Produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Stan Goodman, Charles Franks,
and the Distributed Proofreading Team
MR. PIM PASSES BY
A Comedy in Three Acts
by
A. A. Milne
CHARACTERS
The Original Cast at the Gaiety Theatre, Manchester
George Marden, J.P. . . . . . . . . . _Mr. Ben Webster._
Olivia (his Wife) . . . . . . . . . . _Miss Irene Vanbrugh._
Dinah (his Niece) . . . . . . . . . . _Miss Georgette Cohan._
Lady Marden (his Aunt) . . . . . . . . _Miss Sybil Carlisle._
Brian Strange . . . . . . . . . . _Mr. Philip Easton._
Carraway Pin . . . . . . . . . . _Mr. Dion Boucicault._
Anne . . . . . . . . . . _Miss Ethel Wellesley._
The action takes place in the morning-room at Marden House,
Buckinghamshire, on a day in July.
THE ORIGINAL LONDON CAST AT THE NEW THEATRE
George Marden, J.P. . . . . . . . . . _Mr. Ben Webster._
Olivia (his Wife) . . . . . . . . . . _Miss Irene Vanbrugh._
Dinah (his Niece) . . . . . . . . . . _Miss Georgette Cohan._
Lady Marden (his Aunt) . . . . . . . . _Miss Ethel Griffes._
Brian Strange . . . . . . . . . . _Mr. Leslie Howard._
Carraway Pin . . . . . . . . . . _Mr. Dion Boucicault._
Anne . . . . . . . . . . _Miss Ethel Wellesley._
MR. PIM PASSES BY
ACT I
_The morning-room at Marden House (Buckinghamshire) decided more than a
hundred years ago that it was all right, and has not bothered about
itself since. Visitors to the house have called the result such different
adjectives as "mellow," "old-fashioned," "charming"--even "baronial" and
"antique;" but nobody ever said it was "exciting." Sometimes_ OLIVIA
_wants it to be more exciting, and last week she rather let herself go
over some new curtains; she still has the rings to put on. It is obvious
that the curtains alone will overdo the excitement; they will have to be
harmonized with a new carpet and cushions._ OLIVIA _has her eye on just
the things, but one has to go carefully with_ GEORGE. _What was good
enough, for his great-great-grandfather is good enough for him. However,
we can trust_ OLIVIA _to see him through it, although it may take time._
_A scene plot is given at the end of the play._
_There are three ways of coming into the room: by the open windows
leading from the garden, by the doors to R., or by the staircase from up_
R, MR. PIM _chooses the latter way--or rather_ ANNE _chooses it for him;
and_ MR. PIM _kindly and inoffensively follows her. She comes down steps
and crosses to_ C., _followed by_ MR. PIM.
ANNE (_moves up, looking off_ L. _and returning to_ PIM R.C.). I'll tell
Mr. Marden you're here, sir. Mr. Pim, isn't it?
PIM (_nervously_). Yes--er--Mr. Pim--Mr. Carraway Pim. He doesn't know
me, you understand, but if he could just spare me a few moments--er---
(_He fumbles in his pockets_.) I gave you that letter?
ANNE. Yes, sir, I'll give it to him.
PIM (_brings out a stamped letter which is not the one he was looking
for, but which reminds him of something else he has forgotten. Looking at
letter_). Oh! Dear me!
ANNE. Yes, sir?
PIM. Dear me. I ought to have posted this. (_Looking at letter_.) Oh,
well, I must send a telegram. You have a telegraph office in the village?
ANNE. Oh, yes, sir. (_Moving up to terrace up_ L. _and pointing off_ L.)
If you turn to the left when you get outside the gates, it's about a
hundred yards down the hill. Turn to the left and down the hill.
PIM. Turn to the left and down the hill. Thank you, thank you. Very
stupid of me to have forgotten.
(ANNE _exits up staircase R_.)
(MR. PIM _wanders about the room humming to himself, and looking at the
pictures and photos on piano. Then goes out at window up_ L.) (DINAH
_enters from staircase up_ R. _dancing, and humming the air of "Down on
the Farm:" she is nineteen, very pretty, very happy, and full of boyish
high spirits and conversation. She dances to foot of stairs, looks off_
R., _then down_ C., _then to piano; sits and plays a few bars and sings
"Down on the Farm," rises and moves up to_ R. _of piano, and as she does
so_ PIM _re-enters from window up_ L. _and they come suddenly face to
face up back_ C. _below the writing-table. There is a slight pause_.)
DINAH (_backing a step_). Hullo!
PIM. You must forgive me, but... Good morning, Mrs. Marden.
DINAH. Oh, I say, _I_'m not Mrs. Marden. I'm Dinah.
PIM (_with a smile_). Then I will say, Good morning. Miss Diana.
DINAH (_reproachfully_). Now, look here, if you and I are going to be
friends, you mustn't do that. Dinah, _not_ Diana. Do remember it, there's
a good man, because I get so tired of correcting people. (_Moving down_
C. _to_ B.) Have you come to stay with us? (_Sits on settee_ R.)
PIM (_following her down_). Well, no, Miss--er--Dinah.
DINAH (_nodding_). That's right. I can see I shan't have to speak to
_you_ again. Now tell me your name, and I bet you I get it right first
time. And do sit down.
PIM (_crossing to_ L. _and sitting on settee_ L.). Thank you. My name is--
er--Pim, Carraway Pim--
DINAH. Pim, that's easy.
PIM. And I have a letter of introduction to your father--
DINAH (_rising and crossing to_ R. _of table_ L.C. _and speaking across
same_). Oh, no; now you're going wrong again, Mr. Pim. George isn't my
father; he's my uncle. Uncle George--he doesn't like me calling him
George. Olivia doesn't mind--I mean she doesn't mind being called Olivia,
but George is rather touchy. (_Sitting on table, facing_ PIM.) You see,
he's been my guardian since I was about two, and then about five years
ago he married a widow called Mrs. Telworthy.
PIM (_repeating_). Mrs. Telworthy.
DINAH. That's Olivia--so she became my Aunt Olivia, only she lets me drop
the Aunt. (_Speaking very sharply_.) Get that?
PIM (_a little alarmed_). I--I think so, Miss Marden.
DINAH (_admiringly_). I say, you _are_ quick, Mr. Pim. Well, if you take
my advice, when you've finished your business with George, you will hang
about a bit and see if you can't see Olivia. (_Rising and moving_ C.)
She's simply--(_feeling for the word_)--devastating. I don't wonder
George fell in love with her.
(_Moving to above piano_ R., _looking at photos, etc._)
PIM (_rising and looking at his watch and coming_ C.). It's only the
merest matter of business--just a few words with your uncle--Perhaps I'd
better...
