Chapter II: Part 2

I perceive that the tender passion hasn’t in the least interfered with your appetite.

MRS. DOT.

Oh, my dear James, I’m so unhappy.

BLENKINSOP.

You look it.

MRS. DOT.

By the way, how do I look?

BLENKINSOP.

All right. You’ve changed your cook.

MRS. DOT.

Hang my cook.

BLENKINSOP.

I wouldn’t if I were you. She’s very good.

MRS. DOT.

Of course you’ll drink the family ale?

BLENKINSOP.

Of course I’ll do nothing of the kind.

MRS. DOT.

You know it’s one of my principles to have it on the table.

BLENKINSOP.

Yes, but it’s one of my principles not to drink it. I seem to remember that you have some particularly fine hock.

MRS. DOT.

Jimmie, have you never been in love?

BLENKINSOP.

Never, thank God.

MRS. DOT.

I don’t believe it. Every one’s in love. I’m in love.

BLENKINSOP.

Not with me, I trust.

MRS. DOT.

You perfect idiot.

BLENKINSOP.

Not at all. I should think it very natural.

MRS. DOT.

I wonder why you never married, James.

BLENKINSOP.

Because I have a considerable gift for repartee. I discovered in my early youth that men propose not because they want to marry, but because on certain occasions they are entirely at a loss for topics of conversation.

AUNT ELIZA.

[_Smiling._] It was a momentous discovery.

BLENKINSOP.

No sooner had I made it than I began to cultivate my power of small talk. I felt that my only chance was to be ready with appropriate subjects at the shortest notice, and I spent a considerable part of my last year at Oxford in studying the best masters.

MRS. DOT.

I never noticed that you were particularly brilliant.

BLENKINSOP.

I never played for brilliancy. I played for safety. I flatter myself that when prattle was needed I have never been found wanting. I have met the ingenuity of sweet seventeen with a few observations on Free Trade, while the haggard efforts of thirty have struggled in vain against a brief exposition of the higher philosophy. The skittish widow of uncertain age has retired in disorder before a complete acquaintance with the restoration dramatists, and I have routed the serious spinster with religious leanings by my remarkable knowledge of the results of missionary endeavour in Central Africa. Once a dowager sought to ask me my intentions, but I flung at her astonished head an entire article from the “Encyclopædia Britannica.” These are only my serious efforts. I need not tell you how often I have evaded a flash of the eyes by an epigram or ignored a sigh by an apt quotation from the poets.

MRS. DOT.

I don’t believe a word you say. I believe you never married for the simple reason that nobody would have you.

BLENKINSOP.

Do me the justice to acknowledge that I’m the only man who’s known you ten days without being tempted by your preposterous income to offer you his hand and heart.

MRS. DOT.

I don’t believe my income has anything to do with it. I put it down entirely to my very considerable personal attractions.

AUNT ELIZA.

Here is Freddie, at last. What has he been doing?

[FREDDIE _comes in, having changed into flannels_.

MRS. DOT.

Why on earth have you changed your clothes?

FREDDIE.

[_Sitting down at table._] I regard it as part of my duties as your secretary to look nice.

MRS. DOT.

I don’t know that I think it essential for you to put on seven different suits a day.

FREDDIE.

I thought Miss Sellenger would probably like to go on the river before tea.

AUNT ELIZA.

If she does, it’s more likely to be with Lord Hollington than with you.

FREDDIE.

Oh, that’s rot. Gerald’s an awfully good sort, but he’s not the sort of chap a girl’s desperately fond of.

MRS. DOT.

You think that, do you?

FREDDIE.

Well, you can’t see yourself falling in love with him can you?

MRS. DOT.

No. No.

AUNT ELIZA.

And what is the sort of man a girl’s desperately fond of?

FREDDIE.

Oh, I don’t know. [_Taking up a spoon and looking at himself, twisting an infinitesimal moustache._] I should think some one a bit younger than Gerald.

MRS. DOT.

[_With a little shriek._] You!

FREDDIE.

You needn’t be so surprised. One might do worse, you know.

MRS. DOT.

[_To_ AUNT ELIZA _pointing with a scornful finger at_ FREDDIE.] Do you think any one could possibly fall in love with that?

AUNT ELIZA.

Of course not.

FREDDIE.

I say, come now. That’s a bit thick.

MRS. DOT.

[_To_ BLENKINSOP.] If you were a young and lovely maiden would you fall in love with Freddie?

BLENKINSOP.

[_Looking at him doubtfully._] Well, if you ask me point blank I don’t think I should.

FREDDIE.

You’re all of you jolly supercilious.

MRS. DOT.

He’s not positively plain, is he?

BLENKINSOP.

Not positively.

FREDDIE.

Look here, you shut up. I bet I could cut you out with any girl you like to mention.

BLENKINSOP.

Rubbish!

MRS. DOT.

I daresay he can whisper nonsense in a woman’s ear as well as any one else.

AUNT ELIZA.

It’s born in them, the brutes.

BLENKINSOP.

Pooh! I wouldn’t waste my time on whispering nonsense. I’d just send my pass-book round by a messenger boy.

FREDDIE.

Well, I flatter myself Miss Sellenger will be much more pleased to see _me_ than to see anybody else down here.

BLENKINSOP.

You’ve only seen her once.

FREDDIE.

She’s a jolly nice girl, I can tell you that.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Ironically._] I suppose she squeezed your hand when you went away?

FREDDIE.

Well, it so happens, she did.

BLENKINSOP.

You needn’t be set up about it, because she squeezed mine, too. It’s evidently a habit.

FREDDIE.

Yours! What rot!

[MRS. DOT _has been staring at him, with both elbows on the table.
A servant is standing at her side with a tray on which is the
coffee._

AUNT ELIZA.

Thompson is offering you some coffee, my dear.

MRS. DOT.

[_Absently._] Take it away.

FREDDIE.

What on earth are you staring at? Isn’t my tie all right?

MRS. DOT.

You certainly are rather good-looking. I’ve never noticed it before.

FREDDIE.

It’s no good, you know. You’re my aunt, and the prayer book wouldn’t let you marry me.

MRS. DOT.

Now I come to think of it, I daresay you’re quite grown up to any one who didn’t know you in Etons.

FREDDIE.

I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about.

MRS. DOT.

I suppose a girl might quite easily fall in love with you. It had never occurred to me.

BLENKINSOP.

Which means that you’ve found him a wife, and you’re going to marry him to some one whether he likes it or not.

MRS. DOT.

[_Suddenly._] Freddie.

FREDDIE.

Hulloa!

MRS. DOT.

Go away and play.

FREDDIE.

