Chapter III: Part 3

[CLAUDE _goes out_; JOHN _closes the door and turns to_
OLIVE.

OLIVE.

[_Facing him._] Well?

JOHN.

[_Advancing to her._] Well?

OLIVE.

Oh, could anything be clearer? It’s easy enough now to see through the twaddle these people have been talking! Mrs. Fraser runs away from her husband, who believes her guilty; her relatives go in pursuit; they look for her and find her—where?

JOHN.

Her relations chance to be here when Mrs. Fraser sends for me——

OLIVE.

[_Mockingly._] Yes!

JOHN.

[_Referring to the letter._] Desiring to see me “for a few moments, upon a matter of business.” That is all that can be made of it.

OLIVE.

A matter of business!

JOHN.

This letter is not quite ingenuous, you infer.

OLIVE.

You’ve caught the tone of the lawyers exactly.

JOHN.

[_Hotly._] “A matter of business” is a lie, you mean?

OLIVE.

Her arrival to-night is a remarkable coincidence.

JOHN.

A perfectly natural one.

OLIVE.

Why are you so eager, then, to avoid granting her the interview she asks for?

JOHN.

Eager——!

OLIVE.

You send word to her that it’s impossible.

JOHN.

Don’t you make it impossible?

OLIVE.

No, I do not; I do not. I want you to meet her to-night; you’ve heard me say I wish it.

JOHN.

You mean that?

OLIVE.

If ever I meant anything in my life.

JOHN.

[_Referring to the letter._] “I shall plant myself at some quiet spot near your cottage——”

OLIVE.

Ah, no! never mind the quiet spot near the cottage. Why can’t you have your business interview here?

JOHN.

Here?

OLIVE.

[_In a low voice, her head drooping._] Where we are now, while I—[_glancing towards the library_]—while I take my place in there?

[_There is a pause; he stands looking at her for a moment
silently._

JOHN.

And this is how you propose to carry out your undertaking to make amends to Mrs. Fraser?

[_He turns away from her._

OLIVE.

Everything is altered since—since——

JOHN.

Since we were reconciled! reconciled!

OLIVE.

Since I promised to aid Mrs. Fraser. The arrival of these people—that letter—has undone everything. [_Throwing herself upon the settee despairingly._] Oh, they knew well enough where their bird would fly to! [_Burying her face in the pillows._] Oh, John, you’ll kill me!

JOHN.

Ha! and so you would like to try Mrs. Fraser twice in one day! And there would be no mistake this time, no doubt whatever! Innocent or Guilty—guilty for choice!

OLIVE.

No, no, innocent. But I want to be satisfied. Only satisfy me?

JOHN.

Satisfy you! My heavens!

OLIVE.

Satisfy me! satisfy me!

JOHN.

And what a model judge of this lady you would make, of any woman you are jealous of! How scrupulously fair! how impartial! how——

OLIVE.

I would be just, John; I would be!

JOHN.

[_Savagely taking a cigarette from the box on the table and sticking it between his teeth._] Women of your temperament detect a leer in the smile of a wax doll.

OLIVE.

I give you my word that I will make every allowance for you both, if you will let me hear you together. You _are_ old friends—“chums” was her expression for it in the witness-box to-day—and you are Jack and Theo to each other, naturally; I am prepared for all that kind of thing. She can kiss you good-bye when she parts from you—[_beating her brow_]—I can comprehend even _that_. Only—only let me be satisfied by her general tone and bearing, by that unmistakable ring in the voice, that she has never been the arrant little profligate I once thought her.

[JOHN _now sitting staring at the carpet and chewing the end
of his cigarette_.

JOHN.

Supposing I—consented, and you were—satisfied——?

OLIVE.

[_Rising and speaking earnestly and rapidly._] We are in June; I would have her to stay with me. My friends, her own friends, should see that we were close companions. She should go everywhere with me; my arm should always be through hers. I would get a crowd together; she should receive my guests with me. Oh, by Goodwood week her reputation should be as sound as any woman’s in England! Come! think of the dreadful days and nights she’s given me, whether she’s good or bad! Come! wouldn’t that be generous?

JOHN.

[_In a low voice._] Look here! you would swear to me you’d never use against her anything that might arise during our meeting—I mean anything that your cursed jealousy could twist into harm?

OLIVE.

Solemnly. If she proclaimed herself openly in this room to be your—[_with a stamp of the foot he rises_]—she should go scot-free, for me. If she behaved as an innocent woman, she might walk over me in the future, trample on me; I’d be a slave to her. Only satisfy me!

[_He goes to the writing-table, and rapidly scribbles a
note. She watches him with eager eyes. When he has
finished writing, he takes an envelope, rises, comes to_
OLIVE, _and holds the note up before her_.

JOHN.

“Come to the cottage.—J. A.”

[_She inclines her head. He touches the bell-press. Then he
encloses the note in the envelope, which he fastens, and
hands to_ OLIVE.

OLIVE.

Why?

JOHN.

Take it. [_She takes it wonderingly._] I have met your demands so far. Now, if you wish to do a womanly thing, you’ll throw that on the fire. [QUAIFE _enters_; OLIVE _stands staring before her. Speaking in measured tones, keeping his eyes on_ OLIVE.] Quaife, the note which Mrs. Allingham will give you is for the messenger.

QUAIFE.

Yes, sir.

JOHN.

If a lady arrives, ask her to sit down in the card-room; let me know when she comes. I am alone, should the lady make any inquiries.

QUAIFE.

Very good, sir.

JOHN.

Olive, Quaife is waiting for the note. [_There is a pause; then_ OLIVE _turns suddenly and hands_ QUAIFE _the note. He goes out. There is another pause._] And after this—after this!—you and I! Upon what terms do you imagine you and I will be after this?

OLIVE.

Oh, if she comes out of it well, I will be so good to her——

JOHN.

[_Contemptuously._] Ah——!

OLIVE.

[_Clutching his arm._] I will make you forgive me for it; I will make you! [_He releases himself from her, almost roughly, and moves away, turning his back upon her._] Of course, you will not mention to Mrs. Fraser that you and I are in any way—in any way——?

JOHN.

Reconciled! [_Sitting on the settee, laughing wildly._] Ha, ha, ha——! [_Turning to her._] Why not?

OLIVE.

Naturally, she wouldn’t open her lips to you at all if you did.

JOHN.

[_Waving her away._] Faugh!

OLIVE.

[_Her hand to her brow._] You are—very—polite—[_She walks slowly and painfully towards the steps, pausing in her walk, and referring to her watch._] John, when the talk between you and Mrs. Fraser has—gone far enough, I will strike ten on the bell of the little clock in here. You understand?

JOHN.

When you are satisfied!

OLIVE.

[_Beginning to ascend the steps, with the aid of the balustrade._] When I am satisfied.

JOHN.

