MARY BROOME: A COMEDY, IN
FOUR ACTS, BY ALLAN MONKHOUSE
BOSTON: JOHN W. LUCE & COMPANY
LONDON: SIDGWICK & JACKSON, LTD.
3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI MCMXIII
_First Impression, June,_ 1912
_Second Impression, January,_ 1913
_Entered at the Library of Congress, Washington, U.S.A._
_All rights reserved_
"Mary Broome" was first produced by Miss Horniman's Company at the
Gaiety Theatre, Manchester, on October 9th, 1911, with the following
cast:--
SHEILA RAY Edyth Goodall
ADA TIMBRELL Hilda Bruce Potter
EDGAR TIMBRELL Herbert Lomas
MARY BROOME Irene Rooke
LEONARD TIMBRELL Milton Rosmer
MRS. TIMBRELL Ada King
EDWARD TIMBRELL Charles Bibby
MAID Doris Bateman
MR. PENDLETON Cecil Brooking
MRS. PENDLETON Louise Holbrook
MRS. GREAVES Hilda Davies
JOHN BROOME Edward Landor
MRS. BROOME Muriel Pratt
The Play produced by STANLEY DREWITT
CHARACTERS
EDWARD TIMBRELL
MRS. TIMBRELL
EDGAR TIMBRELL
LEONARD TIMBRELL
ADA TIMBRELL
SHEILA RAY (_afterwards Mrs. Edgar Timbrell_)
MARY BROOME (_afterwards Mrs. Leonard Timbrell_)
JOHN BROOME
MRS. BROOME
MR. PENDLETON
MRS. PENDLETON
MRS. GREAVES
A MAID
ACT I.
[_The Drawing-room in a biggish suburban villa--The furniture, &c.,
are in middling taste. EDGAR TIMBRELL, an ordinary young man of nearly
thirty in neat tweeds is sprawling self-consciously on the sofa. ADA
and SHEILA are opening a parcel. They are the ordinary middle-class
young women who might develop in all manner of unexpected ways and
usually do not._]
SHEILA. Come and look, Edgar.
ADA. He's only pretending not to care.
SHEILA. Lend me your knife. [_She takes it from him and cuts the
string._] I brought this over without opening it just to let you see
it too.
EDGAR. For Heaven's sake remember who sent them all.
SHEILA. It's all right. Ada's keeping a list.
EDGAR. Well, get all the fun out of it you can. You won't often have
the chance of being married.
SHEILA. [_Opening the parcel._] Oh! how nice! What do you mean, Edgar?
I've had lots of chances.
EDGAR. You can't go on having them now, though.
ADA. Let me see, Sheila.
SHEILA. No, that's why I want everything to be nice. Instead of all
those chances I want one delightful reality. A sweet little tea caddy;
that's two; the other was bigger. One delightful reality, Edgar.
You've got to see to that.
EDGAR. Oh! I'll make a jolly good husband.
SHEILA. I wasn't thinking of that. I was only thinking of the wedding.
One thing at a time. I want to have the prettiest wedding that ever
was. Something that I can look back to. No hitches and stupidities and
uglinesses.
ADA. Some people like Indian tea. You could have Indian tea in that
one.
[_Enter MARY BROOME, the housemaid. She is a comely young woman in the
housemaid's usual afternoon dress and with the housemaid's usual
self-possession._]
MARY. A parcel for you, sir.
EDGAR. Thank you. Will you put it down--anywhere.
ADA. Another present! No.
EDGAR. Only my new silk hat.
SHEILA. Hurrah! That's right.
[_MARY puts the box on a chair and is going out when EDGAR speaks._]
EDGAR. Er--is Mr. Leonard in, do you know?
MARY. I think he went upstairs, sir.
ADA. What do you want with him?
SHEILA. Let's see you in the new hat.
EDGAR. It's just a notion I had. I'm afraid of forgetting. I wonder if
he's done anything about clothes and things; he's fearfully casual.
MARY. Must I--? Do you want me, sir?
EDGAR. No, I think not, thank you.
