This was a man

[2]

CHARACTERS

(In the order of their appearance)

Edward Churt
Carol Churt
Harry Challoner
Margot Butler
Berry
Bobbie Romford
Zoe St. Merryn
Major Evelyn Bathurst
Blackwell

SCENES

ACT I

Scene I: Edward Chart’s studio in Knightsbridge—2.30 A.M.

Scene II: The same. The following afternoon.

ACT II

Scene: Evelyn Bathurst’s flat. The same night.

ACT III

Scene: The same as Act I. The following morning.

Scene I

Edward Churt’s studio in Knightsbridge is furnished with mingled opulence and good taste—he is a successful modern portrait-painter.

[When the curtain rises it is about 2.30 a.m. There is a faint glow from the fireplace on the left; a table stands more or less C., upon which is a reading lamp illumining a decanter of whisky, some siphons, a plate of biscuits and another of sandwiches, and two or three glasses; there are also a box of cigarettes and matches. The rest of the room is in comparative darkness. There is the sound of a taxi drawing up in the street, then after a suitable pause the noise of the front door being opened. Carol Churt enters, followed by Harry Challoner. They are both in evening dress. Carol is lovely and exquisitely gowned; her vivid personality is composed of a minimum of intellect and a maximum[4] of sex. Harry possesses all the earmarks of a social success—he is an excellent ballroom dancer, compared with which his activities in the city are negligible.]

Yes, it has rather. [He puts down his drink and takes her in his arms.] Look out—

[She goes up to him and quietly kisses him on the mouth. They stand there motionless for a moment.]

[They go out of the door. There is a little whispering in the hall. Then a silence and the sound of the front door closing gently. Carol comes back into the studio pensively. She finishes her whisky and soda, takes a biscuit, and flings her cloak over her arm; then she switches off the light and goes slowly off up R. Her door[10] closes. After a slight pause Edward Churt rises from the big armchair by the fire in which he has been sitting with his back to the audience, and goes over to the table. He switches on the lamp again and helps himself to a sandwich; he munches it thoughtfully for a moment, then with an air of determination picks up the whole plate, switches off the lamp and—retires to his room.]

Scene II

The scene is the same. It is an afternoon a few weeks later about five o’clock.

[When the curtain rises, Lady Margot Butler is seated down-stage in a slightly picturesque attitude. She is a good-looking woman of about thirty-five. Edward is working on a sketch of her and is hidden from view behind an easel.]

It makes them feel they’re getting their money’s worth. You can rest in a moment and have a cigarette.

Was Violet Netherson pleased with your malicious portrayal of all her worst points?

Yes, but hardly from her point of view. I should never forgive you if you did that to me.

Yes, it’s the Fenwick girl—her mother’s convinced that she’s a wild woodland type.

You secretly disapprove of the whole affair, yourself, really. That’s why you always talk about it so much—to sort of brazen it out and put yourself straight with yourself.

Edward, how can you! Anyhow, why shouldn’t I talk about it. You all know. Everybody knows.

Oh, I don’t know. Confidences and discussions of everything make life so much more amusing.

Modern society seems to demand intimacy all in a minute. You all lay bare your private affairs to comparative strangers without a qualm.

You’d told me all about Jim and Bobbie and your exact feelings toward each of them before we’d known each other a month.

Here’s tea, anyhow. When Lord Romford calls, Berry, show him straight in, will you?

She always is unfinished. She has a negligible personality, I’m afraid. Here you are.

My dear, she must have been with somebody. She couldn’t have been all alone after all that awful business. She’d have gone mad.

Well, as a matter of fact, we weren’t actually. We’ve been friends since we were children and we did discuss marriage at one time, but without great conviction.

Zoe wished for her freedom and just went about getting it as quickly as possible.

It’s nearly finished, but Edward won’t let me see it. He’s been thoroughly soured up all the afternoon.

Edward shuts up like a clam the moment I try to discuss anything in the least interesting. Where have you been, Bobbie?