Hang it all, I want to drink my coffee.

MRS. DOT.

Go and make a mud pie in the garden. There’s a dear.

[_A bell is heard ringing loudly._

AUNT ELIZA.

There they are!

MRS. DOT.

Come on!

[_They all get up._ MRS. DOT _and_ AUNT ELIZA _go out_. FREDDIE
_and_ BLENKINSOP _light cigarettes_.

FREDDIE.

What’s the matter with my virtuous aunt?

BLENKINSOP.

How old are you, dear boy?

FREDDIE.

Twenty-two. Why?

BLENKINSOP.

The delightful age when it’s still possible to feel desperately wicked. But you are old enough to have learnt that the moods of women are inscrutable.

FREDDIE.

Oh, rot! I never met a woman whom I couldn’t read at a glance.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Ironically._] Really?

FREDDIE.

You know, they talk about the incomprehensibility of women, but it’s all humbug.

BLENKINSOP.

When you see a blank wall, does it _ever_ occur to you that there’s anything on the other side?

[MRS. DOT _and_ AUNT ELIZA _come in with_ LADY SELLENGER, NELLIE
_and_ HOLLINGTON. _They are all talking._

LADY SELLENGER.

We had a delightful journey. Oh, how beautiful your garden is! So romantic. I love romance.

BLENKINSOP.

When it’s backed by an adequate income.

LADY SELLENGER.

How d’you do? You cynic.

BLENKINSOP.

I’m nothing of the sort. But I occasionally tell the truth.

LADY SELLENGER.

You’re the most cynical man in London, and I’m frightened to death of you.

BLENKINSOP.

There’s nothing the world loves more than a ready-made description which they can hang on to a man, and so save themselves all trouble in future. When I was quite young it occurred to some one that I was a cynic, and since then I’ve never been able to remark that it was a fine day without being accused of odious cynicism.

LADY SELLENGER.

My dear Mr. Blenkinsop, what every one says is always true. That is one of the foundations of society.

BLENKINSOP.

I gained my reputation by remarking once that it was possible for a penniless young man who married a very rich woman old enough to be his mother to be genuinely in love with her.

LADY SELLENGER.

I think it was a very cynical observation.

MRS. DOT.

[_To_ LADY SELLENGER.] You know my nephew, don’t you?

LADY SELLENGER.

How d’you do? I think we met at dear Gerald’s a week or two ago.

FREDDIE.

[_Shaking hands._] How d’you do? [_To_ NELLIE.] Have you quite forgotten me?

NELLIE.

Not quite!

FREDDIE.

Jolly day, isn’t it?

NELLIE.

Awfully jolly.

[MRS. DOT _watches them as they shake hands_.

AUNT ELIZA.

[_To_ LADY SELLENGER.] Would you like me to show you your rooms?

LADY SELLENGER.

Thanks, so much.

MRS. DOT.

Freddie, is Gerald’s room ready?

FREDDIE.

Yes, I think so. I’ll just go and find out.

[_He goes out._

MRS. DOT.

I was so delighted to see the announcement in the morning’s paper. I offer my very warmest congratulations.

NELLIE.

Thanks, so much.

MRS. DOT.

I’ve known Gerald for ages. I’m delighted to see him on the way to such a happy marriage. I couldn’t have wished him to get engaged to any one nicer than you.

LADY SELLENGER.

It’s all so romantic, isn’t it? It ought to be an answer to a cynical creature like you to see the course of true love run so smoothly.

MRS. DOT.

[_To_ GERALD.] I offer you also my best congratulations. I think you’re very lucky.

GERALD.

[_Stiffly._] Thank you, very much. I suppose I have my usual room?

MRS. DOT.

Yes.

[_He goes into the house._ LADY SELLENGER _and_ NELLIE _accompany_
AUNT ELIZA. MRS. DOT _is left alone with_ BLENKINSOP.

James!

BLENKINSOP.

Hulloa!

MRS. DOT.

Do you love me?

BLENKINSOP.

Passionately.

MRS. DOT.

[_Stamping her foot._] Don’t be so silly.

BLENKINSOP.

You can’t expect me to be so uncivil as to say no.

MRS. DOT.

But I’m perfectly serious.

BLENKINSOP.

Are you, by Jove? That alters the matter. In that case the answer is in the negative.

MRS. DOT.

And is there the least chance of your falling in love with me?

BLENKINSOP.

Not so long as I remain in full possession of my senses.

MRS. DOT.

Do you want to marry me?

BLENKINSOP.

Really you embarrass me very much.

MRS. DOT.

Don’t hedge.

BLENKINSOP.

It’s a little disconcerting to have a pistol put to your head in the form of a proposal of marriage.

MRS. DOT.

I’m not making you a proposal of marriage, idiot.

BLENKINSOP.

Then I should very much like to know what you are doing.

MRS. DOT.

I’m asking you a very simple and ordinary question.

BLENKINSOP.

Thank God, it’s not one that women ask often.

MRS. DOT.

I never saw any one out of whom it’s harder to get a straight answer.

BLENKINSOP.

You must make allowances for a pardonable agitation.

MRS. DOT.

James, do you want to marry me?

BLENKINSOP.

No, bless you!

MRS. DOT.

Are you quite sure?

BLENKINSOP.

Positive.

MRS. DOT.

Would nothing induce you to marry me?

BLENKINSOP.

Nothing.

MRS. DOT.

[_With a sigh of relief._] Then you may kiss my hand.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Doing so._] You’re not hurt?

MRS. DOT.

I’m infinitely relieved.

BLENKINSOP.

And Freddie, the dear boy, says he can read a woman at a glance.

MRS. DOT.

Now listen to me quite seriously. I want you to do something for me.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Nervously._] We’ve put marriage out of the question, haven’t we?

MRS. DOT.

Certainly.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Generously._] You may ask anything else of me.

MRS. DOT.

I want you to let me make love to you.

BLENKINSOP.

My dear friend, this is very surprising.

MRS. DOT.

There are people who’d welcome the proposal with alacrity.

BLENKINSOP.

For how long?

MRS. DOT.

Only for a week.

BLENKINSOP.

You’re sure it’s not in earnest?

MRS. DOT.

Quite sure.

BLENKINSOP.

And what have I got to do?

MRS. DOT.

Well, you’ve got to look as if you liked it.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Sombrely._] Of course, it sounds very delightful.

MRS. DOT.

You must show a coming-on disposition, you know, or I can do nothing.

BLENKINSOP.

Do you want me to make love to _you_?

MRS. DOT.

I’m afraid it’s asking a great deal of you.

BLENKINSOP.

