had promised to spend Whitsun with me and, so that he shouldn’t put me
off, I asked the Sellengers, too. Lady Sellenger was only too glad to
get a week’s board and lodging for nothing. [_The sound is heard of a
motor stopping._] There’s Jimmie Blenkinsop. I told you he was going to
motor down in time for luncheon, didn’t I? [BLENKINSOP _comes in with_
FREDDIE. FREDDIE _has on a gay tweed suit_.] Jimmie!
BLENKINSOP.
How d’you do?
[_He shakes hands with_ MRS. DOT _and_ AUNT ELIZA.
MRS. DOT.
Now we’ll have luncheon. You must be starving with hunger.
BLENKINSOP.
You must let me wash first.
MRS. DOT.
No, we’re all far too hungry. Freddie will go and wash his hands for
you.
[_She rings half a dozen times quickly on a little bell on the
table._
FREDDIE.
I shall be back in one minute.
[_He goes out._
MRS. DOT.
Now sit down. I’m perfectly ravenous.
[THE BUTLER _and the_ FOOTMAN _bring in luncheon, which is eaten
during the next scene_.
AUNT ELIZA.
I perceive that the tender passion hasn’t in the least interfered with
your appetite.
MRS. DOT.
Oh, my dear James, I’m so unhappy.
BLENKINSOP.
You look it.
MRS. DOT.
By the way, how do I look?
BLENKINSOP.
All right. You’ve changed your cook.
MRS. DOT.
Hang my cook.
BLENKINSOP.
I wouldn’t if I were you. She’s very good.
MRS. DOT.
Of course you’ll drink the family ale?
BLENKINSOP.
Of course I’ll do nothing of the kind.
MRS. DOT.
You know it’s one of my principles to have it on the table.
BLENKINSOP.
Yes, but it’s one of my principles not to drink it. I seem to remember
that you have some particularly fine hock.
MRS. DOT.
Jimmie, have you never been in love?
BLENKINSOP.
Never, thank God.
MRS. DOT.
I don’t believe it. Every one’s in love. I’m in love.
BLENKINSOP.
Not with me, I trust.
MRS. DOT.
You perfect idiot.
BLENKINSOP.
Not at all. I should think it very natural.
MRS. DOT.
I wonder why you never married, James.
BLENKINSOP.
Because I have a considerable gift for repartee. I discovered in my
early youth that men propose not because they want to marry, but because
on certain occasions they are entirely at a loss for topics of
conversation.
AUNT ELIZA.
[_Smiling._] It was a momentous discovery.
BLENKINSOP.
No sooner had I made it than I began to cultivate my power of small
talk. I felt that my only chance was to be ready with appropriate
subjects at the shortest notice, and I spent a considerable part of my
last year at Oxford in studying the best masters.
MRS. DOT.
I never noticed that you were particularly brilliant.
BLENKINSOP.
I never played for brilliancy. I played for safety. I flatter myself
that when prattle was needed I have never been found wanting. I have met
the ingenuity of sweet seventeen with a few observations on Free Trade,
while the haggard efforts of thirty have struggled in vain against a
brief exposition of the higher philosophy. The skittish widow of
uncertain age has retired in disorder before a complete acquaintance
with the restoration dramatists, and I have routed the serious spinster
with religious leanings by my remarkable knowledge of the results of
missionary endeavour in Central Africa. Once a dowager sought to ask me
my intentions, but I flung at her astonished head an entire article from
the “Encyclopædia Britannica.” These are only my serious efforts. I need
not tell you how often I have evaded a flash of the eyes by an epigram
or ignored a sigh by an apt quotation from the poets.
MRS. DOT.
I don’t believe a word you say. I believe you never married for the
simple reason that nobody would have you.
BLENKINSOP.
Do me the justice to acknowledge that I’m the only man who’s known you
ten days without being tempted by your preposterous income to offer you
his hand and heart.
