ilip's Wife. A Play rank G. Layton, M.R.C.S. >ndon: A. C. Fifield, 13 Clifford's Inn, E.G. Is. net Philip's Wife. A Play by Frank G. Layton, M.R.C.S. BY THE SAME AUTHOR Novels : The Serpent and the Cross. Doctor Grey. Sable and Motley. Play: The Politicians. Philip's Wife. A Play in Three Acts by Frank G. Layton ("Stephen Andrew") London: A. C. Fifield, 13 Clifford's Inn, E.G. 1914 WILLIAM BRENUON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH Preface I THINK it unlikely that this play will be produced in England at any rate, for a long time to come. Friends of mine, who ought to know, say that the Censor would not pass it I cannot imagine why. (It is only fair to the Censor to say that his opinion has not, so far, been asked.) The play is not improper : it certainly does not incite to evil doing. It does no more than call attention to one of the many sides of the Doctor's Dilemma. What ought we to do ? Frequently we doctors learn that a young man is going to marry, when we know that he ought not to marry. We can warn him, if he gives us the chance. We can point out to him the risk, the almost complete certainty that he will wreck the girl's life ; but if he chooses to disregard our advice, we are powerless. We can't tell ; for a confession to a doctor is as secret and as binding as a confession to a priest. And, if we were to tell, we should be liable to an action at law which would end in heavy damages against us, and, quite likely, professional ruin. There ought to be some way out, some way of pre- venting girls from plunging blindfold into a sea of misery. I imagine no one will deny that marriage does mean misery to numbers of women the women who, almost at once, develop bad health ; the women who bear dead baby after dead baby, or babies that are born only to sicken and die. I have no desire to play the part of alarmist. I know that the statement that the bulk of men are unfit for marriage is a grotesque libel upon my sex. I do, how- ever, wish to call attention to the fact that a girl ought 6 Preface to know what marriage may mean to her and to her children ; to the thoroughly reasonable suggestion that a girl should have some guarantee that the man she marries is fit to marry. The average man is fit ; but there are many who are not. We see the consequences in our consulting-rooms, in the out-patient rooms of our hospitals, at the bedside. Philip's Wife is no figment of my imagination. I have met her and her sisters over and over again ; and I have seen Philip's children still more often. Poor little beggars, damned before their birth, what chance have they ? I wonder how many who may happen to read this have any idea of the pitiful lot of the child who is born with the taint of inherited disease in him. There still are plenty of excellent folk who believe fervently that " there are some subjects that ought never to be mentioned to women." The superstition that women should be kept in ignorance of certain subjects which affect them vitally dies hard. I want to help to kill it. It seems to me reasonable that if a subject is fit for men to talk about, it is equally fit for women to talk about. As a doctor a privileged person I find that women are keen enough to talk about the Things That Matter, if they are given a chance, and that it is only the inherent bashfulness of men that prevents the Evils That Matter being discussed openly. For myself, I think they ought to be discussed openly. It is because I think this that I have written this play. I expect I shall be charged with plagiarising Brieux. It is fair to myself to state that when I wrote this play I had not so much as heard of " Damaged Goods." FRANK G. LAYTON. WALSALL, March, 1914. Persons of the Play ROBERT ANTHONY, M.D., F.R.C.P. A con- sulting physician ..... Aged 45 JAMES DEXTER, M.R.C.S., L.R.C.P. A general Practitioner . . . . . . ,,30 SEPTIMUS MORTON. A crude and rather vulgar manufacturer . . . . . ,,55 MRS. MORTON. His wife (neither crude nor vulgar) . . . . . ,,50 PHILIP MORTON. Their son . . . ,,25 THE REVEREND PERCIVAL GRANT. Vicar of Middlewich . . . . . ,, 60 MRS. GRANT. His wife . . . . ,,55 JEAN GRANT. Their daughter . . . ,,21 SERVANT SCENES ACT I The Study in Septimus Morton's house, at Middlewich, a busy Midland manufacturing town ACTS II AND III The Study at Middlewich Vicarage Philip's Wife Act I SCENE. A Room, known as " the Study," in SEPTIMUS MORTON'S house, at Middlewich. MORTON is a well- to-do manufacturer, rather vulgar, distinctly purse- proud, who has married above him. The room is very comfortably furnished, with a thick carpet, plenty of easy chairs, good engravings on the walls. In the middle of the far wall is the door, with book-cases on either side. In the left wall is the fire-place, with a cupboard between it and the front of the Stage. In the right wall is a window : beyond the fire-place is a small writing-table. TIME. Midwinter, about eleven in the morning. As the Curtain goes up MRS. MORTON comes in, followed by DR. ANTHONY and DR. DEXTER. ANTHONY is very well dressed and very precise : DEXTER is a cheerful, rather casual person, dressed in blue serge jacket suit. MRS. MORTON. This is Mr. Morton's study, Dr. Anthony. You will be quite private in here. I dare say you and Dr. Dexter will like to have a talk about the invalids. I do hope you will have good news for me. ANTHONY (bows). Thank you. This will do splen- didly. i o Philip's Wife Act i MRS. MORTON. May I send you something ? A glass of sherry and a biscuit . . . ? ANTHONY. Oh, no, thank you very much. MRS. MORTON. Then I will leave you. (She goes out, DEXTER opening the door for her. ANTHONY strolls about the room examining the pictures.} ANTHONY. Seems to do himself pretty well. Nice engravings, those. Some of these rich manufacturing persons are getting quite cultured. DEXTER (standing before the fire with his hands in his pockets}. Yes, aren't they? (Apparently ANTHONY amuses him.} ANTHONY. Plenty of money, I suppose ? DEXTER. Heaps. Gets it out of some patent kind of steel he's invented. By the way, you may as well charge him a pretty stiff fee. He'll think all the more of you if you do. ANTHONY (turning to DEXTER with interest}. Right. Thanks : I will. DEXTER. People in these parts always like to get a very expensive doctor if they can especially if the patient is going to die. Reckon to pay him out of the insurance money, I suppose. Quaint idea. ANTHONY. It's a custom we ought to encourage. DEXTER (airily). Oh, we encourage it all right. For instance, I've got you here to help me diagnose these two cases, though I know quite well what's the matter with both of them ; and I've told you to be ex- pensive. ANTHONY (chillingly. He seems not quite pleased. Evidently he is accustomed to more deference from general practitioners}. Are you on the Panel ? DEXTER (looking sharply at him, with a quick smile}. Rather ! Oh, yes. I'm a Panel Doctor. Act i Philip's Wife 1 1 ANTHONY (condescendingly). Then you have my sincere sympathy. DEXTER. What for ? I'm quite happy. But, I say, what are you going to tell these people ? ANTHONY. Ah, yes it is about time we began to discuss the business in hand. DEXTER (shrugs his shoulders). No need to discuss much. The cases are plain enough. Old chap drinks : young chap well, he's been unlucky. How much are you going to tell 'em ? That's the main point. ANTHONY (sharply). I say why did you get a second opinion at all ? DEXTER. Me ! I didn't. They'd heard of you, and wanted you ; so of course I agreed. Who am I to get between you and a fee ? I didn't need any second opinion, but I said I'd be jolly glad to meet you ; and so I am. They pay for it : I don't. ANTHONY (out of his depth). Do you mean to say you didn't really need a second opinion ? DEXTER (cheerfully). Of course I do. I suppose it sounds rather rude but we G.P.'s very seldom call in you consulting people because we are up a stump. We call you in because the family wants you. They like to have the satisfaction of feeling that "everything possible has been done." Having paid one of you a big fee, they can arrange for the funeral with a quiet mind. ANTHONY (laughing bitterly). You put it bluntly. I hadn't heard before that that was the function of a consulting physician. DEXTER (airily). Hadn't you ? I'm only telling you what I want you to tell these people. ANTHONY (bewildered). Surely you don't expect me to say all this to these people ! They might object to paying that fee. 12 Philip's Wife A<*I DEXTER (laughs). Of course I don't. I only want you to tell them the truth. Tell the old chap to cut down his whiskey ; and for God's sake tell the boy that he mustn't marry for at least two years, and must be treated. Treated, mind. ANTHONY. But do you mean ? Is there a girl ? DEXTER (seriously). There is a girl. ANTHONY (thoroughly roused). Good Lord ! DEXTER. And such a nice girl, too. Parson's daugh- ter of course. It's always a parson's daughter. You know. But this is the real article. ANTHONY. And that young whelp DEXTER (interrupts sharply). He isn't a young whelp. He's a very decent chap. But he's ignorant ignorant, because they won't let MS in. They make the rules : he pays. See ? ANTHONY (stroking his chin). Yes, I suppose so. But I say, it's rough luck for that girl. DEXTER. It is ; and it'll be worse if we don't inter- fere. ANTHONY. Hm yes. But interfering's rather a ticklish business. We can't give the boy away. Secrets of the confessional you know. DEXTER. No, we can't give him away. We can only talk to him, and, if he'll let us, to his father. ANTHONY. Of course we can talk to him ; but I doubt whether it will be much good. I've talked to a good many young men in my time ; but precious few of them did what I told them. DEXTER. With the inevitable consequences. ANTHONY (nods). With the inevitable consequences. DEXTER (beginning to walk to and fro, across the room). Rather beastly, isn't it ? People ought to have a clean bill of health before they marry. Act i Philip's Wife 13 ANTHONY. Of course they ought but they don't. Public opinion's dead against it Heaven knows why. The Public in general seems rather suspicious of us doctors. DEXTER (cheerfully). Naturally. ANTHONY (looking at his watch}. Hadn't we better go back to the patients ? We are agreed as to the diagnosis. DEXTER (nods). Yes. You'll tell 'em the truth, won't you ? ANTHONY (coldly). Certainly I shall tell them the truth. DEXTER. I mean the whole truth without any trimmings. Tell the old boy to go easy with the whiskey, and insist that the son shall not marry for a long time, and be treated. ANTHONY (sharply). Haven't you been treating him ? DEXTER. Only for a week. Young men are usually shy of the family doctor for that complaint. They prefer quacks. That's where the Panel Patient scores. ANTHONY (very shortly). Panel Patients have no business to be treated for this sort of thing as Panel Patients, I mean. DEXTER. Why not ? ANTHONY. Because they have brought their trouble on themselves. DEXTER. Hm yes. So has the average man with indigestion. Would you bar him, too ? ANTHONY (turning to the door}. That's ridiculous. (Before he can reach the door it opens, and PHILIP MORTON comes in. He is a tall, well-set-up young man, fair, with a slight moustache. He is wearing pyjamas and a dressing-gown.} PHILIP. Hullo, can I come in ? I say, there's no 14 Philip's Wife Acti need to worry your heads about my complaint. I know what's the matter. ANTHONY (looking rather severely at him). Oh, do you ? Yes, come in, Mr. Morton. We want to talk to you. PHILIP. Right. (He shuts the door, sits down in an arm-chair, and lights a cigarette.) ANTHONY. It's serious, you know. PHILIP (unmoved). Is it ? That's what Dexter said. As you both say so, I suppose it's true. How long will it take to cure me ? ANTHONY. We cannot tell you. You see, you have neglected yourself. PHILIP (calmly shaking the ash of his cigarette on to the carpet). Have I ? You mean, I haven't been to one of you chaps. DEXTER. You haven't been to a doctor at all ? PHILIP. I've been to somebody just as good. You should read his testimonials. Shall I go and fetch them ? ANTHONY (dryly). No, thanks. PHILIP. Of course, you think they're all rot. You chaps always do up against medical etiquette, and all that sort of thing. I know. But this man swears he's hit on the rock-bottom cure, and he's got reams of printed stuff to prove it. Testimonials from all sorts of big people. I've read 'em. I've no reason to think he's a liar. ANTHONY (pointedly). And has his treatment made you any better ? PHILIP. How can I tell ? It looks worse ; but he says that's the disease coming out. (ANTHONY and DEXTER glance at one another and smile.) Act i Philip's Wife 15 DEXTER. Good traditional old lie. Go on, Philip you are most entertaining. PHILIP. Entertaining, do you call it ? I don't. I'm beginning to think that chap hasn't got quite the right thing for me. He may be all right for other people ; but my complaint seems to baffle him somehow. So I'm letting you chaps have a go at me. And, what's more, I'm going to let the governor pay. I've stood the racket of that London man myself, and it's pretty well cleaned me out. ANTHONY (gravely). Does your father know what is the matter with you ? PHILIP (airily lighting another cigarette). I haven't told him. But I expect the old boy has guessed. He hasn't said anything, though. ANTHONY. You will have to tell him. PHILIP (looking up coolly). Oh ! Shall I ? Why ? Supposing I refuse ? ANTHONY (very stiffly). If you put it -", that - way well . . . But I thought you said he was going to pay. And he is your father. PHILIP. Well, it's my complaint. ANTHONY. Which may affect other people. PHILIP (sitting up abruptly). Oh, no. I'm not that sort of cad. ANTHONY. All the same, you ought to tell your father. It will make things much easier for you. PHILIP. How easier ? ANTHONY (severely). You are engaged to be married, I understand. PHILIP (flushing}. Er yes. But I'm not getting married immediately. ANTHONY. So I should hope. PHILIP. What then ? 