Not at all. Not at all. But I wish you’d tell me what your little game is.

MRS. DOT.

Ah, here’s Aunt Eliza. The very person I wanted. [AUNT ELIZA _comes on the terrace from the house. Impulsively._] Aunt Eliza, will you be a perfect brick? Will you do something for me, that’s an awful nuisance?

AUNT ELIZA.

My dear, why on earth are you so excited? Of course I’ll do anything in reason for you.

MRS. DOT.

But it’s not in reason.

AUNT ELIZA.

Well, I’ll do it all the same.

MRS. DOT.

I want you to take a motor and bolt up to London and get a special licence.

AUNT ELIZA.

A special licence!

BLENKINSOP.

A special licence!

MRS. DOT.

[_Catching sight of his face._] Get two special licences. They’re always useful things to have in a house.

AUNT ELIZA.

But they must be made out to certain names.

MRS. DOT.

Must they? How stupid! Well, have one made out for Frederick Perkins and Eleanor Sellenger.

AUNT ELIZA.

My dear child, you must be crazy.

MRS. DOT.

Now don’t argue, but do as I tell you. If two young things are thrown together with a certain amount of skill they always marry.

AUNT ELIZA.

But they hardly know one another.

MRS. DOT.

If people waited to know one another before they married, the world wouldn’t be so grossly over-populated as it is now.

AUNT ELIZA.

You’re certainly quite crazy.

MRS. DOT.

No, I’m not. I shall never get Gerald to break his word. My only chance is with Nellie.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Uneasily._] But you’ve told her to get two licences.

MRS. DOT.

Make the second one out in the names of James Blenkinsop and Frances Annandale Worthley.

BLENKINSOP.

I absolutely refuse.

MRS. DOT.

But you must let me. You can’t leave an old friend in the lurch.

BLENKINSOP.

It’s all very fine to invoke the claims of friendship, but it’s carrying it rather far when you pay three guineas for a special licence.

MRS. DOT.

My dear man, I can’t drag you to the altar.

BLENKINSOP.

I’m beginning to think you’re capable of anything.

MRS. DOT.

But don’t you see, you idiot, that I want to marry Gerald Hollington? And I’m eating my heart out.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Crossly._] It’s evidently a diet that agrees with you. You’re growing fat on it.

MRS. DOT.

Don’t be spiteful. I’ve not gained half a pound in the last five years.

AUNT ELIZA.

And how on earth are you going to get Freddie and Nellie Sellenger to use this licence?

MRS. DOT.

Never mind, leave everything to me. And make haste to get up to London.

AUNT ELIZA.

Very well, I’ll go at once.

[_Just as_ AUNT ELIZA _is going into the house_ LADY SELLENGER
_comes out, followed by_ NELLIE; AUNT ELIZA _stops and listens to
the conversation from the doorway_.

MRS. DOT.

I hope you’ve found everything you wanted.

LADY SELLENGER.

Oh, yes, thanks. I’m quite delighted with the view from my room.

MRS. DOT.

Come and sit down. I have something very serious I want to talk to you about.

LADY SELLENGER.

Dear Mr. Blenkinsop, do take Nellie for a little stroll in the garden.

MRS. DOT.

Oh, but it concerns Nellie, and I want her to hear.

BLENKINSOP.

I perceive you are inclined to think that the serious cannot fail to be improper, Lady Sellenger.

LADY SELLENGER.

Be quiet, you horrible cynic.

MRS. DOT.

Well, a most ridiculous thing has happened, and I want Nellie to help me.

NELLIE.

Me?

MRS. DOT.

My dear, it’s so unfortunate, but my nephew has fallen head over ears in love with you.

NELLIE.

Nonsense!

MRS. DOT.

I can’t understand it. After all, he’s only seen you once, and you can’t have exchanged more than a dozen words.

LADY SELLENGER.

How very annoying!

MRS. DOT.

And it’s so unexpected, because he’s not at all the sort of boy who falls in and out of love with every pretty girl he meets. I think you’re his first passion, and he’s inclined to take it very seriously.

LADY SELLENGER.

Poor boy, I can afford to sympathise with him now that Nellie is safely engaged to Gerald Hollington.

NELLIE.

It’s really rather flattering, isn’t it? But how on earth d’you know?

MRS. DOT.

He tells me everything. You see I’ve always tried to be his friend as well as his aunt. He has no secrets from me.

BLENKINSOP.

You’ll tell us next that a boy who’s been to Eton and Oxford has a pure and innocent mind.

MRS. DOT.

My dear child, he simply raves about you. He’s been talking of nothing else ever since you met.

LADY SELLENGER.

But doesn’t he know that Nellie is going to be married at the end of the season?

MRS. DOT.

Of course, he does. I’ve dinned it into his ears, but it seems to have no effect on him. He’s the sort of lover that will hear of no obstacles. It’s really quite pathetic to hear the passionate harangues that he pours into my ears.

NELLIE.

What sort of things does he say?

MRS. DOT.

My dear, I suppose very much the same as Gerald.

NELLIE.

No one could accuse Gerald of being a passionate lover.

MRS. DOT.

Really?

LADY SELLENGER.

I’m very glad he’s not. He’s going to be your husband, and that’s more satisfactory than any amount of pretty speeches.

NELLIE.

I could wish that he talked to me of something besides the weather and the Royal Academy.

LADY SELLENGER.

My dear child, what are you saying? Gerald has a charming nature and the very highest principles.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Imitating her pompous manner._] To say nothing of a peerage and a considerable income.

MRS. DOT.

He certainly has every advantage over poor Freddie, who is nobody in particular and hasn’t a penny to bless himself with.

NELLIE.

I think he’s awfully nice.

MRS. DOT.

Well, that’s just what I don’t want you to think. I shouldn’t have said anything to you about his--mad infatuation, only I want you to be very careful.

LADY SELLENGER.

Of course. It’s quite natural.

NELLIE.

What do you want me to do?

MRS. DOT.

Well, I want you to be very good and sweet and help me to cure him. I’d send him away, only it would have no effect. I thought if he saw you again he might find out that you have at least one or two faults. At present he thinks you too perfect for words.

NELLIE.

I’m not that, really.

MRS. DOT.

I didn’t think you were. I want you to promise that you’ll do nothing that he can in the least take as encouragement. I want you to be very distant and very cold.

NELLIE.

Of course, I’ll be only too glad to do anything I can.

MRS. DOT.

You’d be doing him a real kindness if you could snub him at every opportunity. Then you must avoid him as much as you can. Of course, you’ll be very much with Gerald while you’re down here.

LADY SELLENGER.

Of course. The dears, they’ve not seen one another for a year, and they have an infinity of things to discuss.

