iL-^ DRAMATIC WORKS OF J. HARTLEY MANNERS HAPPINESS AND OTHER PLAYS BY THE SAME A UTHOR • • • **Peg O' My Heart" A Novel founded by Mr. Man- ners on his Comedy of Youth of the same title. HAPPINESS AND OTHER PLAYS BY 5 J. HARTLEY MANNERS // NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1919 C!OPTRIGHT, 1914 By dodd, mead and company TO LAURIE CONTENTS PAGE 1 Happiness, A Study Just as Well, A Twentieth-Century Romance . 71 The Day of Dupes, An Allegory 125 ILLUSTRATIONS lACINa PAUK Shabby Jenny" 4 Doleen" .......... .74 The 'Dupe'" .> . . .130 Many Happy Returns " . ■.. . ... . . .150 PRODUCED AT THE CORT THEATRE NEW YORK CITY ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, MARCH 6th, 1914 WITH THE FOLLOWING CASTS HAPPINESS A STUDY Philip Chandos H. Reeves-Smith Fritz Scowcroft Peter Bassett Mrs. Chrystal-Pole Violet Kemble-Cooper Jenny Laurette Taylor JUST AS WELL A TWENTIETH CENTURY ROMANCE Hon. Doleen Sweetmarch Laurette Taylor Mrs. Carfax Emilie Melville Maid Yvonne Jarrette Captain Trawbridge Hassard Short THE DAY OF DUPES AN ALLEGORY The Artist H, Reeves-Smith The Politician Clarence Handy side The Financier Reginald Masom The Litterateur Hassard Short The Attendant Emilie Melville The ' Dupe ' Laurette Taylor HAPPINESS Written in 1914» " Do ye know what I think happiness is really? Lookin* forward," CHARACTERS Philip Chandos Mrs. Chrystal-Pole Fritz Scowcroft * Jenny The action posset in Mrs. Chrystal-Pole's 'Apartment in New York City, toward evening on a long May day. '8HABBV JENNY HAPPINESS The curtain discloses a comfortably furnished room of a modem apartment-house. The furniture is neither elaborate nor tawdry. The hangings and pictures are in good taste, yet without the personal note of seleC' Hon being apparent. The effect is that of affluence without enthusiasm. An owner of beautiful things with the sense of beauty lacking in the owner. Mrs. Chry8tal-Pole, a charming young widow of twenty-seven, is lying in a window-seat, fast asleep; the sun streaming in on her naturally clear complexion and geJiuinely blonde hair. The face is quite at rest, the features relaxed, the breathing slight. She is evidently in a light, dreamless sleep. Fritz Scowcroft, a burly, genial, hearty man of fifty- five, is standing with his back to the mantelpiece, good- naturedly waiting for her to wake. He is whistling a tune under his breath. After a few seconds he looks at his watch, smiles, turns round and adjusts his hair and tie in the mirror, then walks quietly over to the door, opens it and is about tof pass out when Mrs. Pole stretches lazily and yawns heartily. SCOWCROFT [Turns in doorway.] Awake, "Mouse-y"? HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAIrPOLE [Looks at him languidly.] Yes, father — for a min- ute. [Closes her eyes and settles herself hack to sleep again.] SCOWCROFT [Closes door, goes to Mrs. Pole and beams down at her. He gently tugs at the point of her shoe. Once again Mrs. Pole opens her eyes and looks at him smil- ing down at her good-naturedly.] Make it five minutes, will ye? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Looks at ScowcROFT steadily; she gradually straight- ens up; the lassitude slowly disappears.] SCOWCROFT Wide awake? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Oh, yes; I suppose so: for the rest of the evening. What is it? SCOWCROFT Dropped in to see ye. Told the maid not to wake ye. So I just stood about for a bit. I was going when you waked up. Everything all right ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POX*E Deadly dull. SCOWCROFT [Sits down near her.] All alone here? HAPPINESS M»S. CHRTSTAL-POLB Yes. SCOWCROFT No companion — or — anyone ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE No. SCOWCROFT Why don't ye come home.^ MRS. CHRYSTAL-POUE What £oT> SCOWCROFT Less lonesome for ye. MRS. CHRYSTAIi-POUt Think so? SCOWCROFT Yer mother does. Will ye ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE No. SCOWCROFT Why not? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I'd rather stay here. SCOWCROFT Arc ye happy? -C 7 > HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAI/-POLE Not a bit. SCOWCROFT Yer mother and I are worrying about ye. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE You've no need to. SCOWCROFT Still grievin' over Mark? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POI^ No. SCOWCROFT He was a good husband to ye, wasn't he.^ MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Was he? SCOWCROFT He always seemed to be — to me. Wasn't he ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I suppose SO — as husbands go. SCOWCROFT Let me see — how long's he been dead ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Oh, a year — or ten months, or — really I've forgot- ten. SCOWCROFT That's a funny way to talk of yer dead husband. HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAL-POL,E I don't want to talk about him at all. SCOWCROFT [Looks at her in a puzzled, curious manner.] Feel weU.> MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Impatiently.] Oh, yes. Physically — quite well. scawcROFT I Sleep all right? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Looks like it. SCOWCROFT Eat good.^ lores. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE SCOWCROFT Then what's the matter. Mouse? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I don't know, I suppose I'm just rusting out. SCOWCROFT Rusting? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE You either keep bright or rust. I don't keep bright, so I suppose I must be rusting. J- -C 9 3- > ; HAPPINESS SCOWCROFT Do you go out much? MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE No. SCOWCROFT See many people? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE No. SCOWCROFT Why don't ye? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Oh, what's the use? I'm tired of the old ones and the new ones are impossible. What's the use? SCOWCROFT You need rousing. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I suppose I do. SCOWCROFT Be up and doing. Nothing like it. Sets the blood circulating and clears the brain. Go out more. Meet people. Ever go to the opera now? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Never. SCOWCROFT Why don't ye? -C 10 > - HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE IVe been. SCOWCROFT Go again. It grows on you. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE What — for instance ? SCOWCROFT Drop in the Italian nights. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE f Italian opera is done to death. They haven't thought ;of a new theme in fifty years. The same old motifs all over again. SCOWCROFT —'I love 'em. I never miss " Rigoletto." Thousands Vk% mCr Tiie ho use i s a l way s p ackedr- [Sings "La Donne e Mobile.*'^ Ta ta ta lum ti tum. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Closes her eyes.] Don't. ^ SCOWCROFT [Stops singing. Thinks. Then suddenly:] You used to like Wagner. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I was a child then. One grows out of Wagner as one does out of one's clothes. After a while neither fit. I can't bear them now. Noisy beasts. They scream at you until you can't hear them. -c n > HAPPINESS SCOWCROFT I like 'em — once a year. Shakes one up. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE s^^ So does a house-cleaning. SCOWCROFT Well, what about the theatre ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE What about it? SCOWCROFT Do you ever go? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Never. SCOWCROFT You used to. MRS. CHRYSTAL,-POL,E I don't any more. I hate being improved, jl detest uncleanliness. I loathe disease. Why waste evenings out of a life we live but once, watching both under the / guise of " improvement " ? / SCOWCROFT / That's true. They are a bit raw just now. / \ MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE / \ Very. ^^ SCOWCROFT Why don't ye travel then? That 'ud wake you up. -C 12 > HAPPINESS C""^ MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE / Would it? SCOWCEOFT Finest thing in the world. MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE Where? SCOWCEOFT How about Switzerland? On top of the mountains. MES. CHEYSTAL-POLE They make me dizzy. SCOWCEOFT Oh! Well, the Rhine, then? Up one day and down the next. Keep on the move all the time. Eh? MES. CHEYSTAL-POLE I detest German cooking. SCOWCEOFT [Crestfallen.] Do ye? [Brightens,'] Italy! The wonderful galleries. • MES. CHEYSTAL-POLE I can't bear their railways — and galleries weary me. Besides, I've seen them. SCOWCEOFT [Persevering.] Well, take a run over to Paris. MES. CHEYSTAL-POLE [Shivers.] Horrible ! Over-d ressed women and un- der-bred tourists. — jOh, no! No more travelling. I -C IS 3- \ HAPPINESS ^ - SCOWCROFT I don't know. I like Paris still. [Laughs and I chuckles to himself as old-time memories revive. Then \ he proceeds again to question his daughter.] Read much? MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE No. SCOWCROFT You used to love it. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I don't any more. SCOWCROFT That's a pity. There are some of the biggest writers today there have ever been. I read 'em all. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE For instance? SCOWCROFT [Thinks.] Wells! There's a great chap. A good, solid thinker. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Microscopic and middle-class. He gives one mental indigestion. SCOWCROFT You don't tell me. I find him very satisfactory. Do ye like Arnold Bennett? •c 1* > HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Not at all. He's as insular as the people in an Eng- lish omnibus. \ SCOWCROFT That so? Bright and original, I'd call him. Then there's Galsworthy. He has something to say. i MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE He looks upon himself as a missionary. He is always — apparently — trying to reform something that hasn't existed for years. He is most irritating. SCOWCROFT [Despondently.'] Dear me! He always gives m€ something to think about. [Suddenly.] Ah ! Shaw ! Bernard Shaw! What about himf MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE He suggests nothing so much as an imitation diamond. SCOWCROFT Diamond ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Imitation! He glitters but doesn't stand analysis. He makes one so sorry for the dead and the living he is borrowing from. They put things so much better. SCOWCROFT Don't ye find him amusing? / do. ■C 15 > HAPPINESS MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE I suppose it is amusing to find a writer editing every- one else under the mask of originality. He makes me furious. [Pause.] I hate reading. Especially novels. SCOWCEOFT [Laughs uneasily.'] You're in a bad way, " Mouse-y " ! t MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Drop the " y/' father, please. It doesn't suit any- thing. " Mouse " is bad enough, but " Mouse-y "! Atrocious! / SCOWCEOFT _^^J^Ch^erfuJhf.2. ^ All right, dear. Anything to please ye. Why don't you go into one of the " movements " .'* Match your brain with others. Ye're clever enough. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I dislike ^talking — and I abhor listening, SCOWCEOFT Well, then, take up science, MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Don't! Bumpy foreheads, furrowed faces and spec- tacles ! Don't ! SCOWCEOFT Humph! Go out in the air much.^ MRS. CHRYSTAIi-POLE No. I can't bear walking. -C 16 > HAPPINESS SCOWCROFT Ride horseback? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Too jolty. SCOWCROFT Get an automobile. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I have one. SCOWCROFT Use it much? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Never. It's so monotonous. If one goes fast enough everything seems the same. SCOWCROFT i [ You used to paint. Good pictures, too, / thought. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE ; I couldn't draw a straight line, now, SCOWCROFT Well, then, write something yerself, MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE No one could read it. And if they could, they wouldn't. SCOWCROFT You need a change. Go and live in the country. -en > HAPPINESS MES. CHUYSTAL-POLE Too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. And the insects! The town's bad enough — but the country — unbearable. ^ SCOWCEOFT j Ye could grow flowers — and things. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Flowers make me ill. They always remind me of a sick-room or a stupid opera. Senseless things. SCOWCROFT [Dejectedly.] Oh! MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Looks up at him.] No, father! I'm afraid there's \no loophole. SCOWCROFT Ever think of marryin' again .'^ MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Good heavens, no! I've tried it. Nothing in it. SCOWCROFT You used to love Mark. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Did I? 8COWCROFT [Reproachfully.] "Mouse"! -C 18 > HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I suppose I did. — At first. And afterwards — when he was away. Poor Mark! He was always trying to make jokes. Such bad ones, too. Why do some men think it their sole duty to try and amuse ns} So many husbands remind me of the clown in a child's circus. They must be funny at all costs. It makes life so pathetic, doesn't it.'* SCOWCROFT I don't know. I make a few myself once in a while. I like cheerfulness. Yer mother laughs, — sometimes. Are ye goin' to live on here.'' MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I suppose so. SCOWCROFT How long? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I haven't the least idea. Until something happens, I suppose. SCOWCROFT Something happen } ^ What could happen ? MRS. CHRYSTAIi-POLE That's it. Whaif Nothing could make life worth while now — except a miracle. And the age of miracles is past, isn't it? -C 19 3- HAPPINESS SCOWCROFT [Changes his whole manner; takes her hand and pats it.] Sorry, " Mouse." I've done all I could, haven't I ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Have you? SCOWCROFT Yes. Both your mother and I have. Ever since ye were a baby. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I suppose so. Fed me and dressed me and had me taught and then married me offw What more can parents do? SCOWCROFT I don't know of anything more we could have done. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POUE It's a wonderful life — for a woman — to be born of good, rich parents, isn't it? Everything done for her. '' SCOWCROFT \ It was for you. Anything to make you happy. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE And what's the result? Here I am, an wnhappy, tired, old woman of twenty-seven. The poorest girl in this city is happier than I am. SCOWCROFT Are ye reproachin' me? -C 20 > HAPPINESS Mils. CHRYSTAL-POLE No, father, I'm not. You had your life to live. YouVe lived it. -You've worked hard. You've suc- ceeded. But, oh, how often I've seen the children of hard-working, successful men come into the world old and careworn and disillusioned. The' parents/ had put their b^st into their Uvea. Then tj^ child came along, ured of the ^ruggle Jfefore b^^ning. Comfort de- stroys the incentive to effort. Those who have never known poverty have, sometimes, but little sympathy with the poor. The selfish don't know pity. I don't. Too much has been given me — too much done for me. '• It'» ~ » . . e u g i mi s, mjidld, w ui'hl -ifc ary life to the "cfaiid oi the undeveloped richi SCOWCROFT I don't know that I've been particularly selfish. I've given to the poor. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE But you've never lived among them. SCOWCROFT [Indignantly.] Lived with them.^ I should think not. I worked hard all my life so that I wouldn't have to. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE It might have been better for us — for me perhaps — if we had. Sometimes I've looked from the window of our car and envied a little group of bright-eyed, pinched- faced working girls, laughing in the streets in their -C 21 > HAPPINESS lunch-hour. The world is all before them. It has a sense of mystery. It's never had any for me. [Sighs.] Where will it all end? [The telephone bell rings.] Don't go, father. [Mrs. Pole goes to the telephone, takes off the receiver.] Well.