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ACT II
Scene: Same as Act I.
There is a slight rearrangement of furniture and addition of properties. Table and chairs L.C., moved twelve inches nearer center. Armchair put left of table and plain chair right of table. The lamp has been moved from table to top of cabinet L., making room for teatray laid for five people. Also on the tray is a plate containing plum cake, a three-shelf muffin-stand or curate, containing cakes and sandwiches, is placed below cabinet. Sewing bag, purse and army list have been removed. Throat spray for Phyllis behind vase on table R. A medicine bottle in room off R. Embroidery on table R. for Phyllis. Election speech (a roll of foolscap paper) on cabinet L. for Tarver. Waste-paper basket removed. The curtains are drawn closer than in Act I and card table has been folded and placed against backing and chairs distributed against backing of card room. The ladies are in afternoon house dress and Faraday in frock or morning coat. All the flowers are changed and autumn varieties replace those of spring. It is eight months later in the late afternoon. Halfway through the act, it grows darker and lights are required, though lights are full up to commence.
As the curtain rises, Phyllis is seated on sofa R., doing some embroidery. Evelyn is toying with a book, seated L. of table R. Madge is at the head of the tea table, pouring tea. Faraday stands to left of table.
Faraday. (Running over the books in book slide) Where is that army list? It's a great nuisance, not a sign of the army list. The army list has disappeared again. I wanted to write to General Partington this morning and I couldn't find out whether he was a K. C. B. or a K. C. S. I.
(Aunt Ida enters through card room in outdoor dress and comes directly down L.C. She should show signs of nervous apprehension all through the opening of the Act.)
Madge. Tea, Aunt Ida?
Aunt Ida. Please. (Nervously) What's the matter, William?
Faraday. The army list has disappeared again. I haven't seen one for months. Phyllis, will you ask Celia to order another new one? (Sits left.) Phyllis I do, Father, every time, but Celia always forgets it.
Aunt Ida. (Sits on edge of chair R. of table L. On tenter hooks) Has the Times come yet?
Faraday. No.
Aunt Ida. It's very late.
Faraday. (Getting up and getting muffin-stand from below cabinet, setting it between his knees) It is always very late. I eat much too much tea every day, waiting for that Times. It's not good for me. (Selects a big muffin from stand.)
Evelyn. But, Father, couldn't you make up your mind to restrain yourself?
(Enter Martin through card room.)
Faraday. I can make up my mind all right, but I can't restrain myself. (Bites into the muffin.)
Martin. (Announcing) Admiral Grice.
(Enter Grice through card room. Martin comes down L. of table to door. Grice comes down to table.)
Faraday. How do you do, Grice? Have some tea.
(All greet Admiral in casual tones.)
Grice. Thanks.
(Madge pours him a cup of tea. He takes it and crosses and shakes hands with Lady Trenchard and Phyllis, then goes and stands below fender.)
Faraday. (Stopping Martin at door L.) And Martin, see that another army list is bought. Send in to Lumley at once.
Martin. Another army list, sir? Yes, sir. (Exit L.IE.)
Grice. (In an injured tone) Celia is not here!
Phyllis. She has gone to see old Wilson, young Wilson's father. There is a rumor that he's wavering.
Faraday. Wavering! Wilson? He has some influence, too. I do hate a station master who can't stick to his political principles.
Grice. What's Wilson's trouble?
Evelyn. Compulsory vaccination. He can't spell it, so he's against it.
Grice. Silly ass! Well, if anyone can settle him, it will be Celia.
Phyllis. Yes, isn't she splendid? I believe Celia could make anybody do anything.
Aunt Ida. Have you just discovered that?
Grice. I don't think that's much of a discovery.
Aunt Ida. Nor I.
Madge. Yes, but Aunt Ida, you never really knew Celia before.
Aunt Ida. Before what?
Madge. (Enthusiastically) Before she was engaged. Before she let herself go, before she showed us all the Celiaishness of Celia.