MRS. DOT.

It’ll be quite easy for you to show my poor Freddie that he’s only making a prodigious fool of himself.

NELLIE.

I feel so sorry for him.

MRS. DOT.

You will do what you can, won’t you?

NELLIE.

I’ll make it quite plain to him at once that he mustn’t care for me.

MRS. DOT.

Treat it as an impertinence that you resent.

NELLIE.

I’ll do that on the first opportunity.

MRS. DOT.

I know you have the sweetest nature in the world, but if you could be really brutal to him at once, it would cure him instantly.

NELLIE.

I can be horrid when I like.

MRS. DOT.

I’m sure you can. I put infinite reliance in your tact.

LADY SELLENGER.

And now I think we really might take a little turn in the garden before tea. [_Seeing that_ NELLIE, _instead of accompanying her, strolls towards the house_.] Where are you going, Nellie?

NELLIE.

[_Stopping._] I’ve just remembered I must write a letter. I’ll join you in five minutes.

LADY SELLENGER.

[_To_ BLENKINSOP _and_ MRS. DOT _who are getting up_.] Oh, don’t let me disturb you, I shall enjoy wandering about and looking at the flowers by myself.

[_She goes away. Just as_ NELLIE _is entering the house_ FREDDIE
_comes out. She gives him a glance and as she passes, drops a
rose._ FREDDIE _picks it up and comes forward_.

MRS. DOT.

You monster!

FREDDIE.

What’s the matter?

MRS. DOT.

Give me that flower!

FREDDIE.

I shall do nothing of the sort. I shall put it in my button-hole.

MRS. DOT.

Freddie, I’ve come to the conclusion that you want a holiday. I wish you to pack up your things at once and go to Brighton for a week. You’re looking pale and tired. I’m sure you’ve been working too hard.

FREDDIE.

Oh, rot! I’m as fit as a fiddle.

MRS. DOT.

Don’t you agree with me, James?

BLENKINSOP.

Certainly. I think a change of air is distinctly indicated.

FREDDIE.

But I can’t go away when you’ve got people in the house. Besides, who’s to look after your correspondence?

MRS. DOT.

My dear boy, your health is the chief thing. I should never forgive myself if you came to any harm while you were my secretary. I’ll write my letters myself.

BLENKINSOP.

Besides, I shall be here, and I’ll do all I can to help you.

FREDDIE.

I don’t believe I’m pale.

MRS. DOT.

You only have to look at yourself.

[_She takes out a little pocket mirror and hands it to him._

BLENKINSOP.

Let’s look at your tongue. [_He puts it out._] Tut, tut, tut.

FREDDIE.

Look here, there’s something behind this.

BLENKINSOP.

You’re too clever, my boy.

FREDDIE.

I see through your little game. Aunt Dot, you want to get rid of me.

MRS. DOT.

How can you be so absurd?

FREDDIE.

Now, I wonder what your reason is.

MRS. DOT.

Shall we tell him the truth?

BLENKINSOP.

Yes, perhaps you’d better. He’s a very bright boy.

MRS. DOT.

Well, the fact is, Freddie, a dreadful thing has happened. Poor Nellie Sellenger is desperately in love with you.

FREDDIE.

I don’t see why you should want me to go away on that account.

BLENKINSOP.

Good lord, man, don’t be so self-satisfied. Aren’t you surprised, aren’t you dumfounded that a pretty girl should fall in love with you?

FREDDIE.

I thought it meant something when she dropped that rose.

BLENKINSOP.

Bless my stars, the dolt takes it as a matter of course.

FREDDIE.

I’m awfully flattered and all that sort of thing.

MRS. DOT.

But not exactly surprised?

FREDDIE.

It’s not fair to ask a fellow a question like that.

BLENKINSOP.

At all events, you see now the necessity for depriving us for a time of your charming society.

FREDDIE.

Nothing will induce me to desert a post of danger. I’m going to face the music.

BLENKINSOP.

Don’t be such an ass. It’s not you we’re thinking of, it’s that unfortunate girl.

FREDDIE.

I don’t know why you think she’s unfortunate.

MRS. DOT.

But, my dear boy, she’s engaged to Gerald Hollington. Don’t you see how serious the whole thing is? The only chance is for you to go away. We must try and make her forget you.

FREDDIE.

I don’t want to do anybody a bad turn. I wouldn’t do anything to queer Gerald’s pitch for worlds.

BLENKINSOP.

You must combine with us in order to save her from herself.

MRS. DOT.

There’s no use in her eating her heart out for you, when she must inevitably marry Gerald.

FREDDIE.

Poor old Gerald, I told you he wasn’t the sort of chap a girl would be desperately in love with.

BLENKINSOP.

The acumen you have shown does credit to your years.

FREDDIE.

Still, you know, I don’t think it’s wise for me to go away. Don’t you think it would be rather marked? And they always say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

BLENKINSOP.

It was a woman who invented that proverb. There’s no truth in it.

MRS. DOT.

What else can you suggest? The fact remains that Nellie must be cured of this--of this passion.

FREDDIE.

My own idea is that the best thing is for me to hang on here as if I knew nothing about it. I’ll take care to be very distant. I’ll ignore her as much as I can.

MRS. DOT.

Will you promise to do that?

FREDDIE.

Yes, rather. I’ll let her see that I’m really a deuced dissipated dog.

BLENKINSOP.

Don’t let her think you’re too great a devil with the ladies, or that’ll be the last straw. If there’s one thing a woman likes it’s a really bad man. She’ll start reforming you, and then there’ll be no holding her back.

MRS. DOT.

No, you must seem rather dull and stupid. Let her think you’re a bit of a milksop.

[FREDDIE _looks at them suspiciously_.

FREDDIE.

Look here, you’re not pulling my leg all the time, are you?

MRS. DOT.

My dear, I should never take such a liberty.

FREDDIE.

I don’t believe a word of what you’ve told me. Why should she care for me? You’ve simply been humbugging me right and left.

[_For a moment_ MRS. DOT _is taken aback, but she sees_ LADY
SELLENGER _coming through the garden with_ GERALD.

MRS. DOT.

Here’s Lady Sellenger. You won’t accuse her of trying to make a fool of you. [LADY SELLENGER _and_ GERALD _appear_.] I’ve just been talking to Freddie about--about your girl.

LADY SELLENGER.

Oh yes. [_To_ FREDDIE.] My poor boy, you’re in a very difficult position.

FREDDIE.

Then you know all about it, too?

LADY SELLENGER.

I really feel for you very much. You’ll want a great deal of tact and a great deal of courage. But you must do your duty.