1 6 Philip's Wife Act i ANTHONY (emphatically). You mustn't get married at all : not for a very long time, I mean. PHILIP (getting up and going towards ANTHONY). What ! Do you mean to say I can't get married in six or eight months ? ANTHONY (gravely). I do. PHILIP. You can't cure me in six months ? ANTHONY. That is so. PHILIP (flinging himself back into his chair). Then I don't think much of you doctors. T'other chap says he can. What do you say, Dexter ? DEXTER. I agree with Dr. Anthony. PHILIP. Oh, do you ? ^. ^ ANTHONY (hastily). What we mean is, that, although we can get rid of all your symptoms, we can't be sure that all the poison will be out of you in six months or even in twenty-six months. And, until it is all out, you must not marry. PHILIP. Oh ! Then, as I say, I don't think much of your blooming drugs and things. Other people say they can be certain. DEXTER. You had much better tell your father, Philip. You are in rather a mess, you know. And he has asked Dr. Anthony to see you. PHILIP (yawning). Oh, all right ; have it your own way. Hullo by Gad here he is. (The door has opened, and SEPTIMUS MORTON comes in. He is wearing a nightshirt and bedroom slippers, and has a blanket wrapped round him. His hair and beard are disarranged. Evidently he has come straight from his bed.) MORTON. Oh ! (He hesitates.) I didn't know you were in 'ere. (ANTHONY and DEXTER hasten towards him.) Act i Philip's Wife 17 ANTHONY. Mr. Morton ! (DEXTER laughs.) You ought to be in your bed. MORTON (gruffly). What for ? That's what my wife says. I suppose you are in league with 'er. PHILIP (interested). I say, Dad, what are you in that rig for ? MORTON (snappishly). Because your mother's 'idden my clothes. DEXTER (cheerfully). Only way to keep you in bed, Mr. Morton. My suggestion. MORTON. Oh, was it ? (He comes in and shuts the door.) I suppose you've been discussing me, you two. (He turns to PHILIP.) What are you doin' 'ere ? You aren't dressed, neither. PHILIP. They've been discussing me, too. MORTON. Ah ! (He goes to the cupboard and takes out a glass, whiskey decanter, and syphon. He mixes a drink and sips it.) That's better. 'Ave one, Doctor ? (To ANTHONY.) ANTHONY. No, thank you, Mr. Morton. MORTON. Dexter ? DEXTER. No, thanks. Too early for me. MORTON. Oh, is it ? It's never too early for me. (He finds a pipe on the mantelpiece and proceeds to fill it.) Mrs. Morton won't let me smoke in bed, so (he strikes a, match and lights his pipe) I've come down. (He sits down before the fire and warms his bare legs.) I suppose you two want to make out I'm very bad but I'm not. ANTHONY. Not very bad, Mr. Morton ; but we've got a little advice to give you presently. Perhaps we had better talk about your son first. MORTON. Right. (He smokes with great content.) Nothing much wrong with Philip, is there ? 1 8 Philip's Wife Acti ANTHONY. Well er (He hesitates. MORTON looks up suspiciously.) MORTON. What's the matter ? ANTHONY. Perhaps Mr. Philip had better speak for himself. MORTON (nodding his head knowingly). Oh, that's it, is it ? I guessed as much. Been gettin' into mischief, 'ave you, Philip ? You silly young fool why didn't you look where you were goin' ? I warned you. PHILIP (offhand). Did you, Dad ? I never heard you. MORTON. Didn't you ? Per'aps I forgot. Anyway, you'd better 'urry up and get cured. Dr. Anthony will tell Dexter what to do. Then you and 'e can do it. That's all, isn't it, Dr. Anthony ? ANTHONY (who is sitting away from the fire, beyond MORTON). I'm afraid it isn't as simple as all that, Mr. Morton. We have been impressing on your son that he mustn't think of getting married for a long time to come. MORTON (with great disgust). Oh, 'ave you? Sort of thing you would do. Do you mean to say you can't cure 'im in a fortnight or so ? ANTHONY. It will take a great many fortnights, I'm afraid. MORTON (turning round in his chair to look hard at ANTHONY). But I want 'im married. I want 'im mar- ried soon. 'E's goin' to marry the Vicar's daughter. That's a step up for 'im. If the weddin's put off people will ask questions, and that won't be nice. I shouldn't wonder if they don't ask me to be Mayor next November ; but they won't if there's any ugly talk. ANTHONY. I'm very sorry, Mr. Morton ; but the wedding will have to be put off. MORTON (to PHILIP). You young fool. Why the Act i Philip's Wife 19 deuce couldn't you take care ? (Suddenly furious and rising from his chair and flapping his blanket.) Con- found you spoilin' it all. I won't 'ave it : I tell you, I won't 'ave it. (He empties his glass and reaches for the decanter.) PHILIP. I'm very sorry : I didn't do it on purpose. (He starts forward.) Hi look out. (MORTON has got the end of his blanket perilously near the fire. PHILIP retrieves it.) Don't set yourself on fire, or you'll spoil every- thing. MORTON (growls unamiably and mixes his second drink). You've got to cure 'im See ? (This to ANTHONY.) That weddin's goin' to come off. If you won't cure 'im, somebody else will. I know it can be done. I wasn't born yesterday. ANTHONY (stiffly). We must warn you, Mr. Morton, of the consequences. And er we must insist that there shall be no talk of marrying for a long time to come. Mr. Philip, I hope you understand. MORTON (sourly). Oh you must insist, must you ? See 'ere I'm a plain man, and I speak my mind in a plain way : you doctors are all right in your place I shall listen to what you 'ave to say about my complaint presently but you mustn't go too far. You don't rule the country yet. DEXTER (very affably). By Jove, we don't. MORTON (glances with disfavour at him). And when Philip marries is for me to decide. ANTHONY. And what about the lady ? Will you let her run into danger with her eyes shut ? MORTON (spluttering). The lady ! You don't think I would let anyone talk to a lady about this sort of thing, do you ? What next, I wonder ? 20 Philip's Wife Acti ANTHONY. Ah. You think a woman ought not to be warned if there is danger ahead ? MORTON (explosively). I think you doctors want to poke your noses into other people's private affairs a sight too much. And I think there are some subjects that ought never to be mentioned to women. Never. Do you follow me ? It isn't decent. ANTHONY. Ah yes. Your wife, for instance ? MORTON. What my wife ? Me tell 'er about Philip ! It would kill 'er. Mrs. Morton's an extremely religious woman. ANTHONY. I see. (He glances hopelessly at DEXTER.) Well (he becomes very earnest] let me tell you this, Mr. Morton and you can like it or not, as you please if your son marries within the next six months he will be guilty of a crime ; and you, if you let him marry, will be guilty of another crime. Do I make myself plain ? MORTON (somewhat impressed]. Go on don't mind me. ANTHONY. I have nothing to add. MORTON. Oh 'aven't you ? I'm glad to 'ear it. I'll think about it. 