Chapter V: Act I: Scene 2

_The curtain drops--to rise again three hours later._ ARIADNE
_and_ HESTER _are on the sofa_, HESTER _at work on something. The
others are playing bridge._ HORACE (_with him_ JOHN) _is winning;
you can see it by the way he is snapping down the cards_; JANET
_is losing and doesn’t like it_; JOHN _is dummy; and_ HECTOR _for
once is not talking, save for an occasional “Ah!” or “H’m!” or
“You play that.”_

HORACE. The last two are ours. Four tricks. That’s thirty-two below. That’s the rubber.

ARIADNE. Did you win, Mr. Meldrum?

HORACE. I did, dear lady.

ARIADNE. How clever of you!

HECTOR. You know the old adage, Horace. Lucky at cards, unlucky in love.

ARIADNE. Oh, I’m sure that doesn’t apply to Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE. I’m sure it doesn’t too.

HESTER. How much have you lost, Hector?

HECTOR. We haven’t worked it out yet, dear.

JANET (_who has been scoring_). Four hundred and seventy--that’s four and sixpence.

JOHN (_who is also scoring_). Five hundred and two.

HORACE. Five hundred and two, that’s five shillings.

JANET. How do you make that? (_She looks over his shoulder_) You have given yourself sixteen above, what’s that for?

JOHN. Simple honours.

HECTOR. We had the honours, dear boy.

JANET. Of course we did.

HECTOR. I had the knave.

JANET. And I had the queen and ten. Four and sixpence.

JOHN. Sorry. Four and sixpence.

HORACE (_calmly_). _I_ had the knave.

HECTOR. My dear boy----

JANET. I distinctly remember----

HORACE. _I_ had the knave.

JANET. I _know_ Mr. Chadwick had the knave.

ARIADNE. Does it matter very much who had the knave?

JANET (_to_ HORACE). We’ll turn up the tricks, if you like.

JOHN (_to_ ARIADNE). It just makes the difference, dear.

HECTOR (_to_ JANET). I’m afraid I’ve shuffled the cards now.

HORACE (_getting up_). Five shillings. Well, I’d sooner win it than lose it.

HECTOR (_getting up and coming over to the sofa_). You see, it’s either five shillings or four and six, according to who had the knave.

ARIADNE. Dear me! Then you all ought to have watched the poor man much more carefully.

JANET. I _know_ Mr. Chadwick had it.

HORACE. Well, look here, I tell you what I’ll do, Hector. I’ll toss you ten shillings or nothing.

HECTOR. Right. (HORACE _spins a coin._) Tails.

HORACE. Heads. My luck’s in.

HECTOR (_making sure it was heads_). Right. (_He takes out a note which_ HORACE _solemnly tucks away_.)

JANET (_defiantly to_ JOHN). Four and six. (_She gives him the money._)

JOHN. Thanks. That’s all right.

HORACE. I’ll help myself to another drink if nobody objects.

JOHN. Oh do! Sorry! What about you, Hester?

HESTER. No, thank you.

HORACE. Mrs. John? Can’t I persuade you?

ARIADNE. No, thank you.

HORACE (_humorously_). I can afford it, you know. I’ve won ten shillings. (ARIADNE _laughs kindly_.) Miss Janet, what about you? Just to show there is no ill-feeling.

JANET (_still rather ruffled over that sixpence_). Thanks.

HESTER (_getting up_). Well, we ought to be going, I suppose. (_To_ HECTOR) Are you ready?

HECTOR. Yes, dear. Ready, aye ready. (_They say good-byes, and_ JOHN _goes to the door with them_.) (_To_ JANET) I’m afraid it’s no good offering you a lift, as you don’t go our way.

ARIADNE (_to_ JANET). Haven’t you got the car, dear?

JANET. Good Lord, no. Father doesn’t waste the car on _me_ like that. I don’t mind walking. It isn’t far.

HECTOR (_relieved_). Ah well, that’s all right.

JOHN (_from the door_). I’ll see Miss Ingleby home.

JANET. No need to.

JOHN. Of course I will.