[_She goes out._]
SHEILA. The new hat. The new hat. How jolly!
[_She begins to open the box._]
ADA. You'd better speak to him while you think about it.
EDGAR. He's no good at ceremonial clothes. I believe he's only got a
frock coat.
SHEILA. Oh! don't let us have a frock coat. I should never forget it.
ADA. I'll go for him. I'll fetch him.
SHEILA. Yes, do, Ada. No time like the present. [_ADA goes out._]
Edgar, I wish Leonard wasn't coming to the wedding.
EDGAR. But, my dear girl--
SHEILA. Oh! I know. I know. Of course he _must_ be best man. It would
be all wrong if he wasn't but somehow he's so queer and different and
I don't feel safe with him and I don't know what he'll do or say. Of
course he can be charming. I think he's a flirt. You always know when
he's in the room.
EDGAR. Of course these artist people are very self-conscious and
assertive and--
SHEILA. But he's not assertive. He's--he's seductive. And he makes fun
of things.
EDGAR. No harm in that.
SHEILA. Yes, there is. He makes fun of the wrong things. Why do you
call him an artist, Edgar? He's not one.
EDGAR. Oh! he's artistic--literary and so on--It's all the same.
SHEILA. But he's a barrister, isn't he?
EDGAR. Oh! yes, of sorts. He never had a brief.
SHEILA. Then how does he--I mean how does he get an income? Why
doesn't he go into the business, too?
EDGAR. Oh! ho! Leonard in the business! No. The old Pater prefers to
pay him a handsome allowance to keep out. Besides, Leonard makes about
five shillings a month by literature.
SHEILA. How horrid to be quite dependent like that! Why do you let
him?
EDGAR. Bless you! I don't want him in the business. It suits me well
enough. Hullo! He's coming.
[_Enter ADA and LEONARD._] [_LEONARD is rather younger than EDGAR; a
handsome young man with an air of detachment. His manners are rather
pleasantly impudent and now disguise some harassment. He is rather
carefully dressed in what appears to be a careless way._]
LEONARD. I'm wanted? Very much honoured I'm sure. My dear Sheila, I
kiss your hands.
SHEILA. You may shake one if you like.
[_He tries to kiss it and she snatches it away._]
LEONARD. What a pity.
SHEILA. Don't be so stupid.
LEONARD. You keep disappointing me. We should have done it very well.
ADA. Don't be absurd, Leonard.
EDGAR. He will play the fool.
LEONARD. Well, well. Now to business. About this wedding. Does the
best man kiss the bride?
SHEILA. } Of course not. Those vulgarities are out of
} date.
} [_Together._]
EDGAR. } Deuce take it, Leonard!
LEONARD. I only want to know. I want to play my part like an English
gentleman. Kissing in public--except the hand--is an atrocity, but if
it has to be done it should be done firmly. No hesitations, no
scrimmages. In fact there should always be a rehearsal. Very well. No
kissing. Now about gloves--
EDGAR. Yes, what are you going to wear, Leonard?
LEONARD. I shall wear a grey morning coat, trousers of about the same
colour but exquisitely striped, white waistcoat, grey hat with narrow
black band, an orchid--the best that money can buy--if anyone will
lend me the money--
EDGAR. Here, I say--
LEONARD. I know what you are going to say--that I ought just to dress
up to you.
SHEILA. Oh! he won't be sensible. I hope you won't go and spoil
things.
LEONARD. Spoil things? [_He reflects for a moment._] Confess that you
would like me to go away and telegraph that I can't come to the
wedding.
SHEILA. Oh! No. But I want everything to be nice.
EDGAR. Do the thing properly, Leonard.
LEONARD. Properly! I want to do things more than properly. I meant to
write an ode on the marriage morning. I'm afraid I shan't have time
for more than a sonnet. I've made a start. I've got a first line:
'The jocund sun has tinged the mountain tops'--
Good word 'jocund'. The difficulty is to get three good rhymes to
tops. Of course it might be crest--mountain crest--but I don't like
it. It's poetical. That's the worst of poetry now-a-days; you mustn't
use poetical words.