'Ere, Philip get out. You've 'card what the doctors 'ave to say about you. It's my turn now. PHILIP. Right. (He gets up and begins to go all very affably.] Good-bye, Dr. Anthony. Good-bye, Dexter. See you again soon. I suppose I'll have to swallow your beastly poisons. (He goes out.] MORTON (sitting back comfortably in his chair]. Well what about me ? ANTHONY (suavely). We have been talking about you, Mr. Morton ; and we are agreed that you ought to take Act i Philip's Wife 2 1 things a little more quietly. You are not so young as you used to be. MORTON (warming his legs, and smoking his pipe in great contentment.) Go on I know all about that. Get to business. ANTHONY. You have overstrained your digestion somewhat. You should pay attention to diet. No red meat for a time : no made dishes. All very simple and er a glass of white wine with your lunch, and perhaps a couple at dinner. No spirits, you under- stand : no spirits at all. MORTON (gruffly). Oh yes I understand. Very nicely put. You mean, I drink too much. ANTHONY (taken aback). Oh er I er that is, we /^T* ci MORTON (chuckling). Don't put yourself out. / understand. Very sound advice which / shan't take. See ? Which 7 shan't take. I'm quite contented as I am. It's only my wife as is anxious. I'm all right. (He takes a good drink of his whiskey and soda.) ANTHONY (shrugs his shoulders). As you will, Mr. Morton. Of course, we can't dictate to you. MORTON. No good. I'm too old to be dictated to. (The door opens and MRS. MORTON comes in. She starts as she catches sight of MORTON. Then she goes swiftly towards him.) MRS. MORTON (severely). Septimus ! MORTON (guiltily). Eh ! (He drops his pipe and gets up.) MRS. MORTON. Septimus I left you in bed. MORTON (weakly). So you did, my dear. MRS. MORTON. What are you doing down here ? MORTON. Talking to the doctors can't you see ? 22 Philip's Wife ACM MRS. MORTON (glances disapprovingly at ANTHONY and DEXTER. Evidently she thinks they have been aiding and abetting MORTON in his act of insubordination). Come back to bed at once. MORTON (resigned). All right. But where's the need for all this 'urry ? MRS. MORTON. Come along, Septimus. (MORTON folds his blanket round him glances shame- facedly at the doctors, and follows MRS. MORTON out of the room.) ANTHONY (he and DEXTER exchange glances). Hope- less. (DEXTER laughs. ANTHONY strolls round the room looking at the pictures. DEXTER looks at him.) DEXTER. Pity they aren't both Panel Patients, isn't it ? We could deal with them properly then. ANTHONY (turning sharply). Eh what ? (Looks at his watch.) My word, I must be off. If I'm quick I may escape Mrs. Morton. You'll explain to her, won't you ? Good-bye. (He goes out hurriedly, followed by DEXTER. As they leave the room, PHILIP, dressed in a comfortable flannel suit, comes in.) DEXTER (over his shoulder). See you later. PHILIP. Right. (PHILIP wanders aimlessly about the room, fingering one thing, picking up another. He finds a box of cigarettes, strikes a light and begins to smoke. Stands irresolutely in the middle of the room.) PHILIP. Oh, damn ! (Wanders about again, warms his hands at the fire, picks up a paper, looks at it, puts it down again. Obviously he is considerably upset. Presently MRS. MORTON comes in. She, too, seems upset.) Act i Philip's Wife 23 PHILIP. Hullo, mother those doctors gone ? MRS. MORTON. Yes, they've just gone. I could get hardly a word out of them. (She sits down.) I don't very much like Dr. Anthony. Considering the fee he charged he might have given me a little more of his time. As it was, I only just caught him on the doorstep, and he was off in his car before I could get him to answer more than about three questions. PHILIP. I expect he was in a hurry. Enormous practice, they say. MRS. MORTON (after a pause}. What exactly did he say about you, 'Philip dear ? PHILIP. Oh ah nothing much. Said I was run down, and all that sort of thing. You know the sort of thing doctors always say. MRS. MORTON (anxiously). Is that all, dear ? I am sure he said more than that. You haven't been looking well for a long time. A mother notices little things, Philip. PHILIP (laughing mirthlessly). I'm all right, mother. Don't you worry about me. MRS. MORTON. But I can't help worrying. You see, I have looked after you ever since you were a baby ; and now, just when you are going away from me, you aren't well. I only hope Jean will take care of you. She is very young. And Philip I asked Dr. Anthony whether you were strong enough to marry, and he wouldn't answer. What do you suppose he meant ? PHILIP (rather irritably). How should I know ? I'm not in his confidence. MRS. MORTON. But, Philip, didn't he say something about it to you ? PHILIP (reluctantly). Oh, well 24 Philip's Wife A C U MRS. MORTON (pleadingly). Philip, you must tell me. He did say something. PHILIP (with an air of resignation). Well, mother, if you insist But I didn't want to worry you. It really isn't anything, I'm sure. Anthony says there's some heart weakness or something. Nothing at all serious ; but he insists that I shall not get married just yet. MRS. MORTON (breathlessly). Heart weakness ! Oh, Philip dear ! Sit down at once. You mustn't stand if your heart is weak. Really you must go and rest. Won't you go and lie down, dear ? PHILIP (laughing}. My dear mother, don't be so dreadfully upset. Please don't. You'll make me begin to believe I really am bad. MRS. MORTON (dolefully). I wish I could (dabs her eyes with her handkerchief). Then, perhaps, you would take some care of yourself. I knew how it would be. You would row in those dreadful boat-races at Cam- bridge. Terribly weakening to the heart, I have always been led to understand. And you will play football, in spite of ah 1 I say. PHILIP. Hm yes. I suppose I shall have to give up football. Anyway, I haven't been playing lately, have I, mother ? Your entreaties have had some effect. (He tries to look less of a humbug than he feels, and succeeds.) MRS. MORTON. Philip dear, you have made me very anxious. What did Dr. Anthony mean by saying you are not fit to marry ? PHILIP (briskly). Oh, Anthony's an old woman. I beg your pardon I mean, he makes a lot of fuss about nothing. MRS. MORTON. But he is very clever. Everybody Act i Philip's Wife 2 5 says how clever he is. A man who can charge the fees he does must be clever. I wonder why Dr. Dexter didn't find out about your heart. PHILIP. He did. MRS. MORTON. But he never said so. PHILIP. Dexter gave me exactly the same advice as Anthony. MRS. MORTON. But how could that be ? He is only an ordinary doctor. Why, he is on the Panel. He couldn't know so much about you as Dr. Anthony. PHILIP. Well, he said the same, anyway. MRS. MORTON (anxiously). About your heart, Philip ? PHILIP. Yes, he said exactly the same about my heart as Anthony did. MRS. MORTON (covers her face with her hands). Oh, Philip, then it must be serious. PHILIP. On the contrary, they both promised that, if I do as they say, I shall get all right. MRS. MORTON (bewildered). But how can that be, if you must not marry ? There must be something dreadful the matter if you mustn't marry. PHILIP. My dear mother, don't you ever read the newspapers ? The doctors