ARIADNE (_the perfect wife_). Of course he will! How _is_ your father?

JANET (_not realising how nearly a dog bit him outside the Town Hall_). Oh, all right. Well then, I’ll say good-night. And thanks very much.

ARIADNE. Good-night, dear. Sure you are all right?

JANET. Of course. Good-night, Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE. Good-night, Miss Janet. Remember me to your father. I’ll be round seeing him one of these days, I expect.

JANET (_as she goes out_). Right. I’ll count the spoons.

HORACE. Ha, ha, ha! Smart little devil. I like a girl with spirit.

(_Final good-nights are heard from the hall. Then after a pause
comes “Ready?” from_ JOHN _and “Right” from_ JANET. _After
another pause the front door is heard to shut. During this,_
HORACE _has been staring at_ ARIADNE, _the self-assured stare of
the man who is certain that that is what a pretty woman likes._
ARIADNE _sits demurely on the sofa waiting for him to begin._)

HORACE. I got your message.

ARIADNE. What message was that?

HORACE. The one you are sending me now.

ARIADNE. Am I?

HORACE. Your rose, dear lady.

ARIADNE (_demurely_). Oh!

HORACE. My rose.

ARIADNE (_more demurely_). Oh!

HORACE. Our rose.

ARIADNE (_most demurely_). Oh!

HORACE. How beautiful it looks there. (_Striving for the right metaphor_) Nesting.

ARIADNE. I didn’t know roses did that.

HORACE. Ariadne’s does. It nests in her bosom like a--like----

ARIADNE. It is difficult, isn’t it? You’ll have to start again.

HORACE (_who has probably had just a little too much whisky_). Like a dove. Like a little dove. A little pink dove.

ARIADNE. Fancy! I wonder what a pink dove looks like, nesting in a buttonhole. (_He comes towards her. She takes it out of her dress and puts it in his buttonhole_) There! It looks just like a rose.

HORACE. Thank you, dear lady. (_He kisses her fingers; then goes back to his place, and expands himself_) Somehow I never feel properly dressed until a pretty woman has put a flower in my buttonhole. (_He stands in front of the fireplace jingling his money._)

ARIADNE. Had a good week?

HORACE. Pretty fair, pretty fair. And a bit more to come to-morrow morning.

ARIADNE. I suppose I mustn’t ask how much.

HORACE. You’d be surprised if I told you.

ARIADNE. Try me.

HORACE. Not far short of a cool thousand. That’s about what it will work out at for the week.

ARIADNE. A cool thousand! Fancy. And a bachelor. No wonder you are always properly dressed.

HORACE. So to-morrow afternoon I am running up to dear old London to see what Piccadilly Circus looks like.

ARIADNE. On business?

HORACE (_chuckling_). Strictly on business. Strictly on business. And if anybody asks me what business, I shall say that’s _my_ business. (_He laughs heartily._)

ARIADNE. Then I shan’t ask you what business.

HORACE. I’d tell _you_, my dear lady. I’m going to see my doctor. Ha, ha! That’s a good one. My doctor.

ARIADNE. Yes, that’s a good one. I like that one.

HORACE. Joking apart, my dear, I’ll tell you why I’m going to London. Just for a little bit of fun. Just a little bit of fun after a hard week’s work. On a Friday night I say to myself sometimes, “Horace, you’ve been a good boy all the week, and you’ve earned your little bit of fun.”

ARIADNE. I’m sure you have.

HORACE. That’s what I call going to see my doctor. Doctor Fun I call him. L. B. Fun.

ARIADNE. What amusing things you say.

HORACE. Little Bitta Fun. L. B. Fun--see it?

ARIADNE. Yes, now I do.

HORACE. Well, that’s what I’m going to London for. Get up in time for lunch. What about a cosy little lunch at Frascati’s; just as a start?

ARIADNE. Alone?

HORACE. Aha, dear lady, that’s telling.

ARIADNE. Perhaps I oughtn’t to have asked.

HORACE. Well, let’s say not quite alone. A little bit of pink muslin opposite, with perhaps something inside it.