Olive——! [_She stops._] It’s not too late now for us to think better of playing this infernally mean trick upon her.

OLIVE.

[_Steadily, in a low hard voice._] Why, nothing can arise, during this interview, injurious, in the mind of any fair person, to Mrs. Fraser’s reputation?

JOHN.

[_Starting to his feet._] Nothing! nothing!

OLIVE.

Then I am clearly serving Mrs. Fraser’s interests by what I am doing.

[_She disappear into the library. After a brief pause_, JOHN
_hastily goes to the dining-room door, and opens it
slightly_.

JOHN.

Mrs. Cloys! Mrs. Cloys!

MRS. CLOYS.

[_From the dining-room._] Yes.

JOHN.

Let me speak to you? [MRS. CLOYS _enters; he closes the door sharply, speaking hurriedly and excitedly_.] I—I have altered my mind about meeting Mrs. Fraser——

MRS. CLOYS.

Altered your mind——?

JOHN.

I have sent a note to her by her messenger asking her to see me here.

MRS. CLOYS.

Mr. Allingham, I protest against this as quite unnecessary.

JOHN.

Pardon me. [_Producing_ THEOPHILA’S _letter, and speaking disjointedly, uneasily_.] On—on consideration, it seems to me that—that—for everybody’s sake, I have to satisfy my wife that Mrs. Fraser’s presence is due solely to the most innocent causes.

MRS. CLOYS.

Mrs. Allingham has, I take it, arrived at certain conclusions as to the motive of my visit?

JOHN.

She has.

MRS. CLOYS.

And now, Theophila following upon our heels——?

JOHN.

It is a most unfortunate accident——

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Eyeing him penetratingly._] Mr. Allingham, you have no doubt whatever of the absolute genuineness of my niece’s excuse for calling upon you?

JOHN.

Oh, Mrs. Cloys——!

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Sitting._] Yes, I admit that I came here to-night to ask you to pledge your word to us that Theo should run no further risk from her—her acquaintanceship with you; to entreat you, if she should be so base, so abandoned——

JOHN.

You mean you thought it possible, probable, that this lady had run away from her husband and friends with the deliberate intention of joining me—me! [MRS. CLOYS _covers her eyes with her handkerchief_.] Great Heaven, I suppose there _is_ no living soul who will believe in an honest friendship between a young man and a young woman!

MRS. CLOYS.

There are certain rules for the conduct of friendship, Mr. Allingham——

JOHN.

[_Excitedly._] Rules! The world is getting choked with rules for the conduct of everything and every body! What’s the matter with the world that a woman has to lose her character and paint her face before she is entitled to tell a man her troubles, and hear his in return, across a dying fire, by lamplight, when the streets are still and a few words of sympathy and encouragement stir one like a sudden peal of bells——?

[_He stands by the fire, bowing his head upon the
mantelpiece._

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Looking at him, and speaking in a low voice._] Ah! a dying fire, the lamplight, the still streets——! The world is what it is, Mr. Allingham.

JOHN.

Yes, and it’s a damnable world!

QUAIFE _enters_.

QUAIFE.

The lady has arrived, sir.

MRS. CLOYS _rises_.

JOHN.

[_To_ QUAIFE.] When I ring, show her in here.

QUAIFE _withdraws_.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Agitatedly._] Mr. Allingham, you will not let Theo slip through my fingers; you won’t let her escape me——? [_Looking at him._] Oh, I will trust you so far.

JOHN.

You may. I only ask you to allow me to have my interview with Mrs. Fraser undisturbed.

MRS. CLOYS.

Ah, if you knew how I hate the idea of this meeting between you two! [_Turning sharply._] I’ve a feeling that something evil is going to result from it——!

JOHN.

I can only repeat, you’re wrong in what you think of me—[_turning away_]—wrong, every one of you.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Coming to him, her manner gradually changing to harshness, almost to violence._] Well, understand me, Mr. Allingham! I’m inclined to—to half-believe in you; you’ve an honest face and air—not that those things count for much; but understand me: if you bring, in any shape or form, further harm to her——!

JOHN.

[_Indignantly._] What further harm can I bring to her? You find me here with my wife——!

MRS. CLOYS.

Sir, you had a wife round the corner when you were engaged in destroying my niece’s reputation in Lennox Gardens! [_Recovering her composure._] But enough of that. [_Calmly, amiably._] We do understand one another, do we not?

JOHN.

[_Shortly._] Oh, perfectly.

MRS. CLOYS.

That’s right. [_Arranging her bonnet-strings, which have become slightly disordered._] Excuse me for breaking out in this fashion. [_She goes to the door, he following her. At the door she turns to him with grave dignity._] I’m afraid I’ve impressed you as being rather a tigress.

[_She goes out. He closes the door after her and stands
staring at the ground for a moment; then he gently turns
the key in the lock and carefully draws the_ portière
_across the door. He is about to put his finger upon the
bell-press when he pauses._

JOHN.

[_In a low voice._] Olive. Olive. I have not yet rung the bell. Do you stop me? [_A pause._] Won’t you stop me?

[_He waits; there is no answer; with an angry gesture he
rings the bell. After a brief pause_ QUAIFE _enters_;
THEOPHILA _follows. She is dressed as in the previous
Act, but is now thickly veiled._ QUAIFE _gives a puzzled
look round the room and withdraws_.

THEOPHILA.

[_Advancing and speaking in a weak, plaintive voice._] Oh, Jack——! [_They shake hands, but in a constrained, rather formal way._] Of course, we could have had our talk very well in the lane; but it’s kind and considerate of you to ask me in.

JOHN.

Oh, not in the least. [_Confusedly._] I—er—I—Do sit down.

[_She looks at him, expecting him to find her a chair. In
the end, after a little uncertainty, she seats herself
on the right of the table. In the meantime he ascertains
that the door by which_ THEOPHILA _has entered is
closed_.

THEOPHILA.

[_Lifting her veil._] I’m afraid you’re a little angry with me for hunting you up.

JOHN.

Angry? Why should I be angry?

THEOPHILA.

Well, I suppose it _is_ another—what d’ye call it?—injudicious act on my part. But it seemed to me, if I thought about it at all, that we came so badly out of it to-day, that nothing matters much now. At any rate, _my_ character’s gone.

JOHN.

[_Advancing a step or two, but avoiding her eye._]

No, no——

THEOPHILA.

Oh, isn’t it? And yours has gone too, Jack; only a man gets on comfortably without one. [_Facing him, her elbows on the table._] Well, what do you think of my news?

JOHN.

[_Looking at her, startled._] By Jove, how dreadfully white you are!

THEOPHILA.

[_With a nod and a smile._] The looks have gone with the character—[_putting her hands over her face_]—both departed finally.

JOHN.