EDGAR. There's no getting any sense out of you, but look here: Sheila
and I want you to be decent over this affair. Just get the right sort
of thing and a new hat, won't you? I'll tell you what to get if you
like.
LEONARD. My dear fellow I have the sense of clothes.
SHEILA. He knows well enough, Edgar.
EDGAR. Come on then. Is mother downstairs?
ADA. I think so. Leonard, you might open the window; the room's close.
LEONARD. Now, Ada, you know it's not my business to open the window. I
always leave this kind of thing to experts.
ADA. Well, ring for Mary.
LEONARD. Oh! no. I'll do it. [_He goes rather hastily to open the
window. The others go out. He stands looking out of the window. MARY
BROOME enters dubiously. She looks round the room and presently sees
him. She advances quickly towards him and he turns round._]
LEONARD. Oh! I say!
MARY. You're packing a bag. What for? You can't be going away?
LEONARD. Now you mustn't stop here. Anyone may come in.
MARY. After what I told you, you're going away? You couldn't do that.
LEONARD. And, look here! My mother's talking about having missed a
photograph--my photograph. You've never, surely--
MARY. Yes, I took it.
LEONARD. Oh! but that's madness.
MARY. I thought I had a right to it.
LEONARD. Well, get away, that's a good girl. We'll talk about things
again.
MARY. How can you go away? Why are you packing your bag?
LEONARD. You've been spying in my room.
MARY. You know I have to go into your room.
LEONARD. Of course. I beg your pardon. Yes, I am going away for two
days.
MARY. There were ten shirts laid out.
LEONARD. I'm lying. Yes. We can't talk here. Who's this? Take care.
[_As MRS. TIMBRELL enters he continues:_] Well, I shall be much
obliged if you will. The brown boots--Yes. More polish--I've really
been quite ashamed of them. Well, Mother? [_He turns from MARY with an
air of dismissal. MARY moves away but stops as MRS. TIMBRELL occupies
the doorway. MRS. TIMBRELL is startled rather than surprised. She
holds a small framed photograph in her hand._]
MRS. TIMBRELL. [_To LEONARD._] I've found your photograph.
MARY. You have no right in my room.
MRS. TIMBRELL. [_Greatly agitated._] Leonard, I can't
believe--Leonard--
[_She has advanced into the room having closed the door. It opens and
MR. TIMBRELL enters gaily with SHEILA on his arm. He is a rather
precise man condescending to geniality, obviously righteous according
to his lights and obstinately trustful of them. MRS. TIMBRELL'S
general attitude to him is a rather tired acquiescence which sometimes
stops short of submission. ADA and EDGAR follow closely._]
TIMBRELL. Let's see the latest, then. Where's the sweetly pretty
tea-caddy? [_To MRS. TIMBRELL._] Have you seen it, my dear? [_His
speech peters out as he sees his wife's face and the attitudes of the
group of whom LEONARD alone attempts to maintain an ordinary
appearance._] Why! What's the matter?
LEONARD. You'd better let Mary go, Mother. You can't scold her in
public like this. Besides it was only a trifle.
MRS. TIMBRELL. I must know.
TIMBRELL. What! What! A scolding? What have you been doing, Mary?
Come, come. Never mind. Run away. Run away. I'll speak up for you,
Mary.
MARY. [_To LEONARD._] Must I go?
LEONARD. I suppose so. Certainly.
MARY. Will you speak up for me?
TIMBRELL. What's this? What's this? [_MARY makes for the door, SHEILA
standing aside hastily._] Stop a bit. Stop a bit. [_There is a pause
and TIMBRELL looks at LEONARD and then at his wife._] What's that in
your hand? [_MRS. TIMBRELL hesitates, but as her husband waits she
turns the photograph towards him._] Leonard's photograph? The one you
lost? Well, where was it?
LEONARD. I think you might allow Mary to go.