DINAH (_looking at photo on top end of piano_). Well, you must please
yourself, Mr. Pim. I'm just giving you a friendly word of advice.
Naturally, I was awfully glad to get such a magnificent aunt. (_Moving
down to_ L. _of piano and taking up and looking at photo of_ OLIVIA.)
Because, after all, marriage _is_ rather a toss up, isn't it?--
PIM (_taken aback_). Well, I don't, know, I haven't had any experience...
DINAH (_continuing_). And George might have gone off with anybody.
(_Moving to_ PIM.) It's different on the stage, where guardians always
marry their wards, but George couldn't marry _me_ because I'm his niece.
Mind you, I don't say that I should have had him, because, between
ourselves, he's a little bit old-fashioned.
PIM. So he married--er--Mrs. Marden instead.
DINAH. Mrs. Telworthy--don't say you've forgotten already, just when you
were getting so good at names. Mrs. Telworthy. (_Moves to and sits on
settee_ R.) You see, Olivia married the Telworthy man and went to
Australia with him, and he drank himself to death in the bush, or
wherever you drink yourself to death out there, and Olivia came home to
England, and met my uncle, and he fell in love with her and proposed to
her--(_rises and kneels on settee_)--and he came into my room that night--
I was about fourteen--and turned on the light and said, "Dinah, how
would you like to have a beautiful aunt of your very own?" (PIM
_laughs_.) And I said: "Congratulations, George." (PIM _laughs again_.)
That was the first time I called him George. Of course, I'd seen it
coming for weeks. Telworthy, isn't it a funny name?
PIM. Oh, a most curious name--Telworthy. From Australia, you say?
DINAH. Yes, I always say that he's probably still alive, and will turn up
here one morning and annoy George.
PIM (_shocked_). Oh!
DINAH. But I'm afraid there's not much chance.
PIM (_shocked_). Miss Marden! Really!
DINAH, Well, of course, I don't really _want_ it to happen, but it
_would_ be rather exciting. (_Crossing to_ PIM.) Wouldn't it, Mr Pim?
PIM. Exciting!
(PIM _crosses to below settee_ L.)
DINAH. However, things like that never seem to occur down here, somehow,
(_Running up into window up_ R. PIM _watches her_.) There was a hayrick
burnt last year about a mile away, but that isn't the same, is it?
PIM. No, I should say that that was certainly different.
DINAH (_coming to back of table_ L.C.). Of course, something very, very
wonderful did happen last night. (_Backing away_.) No, no! I'm not sure
if I know you well enough--(_She looks at him hesitatingly_.)
PIM (_uncomfortably_). Really, Miss Marden, you mustn't. I am only a--a
passer-by, here to-day and gone to-morrow. You really mustn't--
DINAH (_looking round and earning down to_ PIM), And yet there's
something about you, Mr. Pim, which inspires confidence.
PIM (_moving to_ L.). Oh, no. Really, you mustn't tell me.
DINAH (_taking his arm_). The fact is--(_in a stage whisper_)--I got
engaged last night!
PIM. Dear me, let me congratulate you. I wish somebody would come here.
DINAH (_running up to foot of staircase up_ R. _and looking off_), I
expect that's why George is keeping you such a long time. (_Turning to_
PIM.) Brian, my young man, the well-known painter--only nobody has ever
heard of him--he's smoking a pipe with George in the library and asking
for his niece's hand. (_Coming back to_ PIM, _and taking his hands, she
dances round with him in a circle_.)
(PIM _falls exhausted and coughing on to settee_ L. _and_ DINAH _laughing
sits on settee_ R.)
DINAH. Isn't it exciting? You're really rather lucky, Mr. Pim--I mean
being told so soon. Even Olivia doesn't know yet.
PIM. Yes, yes, I congratulate you, Miss Marden. Perhaps it would be
better--(_About to get up_.)
(ANNE _comes in from staircase up_ R. _She comes to_ C.)
ANNE. Mr. Marden is out at the moment, sir--
DINAH (_disappointed_). Oh!
ANNE (_seeing_ DINAH). Oh, I didn't see you, Miss Dinah!
PIM. Out! Eh? Dear! Dear!
DINAH, It's all right, Anne. (_Rising_.) _I'm_ looking after Mr. Pim.
ANNE. Very well, Miss.
PIM (_sotto voce_). Out! Oh, well, I'd better go--
(_Exit_ ANNE _up staircase_ B.)
DINAH (_excitedly_). That's me. (_Running up to foot of staircase and
watching_ ANNE _off_.) They can't discuss me in the library without
breaking down--(_coming down_ R. _and imitating_ GEORGE _and_ BRIAN)--so
they're walking up and down outside, and slashing at the thistles in
order to conceal their emotion. You know. I expect Brian--(_Crossing up
to_ R. _of window_.)
PIM (_rising, calling_). Miss Marden! Miss Marden! (_Looking at his
watch_.) Yes, I think, Miss Marden, I had better go now and return a
little later. I have a telegram which I want to send, and perhaps by the
time I come back your uncle will be able--
DINAH (_coming to_ PIM). Oh, but how disappointing of you, when we were
getting on together so nicely! And it was just going to be your turn to
tell me all about yourself.
PIM. I have really nothing to tell, Miss Marden. I have a letter of
introduction to your uncle, who in turn will give me, I hope, a letter to
a certain distinguished man whom it is necessary for me to meet. That is
all. (_Holding out his hand_.) And now, Miss Marden, I really think I'd
better be going.
DINAH (_taking his arm and hading him up stage_ C. _to_ L.). Oh, I'll
start you on your way to the post office.
PIM. Will you? Now, that's really very kind of you.
DINAH. No, it isn't.
PIM. Oh, but it is! You're a very kind little girl.
DINAH. I want to know if you're married--
PIM. Oh, no, I'm not married.
DINAH.--and all that sort of thing. You've got heaps to tell me, Mr. Pim.
Have you got your hat? (PIM _shows his hat_.) Oh yes! That's right.
(BRIAN STRANGE _comes in from window up_ R. _He is what_ GEORGE _calls a
damned futuristic painter chap, aged 24. To look at he is a very pleasant
boy, rather untidily dressed. He is about to tell_ DINAH _the result of
his interview with_ GEORGE _when he catches sight of_ PIM.)
Then we'll--hullo, here's Brian! (_Crossing below and to his_ R. _seizing
him_.) Brian, this is Mr. Pim! Mr. Carraway Pim. He's been telling me all
about himself.
PIM. I haven't said a word. I never opened my mouth.
DINAH. It's so interesting. He's just going to send a telegram, and then
he's coming back again. Mr. Pim--(_coyly and moving down to head of
settee_ R.)--this is Brian--_you_ know,
BRIAN (_nodding_). How-do-you-do?