[_Coming a little nearer to her._] Er—when you’ve had a little rest you will see everything in a brighter light——

THEOPHILA.

I should have kept my appearance a good many years, being fair and small. [_Removing her hands—looking up at him._] You used to tell me I should last pretty till I’m forty-five. Do you remember? [_His jaw drops a little, and he stares at her without replying._] Do you remember?

JOHN.

[_Moving away._] Oh—er—yes——

[THEOPHILA.

Is there anything wrong with you, Jack?

JOHN.

Wrong—with me? No.

[_She shifts to the other side of the table, to be nearer to
him. He eyes her askance._

THEOPHILA.

Why don’t you tell me what you think of my news?

JOHN.

Your news?

THEOPHILA.

[_Impatiently._] You’ve read my letter, Jack. I’m a—what am I?—a single woman again; a sort of widow.

JOHN.

You are acting too hastily; you’re simply carried away by a rush of indignation. Perhaps matters can be arranged, patched up. You mustn’t be allowed to——

THEOPHILA.

Arranged! patched up! You don’t realise what you’re proposing! You wouldn’t make such a suggestion if you had been a fly on the wall this afternoon while Mr. Fraser and I were—having a little talk. [_Struggling to keep back her tears._] Alec—my husband—he was very much in love with me at one time! I never doubted that he would stand by me through thick and thin. He has done so pretty well, up till to-day, up till the trial, and then, suddenly, he—he——

[_She produces her handkerchief, rises, then moves away
abruptly, and stands, with her back to_ JOHN, _crying_.

JOHN.

[_Turning to the fire._] Mr. Fraser was taken aback, flabbergasted, I expect, by the tone adopted by the judge to-day; there’s that poor excuse for him. But a little reflection will soon——

THEOPHILA.

[_Drying her eyes._] Oh, don’t prose, Jack! [_Turning._] On the whole, I think it’s better that he and I have at last managed to find out where we are.

JOHN.

[_Turning to her._] Where you are?

THEOPHILA.

You know, there’s always a moment in the lives of a man and woman who are tied to each other when the man has a chance of making the woman really, really, his own property. It’s only a moment; if he let’s the chance slip, it’s gone—it never comes back. I fancy my husband had _his_ chance to-day. If he had just put his hand on my shoulder this afternoon and said, “You fool, you don’t deserve it, for your stupidity, but I’ll try to save you——”; if he had said something, anything, of that kind to me, I think I could have gone down on my knees to him and——[_Coming to_ JOHN _excitedly_.] But he stared at the carpet, and held on to his head, and moaned out that he must have time, time! Time! Oh, he was my one bit of rock! [_Throwing herself into a chair on the right._] If he’d only mercifully stuck to me for a few months—three months—two—for a month——!

JOHN.

[_Going to her slowly and deliberately, and standing by her._] Mrs. Fraser. [_She looks up at him surprised._] Of course, whatever future is in store for you, nothing—no luck, no happy times—can ever pay you back for the distress of mind you’ve gone through.

THEOPHILA.

Nothing, Jack—Mr. Allingham. [_Her hand to her brow._] Oh, nobody knows! Oh, Jack, some nights—some nights—I’ve said my prayers.

JOHN.

I’ve found myself doing that too—in hansoms, or walking along the street.

THEOPHILA.

Praying for _me_?

JOHN.

[_Nervously._] Y-yes.

THEOPHILA.

Oh, don’t make me cry again! Oh, my head! oh, don’t let me cry any more——!

JOHN.

Hush, hush, hush! What I want to say is this. You knew young Goodhew?

THEOPHILA.

Charley Goodhew—the boy that cheated at baccarat?

JOHN.

He didn’t; he was innocent.

THEOPHILA.

I’m sure he was, poor fellow.

JOHN.

Well, he told me, one day in Brussels, that he managed to take all the sting out of his punishment by continually reminding himself that it was undeserved, that there wasn’t a shadow of justification for it. I suppose it would be the same with a woman who—who gets into a scrape; an innocent woman?

THEOPHILA.

It’s good, under such circumstances, if you can feel a bit of a martyr, you mean?

JOHN.

That’s it. So, in the future, you must never tire of reminding _yourself_ of the utter harmlessness of those hours we used to spend together in Lennox Gardens.

THEOPHILA.

They were harmless enough, God knows.

JOHN.

[_Earnestly, eagerly._] God knows.

THEOPHILA.

And they were awfully jolly, too.

JOHN.

[_Blankly, his voice dropping._] Jolly——?

THEOPHILA.

You know—cosy, comforting.

JOHN.

Yes, yes—comforting. It was the one thing that kept me together during those shocking Pont Street days of mine.

THEOPHILA.

Our friendship?

JOHN.

Our friendship. When I was in the deepest misery, the thought would come to me: “Well, I shall see my little friend to-day or to-morrow.” And then I’d go through our meeting as I supposed it would be—as it always was——

THEOPHILA.

“’Ullo, Jack! good morning—or good evening. Oh, my dear boy, you’re in trouble again, I’m afraid!”

JOHN.

“Dreadfully. I shall go mad, I believe—or drink.”

THEOPHILA.

“Mad—drink; not you. Sit down and tell me all about it.”

JOHN.

And so on.

THEOPHILA.

And so on. I had my miseries too.

JOHN.

Yes, you had your miseries too.

THEOPHILA.

And then you invariably came out with that one piece of oracular advice of yours.

JOHN.

Ah, yes. “Don’t fret; it’ll be all the same a hundred years hence.”

THEOPHILA.

Which you couldn’t act upon, yourself. How vexed it used to make me—and the ponderous way you said it!

JOHN.

Well, it was a good, helpful friendship to me.

THEOPHILA.

And to me.

JOHN.

[_Standing a little behind her; speaking calmly, but watching her eagerly._] Because, all the while, there was never one single thought of anything but friendship on either side.

THEOPHILA.

Why, of course not, Jack.

JOHN.

You’d have detected it in me, if there had been?

THEOPHILA.

Trust a woman for that.

JOHN.

And if you had for a moment fancied that I was losing sight of mere friendship——?

THEOPHILA.

You!

JOHN.

What would you have done?

THEOPHILA.

Oh, one day, the usual headache; not at home the next—the proper thing. But, Jack dear, I never felt the slightest fear of _you_—and that’s what makes an end like this so cruel, so intolerably cruel.

JOHN.

Never felt the slightest fear of me——?

THEOPHILA.

No, never; oh, of course, a woman can tell. Somehow, I knew—I knew you _couldn’t_ be a black-guard.

JOHN.

[_About to seize her hand, but restraining himself._] God bless you! God bless you! [_He walks away and pokes the fire vigorously, hitting the coal triumphantly._] Ah, ha, ha! [_Turning to_ THEOPHILA.] I beg your pardon; you’re in the most uncomfortable chair in the room.

[_She rises and crosses the room._

JOHN.