ARIADNE. What a sweet way of putting it.

HORACE. After lunch--what shall we say? _You_ shall say, dear lady.

ARIADNE. Well--what about the South Kensington Museum?

HORACE (_much amused_). Aha, that’s a good one! A visit to the South Kensington Museum, tea with the Dean of St. Paul’s, dinner at an A.B.C., a concert at the Albert Hall, and a snack of something at Fulham Palace to end up with. Ha, ha, ha! That’s me!

ARIADNE (_pretending to be offended_). I don’t believe you’re serious. You’re laughing at me.

HORACE. Laughing at you? Bless my soul, whatever put that into your pretty little head? Look in at the South Kensington Museum at three o’clock to-morrow, and you will find your humble servant talking to the head keeper.

ARIADNE. I’ve a good mind to take you at your word, and look in at three o’clock.

HORACE (_coming closer to her_). Why don’t you?

ARIADNE. I shan’t have time, I’m afraid. I’m catching the 3.10 back.

HORACE. Back? Are _you_ going to London to-morrow?

ARIADNE. Yes.

HORACE. Fancy that. Alone?

ARIADNE. I don’t know yet.

HORACE. When will you know?

ARIADNE. Perhaps in a minute or two.

HORACE (_joining her on the sofa_). How very curious that you should be going to London to-morrow--too.

ARIADNE. That’s what John said.

HORACE (_doubtfully_). John? So John said that. Why did John say that?

ARIADNE. He said that it was cheaper to go on Wednesday.

HORACE (_relieved_). Oh, I see! But only if you go third class.

ARIADNE. But then I always do.

HORACE. Poor little woman, what a shame!

ARIADNE. Why? It’s much more amusing.

HORACE. If you are alone, perhaps----

ARIADNE. Oh, you are never alone third class.

HORACE (_getting very close_). But for two it’s much more amusing first class.

ARIADNE. Is it?

HORACE. Particularly if the guard is a friend of yours.

ARIADNE. Oh?

HORACE. He’s a very great friend of mine.

ARIADNE. Oh!

HORACE. It’s funny we should both be going to London to-morrow, isn’t it?

ARIADNE. But we mightn’t both be going by the same train.

HORACE. Ah!... What train are you going by?

ARIADNE. The 10.15.

HORACE (_disappointed_). Oh! That’s a pity.

ARIADNE. Why?

HORACE. I can’t get away before the 12.5. There’s a bit of business I’ve got to see to----

ARIADNE (_demurely_). I think I _am_ going first class.

HORACE (_considering_). It may mean a matter of a hundred pounds----

ARIADNE. Or aren’t there any first-class carriages on the 10.15 train?

HORACE (_making up his mind_). No, dammit, one can’t throw away good business just for a bit of fun.

ARIADNE. Not even if it wore pink muslin?

HORACE (_slapping his knee_). That’s it! You do your shopping or whatever it is, and I’ll come up later, call for you wherever you like, and we’ll have that little lunch at Frascati’s. How’s that? I’ll be with you at half-past one.

ARIADNE. Well, of course, I do like something to eat about then.

HORACE. Right! That’s a bet! Where do I pick you up?

ARIADNE. Well, I shall be at my club----

HORACE (_jovially contemptuous_). Your club! You women and your clubs! But bless you, in spite of your votes and your clubs and your cigarettes, you are just the same women under your clothes as Eve was before you. And, thank God, you always will be.

ARIADNE. Yes, but that isn’t the address of the club. Or don’t you want to know the address?

HORACE. Well, give us the name. I suppose the cabman will know where it is.

ARIADNE. The United Arts.

HORACE (_whipping out his pencil and writing on his cuff_). A. W. United Arts, 1.30.

ARIADNE (_watching him_). What an interesting time your laundress must have.

HORACE. Naturally, I never put any business secrets there. (_He puts back his pencil._)

ARIADNE. A very wise distinction.

HORACE. One-thirty at the United Arts. And now what about that train back?

ARIADNE. Which one?

HORACE. Exactly, which one?

ARIADNE. _I’m_ catching the 3.10.