Grice. There isn't a finer girl in England. (Puts teacup on mantel.) No, nor a finer dinner than the one I'm giving her to-night.
(Enter Tarver L.I, elaborately dressed and spattered with mud. He leans against jamb of door weakly. Everyone but Aunt Ida starts in surprise at sight of Tarver. Note: Aunt Ida does not participate in this scene, being wholly engrossed in the matter of the Times.)
Phyllis. (Starting up, goes toward Tarver a few steps) Bobby!!!!
Tarver. (Leaning weakly against door) I'm dead to the world.
Evelyn. What has happened?
Tarver. The most awful thing.
Phyllis. It was that dreadful ordeal of laying the corner stone, I suppose.
Grice. (Contemptuously) They asked you to lay a corner stone?
Tarver. They had to have a personage.
Omnes. A personage!
Tarver. You see, the beastly ground was full of puddles and, just as I stepped forward with a trowel in my hand, I slipped, and-
Grice. And sat down in one of them, I suppose.
Tarver. That's exactly what I did do. Oh! How they all yelled. (All laugh, Admiral loudest. Coming C. and limping) It's all very well for you to laugh, Admiral, but that puddle may cost us the seat.
Faraday. Tarver!
Grice. Tarver! Bring a trowel and a pail of mortar to my garden to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock sharp. I'll teach you how to lay a corner stone. (Gets his cup, goes up and crosses above sofa to teatable, and puts his cup down.)
(Phyllis comes C. to Tarver.)
Tarver. Oh, Phyllis, where are my voice lozenges?
Phyllis. (Taking his arm sympathetically) They're all gone, Bobby, but Celia said she would fetch you some.
Tarver. That's kind of her. My throat's awful. Where's the spray?
(Phyllis runs up and around to R. of sofa, getting spray. Tarver sits on stool below sofa and Phyllis comes down to R. of him.)
Phyllis. (Spraying his throat) Never mind, Bobby, there are only ten days more.
Tarver. (Chokes) I don't think I can last out the ten days. When that bench broke last night in the middle of my speech, I really thought it was my nervous system gone at last.
Grice. (Thunderously. Coming C.) Tarver!
Tarver. (Jumps) Oh, Admiral, don't speak to me like that or I shall cry.
(Phyllis sits on foot of sofa, her arm on Tarver's shoulder.)
Grice, You made a mistake last night. Canada is not to the north of Alaska.
Tarver. Did I say it was? (Phyllis shakes her head. Looks toward Phyllis) Oh, how awful!
Grice. Tarver, you are dining with me to-night.
Tarver. Yes, sir.
Grice. Bring your Atlas. We will go slowly through the countries of the world in my study afterwards.
Phyllis. (Rises quickly) Oh, but you can't, Admiral. There's the Philharmonic concert after your dinner party, and we all have to go to it.
Tarver. Yes, and my opponent is going to be there.
Phyllis. If Bobby were late, it would produce a bad impression.
Grice. Then come before dinner.
Tarver. (Rising) But, Admiral, I haven't written a word of my election speech yet except "Gentlemen" and that's a lie.
Grice. (Threateningly) Tarver! Wilson is not the only elector in the Lumley division who is wavering.
Phyllis. (Starts) Oh, Admiral!
Faraday. (Seated L.) You, Grice, you?
Phyllis. Oh, you couldn't vote against Bobby!
Grice. Perhaps not, but I might try.
Tarver. Oh! I'll bring my Atlas! (Speaks despairingly. Turns up R., looking for tonic.)
Phyllis. (Running to Admiral) Oh, yes, Bobby will be delighted to bring his Atlas.
Grice. Bobby will be delighted to take away his Atlas. (Martin enters L.I with copy of the "London Times" and a small folded periodical on salver.) Tarver, geography, eight o'clock sharp. Dinner, eight fifteen. (Turns to table.)
