SHE. Then go!
HE. I can't go!
SHE. You must, darling! You must!
HE. Oh, if somebody would only come along!
_They are leaning toward each other, dizzy upon the brink of another
kiss, when somebody does come--a short, mild-looking man in a derby
hat. There is an odd gleam in his eyes_.
THE INTRUDER. (_startled_) Excuse me!
_They turn and stare at him, but their hands cling fast to each other_.
SHE. (_faintly_) The Agent!
THE AGENT. (_in despairing accents_) Too late! Too late!
THE YOUNG MAN. No! Just in time!
THE AGENT. Too late, I say! I will go.
_He turns away_.
THE YOUNG MAN. No! Stay!
THE AGENT. What's the use? It has already begun. What good can I do
now?
THE YOUNG MAN. I'll show you what good you can do now. Come here!
(_The Agent approaches_.), Can you unloose my hands from those of
this young woman?
THE YOUNG WOMAN. (_haughtily, releasing herself and walking away_)
You needn't trouble! I can do it myself.
THE YOUNG MAN. Thank you. It was utterly beyond my power. (_To the
Agent_)--Will you kindly take hold of me and move me over there?
(_The Agent propels him away from the girl_.) Thank you. At this
distance I can perhaps say farewell in a seemly and innocuous manner.
THE AGENT. Young man, you will not say farewell to that young lady for
ten days-and perhaps never!
THE YOUNG WOMAN. What!
THE AGENT. They have arranged it all.
THE YOUNG MAN. _Who_ have arranged _what_?
THE AGENT. Your aunt, Miss Brooke--and (_to the young woman_) your
uncle, Mr. Egerton--
_The young people turn and stare at each other in amazement_.
THE YOUNG MAN. Egerton! Are you Helen Egerton?
HELEN. And are you George Brooke?
THE AGENT. Your aunt and uncle have just discovered each other up at
the house, and they have arranged for you all to take dinner together
tonight, and then go to a ten-day house-party at Mr. Egerton's place on
Long Island. (_Grimly_) The reason of all this will be plain to
you. They want you two to get married.
GEORGE. Then we're done for! We'll have to get married now whether we
want to or not!
HELEN. What! Just to please _them_? I shan't do it!
GEORGE. (_gloomily_) You don't know my Aunt Maria.
HELEN. And Tubby will try to bully me, I suppose. But I won't do it--no
matter what he says!
THE AGENT. Pardon what may seem an impertinence, Miss; but is it really
true that you don't want to marry this young man?
HELEN. (_flaming_) I suppose because you saw me in his arms--! Oh,
I want to, all right, but--
THE AGENT. (_mildly_) Then what seems to be the trouble?
HELEN. I--oh, you explain to him, George.
_She goes to the bench and sits down_.
GEORGE. Well, it's this way. As you may have deduced from what you saw,
we are madly in love with each other--
HELEN. (_from the bench_) But I'm not madly in love with municipal
ownership. That's the chief difficulty.
GEORGE. No, the chief difficulty is that I refuse to entertain even a
platonic affection for the tango.
HELEN. (_irritably_) I told you the tango had gone out long ago!
GEORGE. Well, then, the maxixe.
HELEN. Stupid!
GEORGE. And there you have it! No doubt it seems ridiculous to you.
THE AGENT. (_gravely_) Not at all, my boy. I've known marriage to
go to smash on far less than that. When you come to think of it, a
taste for dancing and a taste for municipal ownership stand at the two
ends of the earth away from each other. They represent two different
ways of taking life. And if two people who live in the same house can't
agree on those two things, they'd disagree on a hundred things that
came up every day. And what's the use for two different kinds of beings
to try to live together? It doesn't work, no matter how much, love
there is between them.
GEORGE. (_rushing up to him in surprise and gratification, and
shaking his hand warmly_) Then you're on our side! You'll help us
not to get married!
THE AGENT. Your aunt is very set on it--and your uncle, too, Miss!
HELEN. We must find some way to get out of it, or they'll have us
cooped up together in that house before we know it. (_Rising and
coming over to the Agent_) Can't you think up some scheme?
THE AGENT. Perhaps I can, and perhaps I can't. I'm a bachelor myself,
Miss, and that means that I've thought up many a scheme to get out of
marriage myself.
HELEN. (_outraged_) You old scoundrel!
THE AGENT. Oh, it's not so bad as you may think, Miss. I've always gone
through the marriage ceremony to please them. But that's not what I
call marriage.
GEORGE. Then what _do_ you call marriage?
HELEN. Yes, I'd like to know!
THE AGENT. Marriage, my young friends, is an iniquitous arrangement
devised by the Devil himself for driving all the love out of the hearts
of lovers. They start out as much in love with each other as you two
are today, and they end by being as sick of the sight of each other as
you two will be five years hence if I don't find a way of saving you
alive out of the Devil's own trap. It's not lack of love that's the
trouble with marriage--it's marriage itself. And when I say marriage, I
don't mean promising to love, honour, and obey, for richer, for poorer,
in sickness and in health till death do you part--that's only human
nature to wish and to attempt. And it might be done if it weren't for
the iniquitous arrangement of marriage.
GEORGE. (_puzzled_) But what is the iniquitous arrangement?
THE AGENT. Ah, that's the trouble! If I tell you, you won't believe me.
You'll go ahead and try it out, and find out what all the unhappy ones
have found out before you. Listen to me, my children. Did you ever go
on a picnic? (_He looks from one to the other--they stand astonished
and silent_.) Of course you have. Every one has. There is an
instinct in us which makes us go back to the ways of our savage
ancestors--to gather about a fire in the forest, to cook meat on a
pointed stick, and eat it with our fingers. But how many books would
you write, young man, if you had to go back to the campfire every day
for your lunch? And how many new dances would _you_ invent if you
lived eternally in the picnic stage of civilization? No! the picnic is
incompatible with everyday living. As incompatible as marriage.