PIM. How-do-you-do, sir?
DINAH (_pleadingly and crossing below_ BRIAN _to_ PIM), You won't mind
going to the post office by yourself now, will you? (_Coyly moving up to
chair by writing-table and nervously kicking her ankle, etc_.) Because,
you see, Brian and I--(_She looks lovingly at_ BRIAN.)
PIM (_moved to sentiment_). Miss Dinah and Mr.--er--Brian, I have only
come into your lives for a moment, and it is probable that I shall now
pass out of them for ever, but perhaps you will permit an old man--
DINAH. Oh, not so old!
PIM (_chuckling happily_). Not old? Well, shall we say a middle-aged
man--(DINAH _nods assent_. PIM _laughs again_)--a middle-aged man to wish
you both every happiness in the years that you have before you.
(_Crossing in front of_ DINAH, _shakes hands with_ BRIAN.) Good-bye--
(_shaking hands with_ DINAH)--good-bye, and thank you so much. Oh, I know
my way. (_Moving up_ L. _and turning to_ DINAH.) Turn to the left and
down the hill? Turn to the left and down the hill.
(_Exit_ PIM _up_ L. DINAH _watches him off up_ L. _on terrace and_ BRIAN
_up_ R.)
DINAH (_coming into the room below writing-table to_ R.C.). Brian, he'll
get lost if he goes that way.
BRIAN (_crossing at back of windows and calling after him up_ L.). Round
to the left, sir. Yes, that's right. (_He comes back into the room,
crossing down_ L.C.) Rum old bird. Who is he?
DINAH. Darling, you haven't kissed me yet.
BRIAN (_moving up to her and pulling her down to below settee_ L.), Oh, I
say. I oughtn't to, but then one never ought to do the nice things.
DINAH. Why oughtn't you?
(_They sit on the sofa together--_BRIAN _to_ R., DINAH _to_ L.)
BRIAN. Well, we said we'd be good until we'd told your uncle and aunt all
about it. You see, being a guest in their house--
DINAH. But, darling child, what _have_ you been doing all this morning
_except_ telling George?
BRIAN. Oh, _trying_ to tell George.
DINAH (_nodding_). Yes, of course, there's a difference.
BRIAN. I think he _guessed_ there was something up, and he took me down
to see the pigs--he said he had to see the pigs at once--I don't know
why; an appointment perhaps. And we talked about pigs all the way, and I
couldn't say, "Talking about pigs, I want to marry your niece--"
DINAH (_with mock indignation_). Oh, of course you couldn't.
BRIAN. No. Well, you see how it was. And then when we'd finished talking
_about_ pigs, we started talking _to_ the pigs--
DINAH (_eagerly_). Oh, _how_ is Arnold?
BRIAN. Arnold...? Oh yes, that's the little black-and-white one? He's
very jolly, I believe, but naturally I wasn't thinking about him much. I
was wondering how to begin. And then Lumsden came up, and wanted to talk
pig-food, and the atmosphere grew less and less romantic, and--and I
gradually drifted away.
DINAH. Oh, poor darling! Well, we shall have to approach him through
Olivia.
BRIAN. But I always wanted to tell her first; she's so much easier. Only
_you_ wouldn't let me.
DINAH. That's _your_ fault, Brian. You would tell Olivia that she ought
to have orange-and-black curtains in here.
BRIAN. But she wants orange and black curtains in here.
DINAH. Yes. (_Rising and standing with her back to fire, imitating_
GEORGE.) But George says he's not going to have any Futuristic nonsense
in an honest English country house, which has been good enough for his
father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather, and--and all the
rest of them. (_Kneels on settee_.) So there's a sort of strained feeling
between Olivia and George just now, and if Olivia were to--sort of
recommend you, well, it wouldn't do you much good.
BRIAN (_looking at her_). I see. Of course I know what _you_ want, Dinah.
DINAH. What do I want?
BRIAN. You want a secret engagement--
DINAH. Oh!
BRIAN. And notes left under door-mats--
DINAH. Oh!
BRIAN. And meetings by the withered thorn--
DINAH. Oh!
BRIAN. When all the household is asleep.
DINAH. Oh!
BRIAN. I know you.
DINAH. Oh, but it is such fun! I love meeting people by withered thorns.
BRIAN. Well, I'm not going to have it.
DINAH (_childishly, sitting close to him_). Oh, George! Look at us being
husbandy!
BRIAN. You babe! I adore you. (_He kisses her and holds her hands_.) You
know, you're rather throwing yourself away on me. Do you mind?
DINAH (_putting her legs up on settee and reclining her head on his
shoulder_). Not a bit.
BRIAN. We shall never be rich, but we shall have lots of fun, and meet
interesting people, and feel that we're doing something worth doing, and
not getting paid nearly enough for it, and we can curse the Academy
together and the British Public, and--oh, it's an exciting life.
DINAH (_seeing it_). I shall love it.
BRIAN (_sincerely_). I'll make you love it. You shan't be sorry, Dinah.
DINAH. You shan't be sorry either, Brian.
BRIAN (_looking at her lovingly_). Oh, I know I shan't.... What will
Olivia think about it? Will she be surprised?
DINAH. Olivia? Oh, she's never surprised. She always seems to have
thought of things about half an hour before they happen. George just
begins to get hold of them about half an hour after they've happened.
(_Considering him, stroking his hair_.) After all, there's no reason why
George shouldn't like you, darling.
BRIAN. I'm not his sort, you know, really.
DINAH. You're more Olivia's sort. Well, we'll tell Olivia this morning.
(OLIVIA _comes in from top of staircase up R_.)
OLIVIA (_coming in_). And what are you going to tell Olivia this morning?
(_They jump up and go to her_.)
DINAH. Olivia, darling--
OLIVIA, Oh, well, I think I can guess,
(DINAH _goes to her_ R, _and_ BRIAN _to her_ L., _and they bring her
down_ C.)
BRIAN (_following_). Say you understand, Mrs. Marden.
OLIVIA. Mrs. Marden, I am afraid, is a very dense person, Brian, but I
think if you asked Olivia if she understood--
BRIAN. Bless you, Olivia. I _knew_ you'd be on our side.
DINAH. Of course she would.
OLIVIA. I don't know if it's usual to kiss an aunt-in-law, Brian, but
Dinah is such a very special sort of niece that--(_she inclines her cheek
and_ BRIAN _kisses it_).
DINAH (_backing away to_ B. _a little_). I say, you are in luck to-day,
Brian.
(BRIAN _moves up_ C. _laughing_.)
OLIVIA (_crossing below settee_ L. _and up_ L. _to cabinet_). And how
many people have been told the good news?
BRIAN. Nobody yet.
DINAH. Except Mr. Pim.