[_Arranging the pillows on the settee._] You must be so weary, too. I’m confoundedly stupid and forgetful to-night.

THEOPHILA.

[_Sitting on the settee._] Fancy! a fire in June!

JOHN.

[_Walking about elatedly, dividing his glances between_ THEOPHILA _and the library_.] I love to see a fire.

THEOPHILA.

[_Suddenly._] Of course. [_Dropping her voice._] I remember. [_He stops, staring at her._] Do you recollect? [_Steadily gazing into the fire._] That night when we were sitting over the fire in that little room in Lennox Gardens——

JOHN.

[_Hastily._] Oh, yes, yes——

THEOPHILA.

“I shall always burn a fire, Theo,” you said, “to bring back these nights, these soothing, precious talks in the quiet hours. Wherever I may be, I shall only have to light my fire to hear you and to see you—to see you sitting facing me——”

JOHN.

Ah, that evening—yes, I was terribly—terribly down that evening [_Wiping his brow._] By-the-bye, we—we mustn’t neglect the—the—the matter of business—the little matter of business——

THEOPHILA.

[_Rousing herself._] Matter of——?

JOHN.

The matter of business you mention in your letter——

THEOPHILA.

[_Rising._] Oh, yes. [_Sitting on the left of the centre table._] Jack, I—I do hope you won’t hate me for asking you. You see, if I went to any one else, I should run a chance of having all my arrangements upset. I—I want to borrow a little money——

JOHN.

Ah, yes, certainly—anything—I shall be most happy——

THEOPHILA.

This is exactly how I am placed. Mr. Fraser wanted to hurry me off abroad—ah! that’s done with. Instead of that, you see, I’ve taken my travels and my future into my own hands. I’ve telegraphed to Emily Graveney, who was at Madame MacDonnell’s with us girls in the Rue D’Audiffret-Pasquier. Emily is teaching in Paris now—I hardly know how she scrapes along; she’ll be mad with delight to have my companionship. But till the lawyers settle my position precisely as regards Mr. Fraser, I’m practically broke, penniless. It’s a little ready-money I want.

JOHN.

[_Who has seated himself at the right of the table while_ THEOPHILA _has been talking_.] You have only to tell me how much——

THEOPHILA.

Well, I think I could tide over with fifty pounds. I’m afraid you haven’t got it in the house, though. I don’t want a cheque.

JOHN.

[_Taking out his keys and going to a table._] I believe I _can_ just make it up——[_He opens a drawer in the writing-table, finds some bank-notes, counts them, then empties his sovereign-purse and screws the gold up in the notes._] Within a pound——

THEOPHILA.

That’s of no consequence. [_Rising._] I’m awfully obliged to you; I knew you would—I—I——

[_He returns to her, and finds her clutching the table
unsteadily._

JOHN.

[_Placing the money on the table._] What’s the matter?

THEOPHILA.

Nothing. [_Sinking back into the chair, with closed eyes._] I shall be all right in a minute.

[_He brings her a glass of water, and places it to her lips.
She sips the water for a little while, then gives a
sigh._

JOHN.

Better?

THEOPHILA.

I think so.

JOHN.

When did you last eat? [_She shakes her head feebly. He puts the glass of water aside and fetches the biscuits._] Get two or three of these down. Come—try——!

THEOPHILA.

[_Taking a biscuit._] Thank you.

[_He places the biscuits on the table by her side, and goes
back to the other table._

JOHN.

A glass of this champagne would pull you together.

THEOPHILA.

[_Nibbling the biscuit, her eyes still closed._] Would it? [_He brings the decanter of champagne and a small tumbler. She, speaking faintly, and opening her eyes._] Oh, do let me off this, Jack.

JOHN.

[_Pouring out some champagne._] No, no; stick to it—do.

THEOPHILA.

[_Watching him._] That looks nice. [_She puts the remains of her biscuit on the table and stretches out her hand for the wine. He gives it to her; she drinks._] Oh! oh! oh—h—h—h! [_There is a pause; there she shakes herself, looks up at him, and breaks into a low, childlike little laugh._] Ha! ha, ha, ha! I’d nearly gone, hadn’t I? [_Emptying her glass._] Oh! oh!... Fetch yourself a glass, and we’ll drink luck to each other. Then I really must be off. The porter said the trains run every—every what was it? [_He brings a glass, which she fills, speaking animatedly._] A tumbler! oh, fie! [_Filling her own glass._] Oh, mine’s a tumbler too! [_Nodding to him._] Ourselves! [_Touching his glass with hers._] Our two poor unfortunate selves! [_They drink._] Ha! I don’t care! do you?

JOHN.

Care——?

THEOPHILA.

A hang. For anything; for what the judge said; for what people think. Puh. Here’s to our friend, the judge——! [_Drinking, nearly emptying her glass._] I hope his wife’s a cat who leads him a——! [_Jumping up suddenly, her eyes dilating, holding her glass high in the air._] Happiness and prosperity to Mr. Fraser! [_Loudly._] Mr. Fraser!

JOHN.

Sssh! oh, hush!

THEOPHILA.

Fraser of Locheen! [_She goes to the fireplace and flings the contents of her glass into the grate._] Ha! well, that’s throwing good stuff after poor, isn’t it? [_She places her glass on the table; the cigarette box is open; she takes a cigarette._] The old sort?

JOHN.

[_Quickly._] No, no——

THEOPHILA.

[_Striking a match._] Only a whiff. [_Lighting her cigarette._] Sure I’m not in the way, Jack, if I rest here a minute or two longer?

JOHN.

[_With a glance at the library._] C—certainly not.

THEOPHILA.

[_Throwing herself upon the settee in a careless attitude, smoking._] Oh, thank God for this rest! [_Looking round._] So this is the little place you used to tell me about——

JOHN.

[_Standing, watching her, apprehensively._] Um——

THEOPHILA.

Phew! Your fire’s all right to look at——! [_She removes her cape from her shoulders and flings it away from her; he picks it up, and places it over the back of a chair._] Never mind that rag. Are you likely to be in Paris?

JOHN.

I—I’m not fond of Paris.

THEOPHILA.