Put them down here, Berry. [He clears a space on the table.] Do you want any more tea, Margot?

I expect they were going to Fanny’s. She’s got a mah-jong party. She seems to imagine it’s a novelty. I ought to be there, really, but I just felt I couldn’t bear it—all those hot scented women squabbling over the scores.

[Zoe St. Merryn enters. She is beautifully dressed and pleasantly unexaggerated.]

Edward! [She takes both his hands.] I’m terribly excited at seeing you again.

I’ve got so much to say I don’t know where to start. [She sees Margot.] Margot, this is lovely. How are you?

I can’t remember at the moment. Edward, give me a cigarette and a cocktail and tell me all about everything.

Out. She leads rather a hectic life I’m afraid—matinées, bridge, mah-jong, dancing—

You reel off those four harmless occupations as though they were the most ignoble of human frailties.

It’s difficult to remember accurately who I was with all the time. You may rest assured that I had an endless succession of lovers, beginning with an elderly mulatto in Honolulu and finishing with a retired matador in Seville.

Naturally—they all sound so much more entertaining than my own. Did you see Jim anywhere about in Spain?

Margot’s interest in her husband is so maternal, it always makes me feel as though I were in the presence of something sacred!

I’m awfully fond of Jim, really—particularly when he’s on a yachting cruise.

Oh yes—except for religious festivals like Easter and Christmas; then we forgather and go down to Draycott with the children.

We could get a divorce, I suppose, but it would make such dreary complications. And then when you’re free there’s the awful danger of starting the whole thing over again with some one else.

You will, I expect, dear—later on. [She rises.] I’ve enjoyed my nice cocktail very much, thank you, Edward. I must go now. Come and lunch on Thursday, Zoe darling. I’ve only got Rebecca coming. She’ll adore seeing you again.

You’ve come back from abroad a changed woman, Zoe, if that’s any comfort to you.

Yes, but she’s a type that couldn’t exist unless surrounded by false values.

She’s letting everything slide—morals, dignity, and discretion. Thank Heaven, I broke away. I might have got like that.

Futile! I return after a year’s oblivion, thrilled and excited, longing to see all my old friends, and[33] what do I find? Clacking shallow nonentities doing the same things, saying the same things, thinking the same things. They’re stale. They seem to have lost all wit and charm, and restraint—or perhaps they never had any. Oh dear! I’ve never felt so depressed in my life.

Yes. All your vitality seems to have been snuffed out by something. I expect it’s success. That’s always frightfully undermining.

One gets into the habit of accepting things at their surface value and not looking any deeper.

It doesn’t irritate me in the least. With anyone else it would, perhaps. But you’re different; you always have been.

I don’t know, really. Not violently like at first—that’s died down, naturally—but somehow—things get an awful hold on you, don’t they?

I have moments of fierce rage, you know; then it evaporates, leaving a dead sort of a calm.

She hasn’t the faintest suspicion. She’s always been marvelously self-assured.

She’s a lovely creature—governed entirely by sex. That’s why she’s self-assured.

I expect so. Anyhow, as long as she remains attractive—probably after. That’s the penalty of her type.

Yes, but quite inevitable, I’m afraid. You see she’s got no intellect to provide ballast.

Do you think I ought to have a scene with her about it? I shrink from that. It seems to double the humiliation.

Everything of that sort is made so much easier for people nowadays. I suppose it’s an aftermath of the war.

It’s the obvious result of this “barriers down” phase through which we seem to be passing. Everyone is at close quarters with everyone else. There’s no more glamour. Everything’s indefinite and blurred except sex, so people are instinctively turning to that with a rather jaded vigor. It’s pathetic when you begin to analyze it.

It means sacrificing a good deal of work here in London. I’ve only just got my foot in, really.

I don’t feel equal to it at the moment—all the vile publicity, and the lascivious curiosity leveled at Carol and me. It makes me shudder to think of it.

If I felt vindictive toward Carol it would be so much easier. But I don’t—I merely feel nauseated and frightfully, frightfully bored.