Martin. The Times, sir.
Faraday. At last.
Grice. Ah, the Times!
Aunt Ida. (Rising in alarm and backing up stage from chair. Grice takes her place in chair.) Oh, the Times, the Times!
Tarver. Oh, Phyllis, where is that bottle of Guy's tonic?
Phyllis. It is out here, Bobby. (Exit in the morning room.)
Tarver. (Following her) Thanks awfully. I needed it badly.
(Madge takes periodical and begins to read. Faraday takes the outer sheet of the Times, pulls it off, and throws it across table. It falls to floor R. of table. Grice stoops to pick it up. Evelyn takes it from his hand as he rises, saying, "Thank you, Admiral." Grice looks at her disgustedly and sits twiddling his thumbs. Note: The outer sheets of the Times must be stuck together in order to have them fall properly. Note: The birth, marriage and death column of the Times is in the upper left hand corner of the first page. Evelyn, Madge and Faraday have become absorbed in their papers. Grice looks about him and then, exasperated, seizes a book and sits R. of table L., reading it.)
Faraday. (After a pause) I never saw a paper like this. (Strikes paper with back of his hand.) There is absolutely nothing in this paper.
(Tarver and Phyllis re-enter, go to fender and sit. Tarver has had his clothes brushed.)
Grice. I never saw a paper with anything in it. (Pause.) How about the bye-elections?
Faraday. (Grunting, absorbed in his paper) Huh! (Long pause.)
Evelyn. (Reading front page) Oh, Madge, Elsie Hardiman is engaged.
Madge. Not really?
Aunt Ida. (From up stage, comes slightly R.C. Uneasily and anxiously watching Evelyn) Isn't there-isn't there any other news, Evelyn?
Evelyn. No, dear.
Aunt Ida. Anybody married?
Evelyn. No one we know.
Aunt Ida. (With a forced attempt at cheerfulness) Or dead?
Evelyn. (Absently. Looking over paper) No, dear. Ab-so-lutely noth- (Her eye suddenly lights on Smith's death notice. She reads it in pantomime. A look of horror comes over her face and she utters a shrill scream.)
(All rise hastily with exclamations.)
Faraday. (Jumping to his feet) God bless my soul! What's the matter, what's the matter?
Tarver. Great Scott! What's the matter?
Madge. What is the matter, Evelyn?
Grice. (Coming center) Really, Lady Trenchard, you ought not to startle people like that. It's selfish. (Goes to her, takes paper from her limp hand and comes down stage.) What's the news, eh?
Faraday. (Taking paper from Grice with importance, and crossing L.) I'll tell you.
Evelyn. (In hushed whisper) Father, the deaths, the deaths!
(During the following scene, Grice is fairly dancing with impatience.)
Faraday. (Reads death notice and sits heavily extreme L. with a sigh) Poor girl!
Madge. (From above table) Father.
(Faraday hands paper to Madge, saying, "Read, read.")
Phyllis. (After a slight pause runs across stage to Madge) What is it, Madge?
Madge. Oh, Phyllis.
Phyllis. (Stands by Madge, takes paper and reads) That does seem cruel, doesn't it?
Grice. Why do people want to keep the news to themselves? (Takes paper away from Phyllis and comes down C. He reads) Whew! (Stands ruminating) Well, well, well, well! (Holds paper to him.)
Tarver. (Seated in chair below fender. Plaintively) Will somebody kindly tell me what's happened?
Grice. Always thinking of yourself, Tarver. (Reads slowly and impressively) "On October the 11th-of wounds-at Berbera, Somaliland-Colonel Smith."
Tarver. (Feeling that he must say something) On October the 11th-that is tough, isn't it?
Faraday. Yes, it's hard. I've been inquiring about rooms at the Club. I didn't expect this.
Phyllis. (At head of table) It's more terribly and cruelly hard on Celia than it would be upon any other woman.