[_Jumping up, and speaking volubly, excitedly, boisterously._] Suppose that wire don’t find Emily, and she doesn’t meet me at the Nord to-morrow night. Ugh! cheerful! She may be dead, No, no; not Emily. Poor old Emily! Be sure you look me up if you _should_ pass through. Rue Poissonnière, 18. You’re bound to be rambling soon. How lucky a man is! Does just as he chooses. Good chap, So-and-so—awfully rackety—but the world would be a dooced deal livelier if there were more like him! That’s what they all say of a man!... phew!... [_As she rattles on, she takes off her bonnet and clears her hair from her brow._] But a woman! Well, look at _me_. Not that anybody _will_ look at me, in Paris or elsewhere. I used to know several smart people in Paris! Now! Oh, my stars, won’t they stalk distant objects when they see me coming along! [_Angrily._] Ah, a gay time I shall have of it, shut up with Emily Graveney, with her red nose, and her poor, narrow chest, and her perpetual sniffle! [_She flings away her cigarette. Her hair is disordered, her breath comes quickly, there is a wild look in her eyes. Her bonnet falls to the floor. He paces the room distractedly._] By Jove, I won’t have a dull time though! I shall only hang out with Emily long enough just to turn round. Then I’ll take a little _appartement_ of my own. Uncle Fletcher will make me an allowance; I won’t touch a penny of—puh—_his_ money. I’ll let the world see how happy I am without the character I’ve been robbed of! Yes, robbed of! [_Laughing noisily._] Ha, ha, ha! [_Snapping her fingers._] Pish! I shall burst out laughing in the face of the whole world, Jack—put my tongue out at the world, your wife, my husband! After the solemn farce we’ve all gone through. [_Between her teeth._] Y—y—yes, they shall have a pretty picture in their minds of _me_, t’other side of the Channel, with my finger to my nose like a cheeky urchin! Oh, my heavens, how I hate ’em—hate ’em—hate ’em!

JOHN.

Mrs. Fraser——! Mrs. Fraser——!

THEOPHILA.

Oh, the devilish injustice of it! To think that we’re still married, Jack—you and I! Hah! the mockery! To think that we wander about the world still with our owner’s marks branded upon us! Ha, ha! I believe I’ve an “F” branded upon my shoulder—burnt in! [_Running to him._] Oh, I won’t bear it! I can’t bear it!

JOHN.

Hush, hush!

THEOPHILA.

I shall go mad if I can’t pay out that wife of yours! [_Shrilly._] She’s ruined me! I will be even with her!

JOHN.

Hush——!

THEOPHILA.

And with _him_!—that fish!—that cold, flapping fish! [_Clinging to him, suddenly._] Jack——! I wouldn’t bore you! I wouldn’t bore you, Jack——!

JOHN.

Bore me!

THEOPHILA.

Ah-h-h-h! take me away! Let’s you and I go together——!

JOHN.

[_Putting his hand over her mouth._] Ah, for God’s sake——! [_The clock in the library is heard to strike._] It’s too late! too late!

THEOPHILA.

[_Drawing back, looking into his face._] Too late——? [_There is a sharp knocking at the dining-room door._] What’s that? [_The knocking is repeated._] Who is it?

JOHN.

Mrs. Cloys is here.

THEOPHILA.

[_Her hand to her brow._] Mrs. Cloys—aunt——!

JOHN.

Mrs. Cloys, Sir Fletcher, and your brother were with me when your note arrived. They want to see you.

THEOPHILA.

See me—See me——

JOHN.

[_Gripping her wrist._] Pull yourself together, Mrs. Fraser——[_The knocking is again heard._ JOHN _goes to the door_.

THEOPHILA.

[_In a whisper._] Jack! [_He pauses; she seems dazed._] They—they haven’t heard—a word of—oh, of what I’ve said to you?

JOHN.

Heard——! N-no. Are you ready?

[_He pulls aside the_ portière, _unlocks the door, and opens
it_. MRS. CLOYS _enters_; SIR FLETCHER _and_ CLAUDE
_appear in the doorway_.

MRS. CLOYS.

You have tried my patience long enough, Mr. Allingham. [_She goes to_ THEOPHILA; JOHN _walks away, and stands with his back to those in the room._] Come! you have had ample time for your _business interview_. [_Staring at_ THEOPHILA.] What’s wrong with you?

THEOPHILA.

[_Sinking into a chair._] N-nothing.

MRS. CLOYS.

Where’s your cape—and your bonnet?

[THEOPHILA _looks round vacantly_.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Cape? cape? Here’s a cape.

[_He hands the cape to_ MRS. CLOYS; _she snatches it from
him, and puts it round_ THEOPHILA’S _shoulders_. CLAUDE
_picks up the bonnet, and brings it to_ MRS. CLOYS,
_then goes to the upper door, and stands there waiting_.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Raising_ THEOPHILA.] You are not well; you are ill. Fletcher——! [SIR FLETCHER _goes up to the steps leading to the library_.] Where are you going?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

My hat——[_He pushes the_ portière _aside, then draws back_.] Mrs. Allingham——! [_Hesitatingly._] Er—I believe I have left my hat here, Mrs. Allingham. May I——? [_He enters the library._

THEOPHILA.

Mrs. Allingham! Mrs.—Allingham——!

MRS. CLOYS.

Yes, yes.

[SIR FLETCHER _comes out of the library, carrying his hat_.

THEOPHILA.

[_To_ MRS. CLOYS.] Mrs. Allingham! his ... wife!

MRS. CLOYS.

Mr. and Mrs. Allingham have arranged their differences. [_Looking from_ THEOPHILA _to_ JOHN.] Why, don’t you know?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Coming down the steps._] Haven’t you seen Mrs. Allingham?

THEOPHILA.

Seen her——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

This evening—here——?

THEOPHILA.

Here!

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Your interview with Mr. Allingham has taken place in this room?

THEOPHILA.

In this room? Yes——

MRS. CLOYS.

Come——

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Wait, Harriet, please! Allingham—Mr. Allingham—pardon me for putting such a question: surely you have not allowed—allowed—been a party to——?

MRS. CLOYS.

Allowed—what?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Looking towards the library._] Harriet, you can hear most distinctly, in the library——

MRS. CLOYS.

Hear——!

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Overhear—certainly, overhear——

MRS. CLOYS.

No, no! [_Going to_ JOHN.] Preposterous! [_After a pause._] Mr. Allingham, why should Mrs. Allingham—be there? [JOHN _is silent_.] What has passed between you and——? Your wife has not been—listening?

JOHN.

[_Desperately._] Mrs. Fraser—has said—nothing to me that a—a just woman can bring up against her——

MRS. CLOYS.

_Listening!_

JOHN.

[_Almost inaudibly._] Yes. [_Passionately._] But you don’t know——! [_Calling in a loud voice.]_ Olive! Olive——!

[OLIVE _comes out of the library and stands at the top of
the steps_. THEOPHILA _regards her for a moment blankly,
then goes to the balustrade, and stares up at her. After
a brief pause_ THEOPHILA _joins_ MRS. CLOYS, _but
seeing_ JOHN, _she comes unsteadily towards him and
looks him in the face. Then as she turns away to_ MRS.
CLOYS, _she utters a groan, and tumbles to the floor at_
JOHN’S _feet_.