No; but I could be again if everything were all right. Oh, Zoe, I loathe this age and everything to do with it. Men of my sort are the products of over-civilization. All the red-blooded honest-to-God emotions have been squeezed out of us. We’re incapable of hating enough or loving enough. When any big moment comes along, good or bad, we hedge round it, arguing, weighing it in the balance of reason and psychology, trying to readjust the values until there’s nothing left and nothing achieved. I wish I were primitive enough to thrash Carol and drive her out of my life forever—or strong enough to hold her—but I’m not; I’m just an ass—an intelligent spineless ass!

All the same, being the product of an Age equips you for grappling with it. You’ve got more chance as you are than, say, Evie Bathurst, for instance.

What does that matter? This situation could never happen to him. He wouldn’t let it.

You mustn’t place too much faith in the strong and silent, Edward. They crumple up quicker than any of us when confronted with something outside their very limited range.

Certainly I do. Our mutual boredom was verging on hatred—there was no hope of getting back, ever. What’s the use of going on with a thing that’s dead and done for? I decided to break free.

You don’t need much initiative. All you’ve got to do is wait for your opportunity, and grab it!

[Enter Evelyn Bathurst. He is tall, handsome, soldierly, and essentially masculine. His gaze is frank and correct.]

Splendid! I feel awfully guilty, though. I meant to have written and sympathized over all your beastly divorce business. Will you forgive me?

That’s uncommonly nice and right of him. Why this sudden burst of inferiority, Edward?

You never make any effort. Why don’t you come and play squash with me sometimes?

[Evelyn opens the door for her and she goes out. Edward stands looking after her thoughtfully.]

She faced all that divorce business very pluckily. Kenneth seems to have behaved like a pretty average swine.

I don’t think Zoe is particularly complicated. She’s always appeared to me to be pretty clear-headed and direct.

Yes. You live according to formulated codes, and you never try to look either under or over them. I do envy you.

Do you, really? Ever since we were at school I’ve always regarded you as being quite invulnerable.

I came here to-day with a purpose. I’m a bit worried. I want to talk to you seriously.

No, it isn’t; it’s exactly the same; it’s a situation that occurs over and over again with everybody. That’s why it’s such a bore.

She’s a human being, not an inanimate object over which I can assert legal rights.

I suppose you think that if I grabbed Carol by the hair of the head and banged her about and hurled abuse at her, she’d fall at my feet in ecstasies of adoration?

Oh, you can think me a red-blooded savage if you like, but I’m damned if I’d sit down quietly and let my wife make a fool of me.

You haven’t got a wife, Evie. If you had you’d probably be utterly vanquished quicker than anyone.

It isn’t rubbish. She’s the sort of woman who must attract people all the time. One conquest isn’t enough; she must go on and on.

I know it isn’t. We haven’t been pals all these years for nothing. You can’t deceive me as easily as that.

Evie, if you mention one word of all this to Carol or anyone in the world, I’ll never forgive you.

It isn’t that at all. I don’t like or dislike her. She never pays attention to me, anyhow.

It’s awfully sweet of you, Evie, to be so cross, but you really mustn’t be. I’m the one to get cross if necessary.

Remember what I said—you’re not to interfere. It’s my affair, and mine alone.

Hallo, Evie! [She shakes hands with him.] Are there any telephone messages for me, Edward?

You don’t know him like I do. I can always tell when he’s tired and overworked, can’t I, darling?

It’s all these people buzzing round him all day. Let’s go away, Edward, and have a real holiday—somewhere quiet.

No, I shan’t. I’m not going. They’re going to have that awful string quartette again. I suffered so acutely last time.

Right. I’ll go and dress. Don’t go, Evie. We might have a slight aperitif at one of your disreputable clubs before dinner.

No. I’m going to the Russian Ballet with Richard and Sheila. They’ve got a box or something.

Won’t you stay and talk for a moment. I haven’t seen you to speak to for ages.