[_She turns aside to_ BLENKINSOP.

MRS. DOT.

[_In an undertone to_ FREDDIE.] Now have I been pulling your leg?

FREDDIE.

Poor girl!

[_He goes into the house._

LADY SELLENGER.

[_Looking at him as he goes._] What a beautiful and touching thing love is.

BLENKINSOP.

You must take care, Lady Sellenger. You’re growing sentimental.

LADY SELLENGER.

But I’ve always been as sentimental as a schoolgirl in my heart. Only, so long as Nellie’s future was unarranged, I was obliged to keep a tight hand on myself.

MRS. DOT.

Of course, Jimmie laughs; he doesn’t know what love is.

LADY SELLENGER.

Have you never been loved for yourself, Mr. Blenkinsop?

BLENKINSOP.

I have, but I have always found it deuced expensive.

GERALD.

I’m afraid Blenkinsop doesn’t set much store on the gentle sex.

BLENKINSOP.

Don’t call them gentle. They’re very much rougher than men.

MRS. DOT.

Stop him, or he’ll utter a whole string of horrors.

BLENKINSOP.

Have you never watched the gentle sex fight and push and scramble as it gets into the Hammersmith bus? I assure you, the unlucky man who finds himself in that seething feminine crowd is fortunate if he escapes without losing an eye or half his teeth. And have you seen the fury of the gentle sex at a sale as they seize some worthless fragment, and the bitterness with which they haggle? The other day I was in the Army and Navy Stores, and two women were standing on the stairs, discussing their servants, so that no one could pass up and down. I took off my hat and said: Excuse me, would you allow me to pass. They moved barely two inches, and one of them said in a loud voice to the other: What an impertinent man. The gentle sex! Yesterday I was hanging on a strap in a crowded train coming from the city, and I saw a pale-faced weary clerk give up his seat to a strong and bouncing girl. She took it without saying thank you, because she was a lady and he wasn’t a gentleman. Then a tired old woman came in and stood, but the bouncing girl never thought of giving up the seat to her. The gentle sex! They have such tender hearts they couldn’t bear to hurt a fly. Have you ever seen a woman get out of a bus ten yards before her destination in order to save the wretched horses another start? Not much. Have you ever known a woman of fashion who sends her maid to bed when she knows she won’t be in till four in the morning? Not much. And is there anything like the insolence with which a woman treats her social inferiors of the same sex? Is it men who put on their backs the sealskins that are torn off the living bodies of helpless brutes? Is it men who put on their hats the beautiful birds of the forest? It’s the gentle sex. Boys are taught manners. They are taught to take off their hats and hold open the door for their sisters. They are taught to fetch and carry for women, and to give up the front seat in life to women. But what are girls taught? Girls are taught etiquette, and that, I suppose, makes them in due course the gentle sex.

LADY SELLENGER.

Every one knows you’re a horrible cynic, so there can’t be a word of truth in anything you say.

BLENKINSOP.

Q.E.D.

GERALD.

Here comes Nellie.

[NELLIE _comes in, having changed her dress. She now wears a very
pretty white frock, all flounces and furbelows, and a large white
hat. At the same moment from the other side_ FREDDIE _enters. He
also has changed, and is now in spotless white._

MRS. DOT.

[_With a laugh, whispering to_ BLENKINSOP.] They’ve both changed their clothes.

GERALD.

Would you like to come for a row, Nellie?

NELLIE.

I’m too tired. Won’t you go with Mrs. Dot? I’ll rest here till tea-time.

[NELLIE _sits down, and the others go_.

LADY SELLENGER.

Personally, I must walk. I sacrifice all my inclinations to my fear of growing too stout. I often wonder if we shall get our good dinners in heaven that we’ve done without on earth.

BLENKINSOP.

It’s generally understood that we shall only get our deserts.

[NELLIE _watches them go from over her shoulder. She sees that_
FREDDIE _is hanging back. She smiles and elaborately disregards
him. He comes forward and leans over her chair._

NELLIE.

Aren’t you going with the others?

FREDDIE.

Do you mind if I stay with you?

NELLIE.

I like it.

FREDDIE.

Jolly here, isn’t it?

NELLIE.

Awfully jolly.

FREDDIE.

I’ve not congratulated you on your engagement yet.

NELLIE.

I didn’t expect you would.

FREDDIE.

Why?

NELLIE.

Oh, I don’t know.

FREDDIE.

It seems a long time since we first met, doesn’t it?

NELLIE.

Why?

FREDDIE.

Because I seem to know you so well.

NELLIE.

You’re very easy to get to know, aren’t you?

FREDDIE.

I say, you look just like another rose in this garden.

NELLIE.

I suppose you say that to every girl who sits here?

FREDDIE.

I’ve never said it to any one but you.

NELLIE.

They tell me you’re very impressionable.

FREDDIE.

They lie.

NELLIE.

I think I shall take off my hat.

FREDDIE.

Yes, do.

[_She proceeds to do so. She pretends that she cannot._

NELLIE.

Oh, how stupid of me! Something has caught.

FREDDIE.

May I help you?

NELLIE.

I’m afraid I’m giving you a lot of trouble.

[_He helps her, and she gives a little scream._

FREDDIE.

Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?

NELLIE.

No, but it tickled.

[_She takes off the hat. One hand of hers remains in his. Their
eyes meet for the first time, and they smile._

FREDDIE.

I say, what a pretty hand you have! It looks so white on mine, doesn’t it?

[MRS. DOT _creeps back and stands behind a bush, so that she cannot
be seen_.

NELLIE.

I rather like your hand. It’s so strong and brown.

FREDDIE.

You know, you’re awfully easy to get on with. Sometimes I feel dreadfully shy and nervous with women, but I can think of all sorts of things I want to say to you.

NELLIE.

_I_ seem to have known you all my life.

FREDDIE.

[_Impulsively._] Isn’t it jolly here?

NELLIE.

Awfully jolly.

[_He looks at her for a moment._

FREDDIE.

I want to ask you something. You won’t be angry, will you?

NELLIE.

No.

FREDDIE.

May I kiss you?

NELLIE.

No.

FREDDIE.

It’s awfully unkind of you.

NELLIE.

You shouldn’t have asked.

FREDDIE.

Shouldn’t I? I wanted to, badly.

NELLIE.

There are some things one should do without asking.

FREDDIE.

You are a brick.

[_He kisses her. As he does so_, HOLLINGTON _comes in and sees
them. He stops for a moment in astonishment, then withdraws._

FREDDIE.

Let’s go on the river, shall we?

NELLIE.

I told Gerald I was too tired.

FREDDIE.