BRIAN (_crossing down to_ DINAH). Oh, does he--
OLIVIA (_timing as she reaches cabinet, up_ L.), Who's Mr. Pim?
DINAH. Oh, he just happened--(OLIVIA _takes curtains and work-basket from
centre cupboard of cabinet_.)--I say, are those the curtains? Then you're
going to have them after all?
OLIVIA (_with an air of surprise, coming down L., and putting
work-basket on table L.C. and sitting with curtains_). After all what?
But I decided on them long ago. (_To_ BRIAN.) You haven't told George yet.
BRIAN (_moving to below stool_ L.C.). I began to, you know, but I never
got any farther than "Er--there's just--er--"
DINAH (_crossing quickly below_ OLIVIA _and speaking into her face_).
George would talk about _pigs_ all the time.
OLIVIA. Well, I suppose you want me to help you.
DINAH (_sitting to_ L. _of_ OLIVIA). Oh, do, darling.
BRIAN (_sits on stool_ L.C.). It would be awfully decent of you. Of
course, I'm not quite his sort really--
DINAH. You're my sort.
BRIAN. But I don't think he objects to me, and--
(GEORGE _comes in from terrace, a typical, narrow-minded, honest country
gentleman of forty odd._ BRIAN _rises hurriedly and crosses to above
piano to_ R. DINAH _rises and stands by fireplace._ OLIVIA _unfolds
curtains and prepares to sew_.)
GEORGE (_at the windows--he does not see_ BRIAN). Hullo! Hullo! Hullo!
What's all this about a Mr. Pim? Who is he? Where is he? (_He puts his
cap on table, and comes down, into room_.) I had most important business
with Lumsden, and the girl comes down and cackles about a Mr. Pim, or
Ping, or something. Where did I put his card? (_Bringing it out_.)
Carraway Pim. Never heard of him in my life, (_Moves back to
writing-table and puts down card_.)
DINAH. He said he had a letter of introduction, Uncle George.
GEORGE. Oh, you saw him, did you! (_Comes down_ C. _to_ R.) Yes, that
reminds me, there was a letter--(_he brings it out and reads it_).
DINAH. He had to send a telegram. He's coming back.
OLIVIA. Pass me those scissors, Brian.
BRIAN (_crossing to above table_ L.C.). These? (_he passes them_.)
OLIVIA (_giving_ BRIAN _a nod of encouragement and looking round at_
DINAH). Thank you.
GEORGE (_reading_). Ah well, a friend of Brymer's, Glad to oblige him.
Yes, I know the man he wants. Coming back, you say, Dinah? (DINAH
_nods_.) Then I'll be going back too. Send him down to the farm, Olivia,
when he comes. (_Going up meets_ BRIAN.) Hallo, what happened to you?
(_Still moving up a little_.)
OLIVIA. Don't go, George, there's something we want to talk about. (DINAH
_gives a long whistle. All look sheepish and_ GEORGE _notices their
attitude_.)
GEORGE. Hallo, what's this?
BRIAN (_quickly and over back of i.e. table to_ OLIVIA). Shall I---!
(DINAH _pantomimes. "Yes, do."_)
OLIVIA (_with a roguish loot at_ DINAH). Yes, (_Sticks needle in work_.)
BRIAN (_stepping out to_ C.) I've been wanting to tell you all this
morning, sir, only I didn't seem to have an opportunity of getting it
out.
GEORGE. Well, what is it?
(BRIAN, _taken aback for a moment, looks to_ OLIVIA _for encouragement.
She nods approval and turning to_ DINAH, _takes her hand encouragingly--
_)
BRIAN (_boldly_). I want to marry Dinah, sir.
GEORGE. You want to marry Dinah? God bless my soul!
DINAH (_rushing to him below and to his_ R. _and pulling her cheek
against his coat, and her hands on his shoulder_). Oh, do say you like
the idea, Uncle George.
GEORGE. Like the idea! (_Taking her hands from his shoulder_.) Have you
heard of this nonsense, Olivia?
(_Movement of annoyance from_ DINAH.)
OLIVIA. They've just this moment told me, George. I think they would be
happy together.
GEORGE (_crossing to fire-place_ L., _to_ BRIAN). And what do you propose
to be happy together on?
BRIAN (R.C.). Well, of course, I know it doesn't amount to much at
present, but we shan't starve.
DINAH. Brian got fifty pounds for a picture last March!
GEORGE (_a little upset by this_). Oh! (_Recovering gamely_.) And how
many pictures have you sold since?
BRIAN (_gives a nervous look at_ OLIVIA _and_ DINAH, _who then sits on
settee_ R.). Well, none, but--
GEORGE. None! And I don't wonder. Who the devil is going to buy pictures
with triangular clouds and square sheep? (BRIAN, _annoyed, moves up_
R.C.) And they call that Art nowadays! Good God, man (_moving up to the
windows_), go outside and look at the clouds!
OLIVIA (_busy stitching rings on curtains_). If he draws round clouds in
future, George, will you let him marry Dinah?
(GEORGE _looks round, annoyed._ BRIAN _is hopeful and comes down towards_
DINAH.)
GEORGE (_upset by this, coming down to head of_ L.C. _table_). What--
what? Yes, of course, you would be on his side--all this Futuristic
nonsense. (OLIVIA _commences to sew_.) I'm just taking these clouds as an
example. (_Crossing to_ BRIAN.) I suppose I can see as well as any man in
the county, and I say that clouds aren't triangular.
BRIAN (_ingratiatingly_). After all, sir, at my age one is naturally
experimenting, and trying to find one's (_with a laugh)_--well, it sounds
priggish, but one's medium of expression. I shall find out what I want to
do directly, but I think I shall always be able to earn enough to live
on. Well, I have for the last three years.
GEORGE. I see, and now you want to experiment with a wife--
BRIAN. Yes--no--no--
DINAH. Yes, you do,
BRIAN. Yes.
GEORGE. And you propose to experimenting with my niece?
BRIAN (_with a shrug_). Well, of course, if you--
OLIVIA. You could help the experiment, darling, by giving Dinah a good
allowance until she's twenty-one.
GEORGE. Help the experiment! I don't _want_ to help the experiment.
(_Crossing up to writing-table_.)
OLIVIA (_apologetically_). Oh, I thought you did.
GEORGE. You will talk as if I was made of money. What with taxes always
going up and rents always going down, it's as much as we can do to rub
along as we are (_to back of_ L.C. _table_), without making allowances to
everybody who thinks she wants to get married. (_To_ BRIAN.) And that's
thanks to you, my friend.
BRIAN (_surprised_). To me?
OLIVIA. You never told me, darling. What's Brian been doing?
DINAH (_indignantly_). He hasn't been doing anything.