MRS. DOT.
I don’t believe my income has anything to do with it. I put it down
entirely to my very considerable personal attractions.
AUNT ELIZA.
Here is Freddie, at last. What has he been doing?
[FREDDIE _comes in, having changed into flannels_.
MRS. DOT.
Why on earth have you changed your clothes?
FREDDIE.
[_Sitting down at table._] I regard it as part of my duties as your
secretary to look nice.
MRS. DOT.
I don’t know that I think it essential for you to put on seven different
suits a day.
FREDDIE.
I thought Miss Sellenger would probably like to go on the river before
tea.
AUNT ELIZA.
If she does, it’s more likely to be with Lord Hollington than with you.
FREDDIE.
Oh, that’s rot. Gerald’s an awfully good sort, but he’s not the sort of
chap a girl’s desperately fond of.
MRS. DOT.
You think that, do you?
FREDDIE.
Well, you can’t see yourself falling in love with him can you?
MRS. DOT.
No. No.
AUNT ELIZA.
And what is the sort of man a girl’s desperately fond of?
FREDDIE.
Oh, I don’t know. [_Taking up a spoon and looking at himself, twisting
an infinitesimal moustache._] I should think some one a bit younger than
Gerald.
MRS. DOT.
[_With a little shriek._] You!
FREDDIE.
You needn’t be so surprised. One might do worse, you know.
MRS. DOT.
[_To_ AUNT ELIZA _pointing with a scornful finger at_ FREDDIE.] Do you
think any one could possibly fall in love with that?
AUNT ELIZA.
Of course not.
FREDDIE.
I say, come now. That’s a bit thick.
MRS. DOT.
[_To_ BLENKINSOP.] If you were a young and lovely maiden would you fall
in love with Freddie?
BLENKINSOP.
[_Looking at him doubtfully._] Well, if you ask me point blank I don’t
think I should.
FREDDIE.
You’re all of you jolly supercilious.
MRS. DOT.
He’s not positively plain, is he?
BLENKINSOP.
Not positively.
FREDDIE.
Look here, you shut up. I bet I could cut you out with any girl you like
to mention.
BLENKINSOP.
Rubbish!
MRS. DOT.
I daresay he can whisper nonsense in a woman’s ear as well as any one
else.
AUNT ELIZA.
It’s born in them, the brutes.
BLENKINSOP.
Pooh! I wouldn’t waste my time on whispering nonsense. I’d just send my
pass-book round by a messenger boy.
FREDDIE.
Well, I flatter myself Miss Sellenger will be much more pleased to see
_me_ than to see anybody else down here.
BLENKINSOP.
You’ve only seen her once.
FREDDIE.
She’s a jolly nice girl, I can tell you that.
BLENKINSOP.
[_Ironically._] I suppose she squeezed your hand when you went away?
FREDDIE.
Well, it so happens, she did.
BLENKINSOP.
You needn’t be set up about it, because she squeezed mine, too. It’s
evidently a habit.
FREDDIE.
Yours! What rot!
[MRS. DOT _has been staring at him, with both elbows on the table.
A servant is standing at her side with a tray on which is the
coffee._
AUNT ELIZA.
Thompson is offering you some coffee, my dear.
MRS. DOT.
[_Absently._] Take it away.
FREDDIE.
What on earth are you staring at? Isn’t my tie all right?
MRS. DOT.
You certainly are rather good-looking. I’ve never noticed it before.
FREDDIE.
It’s no good, you know. You’re my aunt, and the prayer book wouldn’t let
you marry me.
MRS. DOT.
Now I come to think of it, I daresay you’re quite grown up to any one
who didn’t know you in Etons.
FREDDIE.
I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about.
MRS. DOT.
I suppose a girl might quite easily fall in love with you. It had never
occurred to me.
BLENKINSOP.
Which means that you’ve found him a wife, and you’re going to marry him
to some one whether he likes it or not.