Oh, hang Gerald!

NELLIE.

We might go and play the piano in the drawing-room.

FREDDIE.

I’m awfully fond of music. Cake-walks, and things like that, you know.

[_They get up._ MRS. DOT _comes forward_.

MRS. DOT.

Are you going? I thought you were tired.

NELLIE.

We’re just going to look at the kitchen garden.

FREDDIE.

I’ve told Miss Sellenger that you’ve got some most awfully good carrots.

MRS. DOT.

[_As they go to the house._] That’s not the way, you know.

NELLIE.

[_Coolly._] I’m only just going to get a handkerchief.

MRS. DOT.

Oh, I see. I beg your pardon.

[_They go._ GERALD _comes forward. He is rather grave and solemn._

MRS. DOT.

What a picture they make, don’t they? I can’t tell you how much I like Nellie.

GERALD.

You’ve come to the conclusion that the cut of her skirt’s all right.

MRS. DOT.

Ah, you mustn’t recall what I said when I was in a temper. You know, I’m rather touched by her obvious affection for you.

GERALD.

It’s very good of you to say so.

MRS. DOT.

It’s so nice to see two people head over ears in love with one another.

GERALD.

I wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to think Nellie was so much in love with me as all that.

MRS. DOT.

My dear boy, I’ve just had proof of it.

GERALD.

Have you? That’s more than I have.

MRS. DOT.

And is dear Lady Sellenger going to live with you when you’re married?

GERALD.

Look here, Dot, what’s the meaning of all this?

MRS. DOT.

[_Much surprised._] Of what?

GERALD.

Why did you ask us all down?

MRS. DOT.

Because I’m of a hospitable turn of mind. Didn’t you want to come? I’m so sorry.

GERALD.

You’ve utterly ignored me since I arrived.

MRS. DOT.

[_Ironically._] Much as I should have liked to devote myself exclusively to your entertainment, I’ve been really obliged to remember that my other guests had equal claims upon me.

GERALD.

I should very much like to take you by the shoulders and give you a good shaking.

MRS. DOT.

I don’t think you’re in a very good temper to-day.

GERALD.

[_Crossly._] Pardon me, I’m in the best possible temper.

MRS. DOT.

You certainly ought to be with the prospect of spending a week in almost uninterrupted _tête-à-tête_ with the object of your affections.

GERALD.

I can’t make you out. You’re so changed since last we met.

MRS. DOT.

You see, last time I thought I was in love with you. Now I know I’m not.

GERALD.

[_Bitterly._] I’m glad you’ve got over it so quickly.

MRS. DOT.

Really, you couldn’t wish me to continue eating my heart out for a young man, however charming, who is going to marry somebody else.

GERALD.

Of course not.

MRS. DOT.

[_Mockingly._] Well?

GERALD.

I was a fool to think you ever cared at all.

MRS. DOT.

But why should you think it when you took the greatest pains to assure me that you didn’t care two straws for me?

GERALD.

[_Quickly._] I didn’t!

MRS. DOT.

You did!

GERALD.

I didn’t!

MRS. DOT.

Then you did care for me?

GERALD.

I never said that.

MRS. DOT.

Anyhow, whatever your sentiments were, it would gratify your self-esteem to think that I was languishing with a hopeless passion.

GERALD.

It’s cruel of you to laugh at me.

MRS. DOT.

By the way, are you by any chance in love with me now?

GERALD.

You have no right to ask me that question.

MRS. DOT.

My dear boy, I’m not keeping you from spending an idyllic afternoon with Nellie. You’ve forced this conversation upon me. I assure you it’s most distasteful.

GERALD.

If I had married you, I should certainly have beaten you with a big stick.

MRS. DOT.

What do you think is my chief characteristic?

GERALD.

That’s a question I _can_ answer. The most confounded and aggravating unreasonableness that I ever saw.

MRS. DOT.

Nonsense. It’s obvious that my chief characteristic is a sweet and yielding nature. But as there’s no likelihood of our agreeing on that, what do you think is the second?

GERALD.

Obstinacy.

MRS. DOT.

Well, I prefer to call it strength of mind. Now, I’ll acknowledge that I was in love with you--a month ago. That’s a feather in your cap.

GERALD.

Oh, I wish we were back again. I’ve had such rotten luck.

MRS. DOT.

But when I saw that my sweetness was likely to be wasted on the desert air, I made up my mind to cure myself. First I cried for two days.

GERALD.

Dot.

MRS. DOT.

No, don’t sympathise. I have rather a high colour, and when I’ve had a good cry it always improves my complexion. After that, I ordered some new frocks, and I bought a diamond necklace that I’d been hankering after for some time.

GERALD.

And that thoroughly consoled you, I suppose?

MRS. DOT.

It helped. Then I came to the conclusion that there were as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it. I thought you over. After all, you’re not really very good-looking, are you?

GERALD.

I’m not aware that I ever made any pretence of being so.

MRS. DOT.

And I’m sure no one could accuse you of being extremely amusing.

GERALD.

I have no doubt I’m excessively dull.

MRS. DOT.

I couldn’t help seeing that you’d suit Nellie much better than you would have suited me. She has that comfortable stupidity which the average Englishman looks upon as the highest recommendation for a wife.

GERALD.

It’s charming of you to say so.

MRS. DOT.

She _is_ a little dull, isn’t she?

GERALD.

I don’t think her so.

MRS. DOT.

Doesn’t time hang rather heavily on your hands now and then? Isn’t it difficult to find topics of conversation?

GERALD.

I don’t find it so.

MRS. DOT.

Ah--she does.

GERALD.

And the long and short of it is that the emotion which you dignify with the name of love, had entirely disappeared after a week.

MRS. DOT.

Make it ten days to be on the safe side.

GERALD.

I congratulate you.

MRS. DOT.

You wouldn’t have it otherwise, surely?

GERALD.

Of course not.

MRS. DOT.

Then all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.

GERALD.

[_Furiously._] I think you must be quite heartless.

MRS. DOT.

[_Delighted._] Ah, that’s what I said to you a month ago, Philippine.

GERALD.

Now, perhaps, you’d like to know what my feeling is towards you?

MRS. DOT.

No, I’m quite indifferent, thanks!

GERALD.

Well, I shall tell you for all that. It’s a joke to you, and you can afford to laugh at it.

[_He goes up to her and then stops suddenly._

MRS. DOT.

Well?

GERALD.

Nothing.

MRS. DOT.

Oh! My poor heart went pit-a-pat. I thought you were going to kiss me.

GERALD.

I hate you. And I wish I’d never set eyes on you.

