FIDDLER. Yours, ma'am.

CYNTHIA. Mine? [Walking to the table to look at it.] Is that my work-basket? [After a pause.] My gloves? [FIDDLER assents.] And I suppose— [Hurriedly going to the writing-table.] My—yes, there it is: my wedding ring!—just where I dropped it! Oh, oh, oh, he keeps it like this—hat, gloves, basket and ring, everything just as it was that crazy, mad day when I— [She glances at FIDDLER and breaks off.] But for heaven's sake, Fiddler, set that chair on its feet!

FIDDLER. Against orders, ma'am.

CYNTHIA. Against orders?

FIDDLER. You kicked it over, ma'am, the day you left us.

CYNTHIA. No wonder he hates me with the chair in that state! He nurses his wrath to keep it warm. So, after all, Fiddler, everything is changed, and that chair is the proof of it. I suppose Cynthia K is the only thing in the world that cares a whinney whether I'm alive or dead. [She breaks down and sobs.] How is she, Fiddler?

FIDDLER. Off her oats, ma'am, this evening.

CYNTHIA. Off her oats! Well, she loves me, so I suppose she will die, or change, or—or something. Oh, she'll die, there's no doubt about that—she'll die. [FIDDLER, who has been watching his chance, takes the key off the table while she is sobbing, tiptoes up stage, unlocks the door and goes out. After he has done so, CYNTHIA rises and dries her eyes.] There—I'm a fool—I must go—before—before—he—

[As she speaks her last word, JOHN comes in swiftly.

JOHN. Mrs. Karslake!

CYNTHIA. [Confused.] I—I—I just heard Cynthia K was ill— [JOHN assents. CYNTHIA tries to put on a cheerful and indifferent manner.] I—I ran round—I—and—and— [Pausing, she turns and takes a few steps.] Well, I understand it's all over.

JOHN. [Cheerfully.] Yes, it's all over.

CYNTHIA. How is the bride?

JOHN. Oh, she's a wonder.

CYNTHIA. Indeed! Did she paw the ground like the war-horse in the Bible? I'm sure when Vida sees a wedding ring she smells the battle afar off. As for you, my dear Karslake, I should have thought once bitten, twice shy! But, you know best.

VIDA, unable to keep her finger long out of a pie, saunters in.

VIDA. Oh, Cynthia, I've just been through it again, and I feel as if I were eighteen. There's no use talking about it, my dear, with a woman it's never the second time! And how nice you were, Jack,—he never even laughed at us! [SIR WILFRID follows her with hat and cane. VIDA kisses JOHN.] That's the wages of virtue!

SIR WILFRID. [In time to see her kiss JOHN.] I say, is it the custom? Every time she does that, my boy, you owe me a thousand pounds. [Seeing CYNTHIA, who approaches them, he looks at her and JOHN in turn.] Mrs. Karslake. [To JOHN.] And then you say it's not an extraordinary country!

[CYNTHIA is more and more puzzled.

VIDA. [To JOHN.] See you next Derby, Jack! [Walking to the door. To SIR WILFRID.] Come along, Wilfrid! We really ought to be going. [To CYNTHIA.] I hope, dear, you haven't married him! Phillimore's a tomb! Good-bye, Cynthia—I'm so happy! [As she goes.] Just think of the silly people, dear, that only have this sensation once in a lifetime!

[JOHN follows VIDA out the door.

SIR WILFRID. [To CYNTHIA.] Good-bye, Mrs. Karslake. And I say, ye know, if you have married that dull old Phillimore fellah, why, when you've divorced him, come over and stay at Traynham! I mean, of course, ye know, bring your new husband. There'll be lots o' horses to show you, and a whole covey of jolly little Cates-Darbys. Mind you come! [With real delicacy of feeling and forgetting his wife.] Never liked a woman as much in my life as I did you!

VIDA. [Outside; calling him.] Wilfrid, dear!

SIR WILFRID. [Loyal to the woman who has caught him.] —except the one that's calling me!