Grice. (Putting paper on table) Why?
Phyllis. Because- (Breaks off.) Don't you remember the night when she told us of her engagement eight months ago. She said then that her betrothal would make an extraordinary difference in her life.
(READY Doorbell.)
Evelyn. Then she wasn't happy. Now she is.
Madge. And when she is, this blow falls without even a telegram to break the force of it.
Phyllis. It is too horrible. Nothing but an announcement in the Times sent by post.
(Note: The voices in each succeeding line should descend in scale.)
Madge. On October the 11th-
Tarver. Of wounds-
Faraday. At Berbera-
Evelyn. Somaliland-
Grice. Colonel Smith-
Tarver. (Rising and coming L. to stool below table) By Jove! If Celia withdraws from the contest, I'm done.
(Doorbell rings off L. Tarver sits on stool.)
Grice. (Alarmed) Wasn't that the front doorbell?
Madge. (Coming down stage) Who is to break the news to her?
Grice. (Pauses, looks around and suddenly points to Tarver) Tarver.
Tarver. (Springs to his feet in horror) Me? No, no. I think it needs a woman's voice. (Waving his hands feebly up and down in front of him) A woman's gentle fingers.
Faraday. God bless my soul! It isn't going to be broken to her in the deaf and dumb alphabet.
Evelyn. Let's leave Father to break the sad news to her.
Faraday. Me! No, no. I might break down. Someone outside the family would have more command over their emotions. Some old, warm-hearted friend. (Pause, while Grice shows alarm.) Grice, for instance.
Grice. Me! No, no. Ah! I have an idea. (Comes down stage, and Faraday, Madge, Evelyn and Tarver gather about him, Faraday L., Madge L.C., Grice C., Evelyn R.C., Tarver R. Slowly, seriously and impressively) Let us all break it to her-gently-when she comes into the room. I'll give the signal-one, two, three and then we'll all say together and very gently, "Colonel Smith is dead." (Looks for approval and they all turn away in disgust.)
(Faraday goes extreme L., Madge back to head of table L., Tarver extreme R. and Evelyn to chair R.C.)
Aunt Ida. (Coming down stage) Hadn't you better leave it to me?
(All show tremendous relief.)
Madge. Of course.
Faraday. You are the very person.
Grice. Hush! Now everybody try to be quite calm and natural and act as though nothing whatever had happened. Oh!!! The Times!
(All rush for the Times. Grice seizes outer sheet of Times and looks wildly about for some place to hide it. In desperation, he thrusts it up his coat at the back. Phyllis seizes a sheet, runs up and hides it under piano cover. Madge also seizes a sheet and hides it behind curtain of card room. Grice sits R. of L. table. Everyone assumes strained positions with set grins on their faces. Enter Celia, L.I entrance. She brings with her two small packages wrapped in tissue paper. She is dressed elaborately in outdoor costume and carries a light muff.)
Celia. (Brightly) Good afternoon, everybody.
(All give a short, nervous giggle, pause and then say together, "Good afternoon, Celia" Celia crosses to chair L. of table.)
Faraday. (Coming down L. of Celia, offering to take her muff) Allow me, dear.
Celia. (Giving it to him) Oh! Thank you, Father.
(Faraday holds both his hands in muff. Phyllis solicitously takes Celia's gloves.)
Madge. (In a bereaved tone, offering her a cup of tea) Celia, dear, have some tea?
(Faraday goes up and around to back, R.C.)
Celia. No, thanks, Madge. I've been having tea with the Duchess. Oh, how do you do, Admiral. (Shaking hands across table with Grice) You don't know how I'm looking forward to your dinner party to-night. (Sits L. of table L., unwrapping two small parcels and placing tissue paper on book slide.)
Grice. (Very gloomily) It was a good dinner. I suppose that now-
(Faraday coughs and all in a strained whisper say, "Admiral!")