[_He turns on his heel and walks out quickly. As soon as he is
gone_ MRS. DOT _begins to dance a break-down. She cocks a snook
after him._

MRS. DOT.

I’ll marry you yet, you beast, I’ll marry you yet.

[BLENKINSOP _comes in_.

BLENKINSOP.

What on earth is the matter with you now?

[_From inside is heard the sound of a cake-walk._

MRS. DOT.

Come on.

[_She seizes him and begins to dance._

BLENKINSOP.

Unhand me, woman!

MRS. DOT.

Oh, you dear, you dear, you dear.

[_She flings both arms round his neck and kisses him soundly. At
this moment_ GERALD _returns_.

GERALD.

I beg your pardon. I forgot my hat.

[_He takes it and goes out stiffly._ MRS. DOT _bursts into a shriek
of laughter_.

BLENKINSOP.

That’s all very fine. But what about my character?

END OF THE SECOND ACT

THE THIRD ACT

_A hall in_ MRS. WORTHLEY’S _house on the River_.

GERALD _and_ NELLIE _are seated in arm-chairs. She stifles a yawn.
Then he yawns._

GERALD.

I beg your pardon.

NELLIE.

[_Yawning._] I never saw any one who yawned so much as you.

GERALD.

[_Ironically._] I suppose you’ve never looked at yourself in the glass?

NELLIE.

Is your family very long-lived, Gerald?

GERALD.

[_Rather surprised._] Are you already asking yourself how you’ll look in widow’s weeds?

NELLIE.

You may very well live for forty years, mayn’t you?

GERALD.

My maternal grandfather survived to plague his descendants to the ripe age of ninety-seven.

NELLIE.

How many days are there in forty years?

GERALD.

I should think about fifteen thousand.

NELLIE.

Has it occurred to you that we may eat fifteen thousand breakfasts sitting opposite one another, and fifteen thousand luncheons, and fifteen thousand dinners?

GERALD.

[_Gloomily._] Yes, it had occurred to me.

NELLIE.

And how do you look upon the prospect?

GERALD.

[_Grimly._] It fills me with satisfaction, naturally.

NELLIE.

[_Abruptly._] I suppose you’re very much in love with me?

GERALD.

What an extraordinary question!

NELLIE.

I don’t think any one but a lunatic would describe you as an ardent lover.

GERALD.

[_Coldly._] I regret that my behaviour doesn’t meet with your satisfaction.

NELLIE.

Do you know that since we became definitely engaged you’ve never told me that you cared for me?

GERALD.

[_Apologetically._] Yes, I ought to have done that, oughtn’t I? I suppose I thought you’d take it for granted.

NELLIE.

Every girl likes a suspicion of romance thrown over her love-affairs.

GERALD.

Your mother will tell you that the certainty of marriage is much more satisfactory.

NELLIE.

[_Dryly._] You would have made an excellent husband--for mother.

GERALD.

Have you noticed that when we _do_ think of something to talk about, we get perilously near a squabble?

NELLIE.

I sometimes think it would be better to quarrel outright now and then than be always so desperately polite to one another.

GERALD.

I’m afraid I have an admirable temper.

NELLIE.

Mother always says you have all the virtues.

GERALD.

Shall we look at the _Sketch_ together?

NELLIE.

We’ve looked at the _Sketch_ together three times. [_Following his eye, which goes to other illustrated papers on the table._] And the _Illustrated_, and the _Sphere_, and the _Graphic_.

GERALD.

Then what would you like to do?

NELLIE.

I should like to SCREAM.

GERALD.

Would you, by George? So would I.

NELLIE.

Oh, Gerald, let’s have a good scream together.

_Enter_ LADY SELLENGER _and_ MRS. DOT.

LADY SELLENGER.

[_With a bland smile._] What a picture they make!

MRS. DOT.

[_Acidly._] It’s quite charming to see two young things so engrossed in one another’s society.

LADY SELLENGER.

Now, you really mustn’t waste this beautiful afternoon. You must go and have a nice long walk together.

NELLIE.

We had a nice long walk this morning.

MRS. DOT.

[_Sweetly._] Then why don’t you go on the river? You can take your tea with you and spend the whole afternoon there.

GERALD.

We spent the whole afternoon on the river yesterday, and you kindly gave us our tea to take with us.

LADY SELLENGER.

It reminds me of the happy days when I was engaged to your poor father, Nellie. We were just like you and Gerald. We couldn’t bear to be out of one another’s sight. Now, run and get your hat, darling.

NELLIE.

Oh, mamma, I’ve got the most dreadful headache that I’ve ever had in my life, and I must really go and lie down.

LADY SELLENGER.

Nonsense. An afternoon in the fresh air with Gerald is just the thing to put you right.

GERALD.

I’m so sorry, but I have some very important letters to write. I _must_ catch the post.

MRS. DOT.

[_Sweetly._] You’ll have lots of time when you come in. The post doesn’t go till after dinner.

LADY SELLENGER.

If you make excuses like that, poor Nellie will think she bores you already.

GERALD.

In that case I shall be only too glad to go on the river.

MRS. DOT.

Take my sunshade, darling. You won’t want a hat.

NELLIE.

[_Savagely._] Thank you, dear.

[NELLIE _and_ GERALD _go out gloomily_.

LADY SELLENGER.

Just like humming-birds, aren’t they?

MRS. DOT.

Do you mean turtle-doves by any chance?

LADY SELLENGER.

I was never very good at natural history.... Dear Mrs. Worthley, I must really thank you for the tact with which you’ve thrown Gerald and Nellie in one another’s society every moment of the day.

MRS. DOT.

I can flatter myself that _they’ve_ thoroughly enjoyed their week here.

[AUNT ELIZA, _comes in with_ BLENKINSOP.

LADY SELLENGER.

[_With a look of intelligence._] Dear Mr. Blenkinsop, you wicked, wicked cynic. [_Meaningly._] I shall go and lie down. Are you coming upstairs, Miss MacGregor?

AUNT ELIZA.

In one minute.

LADY SELLENGER.

I want to have a little talk with you. [_As_ BLENKINSOP _holds open the door for her, in a whisper_.] Aren’t I tactful?

[LADY SELLENGER _goes out_.

BLENKINSOP.

What villainy is that old woman up to now?

MRS. DOT.

You idiot! Don’t you see that she’s discovered the passion that devours our hearts--your manly bosom and my timid, fluttering heart--and she wants to leave us alone.

BLENKINSOP.

I’m beginning to feel very unwell.

MRS. DOT.

[_Archly._] Wouldn’t you be rather flattered if I really were in love with you?

BLENKINSOP.

