SHE. Oh, that's all right. Tubby's a dear, in spite of his funny old
ideas. I like him very much.
HE. (_gulping the pill_) Yes....
SHE. He's so anxious to please me in buying this house. I suppose it's
all right to have a house, but I'd like to become acquainted with it
gradually. I'd like to feel that there was always some corner left to
explore--some mystery saved up for a rainy day. Tubby can't understand
that. He drags me everywhere, explaining how we'll keep this and change
that--dormer windows here and perhaps a new wing there.... I suppose
you've been rebuilding the house, too?
HE. No. Merely decided to turn that sunny south room into a study. It
would make a very pleasant place to work. But if you really want the
place, I'd hate to take it away from you.
SHE. I was just going to say that if _you_ really wanted it, _I'd_
withdraw. It was Tubby's idea to buy it, you know--not mine. You _do_
want it, don't you?
HE. I can't say that I do. It's so infernally big. But Maria thinks I
ought to have it. (_Explanatorily_)--Maria is--
SHE. (_gently_) She's--the one who is interested in furnaces. I
understand. I saw her with you at the real-estate office yesterday.
Well--furnaces are necessary, I suppose. (_There is a pause, which
she breaks suddenly_.) Do you see that bee?
HE. A bee?
_He follows her gaze up to a cluster of blossoms_.
SHE. Yes--there! (_Affectionately_)--The rascal! There he goes.
_Their eyes follow the flight of the bee across the orchard. There is
a silence. Alone together beneath the blossoms, a spell seems to have
fallen upon them. She tries to think of something to say--and at last
succeeds_.
SHE. Have you heard the story of the people who used to live here?
HE. No; why?
SHE. The agent was telling us. It's quite romantic--and rather sad. You
see, the man that built this house was in love with a girl. He was
building it for her--as a surprise. But he had neglected to mention to
her that he was in love with her. And so, in pique, she married another
man, though she was really in love with him. The news came just when he
had finished the house. He shut it up for a year or two, but eventually
married some one else, and they lived I here for ten years--most
unhappily. Then they went abroad, and the house was sold. It was
bought, curiously enough, by the husband of the girl he had been in
love with. They lived here till they died-hating each other to the end,
the agent says.
HE. It gives me the shivers. To think of that house, haunted by the
memories of wasted love! Which of us, I wonder, will have to live in
it? I don't want to.
SHE. (_prosaically_) Oh, don't take it so seriously as all that.
If one can't live in a house where there's been an unhappy marriage,
why, good heavens, where is one going to live? Most marriages, I fancy,
are unhappy.