Tarver. (Rising and coming C.) Did you manage to catch Wilson? (Tarver's question shocks all.)
Phyllis. (Trying to hush him) Bobby!
Evelyn. (In a hoarse whisper) Just at this time, too.
Celia. No, Bobby, he was out; but see what I brought you-some throat lozenges and a box to keep them in.
Tarver. (Comes to her at foot of table and takes boxes from her. Lugubriously) It's awfully good of you to think of me, Celia. (Crosses back to L.C.) Just at this time, too.
(Evelyn pulls Tarver violently around R. He staggers across stage and falls in chair extreme R.)
Omnes. Hush!!!
(Grice glares at Tarver, Phyllis and Madge offer Celia tea, Faraday the muffin-stand, and Grice offers her the plate of cake. All this is done quickly and simultaneously.)
Phyllis. You had better have some tea, Celia.
Grice. (Smiling at her) Cake, with plums in it.
Celia. (Laughing) You are all very kind to me this afternoon.
(They all turn away hurriedly, quickly putting down the things they have been offering Celia and laughing nervously.)
Omnes. Not at all, dear. Not unusually so. Not a bit. (Etc., etc.)
Grice. Cake, with plums in it.
Celia. (Exchanges looks with Aunt Ida, who has worked down L. after Faraday has gone up C. Aunt Ida nods her head. Indifferently) Any news in the Times?
Omnes. The Times? The Times? Why, no, I don't imagine so. Have you seen the Times? Now where has Martin put that Times? (Etc., etc. Note: This should come to a crescendo and then die down.)
Evelyn. (In a loud, hoarse whisper to Tarver) Oh, say something.
Tarver. (Very nervously) No, I don't think there was anything, was there, Admiral?
Grice. (Mournfully, staring straight ahead of him) Nothing very lively.
Omnes. (In a strained whisper) Admiral!
Faraday. (To relieve situation. Gayly) Now where has the Times got to?
(Tarver rises and looks in fireplace, muttering to himself.)
Phyllis and Madge. Where is the Times? Have you seen the Times? I wonder what could have happened to it? (Etc.)
(Grice rises and turns R. and starts up stage. The Times falls out from his back. There is general consternation.)
Celia. (Seeing Times on floor) Why, there it is, isn't it?
Faraday. (In mock, great surprise) God bless my soul! So it is.
(Tarver sinks down on fender.)
Grice. (Coming down stage and picking up paper) Now, how did that get there?
Celia. May I see it, if everyone has quite finished? (Holds out hand for paper. Grice reluctantly gives paper to her. She opens it and reads. All watch her, strained and anxiously. Cheerfully) Births, marriages, deaths. I always look first at that column, you know. (After a pause. Laughing a little) How very amusing!
Omnes. Amusing? Celia!! Great Scott! God bless my soul!
Celia. (Reading) "On October the 11th-"
Evelyn. (Almost with a sob) Eleventh!
Celia. "Elsie Hardiman to Alfred Bryce." (All give tremendous sigh of relief. Looking up) Why didn't somebody tell me Elsie Hardiman was engaged?
Faraday. (Comes to chair R. of L. table and lays muff down on book rack) I wouldn't go into that, Celia. I wouldn't pursue that line of inquiry any further if I were you, my dear. (Tries to take paper.)
Celia. (Retaining her hold on paper) I just want to see if anybody is dead, Father. (Puts out a hand surreptitiously and pulls Aunt Ida near her. They all watch her with tragic anxiety. She sees notice, reads it, and utters a long, low cry of grief, then lets paper drop on table and with another long moan, rises and buries her face in Aunt Ida's shoulder.)
(Tarver curls up in chair extreme R., pulling his moustache.)
Phyllis. (Making sympathetic motion forward) Celia-darling.
Aunt Ida. (Waving her handkerchief up and down) Sh-sh-sh-sh! (They stand in grief-stricken attitudes, contemplating her.)