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

THE THIRD ACT

_The Scene is the same as in the previous Act, but a few articles of
furniture are differently disposed about the room. There is no fire;
and flowers decorate the fireplace. The windows are open and the
light is that of a fine afternoon in summer._

FRASER _is seated upon the settee_. JOHN ALLINGHAM _appears in the
garden, looks into the room, glares fiercely at_ FRASER, _coughs
significantly, and walks away. When_ JOHN _has gone_, FRASER,
_glancing at the window, rises, and, with an angry exclamation,
crosses the room_. MRS. CLOYS _and_ JUSTINA _enter_; MRS. CLOYS _is
dressed as in the previous Acts, but without her bonnet and mantle_;
JUSTINA _is in a bright morning-dress_.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_To_ FRASER.] She insists upon rising; she will see you in a few minutes.

FRASER.

Thank you.

MRS. CLOYS.

She is excessively weak and shattered; you must remember that.

FRASER.

Yes, yes. I can never adequately express my gratitude——

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Sitting upon the settee._] Tsch!

JUSTINA.

Aunt has been up with her the whole night.

MRS. CLOYS.

Not alone. Mrs. Allingham——

FRASER.

Mrs. Allingham——?

MRS. CLOYS.

Mrs. Allingham begged to be allowed to keep me company. There was a little scene between us—but the woman is, to some extent, human, I find.

FRASER.

Oh, I’ve no doubt that Mrs. Allingham is ashamed of herself——

MRS. CLOYS.

I hope we are all ashamed of ourselves. In the end I was far from sorry to have her companionship. Your poor wife didn’t come out of her swoon till nearly one o’clock this morning. Then Dr. Erskine went home and Mrs. Allingham and I took our places by the bedside—[_to_ JUSTINA]—till you arrived at breakfast-time, Justina.

JUSTINA.

[_To_ FRASER.] And I brought old Sarah, who used to maid us girls when Theo was at home; she’s dressing her now.

FRASER.

Mrs. Cloys, pray help me with your advice.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Bridling._] Oh—h—h——!

FRASER.

No, no—about Mr. Allingham. Ha! of course if we were Frenchmen we should fight a duel——

JUSTINA.

Certainly, my dear Alec, and he would kill you.

FRASER.

Perhaps; that doesn’t follow.

JUSTINA.

It doesn’t follow, because it can’t follow. But he _would_ kill you and everybody would say of you, “Serve him right; another unsatisfactory husband disposed of!” And you would be buried, and my sister would be free and would go to Trouville in August in her weeds, and we should all have a splendid time generally.

FRASER.

[_Dryly._] If we were French.

JUSTINA.

Yes. [_Going to the window._] Why aren’t we French!

MRS. CLOYS.

Justina——!

FRASER.

[_Advancing to_ MRS. CLOYS, _hesitatingly, uncomfortably—lowering his voice_.] I can’t deny that I have behaved in a very poor fashion to Theophila——

JUSTINA.

[_Looking into the garden._] Deny it! no!

FRASER.

[_Turning to_ JUSTINA.] Please——! [_To_ MRS. CLOYS.] But you, Mrs. Cloys, have just admitted to me that, up till last night, your feelings towards her were at least as unjust as my own.

MRS. CLOYS.

Ah, I hope your contrition, now that the facts are known to us, is as sincere and as deep as mine, Mr. Fraser.

JUSTINA.

Oh, how miserable he looks!

MRS. CLOYS.

Who?

JUSTINA.

Jack Allingham. [_She goes out, and disappears._

FRASER.

[_Walking about angrily._] There he is again!

MRS. CLOYS.

He has every right to be here.

FRASER.

It’s in curious taste.

MRS. CLOYS.

I don’t see that. He feels called upon to remain here to protect his wife. He might say, with equal reason——

FRASER.

Hardly. He can take _his_ wife away, and protect her elsewhere. But I am helpless. You tell me it is a question whether Theophila ought to be moved to-day or not——

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Referring to her watch._] Dr. Erskine will decide very shortly.

FRASER.

So, for how long, in heaven’s name, am I to endure Mr. Allingham? The fellow puts himself in my way. If I walk in the garden, he appears, indoors, at a window, and coughs in a menacing fashion. When I enter the house the proceedings are but slightly varied—I am inside; Allingham and his cough outside.

MRS. CLOYS.

I find him a simple-minded, boyish young man.

FRASER.

[_Looking through the balustrade into the library._] Do you?

MRS. CLOYS.

After all, the conspiracy he assisted at—for which I can never forgive him—was carried out, on his part, in perfect good faith to Theophila.

FRASER.

His share in it is singularly discreditable.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Rising._] You and I must remember that it is through this discreditable act that we are able to do justice to your wife. [JUSTINA _re-enters, at the window_.] Is Mr. Allingham there?

JUSTINA.

Yes, aunt.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_To_ FRASER.] I assume you are anxious to avoid any open quarrel with Mr. Allingham?

FRASER.

I simply wish to get my sick wife away as speedily and as peacefully as possible, and then to forget this gentleman—and his cough. [MRS. CLOYS _goes out at the window and disappears_.] Justina; surely you—_you_—resent this new attitude of Mrs. Allingham’s? For months and months she is your sister’s bitter, determined enemy; then suddenly she is allowed to sit up all night, nursing her!

JUSTINA.

You wouldn’t grudge the woman her little bit of practical repentance? If ever I go in for repentance, let nobody try to do me out of it!

FRASER.

[_Impatiently._] Repentance——!

JUSTINA.

[_Sitting on the arm of a chair._] Oh, Olive Allingham didn’t have too gay a time of it last night, take my word for it. When Theo came-to, aunt tells me, her poor, overwrought brain wandered for an hour or so; that wasn’t over-pleasant for Mrs. A. Theo went through the whole business from beginning to end, breaking off occasionally to say her prayers—praying that the case might end in her favour, and that the season’s invitations would flow in as usual. Sometimes she’d stop in the middle of it, and call out that she couldn’t pray well while that creature was in the next room listening. Luckily, she fell into a heavy sleep, at about half-past two, and didn’t wake till just as I turned up in response to aunt’s telegram. But what a bad hour or two it must have been for Mrs. A.! Picture it! The half-darkened room; my little sister tossing about the bed, raving; aunt sitting grimly on one side, with a handkerchief round her head; and on the other side, hidden behind the bed-curtains, hardly daring to breathe, that woman, with her white face and her eyes almost out of their sockets!

SIR FLETCHER _enters, carrying some slips of paper covered
with writing_.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Allingham has had really a most admirable cold luncheon laid in the dining-room. [_To_ FRASER.] You haven’t seen the dining-room?

FRASER.

[_Shortly._] No.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Really a capital lunch. Evidently it is intended that one should wander in and eat a wing of a chicken when one feels inclined.

JUSTINA.

_You_ have been wandering, uncle, apparently.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

A glass of sherry, merely. No—it is strange and unreasonable that it should be so, but it _is_ so.

JUSTINA.