want to boss the whole show. Why, if they had their way, nobody would ever get married without a medical examination. Marriage would be more difficult than life insurance. Anthony is a faddist, and Dexter is an ass. I'll tell him so when I see him. MRS. MORTON (shakes her head dolefully). It's no good trying to make light of it, Philip. It's too serious for that. I know what heart weakness is. PHILIP (smiling doubtfully). Do you, mother? I wonder 26 Philip's Wife Acti MRS. MORTON. Yes, Philip, I do. And (she collapses, crying quietly). PHILIP. Mother please don't. It really isn't neces- sary. (He lays his hand on her shoulder.) (MRS. MORTON kisses him impulsively and hurries out of the room.) PHILIP (puts his hands in his pockets, and walks up and down the room). Damn ! (He stands thoughtfully in the middle of the room. There is a knock at the door.) Come in. (DEXTER comes in.) Hullo, you come back ? DEXTER (walking up to him). Yes. I want to talk to you, Philip. PHILIP. Do you ? Talk away, then. By the way, I'm suffering from heart weakness ; and don't you forget it. (He sits down.) DEXTER. Oh, are you ? That's for your mother's consumption, I presume. PHILIP. Naturally. DEXTER (stands on the hearthrug and looks down at PHILIP). You always were a gifted liar. But you'll find heart weakness an inconvenient complaint to live up to. Your mother is bound to know something about it, and she will take measures for your good. PHILIP (gloomily). She has begun already. DEXTER (laughing). Good. Serves you right. Wants you to go and lie down, I suppose. PHILIP. That's it. Of course, I'm not going to. DEXTER (lights cigarette). But you'll have to. You should have chosen some other complaint. PHILIP (twists irritably in his chair). It's too late now. I told her Anthony had diagnosed that, and you had backed him up. She was rather surprised to hear you agreed with Anthony. She couldn't understand a Act i Philip's Wife 27 Consulting Physician and a Panel Doctor arriving at the same conclusion. DEXTER. Which you had invented. She wouldn't. By Gad, Philip, I'll make you sit up for this. I've had half an hour of Anthony over you. I don't think he enjoyed it much, though. PHILIP (more cheerfully). Did he patronise you ? DEXTER. He didn't. He only tried to. But, see here, Philip, this really is serious. If you go and get married soon there'll be the devil of a mess. You young chaps don't realise what marriage may mean : we doctors do. We have to straighten out the mess ; and sometimes it isn't a pretty job. PHILIP. Oh, rot ! I can get cured all right. DEXTER. Yes with luck in time. But you've been a double-dyed young ass wasting time with that quack. PHILIP (stiffly). Don't go quite so fast. My man isn't a quack. For two pins I'll go back to him. You fellows call everybody a humbug who doesn't wear your sort of degree. But you don't know everything. Are you quite certain he hasn't discovered a cure about which you are ignorant ? DEXTER. Quite. PHILIP (shrugs his shoulders). Well, I'm not. This man says he can make me ready to marry in six months. DEXTER. And I say he is a liar. PHILIP. You can say what you please. It doesn't alter my opinion. DEXTER. Don't be an ass. In this sort of thing your opinion isn't worth a damn. PHILIP. So you say. DEXTER (stepping forward). So I know. Look here, Philip, at the back of me is the accumulated experience of scores of men who have worked patiently for years, 28 Philip's Wife Act i just in order that they might know. Your man simply wants to get rich. PHILIP (obstinately). So you say. Where's your proof ? DEXTER. Our fellows have given their discoveries to the world : your man hasn't. See the difference ? PHILIP. Perfectly. Your men weren't businesslike. Mine is. DEXTER. And that appeals to you ? PHILIP. Of course it does. I'm a business man my- self. DEXTER (turning away in disgust). Then God help Jean Grant. PHILIP (hotly starting up). What do you mean ? DEXTER (they stand confronting one another). I mean just this that I don't care a tinker's cuss for you ; but if you marry that girl I'll do all I can to get you kicked out of decent society. PHILIP. But you can't. You can't tell. No one knows except the governor, and you and Anthony and me. We shan't tell, and you can't. It's against medical etiquette. DEXTER (very coldly). So you intend to get married, in spite of all we've said ? PHILIP. When my London man has put me right. DEXTER. Damn your London man ! PHILIP (turning away). Certainly, if it gives you any satisfaction. But I'm going to him. You don't seem to understand my case. DEXTER (hotly). Curse your impudence. PHILIP (looking hard at DEXTER). Look here, Dexter, I'm getting tired of you. You've been paid for what you've done, and there's an end of it. If there's any- thing owing, send hi your bill. Act i Philip's Wife 29 DEXTER. Oh, go to the devil. (He makes for the door , which opens and MRS. MORTON comes in.) MRS. MORTON (reprovingly). Dr. Dexter ! I hope you are not letting Philip excite himself. I'm sure excite- ment is very bad for a weak heart. DEXTER (grimly). It is. He would be much better in bed, Mrs. Morton. MRS. MORTON. Is his heart very weak, Doctor ? DEXTER (emphatically). Terribly. MRS. MORTON (anxiously). Philip you hear what the doctor says. Do come and lie down, dear. PHILIP (explosively). I'll be (checks himself) I mean all right, mother. MRS. MORTON. And you must have a cup of beef tea. Beef tea is sustaining, isn't it, Doctor ? DEXTER. Most sustaining, Mrs. Morton. He ought to have a very bland diet a cup of beef tea, and a little milk pudding, and that sort of thing, with plenty of rest : an hour on his bed in the forenoon, and two hours after lunch, every day. MRS. MORTON. You hear that, Philip ? PHILIP (gloomily). Yes, I hear it. MRS. MORTON. Come along, dear let me help you. (He leans on her arm, and they go out. DEXTER stands looking after them with a cynical smile on his face.) CURTAIN Act II SCENE. The REVEREND PERCIVAL GRANT'S study in Middlewich Vicarage. It is a comfortable, but by no means showy room, well furnished with rather solid-looking books, arranged tidily in book-cases round the walls. In the far wall there is a door in the right corner, leading to the passage. In the right wall is the fire-place, with a door, leading into the drawing-room, beyond. In the left wall is the window. There is a large writing-table close to the window, with a swivel chair before it, its back to the foot- lights. There are several arm-chairs, etc., scattered about. TIME. Six months later (i.e. summer], late afternoon. The REVEREND PERCIVAL GRANT *s reading the " Church Times " in an arm-chair. He is a rather weary- looking, time-worn man, clean-shaven, aged about sixty. A piano is playing ragtime in the next room. The door from the drawing-room opens (and consequently the music is heard more distinctly] and MRS. GRANT comes in. She is a cheery, rather determined-looking woman, about fifty- five years old]. GRANT (looking up and nodding at the drawing-room door]. Jean seems happy. MRS. GRANT (closing door and coming forward]. Poor Jean. She has had a letter from Philip. I expect that is why she is letting off steam on that piano. GRANT (ruefully). Hm yes. How about my sermon? I shall have to explain to Jean that I find it difficult to write sermons to a ragtime accompaniment. 