Yes. You always have such a polite preoccupied air with me. It makes me feel terribly frivolous and shallow.

It’s true. You’re the kind of man who despises women dreadfully—I know you are.

I expect it’s because you’re so tremendously fond of Edward. One always feels that with one’s husband’s friends.

To think you’ve been building up the most frightful image of me in your mind all this time and I never knew.

You’ve never talked anything but commonplaces to me ever since I’ve known you.

Yes, I suppose you have, really, but I’ve always felt you thought me rather dull.

That’s refreshing! Most of the men I know don’t take things seriously enough.

Yes, I am—utterly wrapped up in my own affairs, then suddenly some one like you comes along and makes me realize all in a minute what a lot I’m missing.

You’re not missing much, really. It’s much better to remain yourself than try to be something you’re not.

I mean it honestly. You never can guess how tired I get by having the same sort of things said to me always.

I’d like better than anything in the world for you to come and dine with me quietly.

Oh, I know you can’t possibly; but it seems hard that the moment I begin to get to know you properly you’re whisked out of sight again.

Yes. I can put off the Challoners. They bore me stiff, anyway. I’d much rather talk to you.

Don’t be silly. It’ll be a mutual benefit. I’m bored and you’re bored. Where shall we dine?

The awful thing is I simply daren’t go anywhere where I’m likely to be seen.

Oh, let’s do that. And we can creep out somewhere afterward if we feel like it.

I’ve hurried. I know how impatient Evie is. Are you quite determined about the Harringtons, Carol?

[Edward and Evelyn go off. Carol lights a cigarette and goes to the telephone.]

Mayfair 7,065 please.... Yes. [A pause] Hallo! Is that you, Fay.... Yes. Can I speak to Harry? Oh yes, rather. I’ll hold on.... Harry.... Yes, it’s me. Look here, I can’t dine to-night, because I can’t, I feel too tired. I may not have looked tired this afternoon, but I tell you I am now.... Don’t be so annoying, Harry.... No, it isn’t that at all. I’m going to dine in bed.... No, don’t. I shall probably be asleep.... Well, of course, if you’re going to talk like that.... I’m afraid you’re developing into a bore, Harry. I’m so sorry! [She bangs down the receiver.] Silly fool!

The scene is Evelyn Bathurst’s flat. It is a manly apartment, furnished with precision but no imagination. There is a door up left opening into a small hall and thence to the front door. Up right is Evie’s bedroom and down left a service door. Between these two is the fireplace, in front of which is a large sofa and a couple of armchairs. The windows occupy the right wall. The table, center, is laid for two.

[When the curtain rises, it is about 9.15 p.m. and Blackwell is putting the finishing touches, which consist of a bowl of roses and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. He is regarding his handiwork pensively when there comes the sound of a key in the front door. After a moment Evelyn and Carol enter. Evelyn is wearing a dinner jacket; Carol, an elaborately simple dinner dress and cloak.]

I’m glad. Let me take your cloak. [He takes her cloak and lays it over a chair.] Cocktails please, Blackwell.

I’ve always seen you as a frightfully dazzling creature—always in demand—always rushing about.

I’m the plodding sort, you know—gets there in the end, but takes a long time about it.

Your life would never suit me, I know, but somehow it does sound rather fun, for a change.

And whenever I’m tired and sick of everything, I’ll come here and dine quietly like this.

No, I’m not; but it does look as though I were going to get more out of this than you.

Not at all. It’s a perfectly fair exchange. You’ve no idea how utterly weary I get every now and then.

[They look at each other in silence for a moment. Evelyn’s expression is faintly nonplused.]

[They shake hands across the table. Carol allows hers to remain in his a shade more than is strictly necessary.]

It wasn’t, really, but the woman in it fell in love with a man younger than herself and the Church of England didn’t like it.

Wasn’t it funny us talking this afternoon and you asking me to dine all in a minute?

You make me feel shy when you say things like that. It was just as lucky for me.

[Blackwell enters with partridges and attendant vegetables. He serves them during the ensuing dialogue.]