TIMBRELL. Where was it? [_He speaks to his wife but she is silent. He
looks at MARY._]
MARY. It was in my room.
EDGAR. [_To ADA._] You and Sheila had better go.
TIMBRELL. [_Half turning to EDGAR._] Silence. Why was it in your room?
[_SHEILA and ADA have moved toward the door. They remain, possessed
with a natural and intense curiosity._]
MARY. I had the right to it if anyone had.
TIMBRELL. You took it from his Mother's room?
MARY. [_After a very short pause._] Well, I shall be a Mother soon.
[_TIMBRELL sits down and sinks back in the chair. SHEILA and ADA go
out quietly._]
MRS. TIMBRELL. [_To MARY._] Sit down, my dear.
[_EDGAR gives MARY a chair. She sits down._]
MARY. Thank you, ma'am.
LEONARD. [_To himself or the world._] Beautiful. Beautiful.
TIMBRELL. [_Starting._] What!
LEONARD. I said it was beautiful.
TIMBRELL. What's beautiful?
LEONARD. Mary and my Mother; and you, if you like. The whole thing.
TIMBRELL. What does he mean?
EDGAR. Is your share in it beautiful, too?
LEONARD. That doesn't matter. I see it all.
TIMBRELL. [_To MARY._] What are you stopping here for? Have you no
sense of shame? [_MARY stands up._] I don't want to be hard on you. I
daresay you're less to blame than he is. I don't know. It's a
disagraceful affair. Disagraceful. Now, be off. Be off. Please go.
MARY. But I want to hear what he says.
TIMBRELL. Yes. So do I.
LEONARD. The devil of it is that I say anything. If you get me into a
fix I just want to get out of it.
TIMBRELL. That's your character, is it?
LEONARD. From your point of view, sir, I'm afraid I'm a bad lot.
TIMBRELL. What good are you to anybody? Why were you born?
LEONARD. That's your concern, sir.
TIMBRELL. Don't bandy words with me. You should be down on your knees
asking pardon of this poor girl, of your Mother, of your God. What are
such things to you?
LEONARD. I'm extremely sorry. Of course I've no defence. I should have
to go back to some kind of first principles and even then it'd be a
bit shaky I daresay. Mother, it's horrible for you. I see that.
TIMBRELL. But have you nothing to say? Do you think this is adequate?
What are you going to do? What's your way out?
LEONARD. You have a better head than I have, sir, for these practical
matters.
TIMBRELL. You are a callous and impudent fellow. [_To MARY._] What
have you got to say?
MARY. I can't make out how much he cares.
LEONARD. [_To MARY._] I don't know what to say to you. I can't talk to
you in public. This is a new aspect of the thing entirely. What's the
use of telling you I'm sorry?
MARY. Are you sorry?
LEONARD. Well, yes.
EDGAR. Is the beauty of the scene waning?
LEONARD. [_To EDGAR._] You'll want another best man. Well, Sheila
didn't want me.
EDGAR. Don't speak of Sheila here.
LEONARD. Why not?
EDGAR. Your own sense of decency might tell you.
LEONARD. [_Passionately._] In all my life I never said anything as bad
as that. Never anything as unkind, as evil, as abominable.
EDGAR. Why, what do you mean?
LEONARD. To insult her now!
EDGAR. You're a fine fellow to talk of--
TIMBRELL. Silence. This is no time for such bickering. [_To MARY._]
Just leave the room.
LEONARD. Don't speak to her like that.
TIMBRELL. Are you addressing me?
LEONARD. Yes. You must treat her well.
TIMBRELL. Treat her!--What are you to talk of treating her well?
Besides, I am treating her well. I think she will agree that I have
shown the greatest forebearance. A fellow who has an intrigue with a
servant and then--
LEONARD. A servant!
TIMBRELL. What is she?
LEONARD. You make these distinctions.
TIMBRELL. What does the fellow mean?