^ [Pause.] Yes. [Pause.] Yes, — I'm at the 'phone. [Pause.] Who? [Pause.] Spell it. [Pause. Spells it aloud and writes the name on the telephone-pad.] C-h-a-n- t HAPPINESS 8COWCE0FT Now? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Walking about until the end comes, — doing nothing worth while. SCOWCROFT ,^ Well, he ought to be ashamed of himself. His father worked hard enough. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Too hard. That's the pity. He cursed his son with a fortune, so there's no need for Phil to work. He just drifts along. One of us. SCOWCROFT You put it all on the fathers, eh ? MRS. CHRYSTAI>-POLE A great deal. SCOWCROFT I am sorry I came now. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POI*E Don't say that. t SCOWCROFT good-nature and cheerfulness. Now I feci as if I'd been to a funeral. Ye've taken all the life out of me. [Goes toward the door.] h •c 23 :}- d . HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Won't you stay a little longer? Mr. Chandos is com- ing up. SCOWCROFT No. I don't want to meet him. If money, care and love have done this for you, I'd rather not have made anything. You've made me thoroughly miserable. MRS. CHRYSTAL.-POLE I make everyone miserable who comes near me, father. SCOWCROFT [Stands over her, looking down at her gloomily.] How is it all going to end ? I am afraid for ye. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE There was a time when I was afraid for myself. I don't care now. [Enter Philip Chandos, a tired, worn-loohing man of thirty-five. He is scrupulously dressed, and has the bearing of a man of culture and breeding. He is bored in manner and disillusioned in outlook. He bows gravely and courteously to Mrs. Pole: looks in quiringly at Scowcroft; then gives him a faint glance of recognition.] CHANDOS Mr. Scowcroft? SCOWCROFT Philip Chandos? •C 24 > :| HAPPINESS CHANDOS Yes. [They shake hands.] SCOWCROFT Yer father and I were old friends. CHANDOS -fiJmow. SCOWCROFT Years ago. CHANDOS It must have been. He's dead twenty. SCOWCROFT No, sir, ten. CHANDOS Is that all? It seems twenty. SCOWCROFT One of the finest men of his day. CHANDOS So they tell me. SCOWCROFT What do you mean — " So they tell you "9 CHANDOS Oh, several people speak nicely of him. SCOWCROFT Well? -C25 > HAPPINESS CHANDOS They didn't have to live with him. I did. SCOWCROFT [^Sternly.] It would be a good thing for you if ye were more like him. CHANDOS Think so? 6C0WCE0FT Yes, I do. CHANDOS I don't. [Crosses to Mrs. Pole and greets her •wearily.] I ™' SCOWCEOFT Your father left his mark on his time, Mr. Philip Chandos. CHANDOS know he did. He bled his time for all he could j j make out of it. i SCOWCEOFT You ought not to kick. He left you pretty well off. / CHANDOS I I I don't kick about that. But if my father were alive \ I today and practiced the same methods he did in " his J ? time," he would die in the penitentiary. I've lived on | I the proceeds of his dishonesty. 1 \ -C 26 > I HAPPINESS SCOWCEOFT That's a nice way to speak of one of the most re- spected men in his country. CHANDOS I didn't mean to be nice. I'm carrying his burden, and hundreds like me. My father profited by his roguery, then he married and brought me into the world and had all the glory of being my father. I have all the reproach of being his son. And I suffer every day of my life because he made a disreputable fortune, left it to me — and nothing else. SCOWCEOFT You're a fine son. CHANDOS Am I? I don't think so. At least, I don't pretend to be. He always posed as a good father — and he got away with it. SCOWCROFT Well, I'm ! [Breaks off.] Oh, there's no en- couragement today in bringing children into the world. CHANDOS I know there isn't. That's why so many have given up doing it. SCOWCEOFT [Furiously."] Bah ! HAPPINESS CHANDOS [Quietly.'] Just so. [Turns his back on Scow- croft.] SCOWCROFT [To Mrs. Pole.] Good-bye. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Good-bye, father. SCOWCROFT ^- 1 don't know what's the matter with young people to- day. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE The trouble is they're not young, father. They never / have been. They're born old. ""^^ SCOWCROFT [Scowling at Mrs. Pole and Chandos.] You're a fine pair of specimens ! MRS. CHRYSTAIr-POLE [Smiles sadly up at him.'] Aren't we? SCOWCROFT I'm glad your mother didn't come. MRS. CHRYSTAIi-POI*E [Quietly.] So am I. SCOWCROFT [Goes to door, turns and points to Chandos, adf^ dressing Mrs. Pole.] I leave him to you. -C 28 > HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE As a legacy, father? SCOWCROFT [Angrily.] Bah! [Goes out of the room.] CHANDOS [After a pause looks at Mrs. Pole. They both laugh.] He seems angry. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE He is. About us. He doesn't approve of us. CHANDOS [With a comprehensive gesture.] Oh! The last gen- eration! MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Rather tough on the present, isn't it? CHANDOS Very. [Sight and walks away, dejectedly.] MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Watching him.] What's the trouble? CHANDOS I'd like a chat. You understand things. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Bothered? CHANDOS A bit -C 29 3- HAPPINESS MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE All right. Let us talk. CHANDOS ISiU on couch, near her.] I was in court today. MRS. CHRYSTAL.-POLE Yes.> CHANDOS I'm free. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POI*E Oh. CHANDOS There was no use dragging on. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POUE Of course not. CHANDOS She would never have got rid of me. So I had to get rid of her. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POL.E I see. CHANDOS Wretched mess of things, isn't it? MRS. CHRYSTA1>P0LE Oh, I don't know. You can start afresh. -C 30 > HAPPINESS CHANDOS Oh, no. Once is enough. [Thinks for a moment: then sighs heavily.] Lord! When ye look back! Re- member the weddin*.'' MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE Distinctly. CHANDOS Pretty bride, wasn't she? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I thought so. CHANDOS I wasn't so bad, then. [With a little half -smile."] MRS. CHRYSTAL-POUB You looked like a boy. CHANDOS And my old dad! All over the place! Proud as a peacock! Strutting about! [Pause.] God Almighty! Makes one seem a hundred. [Pause.] What a muck of things. [Pause.] Had the ball at my feet then, hadn't I? [Pause.] Now here I am — back where I was. [Pause.] What a mess! MRS. CHRYSTAL-POIS We've both mashed it up, haven't we ? CHANDOS Bather. -C 81 > HAPPINESS MKS. CIIRYSTAL-POLE What'U yon do? CHANDOS Don't know. Go away? Think not. Stay around? MBS. CHRYSTAL.-POLE CHANDOS MRS. CHRYSTAL-POIiE CHANDOS I suppose SO. Dodge the clubs for a while and avoid" the restaurants. People forget. Other scandals come along and push your own out. Everybody forgets every- thing, if ye give *em time. [Pause.'\ Then I'll blossom out some day when it's all over. [Pause. 1 After all, it's just a milestone. Ar bit of life chopped off. A few more dead years to look back on. An infinity of dreary ones to look forward to. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I know that feeling, I've had it often. CHANDOS Have ye? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Oh, often. < 32 3- HAPPINESS CHANDOS What do you do ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Nothing. Just let it have its own way. CHANDOS So do I. Then I start off huntin* again^ MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE For what.^ CHANDOS Happiness. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Do you ever find it? CHANDOS I haven't so far. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Do you hope to? CHANDOS Sometimes — when the mornin's bright. I get spasms of optimism now and again. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I envy you. CHANDOS I haven't had one for a long time. It's about due. Maybe tomorrow — if the sun is shinin*. -C 83 > HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I don't remember one since I was a girl. CHANDOS That so? MRS. CHRYSTAL-rOLE After all, what is this thing we call life? Wliat does it mean to us who are supposed to have everything we want? One grey day after another. We start afresh every morning with a round of empty, futile occupations. At night we go to a restless sleep — with nothing ac- complished. What is our one ambition? What are we jail striving for? To kill time. i CHANDOS Well, we have one consolation. It we don't succeed — time will — in killing us. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE \ That's about all there is to look forward to. We're a useless lot, Phil. CHANDOS I know I am. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Take my case : my father's worked all his life — CHANDOS So did mine. MRS. CHRYSTAIy-POLE My mother's never done anything. -C 34 > HAPPINESS CHANDOS Nor did mine. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Both are of the earth. What was my upbringing? Everything done for me by servants. I used to see my parents a few minutes a day. Then they'd be too tired to give me any attention. Just caresses that meant nothings My father passed his life making money. My mother spending it. The only people who visited us were gi^eedy, grasping, hard-headed business men, or foolish, stupid, chattering idiots. As I grew older, any- thing I wanted I was given without question or restraint. Everything came to me without an effort. Think of my girlhood. I liked music. I was taken to concerts and recitals and operas until I was weary of them. The theatre! I went until I knew every trick. AiH:l»e-ilIu- sjjiB^XiBt. I wanted to travel. By twenty-one I had been dragged all over Europe until the screech of a train or the scream of a ship's horn disgusted me. I>w«&- thft-4«dcT -one ^ f - fortune . I craved for money. A re- lation died and left me an independence. Everything I've longed for I've had. And always without a strug- gle! And everything has disappointed me. At twenty- three I married. Hunted happiness again. He was the catch of the year. My luck seemed to hold good. In three months I loatlied him. A year ago — or less — he died. For a while I breathed freely. Now I am once more on the hunt — as you are. -C 8« 3- HAPPINESS CHANDOS And I'm a shockin* bad hunter. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE So am I. The quarry eludes me just as I try to grasp it. [Both sigh, then look at each other and laugh.] CHANDOS Your father is right. We're a fine pair. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Rises and walks about. ] CHANDOS Any plans tonight? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE No. CHANDOS Let's go somewhere? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Stay here, if you like. CHANDOS Too restless for that. Let us go and watch the others worryin'. Take our minds off ourselves. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Where? CHANDOS I don't care. Any of ten. < 36 y HAPPINESS MRS. CHKYSTAL-POI,E I thought you didn't want to be seen? CHANDOS Doesn't matter tonight. I'll look *em over for the last time — for a while. MES. CHRYSTAI^POUE All right. CHANDOS Kind of farewell dinner, eh? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Yes. CHANDOS I'll go round and dress and come back and call for you. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I'll be ready. [Telephone rings. Takes up receiver."] Hello. [Pause,] Yes. [Pause.] What is it? [Pause.] Oh! Send them up. [Hangs up receiver. Looks up smilingly at Chandgs.] This is really an event, CHANDOS Oh? MRS. CHRYSTAI/-POLE A new dress. CHANDOS From Paris? ■C «7 3- HAPPINESS MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Shudders."] Good heavens, no! The dresses they send us are only worn by cocottes in France. This is an experiment with a new dressmaker. If it's a success, I'll wear it tonight. CHANDOS Do. Your eyes are brighter. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Are they? CHANDOS And there's a gleam of color in your face. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Yes? CHANDOS Excited? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Almost. CHANDOS Splendid. [Pause.'] I wish I could get a thrill. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I said it was an event. CHANDOS You're lucky. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Fancy, feeling a new dress here. [Touches her heart.] -C 38 > HAPPINESS CHANDOS [Nods.] I know. MES. CHRYSTAL-POI4E Significant, isn't it? CHANDOS Yes. MES. CHEYSTAL-POLE [Smile S.I We are a fine pair. CHANDOS [Goes to door.] About half an hour.^ MES. CHETSTAL-POL.E Heaps of time. CHANDOS I hope it will be a success. MES. CHEYSTAL-POLE So do I. CHANDOS Round off the evening, won't it ? MES. CHBYSTAIi-POLE Yes. [Knock on the door.] [Chandos opens it and admits Jenny, a shop-girl, carrying two large boxes, one containing a dress mid the other a hat. She is a small, thin, shahb;/ girl of nineteen with keen bright eyes, a quiet, rapid deliv- ery and a whole-hearted, healthy, exuberant manner.] -C 89 3- HAPPINESS JENNY [Looking up at Chandos.] Mrs. Chrystal-Polc ? CHANDOS [Indicates Mrs. Pole.] JENNY [Plumps the parcels down.] Breakin' both my arms. CHANDOS Half an hour. [Going out.] MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Like to look at them.^ CHANDOS [In doorway.] Not now. I'll wait and see them on you. It mat/ be an event for me. [Goes out.] [Jenny stands waiting for instructions, hands on hips, balancing on one foot, in the attitude of one who has to stand all day.] •* ' MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Open them out. I'll call you when I want you. [Goes into the other room.] [Jenny undoes the bundles, humming vigorously all the time. She takes the hat out first and looks at it with a gasp of joy. Then she takes out the dress. She stares at it with wide open eyes. She thinks a mo- ment, then listens intently — makes up her mind, throws off her jacket and slips the dress on. She -C 40 > . HAPPINESS laughs gleefully, whips off her hat and puts on the new one and runs to the mirror to see her reflection. Mrs. Pole comes in quietly behind her and stands looking at her. Jenny see's Mrs. Pole in the mirror; the looks at her in horror, then turns guiltily, snatches off the hat and begins struggling to get out of the dress.] JENNY [Huskily."] I beg your pardon, lady. MRS. CHKYSTAI^-POLE How dare you put those things on ? JENNY I just couldn't help it. I'd never had a four-hundred- dollar dress on me back before, or a hundred-dollar hat on me head. I just couldn't help it. MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE Take them back. I don't want them. JENNY [Gives a little gasp.] Oh! [Piteously.] Don't do that, lady. Please don't do that. They'd turn me away. MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE Take them back. [Goes to table, sits and writes a letter.] [Jenny watches her; her lips quivering, her eyes filling . She struggles out of the dress, folds it and begins to ■C 41 3- HAPPINESS put it hack in the box. She is crying quietly. Sud- denly a sob escapes her. Mrs. Pole turns and looks at her. Jenny wipes her eyes stealthily with the back of her hand. She puts the hat in the box and begins to cover it with the lid. Mrs. Pole walks over to her and stands looking down at her. Jenny shrinks down and lowers her eyes.} JENNY I know I oughtn't to have done it. [Sob.} Couldn't ye let me off this once? [iSob.] I'll never do such a thing again. [Sob.] Really I won't. [Sob.] Couldn't ye — let — me — off — this — once — lady ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Give it me. JENNY [Hurriedly takes out the hat and hands it to Mrs. Pole. She is half -laughing, half-crying.] Oh, thank ye, lady. Thank ye. [Mrs. Pole takes the hat, goes to the mirror and puts it on.] JENNY [Gleefully takes out the dress, snuffling back her tears and chuckling with relief. She goes to Mrs. Pole and stands looking at her, mouth open, eyes fixed soulfully on the hat.] My ! — It's — it's wonderful ! — On you! MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE It's too long this side. -C 42 > HAPPINESS JENNY [Quickly.'] Do ye think so? It suits yonr long style. 