30 Act ii Philip's Wife 3 1 MRS. GRANT (strolling about the room and putting books and -papers straight). But you aren't writing a sermon, Percival. GRANT (shrugs his shoulders). I'm preparing to write a sermon. MRS. GRANT (pausing and looking closely at him). By reading the " Church Times " ? GRANT (on the defensive). I'm getting ideas. MRS. GRANT (laughs). From the " Church Times " ? You know perfectly well you don't get ideas for sermons from the " Church Times " ; and if you did you wouldn't dare to preach them. Your congregation would never stand that. You read that paper for amusement. GRANT. Well, what if I do ? It is extraordinarily amusing at times ; but I read it for instruction, too. I learn a lot of things from it. MRS. GRANT (turning away). I can quite believe that. GRANT (looking at her with a twinkle in his eye). I won- der what you mean by that. (Thoughtfully.) I wonder what you women mean by lots of things. MRS. GRANT (coming nearer to him and sitting down). Do you, Percival ? GRANT (putting his paper on the floor). Yes I do. For instance, you've been seeing a good deal of Dr. Dexter. MRS. GRANT (looking at him). Yes. And so ? GRANT (rather solemnly) . He's a young man in a hurry. He wants to put everything right in about five minutes. I like Dexter ; but I don't know that I agree with him. In fact, I think I may say that I disagree with him fervently. MRS. GRANT. Yes ? GRANT. This scheme of his to talk openly about 32 Philip's Wife Actn things that most people agree should not be talked about openly I don't like it. MRS. GRANT. No ? GRANT. Of course, there are evils : we know there are evils. But these doctors are rather apt to over-emphasise the materialistic side of the evils. They look too much at the effects Er Jean seems very happy. MRS. GRANT. Poor Jean. (She gets up.) Shall I go and tell her to stop playing ? GRANT (rather peevishly). I shall have to finish that sermon some time. MRS. GRANT (shortly). Yes, I suppose so. But you needn't begin just yet. Tell me a little more why you don't agree with Dr. Dexter. GRANT. You know my views quite well, Mary. And really (He picks up his paper and flaps it im- patiently.} MRS. GRANT. You mean you want to read the " Church Times." GRANT (laughs}. Well I don't get very much time for reading. And (he glances at the door) ragtime music doesn't fit in very well with serious discussion, does it? MRS. GRANT (takes a step or two toward the door). I'll go and tell Jean to stop playing. GRANT (raises his hand). No, please don't do that. I'll read the paper till she has finished. MRS. GRANT (turns and stands looking hard at him). Percival, do you realise how bad a time Jean has been having ? All the uncertainty : all the anxiety of Philip being ill, and away ? GRANT (surprised). But there's nothing much wrong. He only strained his heart rowing. Lots of young men at the Universities do that. Act 1 1 Philip's Wife 33 MRS. GRANT (doubtfully). He left the University a long while ago, Percival. I hope it is nothing more serious than a strain. GRANT (reassuringly). That sort of thing often doesn't shew itself at once. And, anyway, Philip didn't consult anyone but Dexter till six months ago. More fool he. You can't expect a mere provincial practitioner to diagnose anything out of the common. MRS. GRANT. I'm sure Dr. Dexter is very clever ; and he is very sympathetic and observant. I wish you would get him to tell you about the babies at the hospital. Poor little things they haven't done any harm ; but they have to suffer GRANT (interrupting hastily). Ah, yes. Very sad, I'm sure. But about Philip I thought you said he was all right again. MRS. GRANT. He said so, in his last letter. That London specialist has quite cured him, it seems. What a mercy it is he went to London. GRANT (turning over the pages of his paper. Evidently he is much more interested in it than he is in PHILIP). Yes, indeed. One should always go to London for anything serious. (He begins to read. MRS. GRANT glances at him, and then goes out quietly through the drawing-room door. The music ceases. Very soon GRANT appears to be amused ; and before long he puts down the paper and laughs heartily. The drawing-room door opens, and JEAN comes in. She is a pretty, lively-looking girl of about twenty-one.) JEAN. May I come in, father ? GRANT (glancing up). Eh ! Oh, is that you, Jean ? JEAN. I hope I am not interrupting your ideas for a sermon. GRANT (doubtfully). Well as a matter of fact 34 Philip's Wife Act n JEAN (briskly}. As a matter of fact, I'm not. You were laughing. I'm sure you never laugh when you are making a sermon. GRANT. But I do, Jean, very often. I assure you there are some remarkably funny things in the theo- logical books. JEAN. I shouldn't have thought so from your sermons, father. GRANT (tries to look severe and fails). Jean ! (He laughs.) JEAN (coming forward impulsively). Oh, father, isn't it perfectly splendid ? Philip is quite cured, and he is coming home to-day. GRANT (holds out his hand, which JEAN takes). I'm so glad. JEAN. Coming to-day ! Think of it ! And I haven't seen him for six whole months. (She sits on the arm of his chair.) It has been a dreadful time. When he told me he was ill and would have to go away, I thought I should die. He said it was his heart ; and I thought people never got well from that. GRANT. But he has got well. JEAN (enthusiastically). Yes. Mustn't that London specialist be wonderful ? I wish I could see him. I should like to tell him how grateful I am, and I'm sure I should want to kiss him. GRANT. I wonder what Philip would say to that. JEAN (happily). Oh, Philip wouldn't mind. Of course, the specialist is quite elderly. I'm certain he's a regular old dear, with spectacles and a long beard. GRANT (looks at her and smiles). I wonder. JEAN (starting up}. I must fly. Philip may be here any minute, and I must put on a nice frock to welcome him. Act ii Philip's Wife 35 GRANT. Yes (he nods approvingly). That would be a good plan. JEAN (kisses him hurriedly) . Good-bye, father. Mind you write a very nice sermon. (She runs out of the room, leaving the drawing-room door open. Immediately the ragtime begins again, but ceases abruptly after a few bars. GRANT picks up his paper once more and begins to read.) (There is a knock at the door and a servant appears.) SERVANT. Dr. Dexter to see you, sir. GRANT (sighs ruefully and puts down paper). All right : shew him in here. (DEXTER comes in.) GRANT (rising). Well, Dexter, what can I do for you ? DEXTER (cheerfully). Evening, Vicar. (He closes door and comes forward.) I want to have a talk with you. I hope I'm not being a nuisance or anything. GRANT (not very cordially) . I'm always glad to see