What is so?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Why, one has rather a feeling of constraint in sitting down to Allingham’s table—at any rate until matters are in a more settled state. [_To_ FRASER.] _You_ wouldn’t care to—to make the plunge?

FRASER.

Plunge——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

To break the ice?

FRASER.

Eat his lunch!

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Sitting on the settee and arranging his papers._] No, no; I can quite understand——

JUSTINA.

[_Throwing her head back._] Ha!

FRASER.

[_To her, angrily._] I believe you would grin by the side of a grave.

JUSTINA.

[_Shrugging her shoulders._] _Cela dépend._

FRASER.

[_Turning away in disgust._] Ah!

JUSTINA.

[_Jumping up._] Oh, I’ve had my bad days lately—plenty of ’em! This morning the atmosphere’s a bit clearer. [_Gaily._] Tra, la, la!

FRASER.

The woman who can laugh under such circumstances——

JUSTINA.

[_Turning upon him._] Laugh! My dear Alec, if you had learnt to laugh when you acquired your other accomplishments, you would have been able perhaps to keep my sister out of the Divorce Court.

[_She goes out._

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Fussing with his papers._] Fraser——[FRASER _comes to him_.] When I got to my hotel here last night I jotted down the—the—the leading points—the leading features——

FRASER.

Leading features——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Of this awkward affair between you and the Allinghams——

FRASER.

[_Impatiently._] There is now no question between me and the Allinghams——

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Rising._] My dear Locheen! A lady deliberately stations herself in that room, with the cognizance and approval of her husband, to listen to——

FRASER.

I wish to forget all that occurred last night. It is done with.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Pardon me; it cannot be done with: it ought not to be done with, without the most complete apology—I will not, for reasons you will presently appreciate, hint from which side. [_Going to_ FRASER, _button-holing him_.] Do you know what has suggested itself to me, Fraser?

FRASER.

[_Releasing himself._] No.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Why, sir, if ever there was a matter for reference, for arbitration, this is one!

FRASER.

[_Between his teeth._] Arbitration——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Good heavens, when I open my _Times_ in the morning, and glance at the law reports, how often have I occasion to remark, “_That_ scandal might have been averted, and _that_, and _that_——” if only the intervention of some cool, level-headed person had been secured, the intervention of some one possessing the rarest of all gifts—the judicial faculty!

FRASER.

The gift is rare enough upon the bench. People shrink from having their concerns adjudicated by a meddlesome amateur.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

I sent Claude to town for his mother at ten o’clock this morning. When _they_ arrive, the family will be complete—with the exception Of my brother, Thomas Osborne Portwood, who is in Australia; a deplorable case. [_Looking about him._] Arbitration dispenses with legal paraphernalia. A table, writing materials, a few chairs arranged—[_his eye falling upon a table_]—a table. [_He moves the table and stands, disposing, by gesture, of an imaginary audience._] Seated here, I should command the room. [_Pushing the settee a little further towards the left._] This thing must be differently placed. Chairs there—and there—— [_To_ FRASER.] Locheen, would this be the better room, I wonder, or the library?

FRASER.

[_Who has lapsed into thought, rousing himself._] Eh, for what?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

For the arbitration? [FRASER _impatiently starts to his feet as_ MRS. CLOYS _enters at the window with_ JOHN.] Oh, Mr. Allingham, if you will give me just a moment or two——

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Taking_ SIR FLETCHER’S _arm and drawing him aside_.] Not now, Fletcher.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Annoyed._] Harriet——!

[SIR FLETCHER _and_ MRS. CLOYS _stand outside the window,
talking_. JOHN _comes and faces_ FRASER.

JOHN.

[_With an effort._] I am sorry to hear, Mr. Fraser, that you have been annoyed, while a visitor at my house, by the persistency of my cough.

FRASER.

If I could have assured myself, Mr. Allingham, that your cough was a genuine one, it would not, however violent and grave its attacks, have occasioned me the smallest concern.

JOHN.

I admit the cough was not genuine. I employed it as a sign that I was at hand should you wish to have an explanation with me.

FRASER.

The invitation might have been more explicitly phrased.

JOHN.

It was clear enough for most men. At any rate, I hope the invitation is sufficiently plain now.

FRASER.

Quite.

JOHN.

You decline it, or accept it?

FRASER.

If I hesitate, it is because I hardly know in what language you would choose for me to reply.

JOHN.

Language——?

FRASER.

Words—or a cough?

JOHN.

Oh, whichever you find most procrastinating and evasive.

FRASER.

[_Coolly._] I decline your invitation, Mr. Allingham; I have nothing to say to you.

JOHN.

[_With clenched hands._] Nothing!

FRASER.

Nothing.

JOHN.

[_Glances at_ MRS. CLOYS, _then advances closely to_ FRASER _and speaks to him, in a low voice, beside himself with anger, but betraying nothing by gesture_.] Fraser, _you_ are actually responsible for the occurrences of last night. You have never understood your unfortunate wife; but yesterday your behaviour to her was cruel, brutal. I charge you with acting towards her like a brute.

FRASER.

[_Looking at him immovably._] Well?

JOHN.

Well——!

FRASER.

I repeat, I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Allingham.

[_After a pause_, JOHN _retreats from_ FRASER _and sits upon
the settee, leaning his head upon his hands and uttering
a groan_.

JOHN.

Fraser, I promised Mrs. Cloys, out in the garden, just now that I would make an attempt to soften matters between us, and—and—offer you some civility—and so on. I began fairly well—[FRASER _bows_]—and then the conversation took another line. However—[_rising, speaking with an effort, not looking at_ FRASER]—let me say that my house is quite at Mrs. Fraser’s disposal—[_with a gulp_]—and at yours, for as long as she honours me—as you both honour me—by remaining here. [FRASER _again bows_, JOHN _glares at him_.] As for ourselves, whenever we encounter each other I will be careful to look in an opposite direction. Perhaps you will be good enough to follow the same course.

FRASER.

It is one that would have suggested itself to me.

JUSTINA _enters_.

JUSTINA.

Alec, Theo is coming in to see you.

[JOHN _goes out quickly_; JUSTINA _speaks to_ MRS. CLOYS.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Entering the room and addressing_ FRASER.] Theo is ready.

[MRS. CLOYS _goes out as_ SIR FLETCHER _enters the room_.

JUSTINA.

[_To him, significantly._] _Now_, perhaps a little lunch, uncle Fletcher——

[_She goes out by the dining-room door._

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_To_ FRASER.] Of course, my sister Harriet throws cold water upon my proposal——

FRASER.

Proposal——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Arbitration. [FRASER _walks away and eyes the upper door anxiously and expectantly_.] But when did Harriet fail to throw cold water? I shall sound Allingham and get his views. After all, Harriet is not essential; Harriet is not——

[_While speaking he goes to the table, takes up the inkstand
and blotting-book and carries them to the other table._

FRASER.