'Anyone can wear them skimpy ones. Very few ladies could wear that. [Pause. Then in a tone of awed ad- miration.'] I think it's wonderful. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [A little more interested.] Rather becoming. JENNY It's a dream — I think. MRS. CHRYSTAI.-POLE Bring the dress in here. [Goes out, leaving the door open.] JENNY [Gathert the dress up and follows her out.] I don't know what came over me, presumin' to put that on. It just seemed to scream out at me "Try it!** I'm so sorry, lady. MBS. CHRYSTAL-POLE That will do. JENNY Yes, lady, and thank ye. There we are. Step into It. The right foot. Now the left. Thnt'» it. Say, it's a wonder. I forgot the chiffon. [Hurries back into the room, snuffling and trying to sing. She takes the chiffon from the table and her handkerchief from the pocket of her jacket and goes back, wiping her eyes.] HAPPINESS MRS. CJftRYSTAL-POLE I'll go in the next room. There's more light in there -^and the glass is bigger. [They both come back into the room. Mrs. Pole has the dress on and stands in front of the mirror while Jenny hooks it up.'\ JENNY Looks as if ye was poured into it. Say, it is swell. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Severely.'] Please don't talk. JENNY No, lady! [Proceeds to button the dress."] MRS, CHRYSTAL-POL-E Take care. You're pinching me. JENNY Only me fingers in the way. Clumsy! [Mrs. Pole gives a cry.] It's got to fit tight. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I'll finish it myself. jeUny All right, lady. [Walks round Mrs. Pole, looking at the dress.] It is chic, ain't it.'' MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Spread the train. -C 44 > HAPPINESS JENNY Yes, lady. [Kneels down and spreads the train owf.] I'm glad the trains are comin' back. Makes the big ones ever so tall, and gives the little ones height. That's about it. [Rises, and stands hack, hands on hips, look- ing at the effect.'] My! You do look like a queen. You'll just drive 'em crazy, that's what ye'U do. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Tell your employers on the whole I am pleased. JENNY Sure, I will. They'll be, too. Everybody worried over it. It's a dandy colour. Say, d'ye know what it wants .^ A necklace, — have you got a necklace.'* MRS. CHRYSTAL-POIiE Yes. Bring me my jewel-box. It's on the table in the next room. JENNY Mef MRS. CHRYSTAL-POUE Yes. [Jenny hurries into the next room, humming vigorously.] JENNY [From within the room.] Is it a black box?. MBS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Yes. -C 45 > HAPPINESS JENNY [Comes hach with a large, black jewel-box.] This it? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Yes. JENNY — [Chuckles.] I thought it was a valise. [Goes to Mrs. Pole and holds the jewel-box up to her.] MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Open it. JENNY Me, lady? MRS. CHRYSTAIi-POLE Yes. JENNY [Goes to table; opens box; glares at the contents with startled eyes; sinks down, gasping, on a chair.] Oh, my Gawd! MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [hooks across at her.] JENNY I never saw so many in me life. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Come, come ! [Impatiently.] JENNY [Goes to Mrs. Pole with the open box.] -C 46 > HAPPINESS MBS. CHKYSTAIi-POLB Choose one! JENNY Me? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Irritably.] Yes. JENNY [Hunts through the contents of the box.] What about that one? It looks fine! [Hands Mrs. Pole a neck- lace; then stares at the jewels again without daring to touch them.] MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Having fastened the necklace.] You are right. It is better. JENNY Have a green one at your waist? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Yes. Give me the emerald clasp. JENNY [Searches and finds it and holds it out to Mrs. Pole.] Real emeralds? MRS. CHRYSTAIi-POLE Yes. [Taking the clasp and fastening it.] JENNY Are they all real? <*7> HAPPINESS MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE They are. JENNY I've never seen so many before, — only in shop-win- dows. Never had a chance to touch 'em. [Laughs a 'little eerie laugh.'] Fancy ownin' 'em! Don't ye feel frightened } MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE No. JENNY I would. Look at that one, — it's winkin* at me ! MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Close the box. Put it on the table. JENNY Yes, lady. [Places jewel-box carefully on the table and closes it; then hurries back, humming cheerfully and arranges pleats in the dress, beaming with satisfaction.] MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Stop humming! JENNY Yes, lady. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Satisfied with the effect, gives a little, pleased sigh.] Ah! -C 48 :}. HAPPINESS JENNY [In an awed tone.l You've got *em all beat. Nothin* like that this season — or any other. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I'll keep it. JENNY I should say so. MRS. CHRYSTAI^POLE Tell them not to duplicate it. JENNY I should say not, MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE That will do. JENNY [Chuckles contentedly.] You do look happy. ""^ MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Turns slowly round and looks curiously at her.^ Do I? JENNY Sure ye do. An* why shouldn't ye be ? It's one thing to be pretty, an' another to have the price to show it off. Ye've got both. Ye're beautiful and ye've got the price. [Sighs.] I beg your pardon. [Takes up her hat and thick coat and shabby gloves.] MK8. CHRYSTAL-POLE Are you happy? -C *9 > HAPPINESS JENNY ""^ Oh, yes. So long as I please the customers. An' you are pleased, ain't ye? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Yes. JENNY [Putting on her hat.] I'm so glad. I thought I'd lost me job sure! [Puts on coat.] But you're kind, as well as beautiful, ain't ye? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE How much do you earn a week? JENNY .^ [Enthusiastically , as if mentioning a very large amount.] Six dollars! MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Do you live at home? JENNY [Nods; pulls on a glove.] Mother an' me — in Brook- lyn. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Is your father alive? JENNY I don't know. MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE Oh? -C 50 > HAPPINESS JENNY I don't think so. Don't see how he could be. Ye know, he went out to work one morning and never came back. The police said he was made away with. Lots are, ye know. Never heard of. But mother won't be- lieve it. She says he'll come back some day. She thinks he was just hurt somewhere — not killed. So she's always hoping. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Showing a little more interest.'^ How long ago did that happen? JENNY Oh, ten years ago. I was only a kid. We had a nice house then. After father disappeared, mother went out to work, dress-makin', an' brought me up to it — an' — we have a fine little home — and — [breaks off]. Here, I mustn't go on talkin' to you — MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Go on talking. Unless you have to go. JENNY Oh, no. The shop's closed now — if ye want any- thing altered though, I can call 'em up and they'll stay. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I don't. It's perfect. JENNY [Standing wearily, first on one foot, then on the other, looks again admiringly at the dress.] It's a dream, -C 51 > HAPPINESS I think. Finest our firm's turned out. IStifles a yawn.'] MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE You're tired. Y.^^-- JENNY A bit. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Sit down. JENNY But, — lady — MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Sit down. JENNY I [Sits, nervously, looking shyly at Mrs. Pole.] Thank ye. [Smiles up at Mrs. Pole.] It does tire ye, stand- in' all day. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE j How long do you work.'' ' JENNY Eight to six. ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Shocked.] For six dollars? JENNY Oh, that's good pay. I only got four when I started. | r MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE How much does your mother earn.^ i -C 52 > ^ HAPPINESS ^ JENNY ^K. Nothin* reg'lar. Some weeks as much as fifteen — ^^■hers nothin'. All depends. She hasn't got a steady ^Kb now. I MRS. CHRYSTAL-POl-E But how do you live ? JENNY Oh, fine. I've got everything I want. So's motheiT — 'cept when she worries about father. Then she goes on the cars lookin' for him. P MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE What? JENNY Ye see, she thinks he got his head hurt somehow and forgot us. No one can make her believe he's dead. So every time she gets on a street-car or the subway, she goes right down through the cars lookin' at all the men. [Sighs.] Poor mother. When she has a good week she spends hours that way. [Dejectedli/.] And it costs her a nickel every time she gets on one. An' she comes home all tired an' kind o' quiet-like. Never says any- thing. Then I make her take some supper and put her to bed an' she's fine in the mornin'. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Looks down at her wonderingly ; following a womanly instinct she puts her hand gently on Jenny'« shoulder.] -C s« > HAPPINESS JENNY l^StarU Mjp.] Want me to go? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Sit still. [Presses her back on the sofa and sHs he- side her.] What are you both looking forward to.-* You and your mother? JENNY l^Puzzled.'] Looking forward to? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Yes. JENNY , ♦ Oh, all kinds of things. When I know the business real well and better myself, I'm goin' to save up and have a place of my own, an' mother'll look after every- thing and just work when she feels like it. An' she can travel up an' down on the cars all day if she wants to. [Regretfully. 1 Though I do wish she didn't. It seems so wasteful like. An' it ends in nothin', an' she's so miserable afterwards. Do you know, lady, up to the time I went to work / used to look at men and wonder if I'd find him. Sometimes I'd ask them if they ever lived in Brooklyn and had a wife an' kid there. Hon- est, I did. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Mother got it into me. I feel the same way now — at times. [Cheer- fully. '\ But it doesn't last long. I know he's dead. MRS. CHRYSTALrPOLE Do you? -C 51 > . HAPPINESS JENNY Sure. He wouldn't stay away all this time if he was alive. He liked my mother too much. And me. Oil, no. He's dead right enough. MES. CHEYSTAI>-P03-E You poor little thing! [Takes one of Jenny's hands in both of hers.] JENNY [Slowly talcing her hand away. J Oh, I'm all right, lady. I'm very healthy an' very strong. Of course, I'm small to look at, bat I'm really very big inside. Ye know, I feel big. Did ye ever see a little dog that thought be was a great, big bloodhound? That*s me. I'te got ^reating^ tlrottghts. I know I'm go in' to be very successful some day. Mother knows I am, too. [Running along excitedly.'] We've heaps to look for- ward to. Heaps. We stay up o* nights planniu' it all out. Y« know I'm only wi>rki«- iJW-vsy~willi tfc3r-firm, leamin*. See? When I can dress a bit better, I'm goin' in the fittin* room. Ye meet more people there. An* they pay ye better, too. I'm promised that. (That's why I was all broke up just now — when you — you know? An* I deserved it, too. It was nice of ye not to send me back. I'd liave been chucked — sure. I was scared. It's taught me somethin' — I can tell ye. [Pause.] But I did want to see myself in a real swell dress — just once! [Laughs.] I can't carry it olF like you can, can I? You know you've got to be born for a dress like that. -C as 3- HAPPINESS MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Do you read and write ? JENNY Oh, yes. I went through public school. Did real well, too, 'cept in 'rithmetic. I hate figures. 'Course I know I don't talk well. No one does in our part of Brooklyn. But by-and-bye I'm goin' to take up night school and learn to talk like some o' the customers. [Laughs.'] They sounded awfully funny at first. Now I like it. It's wonderfully educatin', workin' in a store. Ye know ye see all kinds. I'm sorry for them as works in fac- tories an* places where they don't meet real people. Ye know, the ones that can afford gowns like that, an' speak nice, like you do. [Pause; looks at her admiringly.] You must be awfully happy. [Sighs.] It's wonderful to be real happy. I am — sometimes. When I've everything all built up in my mind. I love to dream out all I'm goin' to do. [Pause; shyly.] I'm happy now, — talkin' to you. [Laughs confusedly.] Gee! Ye have let me run on, gabbin'. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I like to listen to you. I'm glad to think you are happy — sometimes. / am the most unhappy woman in this city tonight. JENNY [Wide-eyed.] Are ye? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE ^Wretched. HAPPINESS JENNY Why? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I have nothing to sit up at night for and plan. I've no father to seek. I know where he is. And I don't love him. I'm wretched because I've everything I don't want and nothing I do. JENNY What do ye want most, lady .'* MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE What every human being does — happiness. JENNY [Thoughtfully.'] I know. Things to go your way, an* when they don't, it jolts ye. I know that. {Bright- eningJ] But I always feel if ye don't get it one way ye do another. If I'd lost this place, I might have got a better one. It's all in the day. So what's the use of worryin' ? Seems to me the best thing is to go right on. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE We've got to do that — go right on. JENNY Do ye know what I think happiness is really? — • Looktn* forward! ,.„ MRS. CHRYSTAIy-POLE That's all it is. Looking forward. And I've nothing to look forward to. -C 57 3- HAPPINESS JENNY You're jokin'! Ain't ye? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE No. JENNY Why, what are all the fine people goin' to say when they see ye in that dress? Eh? [Laughs.] They'll cry their eyes out with envy — that they will. Won't that make ye happy? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Not in the least. JENNY My, but you're queer. That's all our customers think about — what the other people'll think. I know rd like to have fine things if only to see what the others did when they caught me in them. How they'd look! " Shabby Jenny " they calls me. They'd open their eyes if they ever saw me " dolled up." MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE And would that make you happy? JENNY For a bit. They don't give me much chance — the girls at the shop. Cruel, some of 'em. Laugh at me. Think I'm queer. An* they say father ran away from mother an' me. An* they don't blame him. They say anyone would run away from me an' mother an* Brook- -C 58 > HAPPINESS lyn. 'Course it hurts at the time. But I don't really mind it. They don't know what I'm thinkin*. Do they? That's what mother an' me always comforts our- selves with. Yer thoughts are yer own. I'te got to stand about an' run about from eight to six, an' do what they tell me, but they don't know what I'm thinkin* all the time. Why, ye can be a queen — in yer mind in a 1 four-dollar dress an' a cheap hat. An' some queens can't be as happy — that's what mother says. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE What recreations have you? JENNY Recreation ? Holiday ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POUE Yes. JENNY Oh, Sunday. That's a great day. I don't get up till j nine o'clock Sunday mornings. Nine o'clock! An* we I always have chicken and cake for dinner. Always — I chicken and cake. An' when mother's had a good week, go to a movin'-picture show in the evenin*. Not the ap ones. We don't like them. Why, all the girls in m that only got six dollars a week went wrong. An' should see the fellows they went wrong with! Bald ids an' fat stomachs! Silly, / call 'em. I want to 1 you the girls at the store are not that kind at all. . They're very particular who they go out with. Them ' kind of pictures are no good. We like the ones about -c «» > HAPPINESS travelin' an* huntin* an' the coronation — you know- all them funny people in uniforms. We love them. They're so educatin'. [Stops to take breath; suddenly bursts out again as a new thought comes to her.] Oh! An' I'm learnin' French, too ! MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE French ^ JENNY There's a French woman at the store I do things for's teachin' me. She says I'll learn it quicker than I will good English, 'cause me ear ain't spoilt. Oh, I mustn't complain. There's an awful lot to do, if ye take the trouble to find out. MRS. CHRYSTAI,-POLE I suppose there is. I wish I*d started like you; with your outlook. JENNY [Laughs shyly."] Oh, don't be silly. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Then I wouldn't be looking back all the time. I'd be pressing forward. [Looks at Jenny intently; then puts both hands on Jenny's shoulders.] I'd like to have some one like you near me — just now. JENNY What for? To laugh at.? MRS. CHRYSTAIi-POLE No. As a ballast. -c 60 :}. HAPPINESS JENNY As a what? [Laughs.] I don't know what you mean, lady. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I'm at a loose end. I'm rattled. I*m out of touch with myself and the world. / want to plan things ! To look ahead; to have faith in life. An hour ago I had nothing to look forward to — nothing. You've roused me. If you can be happy with nothing why shouldn't / be with everything? JENNY What are ye drivin' at, lady? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Help me, and I'll help you. Give me of your ew thusiasm — your faith — your philosophy. You seem to see light where I find only darkness; beauty, where I know only the hateful; the wonderful that to me is but the ordinary. Help me to become a useful, human crea- ture, and I'll help you. JENNY But what do you want me to do ? MRS. CHRYSTAI/-POLE Give me of your courage, your truth, your loyalty and your resolution. Will you? JENNY I'd have to ask mother first. V , -C 61 3- L/^^ HAPPINESS l^Enter Chandos in evening dress. Both of the women rise, Jenny draws back, watching them wonder- ingly.] CHANDOS [Advances to Mrs. Pole, looking in admiration at the dress . ] Wonder f ul ! MES. CHRYSTAI^POUE Is it? CHANDOS Marvellous ! MRS. CHRYSTAIi-POLB Rags, my dear Phil. Just rags. CHANDOS Their setting is magnificent. Shall we start? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POUE Where? CHANDOS To my " farewell dinner." MRS. CHRYSTAIi-POUB No. I'll dine here. CHANDOS Why? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Oh, I don't know. [Touches her forehead.] Things have all changed here. What a rotter I've been ! What -C 62 > HAPPINESS La- rotter! [Suddenly to Jenny.] Will you stay and dine with me? JENNY [Confusedly.] Thank ye, lady. I can't. MRS. CHBYSTAIi-POLE Why not? JENNY Mother*ll be waitin'. MES. CHRYSTAL-POLB Can't you stay out for once? JENNY [Hurriedly.] Oh, no! I couldn't do that. She's all alone. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Don't you ever stay out? JENNY No: She's all alone. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POIJi Send for her. JENNY It would take too long. Besides, she mightn't like it. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Do as I tell you. Write her address. I'll send for her. -C 68 > HAPPINESS JENNY But suppose she won't come? She*s very proud, is mother. MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE She'd come for you? JENNY Oh, anywhere. MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Indicating desk.] Sit down there and write her that you want her to come. [Pause.] Do it. JENNY [Hesitates; then goes to the desJc, sits and writes, protesting as she goes.] But she may not come. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [To Chandos.] Will you stay? CHANDOS With pleasure. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Do you mind sitting at the same table with that girl and her mother ? CHANDOS Why, of course not; but I thought — MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Goes to telephone.] Wait. Hello. Give me the restaurant. [Pause.] Is that the restaurant? [Pause.] I want the head-waiter. [Pause.] Head-waiter? This -C 64 > HAPPINESS is Mrs. Pole. Apartment 512. Serve dinner up here in three-quarters of an hour foij four. [Pause.] I leave it to you. CHANDOS [Protestingli/.] Don't leave it to a head-waiter — MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Sssh! [Silences Chandos, then talks into the tele phone.] Yes. Anything will do. Anything at all. CHANDOS [Indignantly.] Anything! My farewell — MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Stops him again.] And listen — I say, listen. Ask them to send someone up at once. Yes, at once. f . T hank you. [Hangs up receiver. To Jenny.] Is it finished ? JENNY [Licking the flap of the envelope,] Yes, lady. But I don't know what mother'll say. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Give it me! [Takes the letter and reads the address.] " Mrs. Wray." JENNY That's mother. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [To Chandos, introducing them.] This is Miss Wray — Mr. Chandos. [Chandos hows smilingly.] -C 65 > HAP^PINESS [Holds her hand out timialy.'] Jenny's my name. CHAN^OS Glad to meet you. MRS. CHRYSTAlrPOLE May I use your car? CHANDOS \ Certainly. \ MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I'll send this. [Goes out.'] JENNY [Surreptitiously takes out an old cheaply-framed daguerreotype, rubs it and looks at it, then at Chandos.] What did you say your name is.'' CHANDOS [Looks at her amusedly.'] Chandos. JENNY Sure? CHANDOS Quite. JENNY Did you ever live in Brooklyn? CHANDOS Never. -C 66 > HAPPINESS JENNY Oh! CHANDOS ^Vhy? JENNY You look awfully lilce he did — only yer dressed different. CHANDOS Like whom? JENNY My father. CHANDOS Really? [Laughg.] JENNY I'm sure mother'll ask ye if she comes. [Sits down, looking at the photo.] [Enter Mrs. Chrystal-Pole. Chandos, suppressing his laughter, walks over to Mrs. Pole.] JENNY [Touches Chandos's arm as he passes her."] Are ye sure ye never lived in Brooklyn? CHANDOS [First looks at her, then moves to Mrs. Pole.] Who is she? MRS. CHRYSTAlrPOLE She's come out of nowhere to us. -C 67 > HAPPINESS CHANDOS [In amuzement.l Us? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE You and me. CHANDOS What for? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE To help us to look forward. [Goes to Jenny.] Come, take off your coat and your hat and your gloves. [Assists her with them,'] JENinr It's nice of you to ask us. But I don't think we should — really — MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE Why not? JENNY Like this? [Points to her shabby dress.] MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE What does that matter? Remember, you have your thoughts. JENNY Yes, lady. [Takes off coat. Mrs. Pole puts coat on table. Jenny hands Mrs. Chrystal-Pgle her hat.] MRS. CHRYSTAI/-POLE Is it a bargain? -c 68 :}. HAPPINESS JENNY [Laughs cheerfully and touches the shabby little hat.'] Yes^ it was. How did you know ? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE I mean^ will you help me — and let me help you ? JENNY I'd like to. MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE [Presses her down onto the couch into a comfortable position, then goes to Chandos.] If there were more like her, there would be fewer like us. CHANDOS Why? MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE She's a real human being. . She's found what we've never known. CHANDOS Yes? MES. CHRYSTAL-POLE Happiness. JENNY [Nervousli/ locking and unlocking her fingers, a wor- ? fied look in her eyes, a tremor running through her thin little body, murmurs under her breath.] I wonder if mother will come? -C «9 3- JUST AS WELL Written in 1898 Reyisbd for Production, 1914 CHARACTERS Hon. Doleen Sweetmarch Maid Mrs. Carfax Captain Trawbridge SCENE Morning-room at Lady Srveetmarch's. Mayfair. London. JUST AS WELL A TWENTIETH-CENTURY ROMANCE [The action of the Romance passes in the Morning- room of Lady Sweetmarch's Town-house in Mayfair. It is on the first floor, and through the open windows can be seen the budding trees of the adjacent gardens, in from which comes the warm breath of late Spring. It is a handsomely-furnished room, made still more attractive by the addition of many open cases of jewelry, rare vases, pottery, porcelain, an Indian shawl and huge masses of flowers. Lending a some- what commonplace note to the otherwise brilliant atmosphere, in prominent positions are a large soup' tureen with a ladle, a velvet receptacle containing numerous silver salt-cellars, and a quantity of knives and forks. Cards, lying on or attached to the various and numerous articles denote that they are offerings from well-wishing friends. The Maid ushers in Mrs. Carpax, a gentle, kindly, spirituelle lady of fifty. She is carrying a somewhat bulky parcel very tenderly and devotionally . MAID Miss Sweetmarch has just come in from the Park. I'll tell her. JUST AS WELL MRS. CAUFAX The wedding is on Friday — is it not? MAID Yes, Madam. MRS. CARFAX [Gives a little sigh. She then holds out the package to the Maid.] Kindly unwrap it. MAID [Undoes the wrappings and discloses two large, sober- ly-hound volumes. '\ MRS. CARFAX [Indicating a small table.'] Here, please. [The Maid places the books carefully on the table, goes to the door and opens it. She steps back to make way for Miss Doleen Sweetmarch, who enters at that moment. The Maid goes out, closing the door Noiselessly behind her. Doleen walks straight into the room and greets Mrs. Carfax enthusiastically. She is a slight, fair, impressionable young lady of twenty-six ; is attired in a modish riding-habit, and has a number of open letters in her hand. Her cheeks are flushed from the morning-ride , and her eyes dance with the happiness born of health. She is radiant. She speaks with the most adorable lisp, turning her " r*s ** into " w's/' and sounding the letter " s ** as though it were " th/* and has a straightforward, child-like, naive manner that goes straight to one's heart.] -c 76 :}. JUST AS WELL DOLEEN [Giving a cry of delight, embraces Mrs. Carfax exuberantly and kisses her on both cheeks.^ Dear Mrs. Carfax. How sweet of you to come. MRS. CARFAX [Her eyes filling.] Oh, my poor child! DOLEEN Don't cry. Please don't cry. MRS. CARFAX I can*t help it, Doleen. I can't help it. It will soon be over. It is with happiness, dear — just happiness — for yonr sake. I am glad — most glad — that you have won the love of an honorable man. DOLEEN Isn't it splendid — just too splendid. MRS. CARFAX It is very unexpected. DOL£EN That's what everyone says. MRS. CARFAX You are most fortunate. I sincerely hope your mar- riage will not be a mistake. So many are. DOLEEN Aren't they? -C 77 > JUST AS WELL MRS. CARFAX Here, dear. [She takes up the two big books.l DOLEEN Are they for me? MRS. CARFAX Yes. Dean Hole's sermons. DOLEEN Oh, how lovely. MRS. CARFAX They are most satisfying. Take them with you on your honeymoon and read them constantly. I do want you to try and realize the responsibility of the path in life you have chosen. It is full of pitfalls. DOLEEN [Turning the pages. ^ I'll just love these. It is so sweet of you to bring them. I adore sermons. MRS. CARFAX Come and see me directly you return, won't you. DOLEEN The first minute I'm back — really. MRS. CARFAX [Cries.] I do hope you will be happy. But it is a great risk. DOLEEN I've not taken it yet. So don't cry, Mrs. Carfax. Just listen to this. [Reads one of the open letters."] -C 78 > JUST AS WELL "Good old Do. So it's all right, eh? Jolly glad. Best of luck, old girl. You'll have to tighten the rein a bit, now. Trawbridge has a hard mouth. You had better ride him on the curb." Isn't the bracelet a dear? [DoLEEN &hows it to Mrs. Carfajc and kisses it.y *' Tons of kisses. Yours to a turn. Gyp." We were at school together, you know. I rather thought she wanted Trawbridge herself, poor dear. Isn't it a sweet letter? MES. CARFAX [Severely.^ A very flipant, worldly letter. DOLEEN Oh, she's very worldly. Very. But isn't it a pretty bracelet? What does she mean, "ride Trawbridge on the curb"? I think that's horrid. Oh, you must hear this one. [Reads another,] '* Dear Miss Sweetmarch. I have just heard the news of your approaching mar- riage. I need hardly say how surprised I am — how shocked I am" — [breaks off]. No, that isn't the one. That's from poor old Clifford. He thought I was in love with him. Poor old silly. [Takes up a pearl cross.] Nice of him to send me that, wasn't it? The stupid boy, of course I wasn't in earnest and he ought to have known it. MRS. CARFAX You understand, Doleen, you must never flirt again. DOLEEN I should think not. This is from my brother. He's -C 79 > JUST AS WELL a little rascal himself. [Reads.'] " Dearest Sid. You have taken a rise out of us all. Fancy old Trawbridge ! Didn't think he had it in him. Never mind, he's all right. Give him a chance, won't you? I am sending you the biggest tureen I can find. You are bound to fall in the soup." It sounds disgustingly vulgar. " The ladle is to match. Your loving brother, Freddie." Don't like that at all. Isn't this beautiful? [Shows jewel-case.] From Colonel Crawford. He's to be the best man. [Picks up another case.] Oh, what a duck! [Runs across to mirror and fastens it on. Hurries back to table and sees the other cases.] Knives. Why do people send knives? Silly things. Salt cellars. Twelve of them. Isn't it ridiculous ? One would think we were going to live on salt. [Suddenly.] Oh, Mrs. Carfax, I ought not to keep them. I won't keep them. I must send them back. I will send them back. MRS. CARFAX What for? DOLEEN Because I don't love him. I don't love him. I know now I never did love him. MRS. CARFAX Then why did you become engaged? DOLEEN I don't know. I didn't ask him to marry me. I don't think he ever asked me. Only people talked about us -C 80 > JUST AS WELL — and I let him talk to me — and now theyVe sent all these. Isn't it awful? MRS. CAEFAX If you don't love him, you must not marry him. DOLEEN I won't. I'm sure I could never make him happy. He's so fussy. And so serious. And I think I love someone else. Claude Plumleigh. I think I do. He's so jolly. And he has five thousand a year, a shooting- box, a yacht, and an uncle worth a million. Of course, that isn't the reason. MKS. CAUFAX Doleen — DOLEJEN Poor Trawbridge. He's only got his pay and his father's allowance, which isn't much. When his father dies, of course, he'll be quite well off. But then the General may live to a hundred, poor man, and we'd be so shabby, waiting. No. I'm sure it's for the best. Claude's a real chance. And I'm really fond of him — • at least I think I am. MBS. CAEFAX There must be no doubt before marriage, Doleen. DOLEEN I should think not. MRS. CARFAX Marriage, my dear, is like an egg. -C 81 > JUST AS WELL DOLEBN An egg? MES. CAEFAX If there is any doubt, there is no doubt. DO LEE N You mean a rotten egg ! MRS. CARFAX And an unhappy marriage. DOLEEN Oh, I must break it off. But it does seem a shame to send all these beautiful things back. I wonder if I could keep — no, nothing. If I marry Claude, they can send them all to me again. [She runs from one to the other, touching some of them longingly, some caressingly, picks up the shawl and reads from the card attached.] " From General Sir Cholmondeley Traw- bridge. JuUundur, Punjaub, India. My sincerest wishes for your happiness." [Puts shawl on.] He must be a dear old thing, but he has lived a long time. MRS. CARFAX Does Captain Trawbridge know you do not care for him? DOLEEN Not in the least. He doesn't even suspect it. MRS. CARFAX And he loves you? -C 82 > JUST AS WELL BOLEEN He's perfectly mad about me. MBS. CABFAX You must not let it go on any longer. You must break it off at once. DOLEEN I am so glad you think that, too. The moment he comes in I'll just rush at him and get it over. Poor old Hastings. I wish he didn't stammer. It's so silly. And he always stammers in the wrong place. [Ring heard faintly in the distance. Excitedly.'] There he is. It's just his time. He calls every morning at 11 :30, as if it were parade. I do hope he won't make a scene. I can't help it if he does. Won't you stay and help me ? MRS. CARFAX No, I will not. DOLEEN Oh, please ! It would be so nice to have you tell him. MRS. CARFAX You must learn to take the responsibility of your own acts. Such a marriage without love would have been terrible. DOLEEN [Embracing her.] I knew you'd stand by me, you •ngel. [Enter Maid.] -C 8S > JUST AS WELL MAID Captain Trawbridge. DOLEEN In here. MES. CAKFAX Wait, I'll go. DOLEEJT Do please help me to break it to him — MRS. CABFAX [Draws herself up.] Remember, it is your duty. Follow it. DOLEEN Don't fear, dear Mrs. Carfax. MRS. CARFAX I will pray for you tonight. DOLEEN That will be sweet of you. [Mrs. Carfax passes out with Maid. Doleen sits at piano and plays and sings. Enter Captain Hastings Trawbridge, a smart, well-groomed officer, very fash- ionably dressed, deliberate of speech except when ex- cited, then he stammers; he is very serious and some what miserable. He advances slowly into the room and stands looking mournfully at the presents. Do- leen stops singing, but continues to play."] -C 84 > JUST AS WELL DOLEEN He*s there. I can feel him all down my spine. [Shivert,"] CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE [Turning round front presents.] Doleen. DOLEEN [Starting up.] Oh ! CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Good-morning. DOIJEIEN You are early? CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE Think not. [Opens watch.] 