GEORGE (_round to foot of table_ L.C.). He's one of your Socialists who
go turning the country upside down.
OLIVIA. But even Socialists must get married sometimes.
GEORGE (_crossing below_ OLIVIA _to fireplace_). I don't see any
necessity.
OLIVIA. But you'd have nobody to damn after dinner, darling, if they all
died out.
BRIAN (_coming a little_ C.). Really, sir, I don't see what my politics
and my art have got to do with it. I'm perfectly ready not to talk about
either when I'm in your house, and as Dinah doesn't seem to object to
them----
DINAH (_moving towards_ BRIAN _and championing him_). I should think she
doesn't.
GEORGE. Oh, you can get round the women, I daresay.
BRIAN. Well, it's Dinah I want to marry and live with. So what it really
comes to is that you don't think I can support a wife.
GEORGE. Well, if you're going to do it by selling pictures, I don't think
you can.
BRIAN (_moving to_ R. _of table_ L.C.). All right, tell me how much you
want me to earn in a year, and I'll earn it.
GEORGE (_hedging_). It isn't merely a question of money. I just mention
that as one thing--one of the important things. (GEORGE _crosses to_
BRIAN _who backs towards_ DINAH.) In addition to that, I think you are
both too young to marry. (DINAH _stamps her foot_.) I don't think you
know your own minds (DINAH _kneels dejectedly on settee_ R.), and I am
not at all persuaded that, with what I venture to call your outrageous
tastes----
DINAH. Oh!
GEORGE You and my niece will live happily together. (_Pause. Crossing up
to writing-table, sits_.) Just because she thinks she loves you, Dinah
may persuade herself now that she agrees with all you say and do, but she
has been properly brought up in an honest English country household--
(DINAH _throws up her arms and buries her face in her hands on piano_)
and--er--she--well, in short, I cannot at all approve of any engagement
between you. (_Getting up_.) Olivia, if this Mr.--er--Pim comes, I shall
be down at the farm You might send him along to me.
(_He walks towards the windows up_ L.)
BRIAN (_moving up_ R., _followed by_ DINAH; _indignantly_). Is there any
reason why I shouldn't marry a girl who has been properly brought up?
GEORGE. I think you know my views, Strange.
(DINAH, _disappointed, crosses down_ R. _again to below table_ R.C.)
OLIVIA. George, wait a moment, dear. We can't quite leave it like this.
GEORGE. I have said all I want to say on the subject.
(DINAH _sits on settee_ R.)
OLIVIA. Yes, darling, but I haven't begun to say all that _I_ want to say
on the subject.
GEORGE (_crossing down to back of table_ L.C.). Of course, if you have
anything to say, Olivia, I will listen to it; but I don't know that this
is quite the time--(OLIVIA _makes a marked movement as she is sewing the
curtains_), or that you have chosen--(_looking darkly at the curtains_)--
quite the occupation likely to--er--endear your views to me.
DINAH (_mutinously, rising quickly and crossing to stool on which she
kneels and looks up into_ GEORGE'S _face and bangs the table_). I may as
well tell you, Uncle George, that I have got a good deal to say, too.
(BRIAN _crosses down to her_ R., _gingerly pulling her sleeve, trying to
restrain her_.)
OLIVIA. Yes, darling. I can guess what you are going to say, Dinah, and I
think you had better keep it for the moment.
DINAH (_meekly, backing to_ R. _below_ BRIAN _and to_ L. _of table_
R.C.). Yes, Aunt Olivia.
OLIVIA. Brian, you might take her outside for a walk. I expect you have
plenty to talk about.
(BRIAN _and_ DINAH _move up_ R.)
GEORGE (_following them up_). Now mind, Strange, no love-making. I put
you on your honour about that.
BRIAN (_looking round dubiously at_ DINAH). I'll do my best to avoid it,
sir.
DINAH (_cheekily_). May I take his arm if we go up a hill?
OLIVIA. I'm sure you'll know how to behave--both of you.
BRIAN (R. _of writing-table_). Come on, then, Dinah.
DINAH (_following him_). Right-o. (_They exeunt through windows and off
to_ L.)
GEORGE (_as they go_). And if you do see any clouds, Strange, take a good
look at them. (_He chuckles to himself_.) Triangular clouds--I never
heard of such nonsense. (_He goes back to his chair at the writing-table
and sits_.) Futuristic rubbish... Well, Olivia?
OLIVIA (_sewing curtains_). Well, George?
GEORGE. What are you doing?
OLIVIA. Making curtains--(_grunt of disapproval from_ GEORGE)--George.
Won't they be rather sweet? Oh, but I forgot--you don't like them.
GEORGE. No. I don't like them, and what is more, I don't mean to have
them in my house. As I told you yesterday, this is the house of a simple
country gentleman, and I don't want any of these new-fangled ideas in it.
OLIVIA. Is marrying for love a new-fangled idea?
GEORGE. We'll come to that directly. None of you women can keep to the
point. What I am saying now is that the house of my fathers and
forefathers is good enough for me.
OLIVIA. Do you know, George, I can hear one of your ancestors saying that
to his wife in their smelly old cave--(GEORGE _looks up annoyed at her
levity_)--when the new-fangled idea of building houses was first
suggested. "The Cave of my Forefathers is good enough for----"
GEORGE (_rising and coming to_ R. _of_ L.C. _table_). That's ridiculous.
Naturally we must have progress. But that's just the point. (_Indicating
the curtains_.) I don't call this sort of thing progress. It's--ah--
retrogression.
OLIVIA. Well, anyhow, it's pretty.
GEORGE. There I disagree with you. And I must say once more that I will
not have them hanging in my house. (_Going up_ R.C.)
OLIVIA. Very well, George. (_But she goes on working_.)
GEORGE (_seeing her continuing to sew, stops_). That being so, I don't
see the necessity of going on with them.
OLIVIA. Well, I must do something with them now I've got the material.
(GEORGE _goes up to writing-table, sits and writes_.)
I thought perhaps I could sell them when they're finished--as we're so
poor.
GEORGE (_turns to her with surprised look_). What do you mean--so poor?
OLIVIA. Well, you said just now that you couldn't give Dinah an allowance
because rents had gone down.
GEORGE (_annoyed_). Confound it, Olivia! Keep to the point! We'll talk
about Dinah's affairs directly. We're discussing our own affairs at the
moment.
OLIVIA. But what is there to discuss, dear?
GEORGE. Well, those ridiculous things.
OLIVIA. But we've finished that. You've said you wouldn't have them
hanging in your house, and I've said, "Very well, George."--(GEORGE _is
again annoyed_.)--Now we can go on to Dinah, and Brian.
GEORGE (_shouting_). But put these beastly things away.
OLIVIA (_rising and gathering up the curtains_). Very well, George.