[_Alarmed._] Dot, don’t make these horrible suggestions. You make my flesh creep.

MRS. DOT.

But you’ve been so cold, you haven’t given me a chance.

BLENKINSOP.

Cold! Heaven knows what would have happened if I’d given you any encouragement. I’ve never been able to take my eyes off the ground without finding yours fixed on me with the languishing expression of a dying duck in a thunderstorm. I’ve never been able to go near you without your stroking me as if I were a velvet cushion or a Persian cat. I’ve not eaten a single meal in peace in case you suddenly took it into your head to press my foot under the table.

MRS. DOT.

What would you have done if I had?

BLENKINSOP.

[_With outraged dignity._] I should have screamed! And the thought of that special licence has cast a chill in my heart. I don’t know what it’s all coming to. You are my witness, Miss MacGregor, that I won’t marry her, however deeply she compromises me.

AUNT ELIZA.

[_Smiling._] I am your witness.

BLENKINSOP.

She shan’t make an honest man of me.

[MRS. DOT _takes from a drawer of the escritoire one of the
licences_.

MRS. DOT.

[_Smiling._] Frances Annandale Worthley--James Blenkinsop.

BLENKINSOP.

I feel as though some one were walking over my grave.

AUNT ELIZA.

But how on earth are you going to get Nellie Sellenger and Freddie to use the other licence?

MRS. DOT.

When the right moment comes I shall leave it under their noses, and allow them to draw what consequences they choose.... If any woman ever earned a husband, I have. I’ve taken every opportunity to snub Gerald till he can hardly contain himself with rage. I’ve thrown him in Nellie’s company till they’re both so bored they could almost cry. I’ve been constantly on the watch to prevent Nellie and Freddie from having two minutes by themselves till they can hardly bear the sight of me. And I’ve made love to you with a persistence that would have melted the heart of a fish. If I fail, it will be your fault.

BLENKINSOP.

But what on earth do you want me to do?

MRS. DOT.

Good heavens, throw a little passion into your behaviour. Look at me as though you’d never seen any one so ravishing in your life. When you take my hand, hold it as if you would never let it go.

[_She takes his hand._

BLENKINSOP.

Remember, there’s no one but Miss MacGregor present.

MRS. DOT.

[_With a yearning glance._] Look into my eyes like this.

BLENKINSOP.

Don’t. You make me feel very uncomfortable.

MRS. DOT.

[_Impatiently._] Oh, you’re too stupid. You’re a stock and a stone. You’re an owl. You’re a ridiculous idiot.

BLENKINSOP.

Temper, temper.

MRS. DOT.

You’ll ruin my whole life, because you’re such a perfect fool that you can’t make love to a woman.

[_She breaks away from him and begins to cry. He walks up and down,
then looks at her with a smile. He makes a sign to_ MISS MACGREGOR
_that_ MRS. DOT _cannot see_.

BLENKINSOP.

[_In a different voice._] Dot, this little game of ours has lasted long enough.

MRS. DOT.

[_Sobbing in her handkerchief._] Yes, it has. I’m sick to death of the whole thing.

BLENKINSOP.

You asked me to play a part, and you didn’t know that it might be deadly earnest.

MRS. DOT.

Fiddlesticks!

BLENKINSOP.

I have a secret that I can no longer keep from you.

MRS. DOT.

Well, tell it to the horse-marines.

BLENKINSOP.

Dot, I love you!

MRS. DOT.

Oh, don’t be so silly.

BLENKINSOP.

But I tell you I’m not joking.

MRS. DOT.

Thank heaven for that. I’m weary of your bad jokes.

BLENKINSOP.

The thing started as a bad joke, but it has ended in something very different. A change has come over me, and I’m ashamed.

MRS. DOT.

[_Looking up._] Eh?

BLENKINSOP.

Don’t you see that I’m a different man? Dot, it’s you who’ve changed me.

MRS. DOT.

I really believe he’s waking up.

BLENKINSOP.

If I was shy and awkward, it’s because I wouldn’t give in to myself. I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t understand.

MRS. DOT.

That’s much better. There really is a ring of emotion in your voice.

BLENKINSOP.

How shouldn’t there be, when I’m saying at last what has trembled on the tip of my tongue for ten days?

MRS. DOT.

[_Delighted._] There! That’s just the tone I want. Talk with that quiver in your voice when you ask me to pass you the mustard at dinner.

BLENKINSOP.

I lie awake at night thinking of you, and when I fall asleep I seem to hold you in my arms.

MRS. DOT.

That’s splendid. Why couldn’t you say all this before?

BLENKINSOP.

Dot, Dot, don’t torture me. Don’t you see I mean it.

MRS. DOT.

What!

BLENKINSOP.

I’m not jesting now. I wish to heaven I were.

MRS. DOT.

[_Forcing a laugh._] My dear James, you’re really piling it on too much.

BLENKINSOP.

You must be mad or blind. Can’t you feel that I love you?

MRS. DOT.

Don’t be so absurd. You know you’re only--you’re only pulling my leg.

BLENKINSOP.

Oh, I’ve been a perfect ass. I should never have consented to play this ghastly trick. If you only knew what tortures I’ve suffered!

MRS. DOT.

He isn’t really serious, Aunt Eliza?

AUNT ELIZA.

[_Smiling._] Upon my soul, it looks very much like it.

BLENKINSOP.

What did you expect? You’ve played on my heart-strings as though they were an instrument that had no feeling. You’ve put a caress into every tone of your voice.

MRS. DOT.

[_Ruefully._] Of course, I am fascinating. I can’t deny that.

BLENKINSOP.

When you touched my hand, every nerve of my body thrilled.

MRS. DOT.

You’re not really in love with me?

BLENKINSOP.

Passionately.

MRS. DOT.

You’re ridiculous, James Blenkinsop.

BLENKINSOP.

I was a fool. I played with fire, and I never dreamed I’d burn myself.

MRS. DOT.

But you mustn’t be in love with me. I won’t hear of it.

BLENKINSOP.

It’s too late to say that now. I adore you.

MRS. DOT.

But what on earth’s to be done?

BLENKINSOP.

You must marry me.

MRS. DOT.

Nothing will induce me to do anything of the sort.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Going up to her with outstretched arms._] You can’t realise the wealth of tenderness and affection which I’ll lavish upon you.

MRS. DOT.

Go away! Don’t come near me.

BLENKINSOP.

Why should you care for Gerald? Do you think if he loved you, he would let a trifling engagement with somebody else stand in the way?

MRS. DOT.

The fact is that men are never to be trusted.

BLENKINSOP.

I can’t live without you now. I’ll give up my whole life to make you happy.

MRS. DOT.