11:30. Thought so. How are you f DOLEEN Very fit. How are you? CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Jolly. [Sighs heavily.] Is Lady Sweetmarch in? DOLEEN No. They have all gone to Tate's. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Q-q-quite alone? DOLEEN Quite. -C 85 > JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TUAWBEIDGE No one likely to disturb us? DOLEEN No one. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Glad. [Looking at presents. 1 More of 'em.'' DOLEEN Yes. Twenty since yesterday. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Gloomily .'\ On Friday! DOLEEN Er — yes — Hastings — on Friday — that is if • CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Awfully near! DOLEEN Isn't it.-* Do you know, I — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE S-s-serious b-b-business, isn't it? DOLEEN What is? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Friday's. DOLEEN Oh, yes; ha, ha! [Laughs nervously.] But — -C 86 > JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TRAWBKIDGE Thought it well out? [Looks at her anjciously.l DOLEEN [Jumping at the opportunity.] Yes, Hastings, I have, and I have come to toe conclusion — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Must go on with it? Thought as much. [Sighs.] DOLEEN Well, really, ha, ha ! [Laughs.] As a matter of fact I was going to — [A little nearer to him.] CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE I know, I know. It's dreadful. So near, too. DOI.EEN Yes, but what I was going to say was — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Don't let us talk about it. [Picking up jewel-case.] DOLEEN [Growing excited.] But I must. Hastings, I can't — • CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I say, they're j-j -jolly. [Holding up a diamond spray.] DOLEEN Aren't they ? Er — but I — -C 87 > JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TRAWB RIDGE Tried them on? DOLEEN I have. Fancy, Hastings — CAPTAIN TRAWB EIDGE Look r-r-ripping at n-nlght. \ Wouldn't they? DOLEEN Ha, ha! Wouldn't they? [Puts her hand on hit I shoulder.] Hastings — justn)w — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE " [TaJees up another case.] That's a rum thing. Got \ no beginning or end to it. DOLEEN [Seizes his left hand.] Hastings, when you spoke about Friday just now, a new light seemed to dawn upon me. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Disengages himself.] Did it? Never mind. It may be all for the best. [Picks up a package.] What are these? DOLEEN [Angrily.] Oh! [Turns away.] They're fire- irons ! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I d-don't think much of them. [Holding them up, opened out,] -C 88 > JUST AS WELL DOLEEN [Quite sweetly, with an entire change of manner.'] They're from dear Uncle Harry. He sent a cheque as well. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Oh } How much ? DOLEEN Five hundred. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE That's useful. DOLEEN Wasn't it sweet of him? And your father sent a shawl. [Hunts about for it."] I must show it to you. [Finds it. '\ Isn't that too sweet? CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE I thought the guv'nor would send a shawl. DOLEEN That's all he did send. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Ah! DOLEEN How old is he, dear? CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Sixty. -C 89 > JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Very healthy, isn't he? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Grows younger every day. DOLEEN [Trying to get hachJ] Do you know, Hastings dear, that a couple engaged as we are — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Engaged — Gad ! DOLEEN On the brink of marriage — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Three more days. DOLEEN — are placed in a terrible position — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Awful. DOLEEN And it was for that very reason that I am going to — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Yes, I know. DOLEEN But you don*t know. [Growing angry again.'] < 90 y JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I d-d-do — only too well. [Takes up the two large books.] DOIiEBN What?. CAPTAIN TKAWBEIDGE Sermons! By Jove! These are ripping! DOLEEN Aren't they? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Opens volume; reads.] " The thorny path of duty." Duty! [Looks at Doleen.] The thorny path! [Braces himself.] I'll t-t-tread it. DOLEEN [Breaks into a merry laugh.] Fancy, Hastings, ha, ha, ha — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Solemnly.] I say, don't laugh! DOLEEN Oh, but I must. It's the funniest thing in the world — ha, ha, ha ! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [His arms full of the books,] D-don't! I c-c-can't bear it. JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Do put the sermons down and listen. You must know — ha, ha, lia! I really can't help laughing, but I have just found out — it really is too funny, ha, ha, ha! — that you and I are not a bit — CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Doleen! [Solemnly.] DOLEEN [Stops laughing.'] Hastings. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Holding books out at arm's length in entreaty.] You must return them. DOLEEN [In amazement.] The sermons? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Everything, DOLEEN [Still more amazed.] Everything? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Y-y-yes. It's our d-d-duty. DOLEEN I don't understand. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE It's b-b-better you never should. -C 92 > JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Really, Hastings — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE It is dreadful. DOLEEN Why, what has happened? CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE [Growing excited.] It c-c-can't be. The f-f-fact is, I'm a fool. [Drops one of the books; picJcs it up.] I m-m-mean I've b-b-been a f-f-fool. [Drops the other.] D-d-damn! I beg your pardon. DOLEEN What do you mean? CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE [Replaces the books on the table and walks toward DoLEEN.] Doleen! I c-c-can't m-marry you on F-F-Friday. DOLEEN You can't marry me on Friday? CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE No. DOLEEN Then, when can you marry me? CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE N-Ncver. -C es > JUST AS WELL [DoLEEN sits in mingled amazement, amusement, joy and 'vexation.'\ CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I know I'm a b-b-brute. I ought to be h-h-horse- whipped. I d-d-deserve it. But it is n-not my f-fault. DOLEEN Then whose fault is it? CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGi It is fate. M DOLEEN Oh! [Moves angrily up and down the room."] CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE D-D-Doleen, I love someone else. DOLEEN Oh! Do you? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I knew it would b-b-break your heart — DOLEEN Break my — well! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE But it is b-better, yes, f-far b-better, to realize c-c-calmly and s-s-soberly that a great gulf has c-come between us — d-darling ! DOLEEN Darling ! -C 9* > 1> JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I mean, a g-g-great g-g-gulf. DOIiEEN Who 19 she? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE An a-angel. DOLEEN Oh! CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE If y-you c-c-could only s-see her. DOLEEN Captain Trawbridge, I think you have behaved dis- gracefully. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE I h-have. DOLEEN Abominably. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE She is awfully y-young. DOLEEN Indeed! \Tw%»i%ng her handkerchief and tapping the floor with her boot.l CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Awfully innocent. -C 95 > JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Really. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Awfully f-f-fair. DOLEEN Don't be absurd. CAPTAIN TKAWBEIDGE To spare you a moment's pain — DOLEEN [Laughing.'] Ha, ha, ha! CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE I know how you must suffer — DOLEEN Captain Trawbridge, let us quite understand each other. This gulf that has opened between us is quite the most welcome thing that could have happened. CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE Eh? DOLEEN So far from breaking my heart, or, indeed, causing me a moment's pain, it is the one thing that I most desired. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Eh? What? You d-d-didn't w-wish to m-m-marry me? -C 96 > JUST AS WELL BOLEEN Not in the least. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE And you don't want to now? DOLEEN Certainly not. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE N-never ? DOLEEN Never. CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE Then it's all right? DOLEEN Quite all right. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Delighted.] By George! That's splendid! Ha, ha, ha! DOLEEN Quite a relief, isn't it? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Why didn't you tell me before? DOLEEN You didn't give me a chance. ■c 97 :}- JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE You were going to, just now? DOIiEEN Yes, but you would interrupt me. CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE Fancy that. DOLEEN Odd, wasn't it? CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Wasn't it? [Laughs. Doleen looks at him and laughs, they laugh together a moment.^ Someone else, eh? DOLEEN Yes. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Good chap? DOLEEN A pet! CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE [Disappointedly.'] Oh — really ! I mean to say — I'm delighted. Oh, well, I must be going. DOLEEN To the — other one ? CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Yes. -c 98 :}- JUST AS WELL I)OL££N The Park? CAPTAIN TBAWBRIDGE No, Hurlingham. DOLEEN To lunch? CAPTAIN TBAWBEIDGE Yes. DOLEEN So are we ! CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Oh ! By George ! I think we will go somewhere else. DOLEEN It would be better. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Well, good-bye. [Holds out his hand.l DOLEEN Good-bye. [Arms folded, ignores his handJ] CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE See 8-something of you, sometimes. DOLEEN I dare say. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Turns to go; stops, points to tahleJ] Oh! What about these? [Indicating presents^] -C 99 > JUST AS WELL DOLEEN They shall go back tonight. CAPTAIN TEAWBKIDGE Pity, isn't it? DOLEEN Think so? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Still, it's all for the best. Good-bye. DOLEEN Good-bye. CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE I hope you'll be happy. DOLEEN Thanks. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Do I know him — in any way ? DOLEEN I shouldn't think so. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE No, no; of course not. Quite so. Is his name familiar ? DOLEEN Not in the least. -Cioo> JUST AS W^t|^ -■ OHi'^^ i CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE No, no! Certainly not. [Goes to door.^ Well, good-bye. DOLEEN [Calling.] Hastings! [Captain Trawbridqk turns.] Have I met the " angel " ? CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE She's never mentioned you. DOLEEN What did you say her name was? CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE I d-don't think I mentioned it. DOLEEN Oh, I'm not in the least curious. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE [Pauses, comes down a step.] She's only eighteen. DOLEEN [Laughs cattily.] A mere child. CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE I don't know. She's a woman in some ways. DOLEEN Fair, I think you said ^ CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE As A r-r-rose. -Cioi> : :<: y:\,: -'l^JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Known her long? CAPTAIN TiAWBRIDGE A w-w-week. DOLEEN Ha, ha ! You haven't wasted time. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE N-not much. DOLEEN And you are going to marry her? CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE That will be my privilege. DOLEEN When? CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Well — er — I mean to say — a bit long, you know. In f-f-four years. DOLEEN [Laughing. 1 Four years! CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Her mother's wish. Long time, eh? DOLEEN [Laughing immoderately.'] You are stupid. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Nothing to laugh at. -C102> JUST AS WELL DOLEEN [Hysterically.] Oh, don't! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Ha, ha! Qnite so! Quite so! [Suddenly,] By George, she*s divine. DOLEEN [Indignantly.'] You said / was once. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Did I? DOLEEN Oh, I'm surprised, disgusted. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Yes, b-b-but I say, what about yourself? DOLEEN That's different — he's a man. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE I don't see there's much difference. DOLEEN He knows his own mind. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Glad to hear it. Engaged ? DOLEEN Yes. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Well, you know — ! Wm^ Fixed the diy ? -Cios^. JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Next month. CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE Next — ? I s-s-say, you haven't Host much time cither, eh? DOLEEN Why should I? CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE Quite right. Why should you? Well, I'm j-jolly glad. DOLEEN Glad? CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE F-for your s-sake. DOLEEN Oh! CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE You d-d-deserve a b-better man than me. DOLEEN I know that. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE And I'm sure you ought to be v-very happy. DOLEEN I mean to be. JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TKAWBRIDGE D-D-Doleen — d-don*t you think it is all for the b-best? DOLEEN My meeting Claude? CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE And my meeting Clara? DOLEEN Yes, I suppose it's just as well. CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE D-don't you think we might still be friends? DOLEEN Why, of course; and, Hastings, you can always look upon me as a sister. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I shall be proud to. [Looks at her admiringly for a moment. 1 You were v-very f-fond of me once, weren't you? DOLEEN Was I? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE And I was d-devoted to you. [Near to her.] DOLEEN Were you? -C105:}. JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Holding out his hand.] Miss Sweetmarch! DOLEEN [Taking his hand."} Captain Trawbridge! [They stand together for a moment, then she moves away J he goes quietly to the door.] DOLEEN [Without turning round.] Hastings! [Trawbridge stops.] Would you like to see his photograph? You may, if you like. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Think it necessary? DOI.EEN I'm sure you would be such good friends. [Taking up photo-frame from mantel-piece.] CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Would you like to see hers? [Puts his hand in the breast pocket of his coat, searching for it.] DOLEEN I'm not interested in the least. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Taking out the picture.] To know her is to worship her. [Looking intently at it.] DOLEEN [Looking at framed photo.] He's a dear old thing. -C106> JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE There ! [Handing photo to Doleen.] DOLEEN There ! [Handing photo to Trawbridge. They both look at photos and burst into laughterJ] DOLEEN Clara Catchpole! Ha, ha, ha! CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE Claude Plumleigh! Ha, ha, ha! DOLEEN Fancy falling in love with Clara! Oh, this is too funny. [Sinks onto chair, laughing loudly. "] CAPTAIN TRAWBBIDGE Funny? N-not half so funny as you liking this old idiot. DOLEEN [Seriously J] Idiot ! CAPTAIN TRAWBBIDGE C-CIaude's a shocking ass. DOLEEN Captain Trawbridge, he is my future husband. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE You're joking! DOLEEN I never joke. -C107 3. JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TKAWBEIDGB Well, Claude's no joke. DOLEEN He's one of the dearest men in the world. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I can quite believe that. He cost me a bit when I knew him. DOLEEN And please remember that anything you say against him reflects on me. CAPTAIN TRAWB RIDGE And [looking at photograph] you threw m-m-me over for this silly — for Claude ! DOLEEN He is a man in a million. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I believe that. DOLEEN You needn't sneer. Captain Trawbridge ! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Why, he hasn't t-two ideas in the w-world. DOLEEN He has five thousand pounds a year. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE How much? Five hundred. JUST AS WELL DOLEEN What do you know about U? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I ought to know something. My father was his t-t-trustee. DOLEEN And he has only five hundred a year? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE B-b-b-barely that. DOLEEN But he xcill have five thousand? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Glad to hear it. D-don't know where it's coming from. DOLEEN Hia uncle is enormously rich. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE WeU? DOLEEN Well! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE That won't make any difference to Claude. DOLEEN He'll leave Claude everything. •C109> JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Of course, if you know — DOLEEN Well, won't he? CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE He wasn't going to, when I saw him last. DOLEEN Wiiy not? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Well, Claude's such a silly — I mean he's not quite — well, any way, he's not, DOLEEN But I don't understand. He told me distinctly — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Never believe a word he says. DOLEEN Do you mean to tell me Claude will not be his uncle's heir? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Won't leave him sixpence. DOLEEN Then why did he tell me ? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Ah, why? JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Oh ! [Moves indignantly up and down the room; sud- denly remembers.] But he has a shooting-box in Scot- land? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE First I've heard of it. Goes to his cousin's when he*ll have him. DOLEEN He has a yacht! [Growing more and more angry,] CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Has he? DOLEEN Hasn't he? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Of course, if you know — DOLEEN Hat he or has he not? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Well, he has* Hires it — very cheap ! DOLEEN Oh! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Looking at photo.] By Jove, old c-chap, you c-c-can tell 'em. -cm?- JUST AS WELL DOLEEN lAlmost in tears.] But he's brilliantly clever. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE [Roars with laughter.] Clever! Claude! Ha, ha, ha! DOLEEN He was Senior Wrangler at Cambridge! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE He was never at Cambridge in his life. DOLEEN He was never at Cambridge? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Except on a bicycle. DOLEEN But why did he tell me such stories? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE He must have been chaffing you. DOLEEN .T4ien it was in the worst possible taste, CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE He never had any taste. DOLEEN Captain Trawbridge ! JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE I beg your pardon. DOLEEN I'll never speak to him again. [Her eyes flashing.] CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE I ^onght it was fixed for next month f DOLEEN I wouldn't marry him if he were the only man in the world. Oh, it's monstrous. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE It's a beastly shame. I'll talk to him pretty straight. DOLEEN You'll do nothing of the kind. Fll talk to him. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I thought you were never going to — DOLEEN Hold your tongue! [Turns away.] CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I think I'll be going. DOLEEN [Her back to him,] Don't stay on my account. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Would you mind — [Indicating photo in Doleen'i hmnd.] •Ciis> JUST AS WELL BOLEEN Eh ? Oh ! Ha, ha ! Ha, ha, ha ! Clara ? How old do you say she is ? CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE Eighteen. DOLEEN [Contemptuously.] Eighteen! CAPTAIN TEAWBEID6E Next March. DOLEEN She's older than I am. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE That's nonsense. DOLEEN I ought to know. She was at school with me, CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE That's nothing to do with it. DOLEEN Fair as a rose ! [Mockingly. ] CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Figure of speech. DOLEEN She was auburn last year. JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE T-t-that is ch-ch-childish. DOLEEN Her proper colour is red — a horrid red, too. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Will you kindly give me that photograph? DOLEEN Let me see — who was she engaged to last? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I am the f-f-first man she has ever known. DOLEEN Oh, you would believe anything. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Holding out his hand for photograph.'] Will you kindly — DOLEEN I know — my brother Freddie. She threw him over for Falconer. She threw Falconer over for — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE You are quite mistaken. DOLEEN Oh, there's no mistaking Clara. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE No one like her in the world. •C1I5> JUST AS WELL DOLEEN I should think not. You little minx. [Looking at j>hoto.] You'd be rather pretty, if you weren't frec- kled. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE They have a charm of their own. DOLEEN Pity you haven't a waist, [Still looking ai photo.'] CAPTAIN TBAWBRIDGE Will you be good enough — DOLEEN [To Trawbridge.] I'm sure I hope you'll be happy — CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Will you — DOLEEN You deserve to be — you are so confiding. There! [Gives him photo.] CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Thank you — good-bye. DOLEEN Good-bye. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE You will tell Claude what you think of him. JUST AS WELL DOLEEN The wretch: CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Sorry I had to disillusion you. DOLEEN I wish I could have said nice things about Clara, but she is really — CAPTAIN TRAWBaiDGE Quite so, quite so. Good-morning. Good-bye. [Goes to door; thinks a moment, then goes deliberately down to DoLEEN.] Doleen ! DOLEEN Well.> CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE I say — is she — is she really red?, DOLEEN Yes! CAPTAIN TEAWBBIDOE Very red? DOLEEN A nasty, ugly red. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Shivers, thinks for a moment.] And was she en- gaged to Freddie? -C117 3- JUST AS WELL DOLEEN For six weeks. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE You are not chaffing me ? DOLEEN Captain Trawbridge, I never chaff. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Is she more than eighteen, too? DOLEEN Every minute of six-and-twenty. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE [Considering.'\ I don't like her mother. DOLEEN A cat. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE She got me into it. [Thinks.] Serve 'em both right if I b-broke it off. DOLEEN It would indeed. CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE I've a good mind to. DOLEEN Why don't you? CAPTAIN TEAWBEIDGE Are you going to break with Claude? -C118> JUST AS WELL DOLEEN I'll never see him again. CAPTAIN TRAWBKIDGB I thought you were going to — ? DOLKEN I'll write. CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Oh. I wonder if — DOLEEN Why shouldn't we — ? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE You're a dear 1-little thing. DOLEEN Aren't I ? You're not half-bad ! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE No. And after all everything is arranged. DOLEEN You have a good allowance^ and India is unhealthy. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 1 think we might risk it. DOLEEN And then there are the presents. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Doleen. -C119:}- JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Hastings. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I s-suppose you think me a b-brute. DOLEEN We all make mistakes. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Do you think you could ever forgive me? DOLEEN I could try. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I was very f-foolish, wasn't I? DOLEEN So was I, wasn't I? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE And you think you could.'' DOLEEN Yes — if you would. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Will you try? DOLEEN l^Looking down.] I am trying, CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE [Taking her hand.] Doleen. -C120> JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Hastings. [He kisses her hand.] CAPTAIN TEAWBBIDGE I am awfully glad. DOLEEN So am I. CAPTAIN TKAWBRIDGE Sure? DOLEEN Yes. Arc yon? CAPTAIN TRAWBKIDGE Awfully glad. DOLEEN [Gives a little contented sigh.] Ah! CAPTAIN TRAWBKIDGE [Looks down at her.] Rum things, girls. [Con^ sidering.] DOLEEN Hastings ! CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Thought I k-knew s-something about *em. DOLEEN Don't you? CAPTAIN TRAWBRID6B I do now. -C1213- JUST AS WELL DOLEEN Do you? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Yes — I know now there is only one in the w-world worth having. DOLEEN Hastings, fancy! Friday! [Laughing gleefully and girlishly.'] CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE Yes — Friday. DOLEEN [Imitating him.'] " Awfully near.'* CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE J-jolly glad, now. I say — we'll go to Hurlingham! DOLEEN [Clapping her hands.] Oh, it would be lovely. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE And we'll drive through the Park first. DOLEEN It will be fun. CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Past her house — DOLEEN And hit — JUST AS WELL CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGU We'll teach them a lesson — DOLEEN They won't forget. When will we start? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE At once. [Taking up and fondling the presents.'\ No need to send these back now.^ DOLEEN No. Isn't it splendid? [Taking up jewels again, and trying them on.^ Hastie? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE Dolie? DOLEEN [Looking in mirror admiringly.'] After all, I think it is just as well, don't you? CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE I'm sure it is just as well. [Destroys the photographs of Clara and Claude.] DOLEEN [Sings.] ** There came a lover to a maid, All on a summer's day ! " [Thjb Curtain hides them from view,^ <««> THE DAY OF DUPES Written in 1897 Revised foh Production, 1914 Oh, heart! Oh, blood that freezes. Mood that burns! Earth's returns For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin! Shut them in With their triumphs and their glories and the rest. Love is best! " THE CHARACTERS IN THE ALLEGORY The Artist The Litterateur The Politician The Attendant The Financier The * Dupe * BEFORE THE CURTAIN RISES, THE LIGHTS IN THE THEATRE ARE LOWERED. CHIMES ARE SOUNDED, SUMMONING THE AUDIENCE TO THEIR SEATS. WHEN ALL IS STILL, FROM BEHIND THE CURTAIN " PORTRAIT NO. 22 '* FROM Rubinstein's " kammenoi ostrow ** IS PLAYED ON STRINGS, INCLUDING 'CELLO, HARP, VIOLA AND VIOLINS. Induction spoken hy The * Dupe * standing motionless in front of a black velvet hanging. She is in com- plete darkness save for a single ray of light stream- ing on her pale, sorrowful face. I am the sprite That reigns at night, My body is fair for man's delight* I leap and laugh As the wine I quaff, And I am the Queen of Astrofelle. I curse and swear In my demon-lair; I shake wild sunbeams out of my hair. I madden the old, I gladden the bold. And I am the Queen of Astrofelle. Of churchyard stone I have made my throne; My locks are looped with a dead man's bone. Mine eyes are red With the tears I shed. And I am the Queen of Astrofelle. In cities and camps I have lighted my lamps. My kisses are caught by kings and tramps. With rant and revel My hair I dishevel. And I am the Queen of Astrofelle. THE DAY OF DUPES My kisses are stains. Mine arms are chains, My forehead is fair and false like Cain's. My gain is loss, Mine honour is dross, — And I am the Queen of Astrofelle! From the Poems of the late Eric Mackay. Published by James Pott and Company, New York. -Ciso^ 'THE DUPE ,»» THE DAY OF DUPES The action passes in The * Dupe's * Boudoir. It is a sombre room, draped in heavy black and green vel- vet. Everything is in perfect harmony of tone. The hangings, the tapestry, the furniture — all decorative yet subdued in effect. A few admirable pictures, a grand piano, two easels with unfinished paintings on them. A small, revolving, three-shelved book-case filed with rare volumes. A deeply-recessed fire-place in which a bright fire is blazing and over which stretches a massive, hooded mantel-piece. On the mantel-piece are a clock, miniatures, cameos, photo^ graphs, and one large, framed portrait between two small mirrors. A solid table on which are papers, magazines, a few books and two large bouquets. A lounge with a smaller bouquet lying on the cushions. A fourth bouquet is on the piano. A cabinet on which are champagne — bottles, decanters, syphons, cigars and cigarette-cabinets and a tray with glasses, corkscrews and matches. The atmosphere is one of Bohemianism and Dilettante- ism. When the curtain rises the room is quite empty. The Attendant enters. She is a woman of about thirty-five: dark, sinister, mysterious. She has a THE DAY OF DUPES quicJc, penetrating look, and a hard, staccato utter- ance. She looks around the room sharply as if to satisfy herself it is unoccupied. THE ATTENDANT [Very quietly.] Walk in, sir. [Enter The Politician, a short, stout, florid man; hold, with a fringe of -white hair at the hack. He is in evening dress with a cloak over it. He wears an eye- glass which he toys with when speaking, fixes in his eye when interested. Orchid in button-hole. Genial and courtly manner.] THE ATTENDANT She won't be long, sir. She's dressing. THE POLITICIAN [Almost whispering.] Thanks, thank you. [Walks to table, humming tune. Glances uneasily at The At- tendant, who has gone to fireplace and is building up the fire. He picks up a paper — throws his cloak off.] THE ATTENDANT [Going to him.] Let me take it, sir. THE POLITICIAN Thank you, thanks. [The Attendant takes hat and cloak, places chair before fire.] THE ATTENDANT Won't you sit by the fire? It's almost cold tonight. [Goes up and places hat and cloak at back.] <132> \ THE DAY OF DUPES THE POUTICIAN Quite chilly, quite chilly. [Goes to fireplace and stretches out his hands to the flames.] Will you — er — tell her I am here? THE ATTENDANT She knows. Heard you ring. THE POLITICIAN Ah ! [Handing her a coin — nodding pleasantly.] Buy yourself something. THE ATTENDANT Thank you, sir. THE POLITICIAN Er — you never recognize people who call here? THE ATTENDANT Never ! THE POLITICIAN Exactly. THE ATTENDANT A quiet tongue saves a deal of trouble. [Going to door.] THE POLITICIAN Quite right — quite right. [A woman's voice, singing, rises from the adjoining room. The Attendant pauses, listening. The Politician, looking around, catches The Attend- THE DAY OF DUPES ant's eye. The Politician and The Attendant stand a second in the attitude of listening.