MRS. DOT.
[_Suddenly._] Freddie.
FREDDIE.
Hulloa!
MRS. DOT.
Go away and play.
FREDDIE.
Hang it all, I want to drink my coffee.
MRS. DOT.
Go and make a mud pie in the garden. There’s a dear.
[_A bell is heard ringing loudly._
AUNT ELIZA.
There they are!
MRS. DOT.
Come on!
[_They all get up._ MRS. DOT _and_ AUNT ELIZA _go out_. FREDDIE
_and_ BLENKINSOP _light cigarettes_.
FREDDIE.
What’s the matter with my virtuous aunt?
BLENKINSOP.
How old are you, dear boy?
FREDDIE.
Twenty-two. Why?
BLENKINSOP.
The delightful age when it’s still possible to feel desperately wicked.
But you are old enough to have learnt that the moods of women are
inscrutable.
FREDDIE.
Oh, rot! I never met a woman whom I couldn’t read at a glance.
BLENKINSOP.
[_Ironically._] Really?
FREDDIE.
You know, they talk about the incomprehensibility of women, but it’s all
humbug.
BLENKINSOP.
When you see a blank wall, does it _ever_ occur to you that there’s
anything on the other side?
[MRS. DOT _and_ AUNT ELIZA _come in with_ LADY SELLENGER, NELLIE
_and_ HOLLINGTON. _They are all talking._
LADY SELLENGER.
We had a delightful journey. Oh, how beautiful your garden is! So
romantic. I love romance.
BLENKINSOP.
When it’s backed by an adequate income.
LADY SELLENGER.
How d’you do? You cynic.
BLENKINSOP.
I’m nothing of the sort. But I occasionally tell the truth.
LADY SELLENGER.
You’re the most cynical man in London, and I’m frightened to death of
you.
BLENKINSOP.
There’s nothing the world loves more than a ready-made description which
they can hang on to a man, and so save themselves all trouble in future.
When I was quite young it occurred to some one that I was a cynic, and
since then I’ve never been able to remark that it was a fine day without
being accused of odious cynicism.
LADY SELLENGER.
My dear Mr. Blenkinsop, what every one says is always true. That is one
of the foundations of society.
BLENKINSOP.
I gained my reputation by remarking once that it was possible for a
penniless young man who married a very rich woman old enough to be his
mother to be genuinely in love with her.
LADY SELLENGER.
I think it was a very cynical observation.
MRS. DOT.
[_To_ LADY SELLENGER.] You know my nephew, don’t you?
LADY SELLENGER.
How d’you do? I think we met at dear Gerald’s a week or two ago.
FREDDIE.
[_Shaking hands._] How d’you do? [_To_ NELLIE.] Have you quite forgotten
me?
NELLIE.
Not quite!
FREDDIE.
Jolly day, isn’t it?
NELLIE.
Awfully jolly.
[MRS. DOT _watches them as they shake hands_.
AUNT ELIZA.
[_To_ LADY SELLENGER.] Would you like me to show you your rooms?
LADY SELLENGER.
Thanks, so much.
MRS. DOT.
Freddie, is Gerald’s room ready?
FREDDIE.
Yes, I think so. I’ll just go and find out.
[_He goes out._
MRS. DOT.
I was so delighted to see the announcement in the morning’s paper. I
offer my very warmest congratulations.
NELLIE.
Thanks, so much.
MRS. DOT.
I’ve known Gerald for ages. I’m delighted to see him on the way to such
a happy marriage. I couldn’t have wished him to get engaged to any one
nicer than you.
LADY SELLENGER.
It’s all so romantic, isn’t it? It ought to be an answer to a cynical
creature like you to see the course of true love run so smoothly.
MRS. DOT.
[_To_ GERALD.] I offer you also my best congratulations. I think you’re
very lucky.
GERALD.
[_Stiffly._] Thank you, very much. I suppose I have my usual room?