[_To_ SIR FLETCHER.] Sir Fletcher, Theophila understands that she is to see me here alone——

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Abstractedly._] I am off; I am off. [_Stopping at the door, looking at the table, and slowly tapping his forehead._] Pens—paper; two p.’s.

[_He goes out._ FRASER _comes to the dining-room door, and
carefully draws the_ portière; _then he walks away as_
MRS. CLOYS _enters by the upper door with_ THEOPHILA
_leaning upon her arm_. THEOPHILA _is dressed as in the
preceding Acts, but without bonnet or cape_. MRS. CLOYS
_places_ THEOPHILA _upon the settee, then goes out at
the window, and disappears_. FRASER _takes a chair and
sits_.

FRASER.

You—you are very ill, Theophila?

THEOPHILA.

[_In a low, level, weary voice, her eyes turned from him._] No; I have just escaped being ill, they say.

FRASER.

I have been out all night, taking steps to find you; your aunt’s telegram did not reach me till late this morning. I hurried here directly.

THEOPHILA.

[_Indifferently, her thoughts elsewhere._] Oh?

FRASER.

I hope they told you so.

THEOPHILA.

Yes—I think they did. [_Rousing herself slightly._] When did you receive the news that I’d—I’d——?

FRASER.

That you had——?

THEOPHILA.

Run away?

FRASER.

Justina came to Lennox Gardens last night at about half-past six.

THEOPHILA.

It hadn’t struck you as at all likely——?

FRASER.

No.

THEOPHILA.

Men _don’t_ think on some points, I suppose. They hit; they never expect to see a bruise.

FRASER.

The two days we passed in Court, Theophila, set me quite beside myself. I am here to express my deep, my unfeigned regret for my treatment of you. I—I humbly beg your pardon.

THEOPHILA.

[_Looking at him for the first time, in an expressionless way._] You know what happened last night?

FRASER.

[_With assumed indifference._] Mrs. Cloys—told me—[_with a wave of the hand_]—oh, yes.

THEOPHILA.

I asked her to tell you all. She has told you _all_?

FRASER.

[_Nodding agitatedly._] For God’s sake, let us never again refer to the subject. Forget my share of yesterday and I will forget yours. [_Moving his chair to the head of the settee, to be nearer to her._] Theophila, everything you planned that we should do to reinstate you shall be done; I am prepared to go in with your schemes, heart and soul; all your suggestions shall be acted upon promptly.

THEOPHILA.

[_Moving away from him; then, after a brief pause._] No, thank you, Alec.

FRASER.

[_Staring at her._] No——?

THEOPHILA.

I’d rather not, now.

FRASER.

Why not?

THEOPHILA.

Things are different.

FRASER.

In what way?

THEOPHILA.

_I_ feel very different. When I asked you yesterday afternoon to lend me a helping hand I was asking for my right. It’s true we haven’t got on well together; you’ve been in one place, I in another, for more than half our married life. It’s true I’ve been miserable and lonely, and have told my tale often enough to him—Mr. Allingham——

FRASER.

[_Between his teeth._] Yes, yes.

THEOPHILA.

But, throughout everything, I’ve never been disloyal to you; I’ve always been fair to you when speaking of you behind your back; though I’ve hated you sometimes, I wouldn’t have let a living soul say a word against you in my presence. This is truth, Oh, I know I’ve been vilely brought up! ’Tina and I are vulgar and slangy, and generally bad form; and we were once what’s called “fast,” I suppose. But our fastness didn’t amount to much; it was only flirting, and giggling, and dodging mother, and getting lost in conservatories and gardens. Oh, what fools girls are! No, till yesterday I’ve been only silly—silly—nothing but silly—till last night——! till last night——!

FRASER.

[_Rising and pacing the room._] You were no more yourself last night than I was _myself_ yesterday afternoon!

THEOPHILA.

[_Sitting upright._] Who says I was not myself? It _was_ myself, the dregs of myself, that came to the top last night!

FRASER.

The—the—circumstances—under which you—you behaved as you did——

THEOPHILA.

[_Hiding her face in the pillows._] Oh, don’t remind me of it!

FRASER.

I mean, you were weak—ill——

THEOPHILA.

You mean nothing of the sort ... oh-h-h-h, how horrid I must have looked...!

FRASER.

They were mere words you were speaking——

THEOPHILA.

It was _me_—_me_!

FRASER.

Surely, if I see no reason why you should not claim my help——?

THEOPHILA.

I see a reason—that’s enough. I repeat, what I asked of you yesterday was my right, my right. But to-day—to-day it would be accepting a favour from you——

FRASER.

Favour!

THEOPHILA.

Favour. A poor, tawdry little thing I’ve always been; but I’ve been proud—yes, very proud—like every woman who is square and honest. But now——! No, if I could pull myself up again, I’d do it, for mother’s sake and ’Tina’s; but never, never, never, after last night, could I accept a favour from my husband!

FRASER.

I hear from your aunt that Mrs. Allingham—this man Allingham’s wife!—generously offers to take you under her wing. Is it so?

THEOPHILA.

[_Leaning back, her eyes closed._] Aunt brought me a message to that effect from Mrs. Allingham this morning.

FRASER.

What answer did you send?

THEOPHILA.

None; I am going to see Mrs. Allingham.

FRASER.

I think I understand.

THEOPHILA.

Understand?

FRASER.

This lady’s proposal is, after all, one worth considering. It would be a double triumph for you to ride back into the shabby little circle you regard as “society” in her coach. It would be a triumph over _me_ in the first place—over _me_!

THEOPHILA.

[_Opening her eyes and speaking calmly in a subdued voice._] Alec [_glancing over her shoulder_], is aunt out there? [_He goes to the window and looks out._

FRASER.

Yes.

THEOPHILA.

Call her, please.

[_He disappears. She rises feebly, and, with an effort,
pushes away the chair_ FRASER _has placed at the head of
the settee; then she sinks into it_. MRS. CLOYS _enters
at the window with_ FRASER, _and comes to_ THEOPHILA.

MRS. CLOYS.

My dear——?

THEOPHILA.

Will you ask Mrs. Allingham to be good enough to come to me?

MRS. CLOYS.

You are equal to seeing her?

THEOPHILA.

Yes—at once.

MRS. CLOYS.

Why are you sitting here?

THEOPHILA.

[_Irritably._] Oh, I am not going to appear quite a wreck before Mrs. Allingham. Find her, aunt.

[MRS. CLOYS _goes out._ FRASER _brings a foot-stool to_
THEOPHILA _and places it under her feet. She nods in
acknowledgment._

FRASER.

[_Sarcastically._] You must not forget to thank Mrs. Allingham for taking her place by your bedside all last night.

THEOPHILA.