you. Won't you sit down ? DEXTER (sitting). Thanks. May I smoke ? GRANT. Oh, yes er certainly please smoke. DEXTER (pulling out cigarette-case). Have a cigarette, Vicar ? (Proffers case.) GRANT (shakes his head and looks about for a pipe. Evidently he is determined to make the best of a bad job : DEXTER has come to talk, so his sermon must wait). I don't smoke those things : I prefer an honest pipe. DEXTER (affably). Quite right. I wish I did. Cigar- ette smoking's a beastly habit. Wish I'd never culti- vated it. (Lights cigarette.) GRANT (having found a pipe and the tobacco jar, sits down and fills his pipe). Now then, Dexter, what can I do for you ? DEXTER (blowing a smoke ring neatly). It's this way, 36 Philip's Wife Act n Vicar you know that new Society of ours ? We want you to be President. GRANT. Yes ? Which Society do you mean ? DEXTER (looking in some surprise at him). Surely you know all about our Society ? Mrs. Grant's a member. She has told you about it, hasn't she ? GRANT (rather stiffly). Mrs. Grant has told me some- thing about a Society DEXTER (leaning forward and speaking with some feeling). That'll be it. See here, Vicar everybody knows how keen you are on helping other people, and all that : I assure you, you are a regular byword for Charity in Middlewich. You are mixed up in everything that's any good, and all that kind of thing. We want a Presi- dent ; and naturally you are the man to ask first. That's why I'm here. GRANT (smiling at DEXTER'S compliments). You haven't told me anything about your Society, Dexter. DEXTER (nodding his head ruefully). No, I suppose I haven't. But you know all about it. GRANT. Do I ? You are referring to the Social Ser- vice Society ? DEXTER (nods). That's it the S.S.S. GRANT. Which is going to tell people all about things that ought not to be talked about. DEXTER (throwing the end of his cigarette into the fire- place). If you like to put it that way GRANT (emphatically). Then I'm afraid I shall have to refuse. DEXTER (jumping up). I said so. I told 'em you wouldn't do it. I knew it wasn't your line of country at all. I said to 'em " How can you expect the Vicar to back us up in telling the truth publicly ? " GRANT (rather taken aback). What did you say ? Act ii Philip's Wife 37 DEXTER (hurriedly). I beg your pardon, Vicar. I don't mean at least, well, we are going to deal with facts ; and you oh, hang it all ! you know what I mean (he lights another cigarette, and laughs). You know, Vicar, don't you ? GRANT (smiling). I'm not quite sure. I gather that you think I, being a parson, am rather a fool. DEXTER. Oh, no I assure you GRANT (interrupting}. Never mind. The point I should like to make clear is, that while I sympathise with you, I cannot sympathise with your methods. To me, it is quite plain that you are beginning at the wrong end. DEXTER (sitting down again}. Ah, yes. Just exactly how do you mean ? GRANT (getting up and beginning to walk backwards and forwards} . If I understand your objects rightly, you and your Society want to recognise openly the existence of certain terrible evils ; in fact, you regard these evils as more or less inevitable. DEXTER (who is regarding GRANT with a queer sort of smile). That is about it, Vicar. The evils are inevitable under existing conditions. GRANT (in distress). By the evils you mean the con- sequences of Sin ? DEXTER. If you like to put it like that yes. Per- sonally, I prefer to talk about the consequences of Ignorance. GRANT (turning on him hotly). Ignorance ! Do you confuse Sin with Ignorance ? DEXTER (flicking the ash from his cigarette). Indeed I do. We doctors know that a great deal of what you Clergy call Sin is the result of no more than Ignorance. You've no idea what asses young men make ofthemselves 38 Philip's Wife Act n quite often. You see, we've been medical students ourselves. GRANT (in horror). You ! What do you mean ? DEXTER (laughing dryly). It's a liberal education to be a medical student. We learn a great deal more than they teach us out of books. That is why doctors are such jolly good father-confessors for the average young man. But we want to get in before the father-confessor stage. See ? That's one of the reasons for our Society. GRANT (miserably). I'm afraid I don't see at all. It's our duty the duty of the Ministers of the Church to instruct people as to the results of evil-doing (half to himself). We have to tell them that " the Wages of Sin is Death." DEXTER (quietly). You haven't been very successful, have you ? Forgive me for putting it brutally. GRANT (sinking back in his chair). Successful ? I don't know. How can I know ? DEXTER. Well, I assure you you are not successful. We doctors come across your failures. We try to manage so that the Wages of Sin shall be something short of death ; but they are very disastrous. And so often it is not only the sinner that gets the Wages. GRANT. Ah, yes. But then you look at the matter only from the physical standpoint. You think only of the mere bodily disease. DEXTER (quietly). Do we ? Look here, Vicar, are you aware that those wages often take the form of ailing babies that die miserably ? When we see a woman's life spoilt by a succession of sickly babies, do you imagine we think only of bodily disease ? GRANT. Oh, I admit you think of your patients' minds that also is your department. But we have to Act ii Philip's Wife 39 think of something far higher than either the body or the mind. It is written " The Soul that sinneth, it shall die." The Soul, Dexter. We are Physicians to the Soul. DEXTER (not at all impressed]. Ah, yes Medical Officers of Health on the Spirit plane. I'm afraid your system of Spiritual Preventive Medicine has some flaws hi it. You haven't yet learned how to deal with Spiritual Contagious Diseases. GRANT (rather scandalised and very much surprised], Dexter ! DEXTER (affably). Only carrying on your metaphor. So you won't be President ? GRANT. How can I ? I should have to acknowledge the existence of certain evils. In my position DEXTER. You mean, you would have to open your eyes to the existence of what you call " The Social Evil." And you would have to act accordingly. Most uncom- fortable for you, I admit GRANT. I don't understand. What do you mean ? DEXTER. The " Social Evil " is there. It's no good pretending it isn't. In spite of all your sermons, and all your Sunday Schools, and all the countless things you have done, it flaunts its petticoats openly in every town, and most villages, in the land. We doctors see the consequences : we want to stop them. GRANT. Yes and how ? DEXTER (beginning to walk up and down the room]. Well, first of all, we propose to tell people what the "Social Evil," as you call it, means, in terms of bodily disease. Secondly, we are going to agitate for a little more medical control of marriage. GRANT (aghast]. Surely you doctors might keep your hands off the Holy Sacrament of Marriage ? 