LEONARD. You'd hardly believe it but I feel a kind of moral
exaltation. [_EDGAR laughs._] Oh! yes, Edgar, I know your vast
superiority but in this you're despicable through and through--all of
you. No, Mother was beautifully kind for a moment just now. She asked
Mary to sit down. [_Impetuously._] Do you like staying here, Mary? Why
don't you go?
MARY. I want to hear what you say.
LEONARD. I've wronged you, as the saying is, but I don't wrong you
with every instinct, at every hour of the day. After all, I'm the only
member of this family that's achieved any kind of human relationship
with you. To me you're not a servant. Listen to this--listen to
Shakespeare: [_He declaims._]
'Why sweat they under burdens? Let their beds
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates
Be season'd with such viands. You will answer,
The slaves are ours.'
I suppose that practically I'm as bad as any of you. It's just the
idea.
MARY. I don't understand what he's talking about.
TIMBRELL. Nor anybody else.
LEONARD. Mary lives in the kitchen and the attic; Mary lives on poorer
food than ours when it isn't our leavings; the sheets on Mary's bed
are coarser than ours--
TIMBRELL. Silence, sir!
EDGAR. Shameful!
MRS. TIMBRELL. What would you have us do?
MARY. I'm making no complaint, ma'am.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Not of him?
MARY. I was as bad as him.
LEONARD. She is not bad. She can't be bad. Anyone can see that who
looks at her.
MARY. Yes, I've acted bad. I couldn't face--I could never face--[_Her
voice catches. MRS. TIMBRELL crosses over to her._]
MRS. TIMBRELL. Come with me. You've been here long enough.
LEONARD. Go with my mother, Mary.
MARY. I can't make you out. You talk so fine and yet--
MRS. TIMBRELL. Come.
MARY. [_Going, turns and says to LEONARD._] Why were you going away?
TIMBRELL. Going away?
MARY. He was packing his things.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Why, Leonard?
LEONARD. What a brute I am.
MRS. TIMBRELL. You were going away?
LEONARD. That's the kind of beast I am.
TIMBRELL. I don't quite understand this. You were going away? Where?
Why?
LEONARD. Where doesn't matter.
TIMBRELL. Why were you going?
LEONARD. I wanted to get out of it.
MRS. TIMBRELL. You didn't know. You didn't understand.
LEONARD. Yes, I did. She told me.
MRS. TIMBRELL. But, Leonard--
TIMBRELL. What! What! You were running away? You knew--you knew
everything?
LEONARD. Yes, I did.
TIMBRELL. Shameful! Monstrous!
LEONARD. I thought it the most sensible thing to do. I know it looks
bad.
TIMBRELL. He amazes me. I can't grasp it. What a coward! What an
infamous coward! Had you no thought at all for this unfortunate girl?
You never thought of any kind of reparation, I suppose? Reparation! By
Heaven!--[_He stops for a moment, considering and then goes on but
with something working in his mind._] Had you no consideration for
your Mother--for any of us? Don't you see--don't you understand?
LEONARD. I think I see a bit clearer than you do. As to Mary, I didn't
see how I could help her. Frankly, I didn't. I knew you'd be as decent
to her as anyone could. I've not a penny. I can't earn a penny. I'd
have written to my mother to explain. It wouldn't have been pleasant,
but less disagreeable for her than this, I think.
EDGAR. How would you go away without a penny?
LEONARD. Never mind. Yes. You shall know. I meant to take some of
mother's housekeeping money. I know where she keeps it.
EDGAR. You'd have stolen it?
LEONARD. I should have written to explain--and to ask for some more.
EDGAR. You're the limit.
LEONARD. You're damned small-minded. Don't bother us. [_To his
father._] I quite understand your point of view, sir.
TIMBRELL. Oh! do you? You understand me very thoroughly, don't you?
LEONARD. You see I have far more faith in your practical wisdom than
in my own. I'm in a mess. You'll say I ought to stop and face the
music. My point is that it does no good. And then there was that
infernal wedding of Edgar's; I had to get out of that. They didn't
want me any how. Oh! I know I cut a very poor figure. From your point
of view. And I quite understand it, mind you. I'm very much with you
now. And when I look at you, Mary, I feel rather horrible.