MRS. DOT.
Yes.
[_He goes into the house._ LADY SELLENGER _and_ NELLIE _accompany_
AUNT ELIZA. MRS. DOT _is left alone with_ BLENKINSOP.
James!
BLENKINSOP.
Hulloa!
MRS. DOT.
Do you love me?
BLENKINSOP.
Passionately.
MRS. DOT.
[_Stamping her foot._] Don’t be so silly.
BLENKINSOP.
You can’t expect me to be so uncivil as to say no.
MRS. DOT.
But I’m perfectly serious.
BLENKINSOP.
Are you, by Jove? That alters the matter. In that case the answer is in
the negative.
MRS. DOT.
And is there the least chance of your falling in love with me?
BLENKINSOP.
Not so long as I remain in full possession of my senses.
MRS. DOT.
Do you want to marry me?
BLENKINSOP.
Really you embarrass me very much.
MRS. DOT.
Don’t hedge.
BLENKINSOP.
It’s a little disconcerting to have a pistol put to your head in the
form of a proposal of marriage.
MRS. DOT.
I’m not making you a proposal of marriage, idiot.
BLENKINSOP.
Then I should very much like to know what you are doing.
MRS. DOT.
I’m asking you a very simple and ordinary question.
BLENKINSOP.
Thank God, it’s not one that women ask often.
MRS. DOT.
I never saw any one out of whom it’s harder to get a straight answer.
BLENKINSOP.
You must make allowances for a pardonable agitation.
MRS. DOT.
James, do you want to marry me?
BLENKINSOP.
No, bless you!
MRS. DOT.
Are you quite sure?
BLENKINSOP.
Positive.
MRS. DOT.
Would nothing induce you to marry me?
BLENKINSOP.
Nothing.
MRS. DOT.
[_With a sigh of relief._] Then you may kiss my hand.
BLENKINSOP.
[_Doing so._] You’re not hurt?
MRS. DOT.
I’m infinitely relieved.
BLENKINSOP.
And Freddie, the dear boy, says he can read a woman at a glance.
MRS. DOT.
Now listen to me quite seriously. I want you to do something for me.
BLENKINSOP.
[_Nervously._] We’ve put marriage out of the question, haven’t we?
MRS. DOT.
Certainly.
BLENKINSOP.
[_Generously._] You may ask anything else of me.
MRS. DOT.
I want you to let me make love to you.
BLENKINSOP.
My dear friend, this is very surprising.
MRS. DOT.
There are people who’d welcome the proposal with alacrity.
BLENKINSOP.
For how long?
MRS. DOT.
Only for a week.
BLENKINSOP.
You’re sure it’s not in earnest?
MRS. DOT.
Quite sure.
BLENKINSOP.
And what have I got to do?
MRS. DOT.
Well, you’ve got to look as if you liked it.
BLENKINSOP.
[_Sombrely._] Of course, it sounds very delightful.
MRS. DOT.
You must show a coming-on disposition, you know, or I can do nothing.
BLENKINSOP.
Do you want me to make love to _you_?
MRS. DOT.
I’m afraid it’s asking a great deal of you.
BLENKINSOP.
Not at all. Not at all. But I wish you’d tell me what your little game
is.
MRS. DOT.
Ah, here’s Aunt Eliza. The very person I wanted. [AUNT ELIZA _comes on
the terrace from the house. Impulsively._] Aunt Eliza, will you be a
perfect brick? Will you do something for me, that’s an awful nuisance?
AUNT ELIZA.
My dear, why on earth are you so excited? Of course I’ll do anything in
reason for you.
MRS. DOT.
But it’s not in reason.
AUNT ELIZA.
Well, I’ll do it all the same.
MRS. DOT.
I want you to take a motor and bolt up to London and get a special
licence.
AUNT ELIZA.
A special licence!
BLENKINSOP.
A special licence!
MRS. DOT.