HORACE. But that makes it such a very little bit of fun.

ARIADNE. I think John will expect me----

HORACE. Not if you tell him you are coming by a later one.

ARIADNE. Is there a later one?

HORACE. There’s one about five.

ARIADNE. I don’t think I know that one.

HORACE. It isn’t a very good one. There’s a better one about eight.

ARIADNE. It seems a much later one.

HORACE. But the best of them all is the 10.45.

ARIADNE. Why is that the best of them all?

HORACE. I would try to explain why--before we caught it.

ARIADNE. It seems a very long explanation.

HORACE. You wouldn’t be bored.

ARIADNE. Attractive man!

HORACE. Adorable woman!

ARIADNE. You seem very certain of yourself.

HORACE. It isn’t difficult to entertain a pretty woman.

ARIADNE. Experienced man!

HORACE. Well, yes, I’ve knocked about a bit.

ARIADNE. But all women like that, don’t they?

HORACE. They do, you may take my word for it.

ARIADNE. I don’t think I shall go to London to-morrow.

HORACE. Oh yes, you will.

ARIADNE. Well, perhaps I will.

HORACE. Of course you will.

ARIADNE. But I shall come back by the 3 train.

HORACE. Oh no, you won’t.

ARIADNE. Well, perhaps I won’t.

HORACE. Of course you won’t.

ARIADNE. Masterful man!

HORACE. I know how to manage women, bless their pretty little faces.

ARIADNE. I can see you do.

HORACE. Now, let’s be practical.

ARIADNE. Businesslike.

HORACE. You can’t be shopping in London till ten o’clock at night; you’ll have to say you’ve been called away suddenly--to a sick relative.

ARIADNE. Why are sick people always supposed to want their relations so badly? I never want anybody when I’m looking my worst.

HORACE. Have you got any relations?

ARIADNE. Heaps--and all John’s.

HORACE. Any in London of your own?

ARIADNE. An uncle. I was telling Hester about him. He lost his liver in Burmah. He’s touchy about it now.

HORACE. Well, there you are; he’s ill. D’you see? You leave a note to-morrow to say you’ve just been rung up as you were starting to the station. Uncle dying. May not be back till late. See?

ARIADNE. I see. Isn’t it rather deceitful?

HORACE. Little bit of fun. What’s the harm in a little bit of fun?

ARIADNE. True. You mustn’t think I haven’t got a sense of humour.

HORACE. Well then, you see, it doesn’t matter _what_ time you come back. Your ground’s prepared ... even if----(_He hesitates._)

ARIADNE. Well?

HORACE. Even if--(_very softly_)--we found a better train than the 10.45.

ARIADNE. But I thought you said that that was the best?

HORACE. The best--on Saturday night.

ARIADNE (_looking at him thoughtfully_). Do you know you’re a very wonderful man? (HORACE _laughs comfortably_.) Even I--hardly realised----(_He leans towards her. She gets up hastily._)

HORACE. What is it?

ARIADNE. John. I heard the door.

HORACE (_getting up_). One-thirty. (_He kisses his hand to her._)

JOHN _comes in._

ARIADNE. How quick you’ve been!

HORACE. Well, I must be getting along.

ARIADNE. Oh no! Must you?

JOHN. Have another drink?

HORACE. No thanks, my boy. (_To_ ARIADNE) Afraid I must, Mrs. John. Got a lot to do to-morrow. (_Holding out his hand_) Good-bye--and thank you for a _most_ delightful evening.

ARIADNE. Good-night. I’ve enjoyed it too, you know.

HORACE. How nice of you! (_To_ JOHN) No, don’t bother.

(_But_ JOHN _insists on seeing his most important client out.
Alone_, ARIADNE _drops into the sofa with the evening paper_.)

JOHN (_coming back_). Well! It wasn’t so bad after all, was it? (_He pours himself out a drink._)

ARIADNE (_reading her paper_). Not so bad.

JOHN. Did you get on with Meldrum all right?

ARIADNE. Quite all right, John.

JOHN (_with a sigh of relief_). That’s good.

(_He drinks._)