40 Philip's Wife Act n DEXTER (cheerfully). It's an institution that badly needs to have the doctor's hands laid on it. Look here, Vicar, can't you see that it is impossible to go on for ever as we are ? To-day, any diseased man can get the blessing of the Church on his marriage ; and the Church will bury his babies, as they arrive, provided they are properly baptised. (Hotly.} You footle round with objections about deceased wives' sisters, and you shut your eyes to the things that matter. GRANT (shaking his head fervently). But you cannot expect me, or any other faithful Minister of the Church, to help in still further secularising the Holy Sacrament of Marriage. DEXTER. Why not ? We want to help you to make your Sacrament a little more holy, by making it clean. GRANT (gravely). It was made holy by God. DEXTER. But quite often men have spoilt all that. GRANT. That may be, but we have no right to inter- fere with God's plan, and that is what all Parliamentary interference amounts to. DEXTER (looking in perplexity at GRANT). Do you really mean that you wouldn't interfere under any cir- cumstances ? For instance, would you let your daughter marry a hopeless consumptive ? GRANT. Of course, as her father, I should dissuade her. DEXTER. But as a clergyman you would marry some- body else's daughter to a hopeless consumptive ? GRANT. I couldn't help myself. In fact, I have done so, more than once. Certainly, I have done my best, by advice and exhortation, to prevent such marriages, but I could do no more. DEXTER. Disease is not a just cause or impediment Act ii Philip's Wife 41 even when marriage will mean that the woman will become infected ? GRANT (gloomily). Disease is not a just cause or impediment in the ecclesiastical sense. DEXTER (sharply). Then it ought to be. (He prepares to go.) Can't you see that, under this go-as-you-please system, marriage is quite often a crime ? I must be off. Good-bye, Vicar. I'm sorry if I've hindered your sermon. (He makes for the door, and GRANT: follows, to shew him out. As they approach the door MRS. GRANT comes in.) DEXTER. It's no good, Mrs. Grant : he won't. (He and GRANT go out. MRS. GRANT strolls across the room. Almost at once GRANT comes back.) MRS. GRANT. I'm sorry, Percival. GRANT (looking at her). How can I ? If I became President of this Society, where would my influence be ? I should upset the whole parish. People wouldn't understand. They would talk. Besides, I don't approve. MRS. GRANT. It's a pity. It's a thousand pities. I'm sure you could do untold good. GRANT (rather sadly). Need we discuss it further, Mary ? We have had it all over, you and I ; and we have agreed to go our own ways. I shall continue to preach the consequences of Sin ; you will try to help to soften the consequences. But, frankly, I do not con- sider it seemly to talk as your Society proposes to talk. There are some subjects that should never be mentioned in public. MRS. GRANT. Very well, Percival we will agree to differ. I'm afraid Dr. Dexter has interrupted your sermon-making dreadfully. GRANT (ruefully). He has. MRS. GRANT. Then I won't interrupt you any more. 42 Philip's Wife Act n (She is just going when the door opens and JEAN comes in with PHILIP.) JEAN (in great excitement}. Mother father he's come ! Philip has come back, and he is perfectly well again. MRS. GRANT. ) Why Philip. GRANT. ] My dear fellow. (They both hasten forward.} MRS. GRANT. When did you come down ? PHILIP (beaming}. Just arrived. Came straight here from the station. I wrote and told Jean I was coming to-day. (To JEAN) You got my letter, didn't you ? JEAN. Oh, yes, I got your letter. I was expecting you. MRS. GRANT. And are you really all right, Philip ? PHILIP. Ab-so-lute-ly right. That London man's a wonder. GRANT. That's splendid. You are looking remarkably well. PHILIP. Never fitter in my life, Vicar. MRS. GRANT (beaming on him}. I expect you and Jean want to talk (they look at one another and smile}. And I know the Vicar wants to get on with his sermon. (She leads them towards the drawing-room door.} GRANT. One minute, Philip. (PHILIP stays behind. MRS. GRANT and JEAN go into the drawing-room.} Your heart has quite got over that strain ? PHILIP. My heart ? (Suddenly he remembers.} Oh, yes nasty attack. Too much rowing, you know. You were a rowing man at Oxford, weren't you ? GRANT (smiling pleasantly}. Only in moderation. I never did any racing. PHILIP. Oh no racing ? Just as well, perhaps. It Act ii Philip's Wife 43 is a bit of a strain, I suppose. The doctors say so, any- way. GRANT. But you are certain you are quite restored ? PHILIP. Quite certain. That London chap's top hole. GRANT. Then (he takes PHILIP'S hand) God bless you, my boy. (There are sounds of ragtime from the piano in the drawing-room.) CURTAIN Act III SCENE. The REVEREND PERCIVAL GRANT'S study, as in Act II. TIME. Evening in summer, two years later. (GRANT is sitting, working at his writing-table. MRS. GRANT comes in.} GRANT (looking up}. How is the Scheme going ? Did you have a satisfactory Meeting ? MRS. GRANT (she looks worried}. I haven't been to the Meeting. (She sits down wearily. GRANT swings round on his swivel chair.} GRANT. Oh ! Not been to the Meeting ! But I thought it was so important ; and you were so keen on being there. MRS. GRANT. So it was most important. I didn't go, all the same. GRANT (surprised). But I thought you had that big London specialist, Sir Something-or-other-Somebody, coming to tell you things. MRS. GRANT (dully). So we had. GRANT. And yet you didn't go. (Sarcastically) You missed the opportunity of hearing a big London doctor tell you all sorts of horrible details, about things that ought never to be mentioned in public. MRS. GRANT (looking at him piteously}. Don't you think that is rather an unkind way of putting it ? GRANT (shrugs his shoulders). Perhaps it is. But then, you and I don't look at this question from 44 Act in Philip's Wife 45 quite the same standpoint. Frankly, I don't like it. MRS. GRANT. I know you don't. You never did. GRANT. Then don't you think it is rather unkind of you to persist ? You make my position difficult. There has been a great deal of talk in the parish, and I am afraid it is getting worse. MRS. GRANT. Of course. That was inevitable. There always is a lot of talk in the parish. If anyone does anything new somebody begins to talk, spitefully, at once. GRANT (seriously). The talk is hindering my work undermining my influence. MRS. GRANT (impetuously). Why don't you stop it, then? GRANT (rather taken aback}. How can I stop it ? MRS. GRANT (gets up and walks about restlessly). The people who talk are Church people some of them, any- way. Some of them are parish workers. You could stop them talking, if you wanted to. GRANT (shakes his head}. Not without offending them. Church workers are very easily offended. MRS. GRANT (smiling ruefully). Yes I know they are. GRANT. And forgive my speaking bluntly, Mary I cannot help agreeing with them. To me, it does seem a deplorable thing for a Vicar's wife to set out deliber- ately to undo her husband's work. MRS. GRANT (turning sharply on him}. Whatever