Faraday. (Brokenly) Celia-my child-
Aunt Ida. (Waving her handkerchief up and down) Sh-sh-sh-sh!
Evelyn. Poor Celia!
Aunt Ida. Sh-sh-sh-sh! (Pause.) I think-she will-say something soon.
Celia. (Raising a flushed, quivering face from Aunt Ida's shoulder) So you were all-trying to keep this-from me?
Grice. (Coming down R.) God help us, we were. (Takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes.)
Phyllis. Ah-Celia.
Aunt Ida. (In same queer, choked way) Wouldn't it be better if you all left her alone-with me?
Faraday. (Much relieved) Quite so. Quite so. Come, children. (Crosses a few steps up and right. The girls, with Phyllis first, Madge, then Evelyn, form a line and, with bowed heads and folded hands, walk across the morning room door. Tarver rises and walks mournfully up to door.) Come, Admiral.
Grice. (Crossing up R.) No, Faraday. I'll take my leave from this house of grief. (Exits through card room.)
Celia. (Comes L.C.) Wait, Father. (The girls halt in doorway, Tarver above sofa) I only want to say that I don't intend to let this news make any difference-outwardly. You see you never knew what I knew-about him, so I can't expect you to realize all that I've lost. I don't see what's to be gained by any parade of grief, so I'll go to this dinner party to-night and try to act as though nothing whatever had happened.
Tarver. (Beaming) That's splendid of you, Celia. It's much the wisest not to give way to sorrow. But you will get those votes you promised me, won't you?
Faraday. Take him away. Take him away.
(Evelyn whirls Tarver around and hands him unceremoniously off the stage. Faraday exits. There is a pause, then Aunt Ida and Celia burst into hearty laughter. Aunt Ida crosses to table R., sits, and Celia sits on the arm of her chair.)
Celia. Oh, Aunt Ida. Didn't we get through that splendidly?
(Grice re-enters through card room. They quickly turn their laughter into sobs and bury their faces in their handkerchiefs.)
Grice. (Coming down C.) I have been lingering, my dear Miss Faraday, just to grasp your hand and whisper a word of cheer. Keep up your heart, my dear. Keep up your heart. Remember there are other fish in the sea-big fish. (Bows and elaborately exits through card room.)
Celia. Old fool! – Isn't it a mercy I'm going to escape that sort of thing? There'd be a dozen more if I gave them a chance, but instead of that I'm going with you to Chicago to live and die a spinster with an unawakened soul.
Aunt Ida. (In a high tragedy tone) Celia, I have a queer feeling we're not done with this thing yet.
Celia. Why, of course we are, you dear; the steamship tickets are up in my room and I'm going with you to-morrow when you leave on the noon train. What a brick you've been through it all, Aunt Ida, what a brick!
Aunt Ida. (Laughing, then recovering herself and endeavoring to be moral. Crossing L.) You-you-you must never do it again, Celia.
Celia. Well, it's hardly the sort of thing one can do very often.
Aunt Ida. (Seriously) I never would have helped you send that notice to the Times, Celia, if-if-oh, dear. (Breaks down and laughs. Severely) Oh, but I consider your whole attitude most immoral.
Celia. (Meekly) Yes, Aunt Ida. I admit my behavior has been shocking and what a contrast to his. (Laughs.)
Aunt Ida. (Reprovingly) Celia!
Celia. Poor Colonel Smith! What harm has he ever done? Was ever a career more blameless? He lifted me down from the shelf. Dear Colonel Smith! He died just at the right moment. Dear Colonel Smith. Oh, you know he was a true soldier. He did his work in silence. Well, peace to his ashes. Dear Colonel Smith! Good gracious, dear, it's getting late. It's time to dress for dinner. (She seizes Aunt Ida by the arm, gayly whirls her around, crosses and gets her muff from table.)