MARY. I didn't think you'd have run away.
LEONARD. No, that's bad, isn't it?
EDGAR. The fellow's a Comedian.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Come, Mary.
TIMBRELL. Stop. Mary, would you marry him?
MARY. What, sir?
TIMBRELL. Would you condescend to marry him? Would you be such a fool?
MARY. He wouldn't marry me.
TIMBRELL. So much the worse for him, then. [_To LEONARD._] You've
lived here hitherto at my expense. I turn you out. You're old enough
to earn a living. Go.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Edward--
TIMBRELL. My mind's made up. There's only one alternative.
LEONARD. And what's that, sir?
TIMBRELL. That you do reparation. That you do the honest, manly thing.
It hasn't occurred to you, it seems.
LEONARD. You mean?--
TIMBRELL. I can hardly advise her to do it. Mary, if you marry him
I'll give him £300 a year so long as he behaves himself; if he doesn't
you shan't suffer.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Edward. Don't be hasty, don't decide too quickly. I'm
thinking of you, Mary, as well as of him.
MARY. I knew you'd be kind to me, ma'am.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Edward, I pray that we may do right.
TIMBRELL. Come, sir. You had better go down on your knees and woo your
bride.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Oh! Edward; don't speak like that.
TIMBRELL. He's not worthy of consideration.
MRS. TIMBRELL. I was thinking of her.
TIMBRELL. [_To LEONARD._] What's your answer?
LEONARD. Mother, will you take Mary away and I will talk to my father.
TIMBRELL. You will talk now and in Mary's presence.
LEONARD. You care nothing about her. It's simply that you're vexed
with me. If you were doing it for her I could have some respect for
you.
TIMBRELL. Your answer to my proposal.
LEONARD. What's Edgar doing here? Surely we can do without him.
TIMBRELL. [_To EDGAR._] Stay where you are.
LEONARD. Mary, you know it's impossible.
MARY. Yes, Mr. Leonard.
LEONARD. Mary refuses.
TIMBRELL. So much the worse for you.
LEONARD. But if she refuses--
TIMBRELL. Out you go into the street.
MRS. TIMBRELL. That can't be.
TIMBRELL. That shall be.
LEONARD. Oh! This is all very absurd. We are not being practical at
all. Mary, I'm sorry. It's no good you and me marrying. Now is it?
MARY. I suppose not, Mr. Leonard. I don't know what I'm going to do,
though.
LEONARD. My father can give you a bit of that £300 a year he talks
about. And then--Oh! of course, I don't know. I should like to act
handsomely but what can I do? This talk of marriage--frankly--is a bit
of antiquated Puritanism. Mary, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
You're a good girl. I'm all to blame. [_He turns to his father who
sits grimly silent, then to his mother._] Mother, you settle it.
MRS. TIMBRELL. I don't know how.
LEONARD. You parents are in a middle stage. Once you'd just have been
brutal to the girl. I don't mean you, but parents generally. Presently
we may have more sense. I'm a selfish brute but I've got some sense.
But I'm powerless. [_To his father._] Haven't you any imagination?
It's all very fine to make a scene here and put down your foot and
coerce me into your beastly righteousness but think of the years to
come. Do you see us married? Do you see our married life? Forgive me,
Mary.
TIMBRELL. You shall make an honest woman of her.
LEONARD. A fine old phrase, that.
TIMBRELL. I'm not ashamed of it.
LEONARD. Why shouldn't she be a happy mother without fear and without
shame? Mary, don't make that ridiculous mistake of thinking yourself
disgraced.
MARY. But I am disgraced.
LEONARD. You are not--Not in the eyes of any reasonable human being.
MARY. Then the people I know aren't reasonable.
LEONARD. Have you a father and mother?
MARY. Yes.
LEONARD. And they would--they are--
MARY. They are very respectable.
LEONARD. I see, I see. Yes.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Didn't you tell me you were 'keeping company' with
someone?
MARY. I was walking out, ma'am. I wasn't keeping company.