JOHN returns, and SIR WILFRID, nodding to him, goes out. JOHN shuts the door and crosses the room. There is a pause.

CYNTHIA. So you're not married?

JOHN. No. But I know that you imagined I was.

CYNTHIA. [After a pause.] I suppose you think a woman has no right to divorce a man—and still continue to feel a keen interest in his affairs?

JOHN. Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I don't quite see how—

CYNTHIA. A woman can be divorced—and still— [JOHN assents; she hides her embarrassment.] Well, my dear Karslake, you've a long life before you, in which to learn how such a state of mind is possible! So I won't stop to explain. Will you be kind enough to get me a cab? [She moves to the door.

JOHN. Certainly. I was going to say I am not surprised at your feeling an interest in me. I'm only astonished that, having actually married Phillimore, you come here—

CYNTHIA. [Indignantly.] I'm not married to him!

JOHN. [Silent for a moment.] I left you on the brink—made me feel a little uncertain.

CYNTHIA. [In a matter of course tone.] I changed my mind—that's all.

JOHN. [Taking his tone from her.] Of course. [After an interval.] Are you going to marry him?

CYNTHIA. I don't know.

JOHN. Does he know you—

CYNTHIA. I told him I was coming here.

JOHN. Oh! He'll turn up here, then—eh? [CYNTHIA is silent.] And you'll go back with him, I suppose?

CYNTHIA. [Talking at random.] Oh—yes—I suppose so. I—I haven't thought much about it.

JOHN. [Changing his tone.] Well, sit down; do. Till he comes—talk it over. [He places the armchair more comfortably for her.] This is a more comfortable chair!

CYNTHIA. [Shamefacedly.] You never liked me to sit in that one!

JOHN. Oh, well—it's different now. [CYNTHIA moves and sits down, near the upset chair. There is a long pause, during which JOHN thoughtfully paces the room.] You don't mind if I smoke?

CYNTHIA. [Shaking her head.] No.

JOHN. [Lighting his pipe and sitting down on the arm of a chair.] Of course, if you find my presence painful, I'll—skiddoo.

He indicates the door. CYNTHIA shakes her head. JOHN smokes his pipe and remains seated.

CYNTHIA. [Suddenly and quickly.] It's just simply a fact, Karslake, and that's all there is to it—if a woman has once been married—that is, the first man she marries—then—she may quarrel, she may hate him—she may despise him—but she'll always be jealous of him with other women. Always! [JOHN takes this as if he were simply glad to have the information.

JOHN. Oh—H'm! ah—yes—yes.

CYNTHIA. [After a pause.] You probably felt jealous of Phillimore.

JOHN. [Reasonably, sweetly, and in doubt.] N-o! [Apologetically.] I felt simply: Let him take his medicine.

CYNTHIA. Oh!

JOHN. I beg your pardon—I meant—

CYNTHIA. You meant what you said!

JOHN. [Moving a step toward her.] Mrs. Karslake; I apologize—I won't do it again. But it's too late for you to be out alone—Philip will be here in a moment—and of course, then—

CYNTHIA. It isn't what you say—it's—it's—it's everything. It's the entire situation. Suppose by any chance I don't marry Phillimore! And suppose I were seen at two or three in the morning leaving my former husband's house! It's all wrong. I have no business to be here! I'm going! You're perfectly horrid to me, you know—and—the whole place—it's so familiar, and so—so associated with—with—

JOHN. Discord and misery—I know—

CYNTHIA. Not at all with discord and misery! With harmony and happiness—with—with first love, and infinite hope—and—and—Jack Karslake,—if you don't set that chair on its legs, I think I'll explode. [JOHN crosses the room rapidly, and sets the chair on its legs. His tone changes.

JOHN. [While setting chair on its legs.] There! I beg your pardon.

CYNTHIA. [Nervously.] I believe I hear Philip. [She rises.