(Enter Phyllis through morning room R. Runs down R. of sofa, calling, "Celia." They resume attitudes of grief. Aunt Ida exits through morning room, holding her handkerchief to her eyes.)
Phyllis. (Comes C. to Celia) Celia!
Celia. Yes, dear.
Phyllis. I want you to help me. Bobby is frightfully tired. Don't you think that he and I could cut the Admiral's dinner party and dine quietly at home here? You could make it all right with the Admiral, Celia.
(Enter Martin, with salver and card, L.IE., leaves door open.)
Celia. I'll try, dear. Martin, there will be two for dinner after all.
Phyllis. And may we dine in the little morning room here? (Indicating morning room.)
Celia. In the morning room?
Phyllis. It will be more snug.
Celia. Oh, very well, then, Martin. Dinner in the morning room. (Martin offers card to Celia.) I haven't time to see anyone now. (Crosses R. to door) Who is it?
Martin. Colonel James Nugent Vavasour. He was sure that you would consent to see him, Miss, when you saw this card.
Celia. Vavasour? Vavasour? It's some election business, of course. Phyllis, it's your affair, after all. Attend to it for me, won't you?
Phyllis. Very well. (Celia exits R. Martin brings the card over to Phyllis. Phyllis takes card, reads it and utters a cry) Colonel Smith! Then, then-then? (Bewildered) Then he is not dead. It's a mistake. (Runs to door R. as if to recall Celia.)
Martin. It is Colonel Vavasour who has called, Miss. (Goes up to tea-table, gets tray and dishes.)
Phyllis. But it's Colonel Smith's card. (Turns card over suddenly) Oh, it is a message. (Goes to L. of table R., sits and turns up the lamp.) Written in a failing hand. (Reads) "Good-bye. Be kind to my friend, James Nugent Vavasour." (To Martin, who has by now collected the dishes on tray and is below table R.) Show Colonel Vavasour in and then ask Miss Faraday to come down as quickly as she can. Just say that it really is important.
Martin. Yes, Miss.
(Phyllis comes L.C. quickly and arranges her hair, etc. Martin re-enters, announcing Colonel Vavasour. Colonel Smith enters and stands. Martin closes door quietly, goes up L., crosses it back, turns on lamp on piano and exits through morning room.)
Smith. (Bowing) I am speaking to Miss Celia Faraday?
Phyllis. (Holding card in her hand) Oh, no. I'm her much younger sister, but I have sent for her. Won't you sit down, Colonel Vavasour? (Sits R. of L. table. Smith sits L.) The card which you sent me proves that your errand is a sad one. I want to ask you to be very gentle in delivering your message to Celia. The news of Colonel Smith's death was first conveyed to her in to-day's "Times."
Smith. I am not very surprised to hear that.
Phyllis. (Melodramatically) The bolt fell from a clear sky. She received no telegram, no letter to warn her of the impending destruction of her happiness. (Places card on table.)
Smith. (Meaningly) No, indeed. How could she?
Phyllis. She was happy. She loved and was loved. (Smith turns and looks at her.) And then in a second comes Fate with its cruel shears-
Smith. (Interrupting her) Excuse me, but do you write for the Sunday papers?
Phyllis. No, but I have been listening lately to a great number of election speeches.
Smith. I quite understand. From them those flowers of eloquence were culled. Please go on.
Phyllis. Celia bore the blow with remarkable courage. But now comes your visit, which will upset her even more than the news of Colonel Smith's death itself.
Smith. Yes, Miss Faraday, I am quite sure that it will do that. You have made an appeal to me to deliver my harrowing message as delicately as I can. You can help me not to make mistakes.
Phyllis. How?
Smith. By telling me where the lovers met, when they became engaged-and how it all happened.
Phyllis. But you came with Colonel Smith's card and words of recommendation written upon it by his failing hand. Didn't he tell you?
Smith. Well, you see, he was one of those great-hearted men who never speak about themselves. And towards the end, when he might have spoken, he was singularly comatose.