[_Catching sight of his face._] Get two special licences. They’re always
useful things to have in a house.
AUNT ELIZA.
But they must be made out to certain names.
MRS. DOT.
Must they? How stupid! Well, have one made out for Frederick Perkins and
Eleanor Sellenger.
AUNT ELIZA.
My dear child, you must be crazy.
MRS. DOT.
Now don’t argue, but do as I tell you. If two young things are thrown
together with a certain amount of skill they always marry.
AUNT ELIZA.
But they hardly know one another.
MRS. DOT.
If people waited to know one another before they married, the world
wouldn’t be so grossly over-populated as it is now.
AUNT ELIZA.
You’re certainly quite crazy.
MRS. DOT.
No, I’m not. I shall never get Gerald to break his word. My only chance
is with Nellie.
BLENKINSOP.
[_Uneasily._] But you’ve told her to get two licences.
MRS. DOT.
Make the second one out in the names of James Blenkinsop and Frances
Annandale Worthley.
BLENKINSOP.
I absolutely refuse.
MRS. DOT.
But you must let me. You can’t leave an old friend in the lurch.
BLENKINSOP.
It’s all very fine to invoke the claims of friendship, but it’s carrying
it rather far when you pay three guineas for a special licence.
MRS. DOT.
My dear man, I can’t drag you to the altar.
BLENKINSOP.
I’m beginning to think you’re capable of anything.
MRS. DOT.
But don’t you see, you idiot, that I want to marry Gerald Hollington?
And I’m eating my heart out.
BLENKINSOP.
[_Crossly._] It’s evidently a diet that agrees with you. You’re growing
fat on it.
MRS. DOT.
Don’t be spiteful. I’ve not gained half a pound in the last five years.
AUNT ELIZA.
And how on earth are you going to get Freddie and Nellie Sellenger to
use this licence?
MRS. DOT.
Never mind, leave everything to me. And make haste to get up to London.
AUNT ELIZA.
Very well, I’ll go at once.
[_Just as_ AUNT ELIZA _is going into the house_ LADY SELLENGER
_comes out, followed by_ NELLIE; AUNT ELIZA _stops and listens to
the conversation from the doorway_.
MRS. DOT.
I hope you’ve found everything you wanted.
LADY SELLENGER.
Oh, yes, thanks. I’m quite delighted with the view from my room.
MRS. DOT.
Come and sit down. I have something very serious I want to talk to you
about.
LADY SELLENGER.
Dear Mr. Blenkinsop, do take Nellie for a little stroll in the garden.
MRS. DOT.
Oh, but it concerns Nellie, and I want her to hear.
BLENKINSOP.
I perceive you are inclined to think that the serious cannot fail to be
improper, Lady Sellenger.
LADY SELLENGER.
Be quiet, you horrible cynic.
MRS. DOT.
Well, a most ridiculous thing has happened, and I want Nellie to help
me.
NELLIE.
Me?
MRS. DOT.
My dear, it’s so unfortunate, but my nephew has fallen head over ears in
love with you.
NELLIE.
Nonsense!
MRS. DOT.
I can’t understand it. After all, he’s only seen you once, and you can’t
have exchanged more than a dozen words.
LADY SELLENGER.
How very annoying!
MRS. DOT.
And it’s so unexpected, because he’s not at all the sort of boy who
falls in and out of love with every pretty girl he meets. I think you’re
his first passion, and he’s inclined to take it very seriously.
LADY SELLENGER.
Poor boy, I can afford to sympathise with him now that Nellie is safely
engaged to Gerald Hollington.
NELLIE.
It’s really rather flattering, isn’t it? But how on earth d’you know?
MRS. DOT.
He tells me everything. You see I’ve always tried to be his friend as
well as his aunt. He has no secrets from me.
BLENKINSOP.
You’ll tell us next that a boy who’s been to Eton and Oxford has a pure
and innocent mind.
MRS. DOT.