JOHN. [Going up to the window.] N-o! That's the policeman trying the front door! And now, see here, Mrs. Karslake,—you're only here for a short minute, because you can't help yourself, but I want you to understand that I'm not trying to be disagreeable—I don't want to revive all the old unhappy—

CYNTHIA. Very well, if you don't—give me my hat. [JOHN does so.] And my sewing! And my gloves, please! [She indicates the several articles which lie on the small table.] Thanks! [CYNTHIA throws the lot into the fireplace, and returns to the place she has left near table.] There! I feel better! And now—all I ask is—

JOHN. [Laughing.] My stars, what a pleasure it is!

CYNTHIA. What is?

JOHN. Seeing you in a whirlwind!

CYNTHIA. [Wounded by his seeming indifference.] Oh!

JOHN. No, but I mean, a real pleasure! Why not? Time's passed since you and I were together—and—eh—

CYNTHIA. And you've forgotten what a vile temper I had!

JOHN. [Reflectively.] Well, you did kick the stuffing out of the matrimonial buggy—

CYNTHIA. [Pointedly but with good temper.] It wasn't a buggy; it was a break cart— [She stands back of the arm-chair.] It's all very well to blame me! But when you married me, I'd never had a bit in my mouth!

JOHN. Well, I guess I had a pretty hard hand. Do you remember the time you threw both your slippers out of the window?

CYNTHIA. Yes, and do you remember the time you took my fan from me by force?

JOHN. After you slapped my face with it!

CYNTHIA. Oh, oh! I hardly touched your face! And do you remember the day you held my wrists?

JOHN. You were going to bite me!

CYNTHIA. Jack! I never! I showed my teeth at you! And I said I would bite you!

JOHN. Cynthia, I never knew you to break your word! [He laughs. Casually.] And anyhow—they were awfully pretty teeth! [CYNTHIA, though bolt upright, has ceased to seem pained.] And I say—do you remember, Cyn—

[He leans over her armchair to talk.

CYNTHIA. [After a pause.] You oughtn't to call me "Cyn"—it's not nice of you. It's sort of cruel. I'm not—Cyn to you now.

JOHN. Awfully sorry; didn't mean to be beastly, Cyn. [CYNTHIA turns quickly. JOHN stamps his foot.] Cynthia! Sorry. I'll make it a commandment: thou shalt not Cyn!!

[CYNTHIA laughs and wipes her eyes.

CYNTHIA. How can you, Jack? How can you?

JOHN. Well, hang it, my dear child, I—I'm sorry, but you know I always got foolish with you. Your laugh'd make a horse laugh. Why, don't you remember that morning in the park before breakfast—when you laughed so hard your horse ran away with you!

CYNTHIA. I do, I do! [Both laugh. The door opens and NOGAM comes in, unnoticed by either.] But what was it started me laughing? [Laughing, she sits down and laughs again.] That morning. Wasn't it somebody we met? [Laughing afresh.] Wasn't it a man on a horse? [As her memory pieces the picture, she again goes off into laughter.

JOHN. [Laughing too.] Of course! You didn't know him in those days! But I did! And he looked a sight in the saddle!

[NOGAM, trying to catch their attention, moves toward the table.

CYNTHIA. Who was it?

JOHN. Phillimore!

CYNTHIA. He's no laughing matter now. [Seeing NOGAM.] Jack, he's here!

JOHN. Eh? Oh, Nogam?

NOGAM. Mr. Phillimore, sir—

JOHN. In the house?

NOGAM. On the street in a hansom, sir—and he requests Mrs. Karslake—

JOHN. That'll do, Nogam. [NOGAM goes out and there is a pause. JOHN, on his way to the window, looks at CYNTHIA, who has slowly risen and turned her back to him.] Well, Cynthia?

[He speaks almost gravely and with finality.]

CYNTHIA. [Trembling.] Well?

JOHN. It's the hour of decision; are you going to marry him? [Pause.] Speak up!

CYNTHIA. Jack,—I—I—

JOHN. There he is—you can join him. [He points to the street.

CYNTHIA. Join Phillimore—and go home—with him—to his house, and Miss Heneage and—

JOHN. The door's open. [He points to the door.