Phyllis. (Sympathetically) Poor fellow!
Smith. Oh, it's dreadful-dreadful! I suppose your sister was very devoted to him?
Phyllis. She adored him!!
Smith. Yes. That's the part I understand best.
Phyllis. But Celia's engagement meant more to her than it would to most women.
Smith. (Recoils slightly) Why?
Phyllis. It had somehow got into everybody's head that Celia didn't-(Looks around room) – attract people. Poor old Celia. (Smith turns uneasily in chair.) Of course, her engagement altered the whole position.
Smith. Oh, I begin to see.
Phyllis. It was the night that I had just announced my engagement to Mr. Tarver. – Bobby was so witty about poor old Celia having to wear another pair of Green Stockings at my wedding-
Smith. Ah-h- Then there are other sisters?
Phyllis. Yes, there's Madge. She is between Celia and myself.
Smith. Engaged?
Phyllis. More than engaged-married. And then comes Evelyn.
Smith. Married?
Phyllis. Much more than married. (Smith stares.) A widow.
Smith. And Miss Celia is the eldest of you all?
Phyllis. Oh, yes. Well, the moment after Celia was told of my engagement, she announced hers.
Smith. To Colonel Smith. (Turns away from her with sudden understanding.) I see.
Phyllis. (More melodramatically) You know she had met him at Southampton. (Smith looks at her.) For a week they had been together. (Smith turns in his chair.) Only that morning he had told her of his love. An hour later he was steaming down Southampton Water to leave his neglected bones on the arid wastes of a-
Smith. (Interrupting her) Ahem! You'll excuse me-
Phyllis. I beg pardon. He was on his way to Somaliland. She wrote to him that night.
Smith. (Slowly) Yes, the letter reached him. (Tapping his pocket) I have it here.
Phyllis. (Sentimentally) He kept it?
Smith. Yes, he kept it. He used to sit and study it by the hour.
Phyllis. How truly beautiful. Oh, you must tell Celia that. You mustn't rob her of any of her grief.
Smith. No, that would be too bad. So there was no opportunity for Smith to come and make your acquaintance?
Phyllis. No, but I have heard so much of him from Celia that I could almost believe I see him. (Stares dreamily at Smith. Smith rises slowly, a little disconcerted. Phyllis rising and moving R.) I'll go and send Celia to you.
(Martin enters through morning room.)
Smith. Thanks. Now I know where I am.
Martin. (Stands up R.) Miss Faraday is coming down, Miss. (Crosses and exits L., lighting chandelier in card room.)
Phyllis. Very well, Martin. Then I'll leave you to deliver your message alone. (Crosses to door R. and opens it, then turns) You have brought, I hope, one or two mementoes from him-
Smith. (Puzzled for a moment) I beg your pardon?
Phyllis. Little things that Celia can treasure.
Smith. Oh, yes, yes. A few small things-trifles which Smith habitually wore.
Phyllis. (Sentimentally) Just what she will value most. (Exits R.IE.)
(Smith chuckles. He looks at his ring, but can't get it off, then at his knife. That won't do. Then at his cigarette case. That will not do. Also at his bunch of keys. That won't do. He reluctantly takes watch and chain from his waistcoat and looks about for something to wrap it up in. He sees the tissue paper which Celia has left on book slide, gets it and wraps watch and chain up in it, putting it in his pocket. He takes out his scarf pin, looks at it, starts to replace it in tie. He reconsiders and wraps that up too, putting it in his pocket. He hums a snatch of song for Celia's entrance. Celia enters in evening dress R. Comes R.C. Smith does not look up.)
Celia. Colonel Vavasour. (She speaks briskly, having no suspicion of his business. Smith bows almost reverentially, sighs deeply. Looks as if about to speak, is silent. His head is bowed. Impatiently) I am told that you wish to see me on important business.
