVIS--Can one? A man, I mean?
MISS PAYSLEY--And with that as the foundation of your character, it's
astonishing what weak-minded things you do!
MR. JARVIS--How graceful!
MISS PAYSLEY--What else do you call all those unfinished canvases? The
line of least resistance isn't strength.
MR. JARVIS (_with pathos_)--One would think I were your Sunday-school
class.
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--It's time to give him more toffey. (_Aloud._)
Your popularity has been one of the reasons of your not always
following your creed of strength.
MR. JARVIS (_modestly_)--Yes, my fatal beauty has always stood in the
way of my living up to my ideals!
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--Oh, you may sneer, but you know you like it.
Else you wouldn't be here. (_Aloud._) There is something here I don't
understand.
MR. JARVIS (_aside_)--I was waiting for that to come. (_Aloud._) Go
on!
MISS PAYSLEY--Please let your hand drop over from the wrist. How
unusual!
MR. JARVIS (_interested_)--I've never seen that done before.
MISS PAYSLEY (_tranquilly_)--You have your fortune told early and
often?
MR. JARVIS (_undisturbed_)--As often as possible!
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--Of course you never lose a chance of talking
about yourself! (_Aloud._) You've a very unusual hand. You're two or
three people, one at the top of the other.
MR. JARVIS (_plaintively_)--One would think I were a ham sandwich.
MISS PAYSLEY (_calmly_)--A layer cake, I should put it.
MR. JARVIS (_aside_)--You can't feaze her. She's really prettier than
Mrs. Orton. (_Aloud._) What are my many characters? It's interesting.
(_Aside._) Now for the "You know the higher but follow the lower."
MISS PAYSLEY--Fundamentally, beside your love of strength, you are
simple, kindly, unaffected. You would be happy married to a girl
kindly and unaffected like yourself. (_Aside._) I mustn't give too
pointed a description of Millicent.
MR. JARVIS--The country---- Milking time? Love in a cottage? Baby's
first step?
MISS PAYSLEY--Laugh, if you like, but that's really what you like, and
what would make you happy! That's the sort of atmosphere you do your
best work in. You need for a wife some one not too self-assertive, and
who believes in you. You need a certain sort of appreciation to work
well--and wanting appreciation, you put up with flattery.
MR. JARVIS--I just live on flattery.
MISS PAYSLEY (_with conviction_)--You drink it in by the pailful! You
don't mind if it's put on with a butter knife!
MR. JARVIS (_who has gotten more and more interested_)--What becomes
of my strength then?
MISS PAYSLEY--Oh, you only live on flattery when you are starved for
legitimate appreciation. (_Aside._) I think I got out of that rather
neatly. (_Aloud._) You are really idealistic, with a good deal of
sentiment, and, selfish as you are, you have a heart.
MR. JARVIS (_gratefully_)--Thank you for the heart.
MISS PAYSLEY--You like to have people think you are cynical and
light-minded. You only show your real self to a few people.
MR. JARVIS--He sounds to me like a prig and a bore.
MISS PAYSLEY (_with more warmth than she has shown yet_)--He's a
charming and delightful person. It's the man of the world with
the-smile-that-won't-come-off that's the bore!
MR. JARVIS--Have you found me so?
MISS PAYSLEY (_steadily_)--Not when I've read between the lines.
MR. JARVIS (_looking at Miss Paysley searchingly_)---I really think
you're honest.
MISS PAYSLEY (_returning his look_)--What did you think I came out
here for?
MR. JARVIS (_still looking into Miss Paysley's eyes_)--Apparently to
give me your unvarnished opinion of me. Please go on.
MISS PAYSLEY--I've described the first and second layers of the cake.
MR. JARVIS--Isn't there any frosting?
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--They simply are insatiable for praise.
(_Aloud._) The frosting doesn't count. I've been eating the frosting
ever since I met you.
MR. JARVIS (_meekly_)--I hope you liked it.
MISS PAYSLEY (_harking back to the last remark but one_)--This
superimposed you has different tastes, likes different women--and is
more easily taken in.
MR. JARVIS--How more easily taken in?
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--I thought I'd get a rise. Now for the plunge.
(_Aloud._) I mean that in your own world, among the people who think
as you do, you can tell the real ones from those who are only shams.
MR. JARVIS (_quickly_)--Whereas, in the world represented by what we
have agreed to call the upper layer of the cake, I don't know a lump
of flour from a raisin?
MISS PAYSLEY--Exactly.
MR. JARVIS--May I ask if you are a real raisin--as I've given you the
credit of being?
MISS PAYSLEY--Oh! you should know what I am. I don't belong to the
upper layer--the highly spiced one.
MR. JARVIS--Would you mind telling me if there is any particular lump
of flour now passing itself off on me as a raisin?
MISS PAYSLEY (_with dignity_)--My good man, this is palmistry, not a
life saving expedition! (_Aside._) He's a little too quick.
MR. JARVIS--It seemed to me to have something to do with the art of
portrait painting.
MISS PAYSLEY--I'm not responsible, am I, for the lines in your hand?
MR. JARVIS--No, nor for your opinion of me.
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--You can't get a rise out of me that way.
(_Aloud._) No, nor for that, either.
MR. JARVIS--Let's sift down the evidence. I'm in danger of losing
something that is precious to me, or, rather, I'm in danger of paying
with my gold piece for a brazen image. I don't follow my best impulses
to the end. I'm a layer cake with a substantial piece of home-made
cake for my under layer and an inferior article on top. Miss Paysley,
would you kindly tell me if this cross in my left hand is a warning to
avoid widows with pale, gold hair?
MISS PAYSLEY--I wish you would tell me if you came out here with the
honest intention of having your fortune told?
MR. JARVIS (_aside._)--She can give Mrs. Orton cards and spades.
(_Aloud._) Did you come out here with the intention of telling my
fortune?
MISS PAYSLEY (_slowly_)--I've done what I came out for!
MR. JARVIS--And that was?
MISS PAYSLEY (_rising and turning away_)--Something I foolishly
thought I ought to do.
MR. JARVIS--Foolishly? I think it was too lovely of you to take any
interest in my affairs at all.
MISS PAYSLEY (_aside_)--I've never seen anyone so insupportable, and
he looks--nice! (_Aloud, with wide-open eyes._) _Your_ affairs! You
don't suppose it's for _you?_
MR. JARVIS--Eh?
MISS PAYSLEY--I suppose you think that there is no such thing as real
loyalty or friendship between girls?
MR. JARVIS--Oh! (_They both are silent a moment, each measuring the
other._)
MR. JARVIS (_steadily_)--Have you happened to hear of Millicent Holt's
engagement?
MISS PAYSLEY (_throwing down her hand_)--You oughtn't to ask her best
friend that!
MR. JARVIS (_calmly_)--To Bob Burke, I mean.
MISS PAYSLEY (_entirely taken aback_)--To Bob Burke! She never did!
Not Millicent! I could have sworn to Millicent!
MR. JARVIS (_still calmly_)--So could I. So I did.
MISS PAYSLEY (_with horror-struck eyes_)--But I don't understand!
MR. JARVIS--I didn't, at first, either. It seems Bobby Burke's soul
and hers are twins, or something of that kind. So where do I come in?