(_Going up_ L. _she places the curtains on the cabinet_.)
GEORGE (_waits impatiently until she has put them away on top of
cabinet_). Ah! That's better.
(OLIVIA _comes to table_ L.C., _closes her workbox and then crosses down
to settee_ R.)
GEORGE (_rising and crossing down to_ OLIVIA _and placing arms lovingly
on her shoulder_). Now look here, Olivia, old girl, you've been a jolly
good wife to me--(_takes his arms from her shoulder_)--and we don't often
have rows, and if I've been rude to you about this--lost my temper a bit
perhaps, what?--I'll say I'm sorry. May I have a kiss?
OLIVIA (_holding up her face_). George, darling! (_He kisses her_.) Do
you love me?
GEORGE. You know I do, old girl.
OLIVIA. As much as Brian loves Dinah?
GEORGE (_stiffly, taking her hands from his shoulders_). I've said all I
want to say about that. (_He goes away from her to_ L.)
OLIVIA. Oh, but there must be lots you want to say and perhaps don't like
to. (_Sits on settee_ R.) Do tell me, darling.
GEORGE (_coming back to_ C.). What it comes to is this. I consider that
Dinah is too young to choose a husband for herself, and that Strange
isn't the husband I should choose for her.
OLIVIA. You were calling him Brian yesterday.
GEORGE. Yesterday I regarded him as a boy, now he wants me to look upon
him as a man.
OLIVIA. He's twenty-four.
GEORGE. Yes, and Dinah's nineteen. Ridiculous. (_Crossing up to
smoking-table up_ R., _and filling his pipe which he finds on table_.)
OLIVIA. If he'd been a Conservative, and thought that clouds were round,
I suppose he'd have seemed older, somehow.
GEORGE. That's a different point altogether. That has nothing to do with
his age.
OLIVIA (_innocently_). Oh, I thought it had.
GEORGE (_crossing down_ C. _stuffing tobacco into his pipe_). What I am
objecting to is these ridiculously early marriages before either party
knows its own mind, much less the mind of the other party. (_Moving to
fireplace looking for a match_.) Such marriages invariably lead to
unhappiness.
OLIVIA. Of course, _my_ first marriage wasn't a happy one.
GEORGE. As you know, Olivia, I dislike speaking about your first marriage
at all--(_takes a match from table down_ L. OLIVIA _rises slowly and
goes up to_ R. _of writing-table_)--and I had no intention of bringing it
up now, but since you mention it--well, there's a case in point. (_Sits
on settee_ L., _lighting his pipe_.)
OLIVIA (_looking back at it_). When I was eighteen, I was in love.
GEORGE (_turning to her_). What?
OLIVIA. Or perhaps I only thought I was, and I don't know if I should
have been happy or not if I had married him. But my father made me marry
Mr. Jacob Telworthy. (GEORGE _looks up at her, annoyed_.) And when things
were too hot for him in England--"too hot for him"--I think that was the
expression we used in those days--then we went to Australia, and I left
him there. (_Goes slowly down to back of settee_ L.) And the only happy
moment I had in all my married life was on the morning when I saw in the
papers that he was dead. (_Leans with her arms over back of settee_.)
GEORGE (_very uncomfortable yet lovingly taking her hands with his left
hand_). Yes, yes, my dear, I know, I know. You must have had a terrible
time. I can hardly bear to think about it. My only hope is that I have
made up to you for it in some degree. (_She places her left cheek
lovingly on his head_.) (_Dropping her hands_.) But I don't see what
bearing it has upon Dinah's case.
OLIVIA. Oh, none, except that _my_ father _liked_ Jacob's political
opinions and his views on art. (_Moving slowly round_ L.C. _table to
below stool at foot_.) I expect that that was why he chose him for me.
GEORGE. You seem to think that I wish to choose a husband for Dinah. I
don't at all. Let her choose whom she likes as long as he can support her
and there's a chance of their being happy together. Now, with regard to
this fellow--
OLIVIA. You mean Brian?
GEORGE. Well, he's got no money, and he's been brought up in quite a
different way from Dinah. Dinah may be prepared to believe that--er--all
cows are blue, and that--er--waves are square, but she won't go on
believing it for ever.
OLIVIA. Neither will Brian.
GEORGE (_moving to_ R. _end of settee_). Well, that's what I keep telling
him, only he won't see it. Just as I keep telling you about those
ridiculous curtains. (_Points to cupboard with pipe in right hand over
his left shoulder_.) It seems to me that I am the only person in the
house with any eyesight left.
OLIVIA. Perhaps you are, darling; but you must let us find out our own
mistakes for ourselves. (_Sits on stool_ L.C.) At any rate, Brian is a
gentleman; he loves Dinah, Dinah loves him; he's earning enough to
support himself, and you are earning enough to support Dinah.
GEORGE (_amazed_). What?
OLIVIA. I think it's worth risking, George.
GEORGE (_stiffly_). I can only say the whole question demands much more
anxious thought than you seem to have given it. You say that he is a
gentleman. He knows how to behave, I admit; but if his morals are as
topsy-turvy as his tastes and--er--politics, as I've no doubt they are
(_rising and moving to_ L.), then-er--In short, I do _not_ approve of
Brian Strange as a husband for my niece and ward. (_Knocks pipe out down_
L.)
OLIVIA (_looking at him thoughtfully_). You _are_ a curious mixture,
George. You were so very unconventional when you married me, and you're
so very conventional when Brian wants to marry Dinah.... George Marden to
marry the widow of a convict!
GEORGE (_advancing_). Convict! What do you mean?
OLIVIA. Jacob Telworthy, convict--I forget his number--surely I told you
all this, dear, when we got engaged?
GEORGE. Never!
OLIVIA. Oh, but I told you how he carelessly put the wrong signature to a
cheque for a thousand pounds in England; how he made a little mistake
about two or three companies he'd promoted in Australia; and how--
GEORGE. Yes, yes (_crossing slowly to_ C. _below_ OLIVIA), but you never
told me he'd been--er--well--_convicted_!
OLIVIA. What difference does it make?
GEORGE. My dear Olivia, if you can't see that--a--a--oh, well!
OLIVIA. Oh! A convict! So, you see, we needn't be too particular about
our niece, need we?
GEORGE. I think we had better leave your first husband out of the
conversation altogether. I never wished to refer to him; I never wish to
hear about him again. I certainly had not realized that he was actually--
er--well--convicted for his--er--(_moving to writing-table and picking up
his cap_).
OLIVIA. Mistakes. GEORGE. Well, we needn't go into that. As for this
other matter, I don't for a moment take it seriously. Dinah is an
exceptionally pretty girl, and young. Strange is a good-looking boy.