CYNTHIA. No, no! It's mean of you to suggest it!

JOHN. You won't marry—

CYNTHIA. Phillimore—no; never. [Running to the window.] No; never, never, Jack.

JOHN. [Opening the window and calling out.] It's all right, Judge. You needn't wait.

There is a pause. JOHN leaves the window and bursts into laughter. He moves toward the door and closes it. CYNTHIA looks dazed.

CYNTHIA. Jack! [JOHN laughs.] Yes, but I'm here, Jack.

JOHN. Why not?

CYNTHIA. You'll have to take me round to the Holland House!

JOHN. Of course, I will! But, I say, Cynthia, there's no hurry.

CYNTHIA. Why, I—I—can't stay here.

JOHN. No, of course you can't stay here. But you can have a bite, though. [CYNTHIA shakes her head. JOHN places the small chair, which was upset, next to the table, and the armchair close by.] Oh, I insist. Just look at yourself—you're as pale as a sheet and—here, here. Sit right down. I insist! By George, you must do it! [CYNTHIA moves to the chair drawn up to the table, and sits down.

CYNTHIA. [Faintly.] I am hungry.

JOHN. Just wait a moment.

[JOHN rushes out, leaving the door open.

CYNTHIA. I don't want more than a nibble! [After a pause.] I am sorry to give you so much trouble.

JOHN. No trouble at all. [From the dining-room comes the cheerful noise of glasses and silver.] A hansom, of course, to take you round to your hotel? [Speaking as he returns with a tray.

CYNTHIA. [To herself.] I wonder how I ever dreamed I could marry that man.

JOHN. [Now by the table.] Can't imagine! There!

CYNTHIA. I am hungry. Don't forget the hansom.

[She eats; he waits on her, setting this and that before her.

JOHN. [Goes to the door, opens it and calls.] Nogam, a hansom at once.

NOGAM. [From without.] Yes, sir.

JOHN. [Again at the table, shows, and from now on continues to show, his true feelings for her.] How does it go?

CYNTHIA. [Faintly.] It goes all right. Thanks!

[Hardly eating at all.

JOHN. You always used to like anchovy. [CYNTHIA nods and eats.] Claret? [CYNTHIA shakes her head.] Oh, but you must!

CYNTHIA. [Tremulously.] Ever so little. [He fills her glass and then his.] Thanks!

JOHN. Here's to old times! [Raising his glass.

CYNTHIA. [Very tremulous.] Please not!

JOHN. Well, here's to your next husband.

CYNTHIA. [Very tenderly.] Don't!

JOHN. Oh, well, then, what shall the toast be?

CYNTHIA. I'll tell you— [After a pause.] you can drink to the relation I am to you!

JOHN. [Laughing.] Well—what relation are you?

CYNTHIA. I'm your first wife once removed!

JOHN. [Laughing, drinks.] I say, you're feeling better.

CYNTHIA. Lots.

JOHN. [Reminiscent.] It's a good deal like those mornings after the races—isn't it?

CYNTHIA. [Nods.] Yes. [Half-rising.] Is that the hansom?

JOHN. [Going up to the window.] No.

CYNTHIA. [Sitting down again.] What is that sound?

JOHN. Don't you remember?

CYNTHIA. No.

JOHN. That's the rumbling of the early milk wagons.

CYNTHIA. Oh, Jack.

JOHN. Do you recognize it now?

CYNTHIA. Do I? We used to hear that—just at the hour, didn't we—when we came back from awfully jolly late suppers and things!

JOHN. H'm!

CYNTHIA. It must be fearfully late. I must go.

She rises and moves to the chair where she has left her cloak. She sees that JOHN will not help her and puts it on herself.

JOHN. Oh, don't go—why go?

CYNTHIA. [Embarrassed and agitated.] All good things come to an end, you know.

JOHN. They don't need to.