LEONARD. I'm afraid I don't appreciate the difference.
MARY. There is a difference.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Have you seen him lately?
MARY. Yes, ma'am.
LEONARD. [_Very quietly._] Would he marry you now? [_TIMBRELL starts
in his chair, but does not speak. MARY gives a gasp that is almost a
sob._] I know I'm a brute. Would he marry you, Mary?
MRS. TIMBRELL. No, no, no, no.
MARY. George Truefit's a good man. I wouldn't ask him to marry me now.
LEONARD. But if he cares for you he ought to want to marry you now.
MARY. You think you understand things but you don't.
TIMBRELL. Mary, will you marry my son?
MARY. He'd hate me.
TIMBRELL. Nonsense, will you marry him?
MARY. I'd like to marry someone. I've got to face my father. He'll be
nasty.
LEONARD. May I point out to you, sir--
TIMBRELL. Silence. You will do what you are told. You are not one of
us. You never have been. A useless dilettante. Here's a chance for
you. Don't you see that? A chance. If you can't take it, it shall be
forced on you. Will you marry him Mary, or let him go out into the
street?
MARY. If he's like as you say, it's no great catch.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Mary!
LEONARD. She's right. I'm no great catch. She's the sensible person in
this conference. Let's end it. Let's do something else.
TIMBRELL. We'll finish this now. Edgar, fetch me the Bible--the Family
Bible. You know where it is--in the dining-room.
EDGAR. But--what--
TIMBRELL. [_Loudly._] At once. [_EDGAR goes._]
MRS. TIMBRELL. My dear--[_TIMBRELL holds up his hand and she stops._]
LEONARD. The Family Bible! It's like bringing out an obsolete
instrument of torture. I'd forgotten that we had a Family Bible.
TIMBRELL. The names of my father's children and their wives and
children are recorded there.
LEONARD. And a very nice old custom, too.
TIMBRELL. Your ribaldry is ill-timed, sir.
LEONARD. Ribaldry! I can't make a remark that suits you unless I'm
hypocritical. I think it is a nice custom.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Edward, let us think over this a little more. Let us
try to see things more clearly.
TIMBRELL. Where is Edgar? What's he doing?
MARY. Oh! send me away and be done. I don't want to make trouble.
TIMBRELL. [_Loudly._] Edgar! Where is Edgar? [_Voices are heard
outside. EDGAR enters with the Bible._]
TIMBRELL. What's that? Who's there? What have you been doing?
EDGAR. It's Ada and--it's Ada.
LEONARD. Better stop up the keyhole, sir, if you wish these rites to
be secret.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Oh! be quiet, Leonard.
LEONARD. I must keep up my spirits somehow, Mother.
TIMBRELL. [_Loudly._] Ada! And is Sheila there? Come in. [_They enter
immediately._]
LEONARD. I told you so.
ADA. What is it, father? What's going to happen?
TIMBRELL. Put that Bible down here. [_Pointing to table._] Pen and
ink. [_EDGAR brings pen and ink._]
ADA. Father, what are you going to do?
TIMBRELL. Sheila, I thought your name would be the next to be entered
in this Book, but another is before you.
ADA. Father, I don't want to be hard on Mary, but really--I do think--
SHEILA. I'm sorry for her but I think I ought to be considered. My
wedding's spoilt.
LEONARD. Inadequate, inadequate. My dear Sheila, you're bringing us
down to a lower level than we've reached yet.
MARY. I won't stay. I thank you for your kindness ma'am. I give you a
month's notice, but if I may I'll go now without wages.
LEONARD. Just listen to her, Sheila. It may do you good.
TIMBRELL. Listen to this. [_He strikes the Bible with his fist._] I
swear by this Book that unless my son, Leonard, marries that woman,
Mary--What is your name?
MARY. My name is Mary Broome.