My dear child, he simply raves about you. He’s been talking of nothing
else ever since you met.
LADY SELLENGER.
But doesn’t he know that Nellie is going to be married at the end of the
season?
MRS. DOT.
Of course, he does. I’ve dinned it into his ears, but it seems to have
no effect on him. He’s the sort of lover that will hear of no obstacles.
It’s really quite pathetic to hear the passionate harangues that he
pours into my ears.
NELLIE.
What sort of things does he say?
MRS. DOT.
My dear, I suppose very much the same as Gerald.
NELLIE.
No one could accuse Gerald of being a passionate lover.
MRS. DOT.
Really?
LADY SELLENGER.
I’m very glad he’s not. He’s going to be your husband, and that’s more
satisfactory than any amount of pretty speeches.
NELLIE.
I could wish that he talked to me of something besides the weather and
the Royal Academy.
LADY SELLENGER.
My dear child, what are you saying? Gerald has a charming nature and the
very highest principles.
BLENKINSOP.
[_Imitating her pompous manner._] To say nothing of a peerage and a
considerable income.
MRS. DOT.
He certainly has every advantage over poor Freddie, who is nobody in
particular and hasn’t a penny to bless himself with.
NELLIE.
I think he’s awfully nice.
MRS. DOT.
Well, that’s just what I don’t want you to think. I shouldn’t have said
anything to you about his--mad infatuation, only I want you to be very
careful.
LADY SELLENGER.
Of course. It’s quite natural.
NELLIE.
What do you want me to do?
MRS. DOT.
Well, I want you to be very good and sweet and help me to cure him. I’d
send him away, only it would have no effect. I thought if he saw you
again he might find out that you have at least one or two faults. At
present he thinks you too perfect for words.
NELLIE.
I’m not that, really.
MRS. DOT.
I didn’t think you were. I want you to promise that you’ll do nothing
that he can in the least take as encouragement. I want you to be very
distant and very cold.
NELLIE.
Of course, I’ll be only too glad to do anything I can.
MRS. DOT.
You’d be doing him a real kindness if you could snub him at every
opportunity. Then you must avoid him as much as you can. Of course,
you’ll be very much with Gerald while you’re down here.
LADY SELLENGER.
Of course. The dears, they’ve not seen one another for a year, and they
have an infinity of things to discuss.
MRS. DOT.
It’ll be quite easy for you to show my poor Freddie that he’s only
making a prodigious fool of himself.
NELLIE.
I feel so sorry for him.
MRS. DOT.
You will do what you can, won’t you?
NELLIE.
I’ll make it quite plain to him at once that he mustn’t care for me.
MRS. DOT.
Treat it as an impertinence that you resent.
NELLIE.
I’ll do that on the first opportunity.
MRS. DOT.
I know you have the sweetest nature in the world, but if you could be
really brutal to him at once, it would cure him instantly.
NELLIE.
I can be horrid when I like.
MRS. DOT.
I’m sure you can. I put infinite reliance in your tact.
LADY SELLENGER.
And now I think we really might take a little turn in the garden before
tea. [_Seeing that_ NELLIE, _instead of accompanying her, strolls
towards the house_.] Where are you going, Nellie?
NELLIE.
[_Stopping._] I’ve just remembered I must write a letter. I’ll join you
in five minutes.
LADY SELLENGER.
[_To_ BLENKINSOP _and_ MRS. DOT _who are getting up_.] Oh, don’t let me
disturb you, I shall enjoy wandering about and looking at the flowers by
myself.
[_She goes away. Just as_ NELLIE _is entering the house_ FREDDIE
_comes out. She gives him a glance and as she passes, drops a
rose._ FREDDIE _picks it up and comes forward_.
MRS. DOT.
You monster!
FREDDIE.
What’s the matter?
MRS. DOT.
Give me that flower!
FREDDIE.
I shall do nothing of the sort. I shall put it in my button-hole.