CYNTHIA. Oh, you don't mean that! And, you know, Jack, if I were caught—seen at this hour, leaving this house, you know—it's the most scandalous thing any one ever did, my being here at all. Good-bye, Jack! [After a pause and almost in tears.] I'd like to say, I—I—I—well, I sha'n't be bitter about you hereafter, and— [Halting.] Thank you awfully, old man, for the fodder and all that! [She turns to go out.

JOHN. Mrs. Karslake—wait—

CYNTHIA. [Stopping to hear.] Well?

JOHN. [Serious.] I've rather an ugly bit of news for you.

CYNTHIA. Yes?

JOHN. I don't believe you know that I have been testing the validity of the decree of divorce which you procured.

CYNTHIA. Oh, have you?

JOHN. Yes; you know I felt pretty warmly about it.

CYNTHIA. Well?

JOHN. Well, I've been successful. [After a pause.] The decree's been declared invalid. Understand?

CYNTHIA. [Looking at him for a moment; then speaking.] Not—precisely.

JOHN. [After a moment's silence.] I'm awfully sorry—I'm awfully sorry, Cynthia, but, you're my wife still.

[There is a pause.

CYNTHIA. [With rapture.] Honour bright?

[She sinks into the armchair.

JOHN. [Nods. Half laughingly.] Crazy country, isn't it?

CYNTHIA. [Nods. After an interval.] Well, Jack—what's to be done?

JOHN. [Gently.] Whatever you say.

[He moves a few steps toward her.

NOGAM. [Quietly coming in.] Hansom, sir.

[He goes out and CYNTHIA rises.

JOHN. Why don't you finish your supper?

[CYNTHIA hesitates.

CYNTHIA. The—the—hansom—

JOHN. Why go to the Holland? After all—you know, Cyn, you're at home here.

CYNTHIA. No, Jack, I'm not—I'm not at home here—unless—unless—

JOHN. Out with it!

CYNTHIA. [Bursting into tears.] Unless I—unless I'm at home in your heart, Jack!

JOHN. What do you think?

CYNTHIA. I don't believe you want me to stay.

JOHN. Don't you?

CYNTHIA. No, no, you hate me still. You never can forgive me. I know you can't. For I can never forgive myself. Never, Jack, never, never!

[She sobs and he takes her in his arms.

JOHN. [Very tenderly.] Cyn! I love you! [Strongly.] And you've got to stay! And hereafter you can chuck chairs around till all's blue! Not a word now.

[He draws her gently to a chair.

CYNTHIA. [Wiping her tears.] Oh, Jack! Jack!

JOHN. I'm as hungry as a shark. We'll nibble together.

CYNTHIA. Well, all I can say is, I feel that of all the improprieties I ever committed this—this—

JOHN. This takes the claret, eh? Oh, Lord, how happy I am!

CYNTHIA. Now don't say that! You'll make me cry more.

She wipes her eyes. JOHN takes out the wedding ring from his pocket; he lifts a wine-glass, drops the ring into it and offers her the glass.

JOHN. Cynthia!

CYNTHIA. [Looking at it and wiping her eyes.] What is it?

JOHN. Benedictine!

CYNTHIA. Why, you know I never take it.

JOHN. Take this one for my sake.

CYNTHIA. That's not benedictine. [With gentle curiosity.] What is it?

JOHN. [Slides the ring out of the glass and puts his arm about CYNTHIA. He slips the ring on to her finger and, as he kisses her hand, says:] Your wedding ring!

CURTAIN.



* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Page 614: Phillmore changed to Phillimore. (MISS HENEAGE. Thomas, Mr. Phillmore's sherry?) (THOMAS gives the list to MRS. PHILLMORE and moves away.)

Page 654: entremely changed to extremely. ([JOHN looks entremely dark and angry;)

Page 679: nad changed to and. (WILFRID nad CYNTHIA are practically alone)

Page 685: tradional changed to traditional. (in the tradional bridegroom's rig.)

Page 691: couldn'. changed to couldn't (his lawyer couldn'. find him)

Page 691: importantt changed to important. (He said it was very importantt)

THE END