^ THE politician [With a pleased smile.'] Ah! the attendant Her Birthday. See the flowers? [Goes out,"] THE politician [Looking at flowers.'] My bouquet! [Smells it.] Beautiful! Dear me, dear me! [Puts it down — sees another bouquet — takes it up.] H'm ! Another ! How distressing! Dear, dear. [He places it on lower shelf of the revolving book-case.] Quite so — quite so ! [Surveys his own bouquet, with satisfaction, turns to mantel-piece, sees the framed portrait — takes it in his hand.] Oh dear, dear, dear — [Turns his head away.] How dreadful. Shocking! How could — she be photographed like that! How could she! [Fijses in eye-glass — examines it closely — gradually a pleased smile comes across his face.] Dear me! Wonderfully like her! Superb woman — superb! All the same I wish she wouldn't — [Looking around.] I wish she wouldn't — ah! [Goes to revolving book-case and places photo on lower shelf, near the second bouquet.] That's better. Such a pity to have — er — that — in so — prominent a position ! Quite so — quite so ! Dear me! [The clock strikes nine.] Nine. I must be in my seat by 10:30 tonight. The debate opens at eleven. [Stops before easel.] Beautiful! Very beautiful! THE DAY OF DUPES Her own work too! [TaJces out notes, looks at them, then speaks from memory.'] " The man who gives his life wholly and solely to his country's welfare — must be ready at any and at all times to — to — • [His eye falls on the bouquet resting on the lounge] — to his country's welfare — " [Fixes his eyeglass, takes bou- quet and examines it and reads card attached.] Dear, dear — this is very unnecessary. I wish — she didn't know quite — so — many — people — [deposits it on second shelf of book-case, then resumes his speech] " — to his country's welfare — must be prepared at any and at all times to sacrifice his home, his kindred, the dearest wishes that bind him to — [stares at bouquet on lid of piano] — dearest wishes that — " Faugh ! [Ex- amines card.] Poetry! She has a large circle of — friends. A very large circle. [Enter Thh Attendant.] THE ATTENDANT This way, sir. THE POLITICIAN [Alarmed.] Good gracious! Here is someone else. [Throws bouquet under table and goes away from the line of sight of the door.] [Enter The Financier, a tall, big built man, with a loud, coarse voice. Black, oily hair, whiskers and moustache. He is extravagantly dressed. In con- trast to The Politician he is blustering and assertive, the other quiet and diplomatic,] -C1S5> THE DAY OF DUPES THE FINANCIEE [Seeing The Politician — • turns away."] I'll call again. THE ATTENDANT She particularly wants to see you, sir. THE FINANCIEE Oh, does she? [Glares at The Politician.] THE POLITICIAN [To The Attendant, sidling up to door.'\ I'll — I'll look in another time. THE ATTENDANT She wants to see you, too — sir, if you don't mind waiting. [Places chair for The Financier.] Won't you sit down, sir.^ THE FINANCIER All right. THE POLITICIAN How very awkward! Dear! Dear! THE FINANCIER Nice thing, this is ! THE ATTENDANT [Looks from one to the other, and goes quietly out,"] THE FINANCIER [Examining The Politician.] Old fool! THE DAY OF DUPES THE POLITICIAN [E:tamines The Financier furtively.'] A very coarse looking person! THE FINANCIER Can't stand much of this ! THE POLITICIAN I suppose I ought to say something! THE FINANCIER Makes a man look damn silly! [To The Politi- cian.] Good evening. THE POLITICIAN {Nervously.'] Good evening. THE FINANCIER Warm! Very. THE POLITICIAN » *»» J » THE FINANCIER Staying long? THE POLITICIAN Oh, no ! Just ran in for a moment. THE FINANCIER That's all right. Snug room. THE POLITICIAN Delightful! THE DAY OF DUPES THE FINANCIER Her birthday. [Takes up The Politician's bou- quet.'] THE POLITICIAN Yes. I called to wish her happy returns. THE FINANCIER So did I. [Has been looking around the room — sees his own bou- quet on shelf of book-case — takes it up, puis The Politician's bouquet in its place and his own in prominent position on the table. The Politician watches him indignantly.] THE FINANCIER That's better! THE POLITICIAN Dear, dear! I wish the fellow would go. THE FINANCIER [Turning round suddenly.] I had a good mind to cut and run when I saw you. THE POLITICIAN Keally? THE FINANCIER Fact. You didn't look too comfortable. THE POLITICIAN I wasn't. -C138> THE DAY OF DUPES THE FINANCIER [Laughs.] Ha ! Ha ! THE POLITICIAN [Laughs.] Ha! Ha! BOTH Ha! Ha! Ha! He! He! He! THE FINANCIER Glad to meet you. [Holds out hand.] THE POLITICIAN [Feebly.] Delighted! Delighted! [The Politi- cian and The Financier shake hands.] [Enter The Attendant.] THE ATTENDANT Step inside, sir. [The two men turn away and go out of sight of the door.] THE POLITICIAN Another ! THE FINANCIER I'm damned! [Enter The Litterateur. He is a spare man, with long hair — pointed beard — pince-nez — evening dress — white flower — low collar and flowing neck- tie. He has a soft, purring voice and keen, eager eyes.] THE DAY OF DUPES THE LITTERATEUE [Looking at the two men, "whose backs are toward him.] I thought I would be alone. THE ATTENDANT It's all right — sir. THE LITTERATEUE It is not all right. I'll call tomorrow. THE ATTENDANT But she wants to see you particularly. THE LITTERATEUR Eh? THE ATTENDANT Most particularly [The Litterateur looks indignantly at the two men's hacks.'] THE POLITICIAN That's what she said to me. THE FINANCIER What's the little game — I wonder.^ THE LITTERATEUR Can I wait anywhere else? THE ATTENDANT No, sir. She won't be long. Sit down. [Takes his hat and cane — puts them at hack — turns — Men all in position — ignoring each other — shrugs her shoul' -Ci40> THE DAY OF DUPES ders with a little laugh. Goes to The Litterateur.] Pity to miss her. THE UTTERATETJB, I'U wait! THE ATTENDANT IGlidet silently to the door and goes out.^ THE POLITICIAN It is really too bad! THE FINANCIER. I'll give her a bit of my mind for this. THE LITTERATEUR Exceedingly disagreeable. I wonder who they are. THE FINANCIER I've a good mind to chuck it. THE POLITICIAN I never felt so uncomfortable in all my life. THE LITTERATEUR [Beaming on them, rubbing his hands together nerv^ ously.] Good evening, gentlemen. I regret that I should have disturbed you. THE POLITICIAN [Without looking roundJ] Not in the least. THE FINANCIER [Bach still to him.'] Haven't disturbed me. THE DAY OF DUPES THE LITTEEATEUR I had no idea there would be anyone here. THE FINANCIER Hadn't you? THE LITTERATEUE Not the slightest. THE FINANCIER Well, there is — someone here. THE LITTERATEUR So I perceive — I am afraid that I am an intruder. [Pause.'] I think it would be better perhaps if I were to go. THE FINANCIER Perhaps it would. THE LITTERATEUR [E a plaining.'] It being her birthday — THE FINANCIER l^Turning round angrily.] Well.'' THE POLITICIAN [Anxious to conciliate.] Er — we all called. THE LITTERATEUR Exactly. However, these flowers have already her- alded my good wishes. [Raising The Financier's bouquet from the table.] THE DAY OF DUPES THE FINANCIER Put that down! THE UTTEEATEUR £h? THE FINANCIER Put that bouquet down. THE I.ITTERATEUR [Glances at card, drops bouquet, rather alarmed.] There appears to be some little mistake. Gentlemen — good-night. [Hurriedly takes up his hat and coat.] [The Politician and The Financier exchange relieved glances. The Attendant enters.] THE ATTENDANT In here, sir. Be careful. [The Financier and The Politician recover their positions. The Litterateur goes hurriedly to fire- place. Enter The Artist, — a fair, handsome, worn man. He is poorly dressed. He has a clear, earnest voice and a pathetic face. He looks in amazement at the three Men.] THE POLITICIAN It will be a solemn warning to me. THE FINANCIER I wonder how many more are coming. THE LITTERATEUR This promises to be interesting. THE DAY OF DUPES THE ATTENDANT [To The Artist.] Take a seat, sir. THE AETIST I would rather not, thank you. [Moves in direction of door.] THE ATTENDANT [Stops him.'] She wants to see you, most particU' larly. [The three Men exchange glances and turn away.] THE ARTIST You are sure? THE ATTENDANT Quite. THE ARTIST [Looking at the others.] And yet — THE ATTENDANT [Under her breath to The Artist.] Don't mind them, sir. She's just ready. THE ARTIST [Hesitates, then makes up his mind.] I'll stay. THE ATTENDANT [Goes silently to door, looks mockingly at the four men and goes out.] THE FINANCIER She's been making a fool of me. ^144> THE DAY OF DUPES THE POLITICIAN I would never have thought it of her. THE LITTERATEUR I must not be recognized here. THE FINANCIER I'm off. [Making a plunge for his hat and coat."] THE POLITICIAN It is impossible to remain now — [Goes for his hat and cloak.] THE LITTERATEUR The risk is too great — [Goes quickly for his hat and coat.] [The three Men meet at the table confusedly.] THE ARTIST One moment; gentlemen. If anyone should go, surely it is I. I have only this moment arrived. THE LITTERATEUR I was only a second before you. THE FINANCIEE Well — so was I. THE ARTIST In that case we should withdraw in favour of thai gentleman. [Indicating The Politician.] THE POLITICIAN Dear me^ no. Not at all, I assure you ! THE DAY OF DUPES THE FINANCIEE Can't understand why we've all come like this. THE ARTIST She invited me. THE POLITICIAN Er — she invited me. THE FINANCIEE And me. THE LITTERATEUR I certainly had an invitation. THE ARTIST Here is the letter. THE POLITICIAN Mine is destroyed. THE FINANCIER Burnt mine. THE LITTERATEUR {^Searching for and finding the note.] Here it is. THE POLITICIAN It is certainly a most unfortunate dilemma. THE LITTERATEUR It has a solution. We are all evidently invited by some misunderstanding, on the same evening. As we are not known to each other, and, I may add, under the THE DAY OF DUPES peculiar circumstances of our meeting, it is manifestly unfair for more than one to remain. THE POLITICIAN Quite so. THE FINANCIER That's what I think. THE A&TIST Certainly. THE LITTERATEUa Let us draw lots who remains. THE POLITICIAN Draw lots? THE AETIST By all means. THE FINANCIER That's fair enough. THE POLITICIAN Quite fair, quite fair. THE LITTERATEUR Very well. There is no time to lose. [Takes leaves out of pocket-book and proceeds to tear them into four square pieces.] THE POLITICIAN Er — gentlemen — I presume our acquaintance ends here? I'm sure I need say no more? Eh? •C147 3- THE DAY OF DUPES THE ARTIST I understand. THE LITTERATEIJR Not another word. THE riNANCIEE That's what I think. THE POLITICIAN Very good, very good indeed. THE LITTERATEUR There. [Holds up three squares of paper.'] Please fold them. [The Artist folds papers.] On this I will write — "Remain"! [Writes in pencil on paper, folds it.] There. A hat, please. [The Artist brings a hat — the papers are thrown into it and then they draw out one each.] [The * Dupe's ' voice heard singing from the adjoining room.] TH [Singing.] " Lazy, laughing, languid Jenny, Fond of a kiss, fond of a guinea.** * THE LITTERATEUR Quickly. She is coming. [They all open out pieces of paper.] Blank! * From " Jenny " by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. THE DAY OF DUPES THE POUTICIAN Blank! Blank! " Remain. THE JTNANCIEK. THE AETIST THE POUTICIAN Quite right, quite right. [Goes quickly to door,] THE LITTERATEUR Good night. [Goes to door,] THE FINANCIER Damn nonsense. [Goes to door.] [The * Dupe's * voice rises again. " They all turn and listen.] THE * DUPE ' [Singing.] ** Destiny ! Destiny ! Why am I so dark ? I that have beauty and love to be fair. Destiny! Destiny! Am I but a spark Track'd under heaven in flames and despair? Destiny! Destiny! Why am I desired Thus like a poisonous fruit, deadly sweet? Destiny! Destiny! Lo, my soul is tired; Make me thy plaything no more, I entreat ! " * • From ** The Shaving of Shagpat ** by George Meredith. -C149> THE DAY OF DUPES l^The curtains are drawn hacJc, and standing in the cen- tre, a hand on each curtain, is The ' Dupe/ a beau- tiful woman, tall, dark, commanding. She is in even- ing dress, with flowers around her throat, in her breast and in a garland round her waist.'\ THE ' DUPE ' How sweet of you all to come! You have been wait- ing for me? How unusual! It is I who have always waited for you, eh? Well — have you nothing to say? I see. You do not know each other? You shall. [Movement of alarm and protest by The Politician, The Financier and The Litterateur. The Artist stands staring at her.] Come, be introduced. [Moves down.] Messieurs les — Politician, Litterateur, Financier — [Indicates each, looking round, sees The Artist.] Ah, yes, and Artist. [They bow stiffly to each other.] No, no ! Too cold. Shake hands, please. [Laughs mirthlessly.] You men are stupid. Come, Artist — give your hand to Literature. Politics, yours to Finance — THE POLITICIAN Might I suggest? THE FINANCIER Yes, I would like to know — THE ' DUPE ' You wonder why I have brought you all together? It was indiscreet, eh? THE DAY OF DUPES THE POLITICIAN It was certainly unwise. THE FINANCIEE Simply ridiculous. THE LITTEEATEUE It was hardly fair. THE AETIST Perhaps — THE * DUPE ' I have brought you all here tonight to bid me " good- bye " ! This is our last meeting. Tomorrow we all go different ways, and we must never cross each other's paths again. THE POLITICIAN How very distressing. THE FINANCIER Humbug ! THE LITTERATEUE A most extraordinary person! THE * DUPE ' [Turning to The Financier.] This is what you would call a meeting of directors to wind up a company. Debts must be paid today, — partnerships dissolved. But we must do it pleasantly. A little wine — a little seriousness, a little laughter, and then ! Voila ! — Go ! Come, Financier, take the chair of the Board. [She THE DAY OF DUPES places a chair for Aim.] Sit down, sir. [The Fin- ancier sulkily drops into chair.] Fellow directors, ar- range yourselves. Politics — there. [Indicates lounge."] Litterateur in front of Finance, Artist in the centre. Good. A happy augury. Money helps; letters immor- talize; the politician sometimes ennobles the artist. Sir [to The Artist], you are well placed. THE LITTERATEUR Most happily expressed. THE POLITICIAN Admirably, quite admirably! THE financier [Under his breath.] Tom foolery! THE ' DUPE ' Now to business. First — smoke! Oh, you may! [To The Financier.] A Corona for you — . [She selects one and examines it critically.] There — try that — and do please look cheerful! Matches! [To The Litterateur.] Intimidad for the author. Say " thank you " and laugh. That's better. And poli- tics — THE politician Not now — thanks very much, thank you. THE ' DUPE ' Ah — you debate tonight? THE DAY OF DUPES THE POLITICIAN Yes — most critical position. THE ' DUPE ' What you politicians suffer. How grateful we should be ! [Turns away with a little laugh — to The Artist.] Artist, cigarette.'* [Hands him one.] I will join you. Now, wine. Who will help me.^ [All rise.] You open the bottles [to The Financier and The Artist], you bring the tray. [To The Litterateur.] And you — [To The Politician.] the politician [In an undertone.] Is it really goodbye? the * DUPE ' Yes. THE politician Anything serious.'* THE * dupe ' Very! THE politician If I can be of any assistance — the * DUPE ' You shall be — the politician In any possible way — the * DUPE ' There will be only one way — THE DAY OF DUPES THE POLITICIAN Er — a cheque — THE ' DUPE ' Yes — on your tongue — after tonight — that's all ! l^Laughs mockingly at him.'\ THE POLITICIAN Really, I am quite bewildered. THE LITTERATEUR [Holding up glass. 