MRS. DOT.
Freddie, I’ve come to the conclusion that you want a holiday. I wish you
to pack up your things at once and go to Brighton for a week. You’re
looking pale and tired. I’m sure you’ve been working too hard.
FREDDIE.
Oh, rot! I’m as fit as a fiddle.
MRS. DOT.
Don’t you agree with me, James?
BLENKINSOP.
Certainly. I think a change of air is distinctly indicated.
FREDDIE.
But I can’t go away when you’ve got people in the house. Besides, who’s
to look after your correspondence?
MRS. DOT.
My dear boy, your health is the chief thing. I should never forgive
myself if you came to any harm while you were my secretary. I’ll write
my letters myself.
BLENKINSOP.
Besides, I shall be here, and I’ll do all I can to help you.
FREDDIE.
I don’t believe I’m pale.
MRS. DOT.
You only have to look at yourself.
[_She takes out a little pocket mirror and hands it to him._
BLENKINSOP.
Let’s look at your tongue. [_He puts it out._] Tut, tut, tut.
FREDDIE.
Look here, there’s something behind this.
BLENKINSOP.
You’re too clever, my boy.
FREDDIE.
I see through your little game. Aunt Dot, you want to get rid of me.
MRS. DOT.
How can you be so absurd?
FREDDIE.
Now, I wonder what your reason is.
MRS. DOT.
Shall we tell him the truth?
BLENKINSOP.
Yes, perhaps you’d better. He’s a very bright boy.
MRS. DOT.
Well, the fact is, Freddie, a dreadful thing has happened. Poor Nellie
Sellenger is desperately in love with you.
FREDDIE.
I don’t see why you should want me to go away on that account.
BLENKINSOP.
Good lord, man, don’t be so self-satisfied. Aren’t you surprised, aren’t
you dumfounded that a pretty girl should fall in love with you?
FREDDIE.
I thought it meant something when she dropped that rose.
BLENKINSOP.
Bless my stars, the dolt takes it as a matter of course.
FREDDIE.
I’m awfully flattered and all that sort of thing.
MRS. DOT.
But not exactly surprised?
FREDDIE.
It’s not fair to ask a fellow a question like that.
BLENKINSOP.
At all events, you see now the necessity for depriving us for a time of
your charming society.
FREDDIE.
Nothing will induce me to desert a post of danger. I’m going to face the
music.
BLENKINSOP.
Don’t be such an ass. It’s not you we’re thinking of, it’s that
unfortunate girl.
FREDDIE.
I don’t know why you think she’s unfortunate.
MRS. DOT.
But, my dear boy, she’s engaged to Gerald Hollington. Don’t you see how
serious the whole thing is? The only chance is for you to go away. We
must try and make her forget you.
FREDDIE.
I don’t want to do anybody a bad turn. I wouldn’t do anything to queer
Gerald’s pitch for worlds.
BLENKINSOP.
You must combine with us in order to save her from herself.
MRS. DOT.
There’s no use in her eating her heart out for you, when she must
inevitably marry Gerald.
FREDDIE.
Poor old Gerald, I told you he wasn’t the sort of chap a girl would be
desperately in love with.
BLENKINSOP.
The acumen you have shown does credit to your years.
FREDDIE.
Still, you know, I don’t think it’s wise for me to go away. Don’t you
think it would be rather marked? And they always say that absence makes
the heart grow fonder.
BLENKINSOP.
It was a woman who invented that proverb. There’s no truth in it.
MRS. DOT.
What else can you suggest? The fact remains that Nellie must be cured of
this--of this passion.
FREDDIE.
My own idea is that the best thing is for me to hang on here as if I
knew nothing about it. I’ll take care to be very distant. I’ll ignore
her as much as I can.
MRS. DOT.
Will you promise to do that?
FREDDIE.
Yes, rather. I’ll let her see that I’m really a deuced dissipated dog.
BLENKINSOP.