TIMBRELL. Mary Broome, he leaves this house--to-day--and never again
receives support in money or aught else from me. [_This is spoken
standing. He sits down heavily. A short pause._] It is now between my
son Leonard and Mary Broome. [_He opens the Bible at the blank pages
before the title page and, putting on his spectacles, looks fixedly
and inscrutably at the names inscribed there._]
SHEILA. [_To EDGAR._] I think you ought to interfere.
TIMBRELL. [_Without looking up._] If Sheila is not satisfied with her
sister-in-law she need not marry into this family.
SHEILA. She would be my brother-in-law's wife not my sister-in-law.
LEONARD. You are saved.
TIMBRELL. I want to know whether I must write Mary Broome's name here.
EDGAR. It's after marriage you'd do that--not before.
TIMBRELL. This time it's before.
LEONARD. There's a sort of grandeur about a man with a fixed idea.
EDGAR. I know you're an obstinate--a determined man, sir, but I'll ask
you for once to consider--
TIMBRELL. Silence.
EDGAR. Mother--
MRS. TIMBRELL. It's no use. I've never stood up against him. I've let
him have his own way all these years. It didn't seem to matter.
TIMBRELL. I am the head of this house.
[_His implacability daunts them. There are whisperings between ADA,
SHEILA and EDGAR. MRS. TIMBRELL is a little apart quiet and sad. In
the grouping MARY has come to the front. LEONARD moves a step or two
nearer to her and the others are in a rough ring about them._]
LEONARD. Mary.
MARY. Well?
LEONARD. I've done you a frightful wrong. There's no getting away from
that. Don't let it worry you too much. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't
your fault at all. But it's not such a wrong as this--as this would
be. May I say that I've been admiring you greatly to-day. I think
you're a beautiful creature. Good-bye. [_He holds out his hand._]
MARY. But--
MRS. TIMBRELL. My dear boy--
TIMBRELL. Your cunning won't do. You're full of shams and tricks.
LEONARD. I was never more sincere.
TIMBRELL. How long do your sincerities last?
LEONARD. I know. I know. It's gusts and moods with me. Mary, you'll
believe me now. [_He looks at his watch._] At what o'clock does this
house cease to be my home?
TIMBRELL. The sooner the better.
MARY. But what are you going to do?
LEONARD. I don't know. I shall sponge on my pals for a time, I
suppose. I shall dun my mother. I might get down to Ada. Edgar, I
think you're safe. By-the-bye, Sheila, can you lend me half-a-crown?
[_He turns suddenly to his father._] Do you see the folly of it yet?
Are you going to budge? What about my mother? Is it fair to her?
TIMBRELL. You begin to think of your mother too late.
LEONARD. Oh! I know I'm as selfish as they're made. You're well out of
it, Mary. There's no relenting, then?
TIMBRELL. None. [_LEONARD pauses for a moment and then walks towards
the door._]
MARY. Stop. [_He stops and looks round._] Come here, please. [_He
returns to her._] I'll--I'll do as you like.
LEONARD. You mean you'd marry me?
MARY. If you like.
LEONARD. [_Looking intently at her._] I wonder if it's possible.
MARY. You needn't unless you like.
LEONARD. Do you want it? Is it for me you'd do it?
MARY. It'd make me unhappy for you to go away like that.
LEONARD. Mary, I think I like you enough to marry you. But you mustn't
unless you want to marry me.
MARY. I want to marry somebody.
LEONARD. Oh! thank you. You're beautifully frank.
MARY. It's only that I don't quite understand you. You were going
away. You were packing your--
LEONARD. I have the honour to ask you to be my wife.
MARY. Yes, I will.
TIMBRELL. [_Writing._] Mary Broom. B-R-O-O-M?
MARY. E, sir. B-R-O-O-M-E. My father told us we must always stick to
the E. It's more genteel.
TIMBRELL. Yes. By-the-bye, what is your father, Mary? What's his
occupation?
MARY. He's a cabman, sir.
TIMBRELL. Quite so. Quite so.
MARY. [_After a short pause._] It's rather late ma'am. Shall I bring
in tea?
MRS. TIMBRELL. You are very good, Mary. If you will, please.
[_Curtain._]