1 Gentlemen, I feel I shall be only echoing the thought that is in all our minds at this moment in wishing our charming hostess — " many, many happy returns." [They all drink to "many, many happy returns."] THE * DUPE ' [Bowing deeply.] I thank you from my heart. [She is standing — she motions the others to be seated.] And yet do I want many returns of today? And would they be happy? I wonder! And now before I dismiss you I am going to tell you a little story and preach you a little sermon. Is it not good ? What do you say ? You all look very stupid. Poor men! First you shall have the story — but you mustn't laugh — it is serious — oh — very serious. Laugh! You will never laugh again to judge from the length of your faces now! [Laughs merrily — then suddenly stops and begins in an altered tone — sometimes leaning against the table — sometimes moving about — now addressing one — then another.] There was once a girl, oh, such a bright, happy, inno- THE DAY OF DUPES cent girl! [Turns to The Politician.] Innocent as your daughter in the convent — and as happy. But there came a great longing in her heart. She yearned to see the marvellous world that lay outside her prison bars ; to catch a glimpse of the lands and of the peoples she dreamed of by night, and sighed for by day. And this longing grew until it became a fever that consumed her, that threatened to burn away her life. She was foolish, eh.^ Ah, yes! she was — very foolish. But then we are all foolish. And she, at least, had the excuse of Youth. One day someone came to her and offered her the key that would open her prison door, the golden key that meant liberty. But it was to be paid for. A price was on the key, as there is on every- thing, and the price for her freedom was the captivity of her heart. And she paid it. She gave her deliverer her young, trusting heart, and he took her away from the home she thought a prison and she saw the great world of beauty, and lived in the great world of love, and felt that happiness had nothing more to give. THE LITTERATEUB How wonderful is youth — golden youth ! THE * DUPE ' A beautiful story, is it not.^ THE POLITICIAN Delightful — quite delightful ! THE riNANCIEE Bosh! Sickly, sentimental bosh! -CIS* 3- THE DAY OF DUPES THE * DUPE ' Artist? What do you say? [The Artist moves away."] THE XITTERATEUE And a very healthy lesson, too. Love the deliverer. Very excellent. THE ' DUPE ' Yes, but the story isn't finished. THE LITTERATEUR Not finished? THE ' DUPE ' No; the best part is to come. THE LITTERATEUR Really? THE POLITICIAN Charming ! Rot! THE FINANCIER One day the deliverer, tired of his companion, went his way and left her alone. And then she found that she was more a prisoner than she ever had been in her home. She had now forged the chains herself that held her bound, and no one in all the world could ever break the chain that memory held together link by link. What THE DAY OF DUPES did she do? Faced the world with a laughing face; hid away her sorrow; lived freely, carelessly, recklessly, but always with the chains around her heart, despair in her soul. And she made friends who took her away and showed her strange countries. Lands where the sun shone all night. Countries where music and painting found echoes in every street. Cities of pleasure, cities of grief — and the world glided by her in brilliant quart d'heures — except when the chains pressed — pressed — pressed. And then one day something happened that she had always dreaded. She had one love that she clung to in the great waste of her life, a love she could never speak of, could never show. And the chains that she had wrought could not crush out that love from her heart. Was it not strange.^ It was for the keeper of her child's prison, — her father. He died — whilst she danced and laughed — far away from him. A grim story, eh? THE AETIST And the sequel? THE * DUPE ' That is to come. Rich now, through the death of her father, independent of her friends, she called them to- gether to say farewell, and to close for ever the entries they had made in the book of her life. Gentlemen — my story is ended. THE FINANCIEE She is in earnest. Farewell? Bah! I'm not going to lose her like that. ■C157 3- THE DAY OF DUPES THE POLITICIAN Can it be that this is the end? Dear, dear. THE LITTERATEUR [To The * Dupe.'] You have interested me deeply. THE ' DUPE ' [Bows mockingly.] Oh, sir! THE LITTERATEUR I would never have thought it, never. It has been most helpful, most helpful. THE ARTIST [To The * Dupe.'] Why have you done this? THE ' DUPE ' Wait. You'll see. Sermon next. Only a little one. Politician, you work in a glass-house with all the blinds drawn, and everything goes smoothly. But one day a blind is left up, the world peeps in, and then there is a crisis, eh? And the politician has to go. Why? Be- cause, like everything human, he has made a mistake. This is a mistake. Take care no blind is left up! [Holding up glass.] Here's to tlie drawn blind. [Moving to The Financier.] Financier, your invest- ments are good, your house is large, your servants many;, your wife fat. THE FINANCIER [Looking up angrily.] What! THE DAY OF DUPES THE ' DUPE ' Oh, it is true your wife has lost her attractiveness. But there are five — or are there six? — children. THE FINANCIEE IFuriously.^ Enough of that. THE * DUPE ' Oh, quite enough. But about yourself. You have put your life out at " profit and loss " — it reads loss. Money buys you nothing that is worth the buying. It is a millstone that is dragging you down, and others with you. May you lose every penny you have and work in the heat of the day. It would be your redemption! POVERTY to you! THE FINANCIEB. Rot! THE ' DUPE ' ITo The Litterateur.] And you, man of letters, skilful with your pen, brilliant in imagination, look up, my friend. Look at the stars, and the sky, and the sun. Smell the flowers. Don't walk amongst the refuse in the highways and the by-ways. Take the clean and the healthy for your subjects, not the halt, the lame and the blind. Remember, yours is the greatest power today. Don't throw it all away for the hospital, the boudoir, and the slum! Look up, my friend. Look up! [Turns to the others.] Why, how serious you all are ! Because I have preached to you? And yet time and time again you have lectured me, eh ? THE DAY OF DUPES THE FINANCIEE Are we going to have much more of this? THE ' DUPE ' Just as much or as little as I wish. [Turning to The Artist.] Oh artist, quiet and pensive, a picture! Sweet eighteen; spoilt child; crying for what she cannot have. The sun above — the waving corn — and the maiden pining, pining, pining. But see! There is someone standing beside her. His eyes look brave and honest. He takes her hand. He kisses it! Look! The face is like someone's in this room ! It is like your face! It's a pretty picture — eh? [The Artist moans, his face in his hands.'] Another picture. A poor lodging, a lonely woman, pale and ill, crying as though her heart would break, as though it were broken. Look closely, again. It is the girVs face, but older, worn, and with knowledge looking from behind the eyes. A hid- eous picture, eh? It is only one. There are hundreds no hand or tongue will ever paint. [Leaves The Artist: turns to the others.] Story and sermon are over! And now for the last scene of this little comedy and in it you must all play a part. It is the scene that closes the board meeting by the payment of debts. I am indebted to you all — you are all indebted to me. I have kept the accounts. Politician, I owe you some glimpses of Paradise. Nice, Monte Carlo, Florence, Rome, Naples. You were a delightful guide and as kind as a friend. Your yacht was lovely — you gave it me. You called it " Butterfly " after me. I owe you -CI60:}. THE DAY OF DUPES as well some money. I return you everything. [Hands him a packet, he refuses it.] You must. It was a loan, — I took it without hesitation — I repay it. [Leaves packet in his hands.] THE POUTICIAN Really — THE * DUPE ' My new journey begins tomorrow — tonight I pay back the past. Mr. Financier, what do I owe you? [Thinks.] Let me see. Norway — a happy time! I dreamed there, dreamed always. Such beautiful dreams too. Sometimes I look out of that little window, over the housetops, and dream them all again. This flat is yours, furniture, lease, everything. Also a little matter of shares with enormous dividends. I pay them back. [Hands him a packet.] THE riNANCIEE Don't be a fool ! I have always been a fool! [The Financier waves her away.] THE * DUPE ' You must ! [Forces the packet into his hands.] And now. Litterateur — what do I owe you? THE UTTEEATEUR Really — THE DAY OF DUPES Serious talks. Paris for a month — more talks. London in the small hours — we talk again. All in the interests of literature. You thought you were expand- ing yourself body and soul in my company. You were really finding life in my changing moods — in my levity, my seriousness; my beauty, my hideousness; my temper, my smiles, my tears. You will endeavour to perpetuate me in some book or play and think you have benefited literature. Go to a factory or work-shop and take some girl with red hands and plaintive face — depict her and her struggles, her fears, her hopes, her joys, and you will do society and mankind a greater kindness than a hundred courtesans, with their scented rooms, false lives, false pleasures, false griefs, smiling faces and aching hearts. Go out into the beautiful world — leave us alone. God has given you a great gift. Use it as a great gift. Fly your banner to the sky. Don't trail it in the mud. Now what do I owe you ? Why, of course. Three volumes of your poems. [Takes them from the booJccase. Reads the titles aloud and hands them to him.] "Lost Souls" *' An Outcast of Paris" "A Romance of the Morgue." There. THE lilTTERATEUE But I don't want them. I wrote them. I don't want them. I've read them. [Embracing the four men in a gesture.'] One more toast — and then I THE DAY OF DUPES dismiss you. You, Society thinks, are all my dupes. Society is wrong. It is I who am the dupe of all. This is the Day of Dupes. From cottage to palace — that dupe is woman! The dupe of love, of passion, of en- vironment. Give us freedom, we dupes, and we would not be as I have been — a slave living in chains, chains forged by myself but placed on me by you. " The Day of Dupes ! To the awakening of Woman ! " [Puts down her glass. "l The meeting is over, the board is dissolved ! Take your hats and coats — say goodbye, and go out into the night! [They all go for their hats and coats.] Oh! Please don't all go at once! Think of my reputation! But perhaps you don't think of my reputation ? THE POLITICIAN Can I never see you again ? THE * DUPE ' Never. THE POLITICIAN I will leave everything — home — public life. Come away — THE * DUPE ' Hush! Goodbye! [They stand looking at each other a moment — she drops her eyes — his hand clenches — he shivers — goes to door and passes out."] THE FINANCIEE This is all humbug—" Butterfly." THE DAY OF DUPES THE * DUPE '' " Butterfly " no more. The summer-time is over and the beautiful " Butterfly " gives up her roaming and dis- appears. THE FINANCIER I'll come round tomorrow. THE ' DUPE ' I shall be gone. THE FINANCIER I'll find you. THE ' DUPE ' No use if you do. [The Financier tries to take her in his arms. Repulsing him.l r THE FINANCIER I'll find you! [Goes out abruptly.'] THE LITTERATEUR Perhaps it is for the best. THE * DUPE ' Let OS hope so. THE LITTERATEUR I am pleased — most pleased — to have known you. THE * DUPE ' Glad I've been useful. THE LITTERATEUR You wrong me. THE DAY OF DUPES Do I? THE LITTERATEUR You do, indeed. THE ' DUPE ' I will look out for another masterpiece on " La Courte- san." Call it " The Day of Dup.es." T^E MTTERATEUR / am the dupe. I thought you cared for me. THE * DUPE ' Not in the least. • THE LITTERATEUR No? THE * DUPE ' No. THE LITTipRATEUR [Crestfallen.] Oh! [Goes out.] THE * DUPE ' [Looking at The Artist.] Why have you not gone? I see. I have' not returned you your gifts. [Takes locket and chain from around her neck.] All you ever gave me. Take them! [Throws them on the table.] Give me again what I gave you! Go. THE ARTIST I can't leave you — like this. < 165 > THE DAY OF DUPES THE ' DUPE ' You did once. THE ARTIST I'll make amends. THE ' DUPE ' What amends can you make? [Pause.] Do you mean you'd marry me.^ [Pause.] You don't answer. THE ARTIST I would have asked you years ago, but I thought then that love should be free. That men and women work out their destinies more fully alone. I think so no longer. What changed you? THE ARTIST Experience has taught me that no life can be fully expressed alone. You mean no man's life? THE ARTIST Nor woman's. It is the perfect harmony of man and woman — two human beings forming one complete na- ture — that makes life at its fullest. When I left you, my art died. My fingers could paint no more. My in" spiration had gone. < 166 3- THE DAY OF DUPES The cry of the sloven ! The wail of the incompetent ! Art is divine. It is not dependent on another human being. It is in one's self. The need of inspiration ! The excuse of the vicious. The plea of the satyr to the innocent: " I need you as my inspiration." If your art depended on my degradation, it is better it should have died. You say no life can be fully expressed alone. Mine shall be. What has the companionship of men done for me.'' What has mine done for them? I am their equal by birthright. But they have never treated me as one. They did not want the best of me — they demanded the worst. And so the politician, the financier, the man of letters and the artist found their way to the one woman and in degrading her they de- graded themselves. It is the canker in their natures; the open sore in their lives, that dulls their talents, dims their careers, and sends them to forgotten graves. THE ARTIST Let me do something. Let me at least help you. I am sorry. O, how I am sorry. Let me help you. You can't face the world alone. You tried to once. It brought you to this. THE * DUPE ' It is difTerent now. You left me penniless. My father abandoned me as you did. But now I have money. It is only the poor men prey on. Money will keep the vultures away from me. They don't seek their prey when they are secured by money. You left me at THE DAY OF DUPES their mercy. I ask nothing of you, but to go. I never want to see you again. I only brought you here tonight to show you what wreck such as you can make of a woman's life. The love such as you offered — without reverence — can turn the child I was into the woman of bitterness I am now. I have drunk deeply of the waters of bitterness. I am indeed the " Queen of AstrO' felle/* I have shown you your lesson. Go. [The Artist creeps out. The * Dupe ' stands perfectly still for a few moments, then straightens up and flings up her arms with a great gesture of relief. Her eyes fall on the miniature. With a look of fury she snatches it up, goes to the fire, and hurls it into the grate. Then she rings, and stands looking into the fire. Enter The Attendant.] THE ' DUPE ' Is the car here! > THE ATTENDANT Yes. THE * DUPE ' My trunks.^ • THE ATTENDANT At the railway station. THE * DUPE ' My cloak. [The Attendant • goes into the adjoining room and brings out cloak.l < 168 > THE DAY OF DUPES THE ' DUPE ' [Putting it over her shoulders.] Give the keys to the agent. THE ATTENDANT Your letters? THE * DUPE ' Left. No address. THE ATTENDANT Any callers.^ Gone. For good? For good. But — THE ATTENDANT THE ATTENDANT THE * DUPE ' Put that in the car. [Points to a box on the table.'] [The Attendant takes up the box and goes out.] THE * DUPE ' [Looks around the room, turns off the lights. Only the glow from the fire in the room. She goes to the windows and thrusts them open. Very faintly can be heard Rubinstein's '* Kammenoi Ostrow " in the near THE DAY OF DUPES distance. The * Dupe ' turns away from the window and looking upwards in an attitude of prayer, she pleads.] Oh, Thou — Thou who once forgave the Mag- dalen, — I come to You — even as she did — covered in Sin, an outcast of mankind, despised of women. I come to You to pray You to help me to walk alone! [She passes out.] THE END -C170> THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURTH DAY AND TO $1.00 ON THE SEVENTH DAY OVERDUE. 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