(_Coming down to back of settee_ L.) If they are attracted to each other,
it is a mere outward attraction which I am convinced will not lead to any
lasting happiness. (OLIVIA _is about to protest_.) That must be regarded
as my last word in the matter, Olivia. If this Mr.--er--what was his
name, comes, I shall be down at the farm. (GEORGE _goes out by the
staircase up_ R.)
(_Left alone,_ OLIVIA _rises, goes up_ C., _takes up her curtains again
and crossing down_ L. _sits on settee, and gets calmly to work upon
them_.)
(DINAH _comes in by the windows from up_ R. _and crosses to_ L. _window
at back, then seeing_ OLIVIA, _beckons to_ BRIAN _and runs down to back
of settee to_ R. _of_ OLIVIA. BRIAN _enters from up_ R., _and follows
down to back of table_ L.C.)
DINAH (_over back of settee_). Finished?
OLIVIA (_startled_). Oh, no, I've got all these rings to put on.
DINAH. I meant talking to George.
OLIVIA. Oh!
BRIAN. We walked about outside----
DINAH. Until we heard him _not_ talking to you any more----
BRIAN. And we didn't kiss each other once.
DINAH AND BRIAN (_pointing roguishly and with satisfaction at_ OLIVIA).
Ah!
DINAH. Brian was very George-like. He wouldn't even let me tickle the
back of his neck. (_She goes suddenly to_ OLIVIA _and sits on her_ L.)
Darling (_putting her arms round_ OLIVIA _and kissing her_), being
George-like is a very nice thing to be--I mean a nice thing for other
people to be--I mean--oh, you know what I mean. But say that he's going
to be decent about it.
OLIVIA. Of course he is, Dinah.
BRIAN (_sits on stool_ L.C., _and leans forward eagerly_). You mean he'll
let me come here as--as----
DINAH. As my young man?
OLIVIA. Oh, I think so.
DINAH (_kissing_ OLIVIA). Olivia, you're a wonder.
(_Embraces her round the neck_.)
(_Rising and crossing below_ BRIAN, _touching him on the shoulder_.)
Brian!
(_Crossing to piano, sits and plays five bars of "The Wedding March,"
rises and crosses at back of_ BRIAN _to_ L. _of_ OLIVIA _behind settee_.)
Have you really talked him round?
OLIVIA. I haven't said anything yet.
DINAH (_very disappointed_). Oh!
(BRIAN _rises and backs to_ C.)
OLIVIA. But I dare say I shall think of something.
BRIAN. Oh! my lord.
DINAH (_disappointedly_). Oh!
BRIAN (_going up_ C.). After all, Dinah, I'm going back to London
to-morrow----
DINAH (_crossing quickly towards_ BRIAN). Oh, no, no!
OLIVIA. Now, Dinah. You can be good for one more day, and then when Brian
isn't here, we'll see what we can do.
DINAH (_placing her hands on_ BRIAN'S _shoulders_). Yes, but I didn't
want him to go back to-morrow.
BRIAN (_sternly, taking her hands away_). Must. Hard work before me.
(DINAH _moves to back of table_ L.C.) Earn thousands a year. (_Going
down_ R. DINAH _and_ OLIVIA _are amused_). Paint the Mayor and
Corporation of Pudsey, life-size, including chains of office; paint slice
of haddock on plate. Copy Landseer for old gentleman in Bayswater. Design
antimacassar for middle-aged sofa in Streatham. (_Sitting and putting his
legs up on settee R_.) Oh, yes. Earn a living for you. Dinah.
DINAH (_giggling_). Oh, Brian, you're heavenly. What fun we shall have
when we're married.
BRIAN (_with exaggerated dignity_). Sir Brian Strange, R.A., if you
please, Miss Marden. Sir Brian Strange, R.A., writes: "Your Sanogene has
proved a most excellent tonic. After completing the third acre of my
Academy picture, 'The Mayor and Corporation of Pudsey,' I was completely
exhausted, but one bottle of Sanogene revived me, and I finished the
remaining seven acres at a single sitting."
OLIVIA (_rising and looking about her_). Brian, find my scissors for me.
(_Sits again_.)
BRIAN (_rising and crossing to_ C.). Scissors. Sir Brian Strange, R.A.,
looks for scissors.
(BRIAN, _clasping his hands behind his back, with a very important walk,
looks first on the top end of piano, then on writing-table at back_.
DINAH _playfully follows him round, imitating his walk_. BRIAN _crosses
to cabinet up L. and finds the scissors on top, takes them up and in a
threatening attitude turns to_ DINAH, _exclaiming,_ "Ha, ha!" DINAH _with
a little playful scream backs to chair below writing-table, and sits.
Holding up scissors_.)
Once more we must record an unqualified success for the eminent
Academician. (_Turning to_ OLIVIA _and with a bow hands them over the
back of settee to her_.) Your scissors.
OLIVIA. Thank you so much.
DINAH. Come on, Brian, let's go out. I feel open-airy.
(_They go up_ R.)
OLIVIA. Don't be late for lunch, there's good people. Lady Marden is
coming.
DINAH. Aunt Juli-ah! Help! (_She faints in_ BRIAN'S _arms_.) That means
a clean pinafore. Brian, you'll jolly well have to brush your hair.
BRIAN (_feeling it_). I suppose there's no time now to go up to London
and get it cut?
(_Enter_ ANNE _from stairs up R. and comes to foot of staircase, followed
by_ PIM, _who comes half-way down the stairs_.)
ANNE. Mr. Pim!
DINAH (_delighted_). Hullo. Mr. Pim! (_Imitating a clown_.) Here we are
again! You can't get rid of us so easily, you see.
PIM. I--er--dear Miss Marden----(_Crosses down to_ C.)
OLIVIA. How-do-you-do, Mr. Pim? I can't get up, but do come and sit down
(PIM _shakes hands with_ OLIVIA.) My husband will be here in a minute.
Anne, send somebody down to the farm----
ANNE, I think I heard the Master in the library, madam.
OLIVIA. Oh, will you tell him then?
ANNE. Yes, madam,
(ANNE _goes out up staircase_.)
OLIVIA. You'll stay to lunch, of course, Mr. Pim?
DINAH (_coming down_ C. _to_ R.) Oh, do!
PIM. It's very kind of you, Mrs. Marden, but-----
DINAH. Oh, you simply must, Mr. Pim. You haven't told us half enough
about yourself yet. I want to hear all about your early life.
OLIVIA. Dinah!
(DINAH _sits at piano and plays thirty-two bars of "If you could only
care."_)
PIM. Oh, we are almost, I might say, old friends, Mrs. Marden.
(BRIAN _comes down and kneels on settee_ R., _listening to_ DINAH
_playing_.)
DINAH. Of course we are. He knows Brian, too. There's more in Mr. Pim
than you think. You will stay to lunch, won't you?
PIM. (_sits on stool_ L.C.) It's very kind of you to ask me, Mrs. Marden,
but I am lunching with the Trevors.
OLIVIA. Oh, well, you must come to lunch another day.
PIM. Oh, thank you, thank you.
DINAH. The reason why we like Mr. Pim so much is that he was the first
person to congratulate us. We feel that he is going to have a great
influence on our lives.
PIM. (_to_ OLIVIA). I, so to speak, stumbled on the engagement this
morning, and--er--
OLIVIA. I see. Children, you must go and tidy yourselves up. Run along.
BRIAN. Sir Brian and Lady Strange never run; they walk.
(DINAH _stops playing_.) (_Offering his_ R. _arm and bowing_.) Madam!
(DINAH _curtsies and takes his arm and they go up_ C.)
(DINAH _takes mincing steps and playfully shakes her hand at_ MR. PIM,
_who is amused_.)
DINAH. Au revoir, Mr. Pim. (_Dramatically_.) We--shall--meet--_again_!
(PIM. _laughing heartily, rises and bows_.)
(BRIAN _and_ DINAH _go out through the window up_ C. _to_ L.)
OLIVIA. You must forgive them, Mr. Pim. They're such children. And
naturally they're rather excited just now.
PIM. Oh, naturally, naturally!
OLIVIA. Of course you won't say anything about their engagement. We only
heard about it five minutes ago, and nothing has been settled yet.
PIM. Of course, of course!
(_Enter_ GEORGE _from staircase up_ R.)
GEORGE. Ah, Mr. Pim, we meet at last. Sorry to have kept you waiting
before. (_Shaking hands_.) How are you? How are you?
PIM. The apology should come from me, Mr. Marden, for having--er--
GEORGE. Not at all. Very glad to meet you now. Any friend of Brymer's.
You want a letter to this man Fanshawe?
OLIVIA. Shall I be in your way at all?
PIM. Oh, no, no, please don't.
GEORGE. Oh, no. It's only just a question of a letter. Fanshawe will put
you in the way of seeing all that you want to see. (_Crossing up to
writing-table, sits_.) He's a very old friend of mine. (_Taking a sheet
of notepaper and turning in chair to_ PIM.) You'll stay to lunch, of
course?
PIM. It's very kind of you, but I'm lunching with the Trevors. (_Sits
settee R. and puts down his hat and gloves_.)
GEORGE. Ah, well, they'll look after you all right. Good chap, Trevor.
PIM. Oh, very good ... very good. (_To_ OLIVIA.) You see, Mrs. Marden, I
have only recently arrived from Australia--(OLIVIA _stops in her sewing
and_ GEORGE _looks up_)--after travelling about the world for some years,
and I'm rather out of touch with my--er--fellow-workers in London.
OLIVIA. I see! You've been in Australia, Mr. Pim?
PIM. Oh, yes, I----
GEORGE (_after a loud cough_). Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Pim. I
shan't be a moment.
PIM. Oh, that's all right, thank you. (_To_ OLIVIA.) Oh, yes, I have been
in Australia more than once in the last few years.
OLIVIA. Really? I used to live at Sydney many years ago. Do you know
Sydney at all?
PIM. Oh, yes, I was----
GEORGE (_coughing_). H'r'm! Perhaps I'd better mention that you are a
friend of the Trevors?
PIM. Thank you, thank you. (_To_ OLIVIA.) Indeed yes, I spent several
months in Sydney a few years ago.
OLIVIA. How curious! I wonder if we have any friends in common there.
GEORGE (_coughing and gruffly_). Extremely unlikely, I should think.
Sydney is a very big place.
PIM. True, true, but the world is a very small place, Mr. Marden. I had a
remarkable instance of that, coming over on the boat this last time.
GEORGE. Ah! (_Feeling that the conversation is now safe, he resumes his
letter_.)
PIM. Yes. There was a man I used to employ in Sydney some years ago, a
bad fellow, I'm afraid, Mrs. Marden, who had been in prison for some kind
of fraudulent company-promoting and had taken to drink and--and so on.
OLIVIA. Yes, yes, I understand.
PIM. Drinking himself to death, I should have said. I gave him at the
most another year to live. Yet to my amazement the first person I saw as
I stepped on board the boat that brought me to England last week was this
fellow. There was no mistaking him. I spoke to him, in fact; we
recognized each other.
(GEORGE _rises_.)
OLIVIA. Really?
PIM. He was travelling steerage; we didn't meet again on board, and as it
happened at Marseilles, this poor fellow--er--now what was his name? A
very unusual one. Began with a--a T, I think.
OLIVIA (_with suppressed feeling_). Yes, Mr. Pim, yes? (_She puts out a
hand to_ GEORGE.)
GEORGE (_in an undertone, taking her hand_). Nonsense, dear!
PIM (_triumphantly_). I've got it! Telworthy!
OLIVIA (_draws back in settee, overcome_). Telworthy!
GEORGE. Good God!
PIM (_a little surprised at the success of his story_). An unusual name,
is it not? Not a name you could forget when once you had heard it.
OLIVIA (_with feeling, gazing into space with hands clenched_). No, it is
not a name you could forget when once you had heard it.
GEORGE (_hastily coming over to_ PIM). Quite so, Mr. Pim, a most
remarkable name, a most odd story altogether. Well, well, here's your
letter--(PIM _rises and tales letter_)--and if you're sure you won't stay
to lunch----
PIM. No, thank you. You see, I'm lunching with----
GEORGE. With the Trevors, yes. I remember you told me. (_Taking his arm
and hurrying him up_ C.) I'll just see you on your way.... (_To_ OLIVIA,
_who does not notice_ PIM _holding out his hand to say good-bye_.) Er--my
dear----
OLIVIA (_holding out her hand, but not looking at him_). Good-bye, Mr.
Pim.
PIM (_shaking hands with_ OLIVIA). Good-bye, good-bye!
GEORGE (_taking him by the arm up_ L. _towards the windows_). This way,
this way. Quicker for you.
PIM, Thank you, thank you.
(GEORGE _hurries him up_ C. _and he exits to_ L. OLIVIA _looks into the
past and shudders_. GEORGE _comes back to_ C.)
GEORGE. Good God! Telworthy! (ANNE _enters from up_ R. _and comes to foot
of staircase_.) Is it possible?
(_Before_ OLIVIA _can answer,_ LADY MARDEN _is announced_.)
ANNE. Lady Marden.
(GEORGE _crosses down to_ OLIVIA _and touches her on the shoulder. They
pull themselves together, and_ OLIVIA _rises and is crossing towards_ C.
_to greet_ LADY MARDEN, _who does not appear_.)
QUICK CURTAIN.