So I did. I remember he looked very wan when I came in. By the way, what were you two discussing so intently. I felt as though I were interrupting a Masonic meeting.

There’s no need to be so vehement about it; it wouldn’t have mattered if you had been.

It isn’t; it’s the other way round, really. I neglect Edward. You should have saved your lecture for me.

Exactly. That’s why I went to him, as I told you this afternoon. I always felt that you disliked me and thought me dull.

You did, all the same. You’d have crushed me to the earth if I’d dared mention the subject to you.

But I don’t want you to blame Edward and lecture him for something that’s not entirely his fault.

[They look at each other for a moment, Evelyn intently, Carol with a faintly wistful smile. Blackwell enters to collect the plates and serve the sweet—pêche Melba—which he does during ensuing dialogue.]

Don’t look so shocked. Of course it was. She’s been so brave and defiant over it. Men love that.

Thank Heaven I haven’t got your feminine intuition. It must complicate life dreadfully.

[Evelyn rises. When his back is toward her, an expression of extreme satisfaction flits across Carol’s face. By the time he has turned she is once again bravely melancholy.]

[She looks up at him with a weary smile. Blackwell enters and takes away the remains of the sweet.]

Am I? [He puts on a foxtrot and stands by the machine looking at her. After a pause she speaks.] I love this tune.

Don’t be ridiculous. It would be terribly funny if anyone suddenly came in and found us.

[While he does so, Carol looks at herself carefully in the glass over the mantelpiece.]

[They stand still, she surrendering herself to him, and holds up her face deliberately to be kissed.]

[He kisses her. They stand tightly clasped for a moment; then he firmly disentangles himself and turns off the gramophone.]

[She flings her cloak over her arm and goes toward the door. Evelyn stands between her and the door.]

And I’m damned if I’m going to stand by and see him cheapened and humiliated by you.

It is not beside the point! How dare you behave like this! If you were Edward’s Siamese twin you’ve no right to ask me here and insult me. You surely don’t imagine that by talking until you’re blue in[145] the face you could ever alter my life one way or another. You’ve played a filthy second-rate trick on me and you think you did it for Edward’s sake, but all the time it was only to prove to yourself how clever you are. You’ve got to let me go now—at once. Do you hear? If not I’ll scream the place down. [She rises and makes a dash for the door. He intercepts her. She struggles. He grasps her wrist.] Let me go. Help! Help!

[He puts his hand over her mouth and drags her back to the sofa, upon which she collapses, sobbing.]

You’d better have some. Stay where you are. [He goes over and pours out a glass of brandy and brings it to her.] Here—sit up.

[He puts his arm round her to lift her up. She wriggles free of him, sits up quickly by herself, snatches the glass from his hand and flings it into the fireplace.]

You’re on the verge of ruining the life of one of the best men that ever lived.

I’ve made it my business. What you attempted to-night with me you’ve accomplished with other men—you’ve flirted and encouraged them to make love to you, and in many cases you’ve given yourself to them—

I don’t want you to deny it or affirm it. I know it’s true, but I don’t think Edward does; he loves you too much to believe it possible, and my object in playing on you this second-rate trick, as you call it, is to make you realize what a hideous mess you’re making[148] both of his life and your own. [During this speech Carol is looking at Evie intently. He begins to stride up and down while he talks.] Edward’s too sensitive and reserved to fight for his own rights. I’ve known for ages that he wasn’t happy—that something was weighing on his mind. To-day I asked him plump out and he admitted—

You think it funny that I should make an attempt to defend the honor of my best friend, who is too shamed by your utter wantonness to defend himself—

You’re deliberately ruining his reputation and wrecking his happiness because you never make the slightest effort to control your rotten passions—

Dare! I’ll say it again and again. Rotten passions! All you live for, all you think of—women of your type can’t exist without men—men—nothing but men all the time—

Stop! Stop! You shan’t say any more. [She gives him a ringing slap on the face. He stands quite still.] Cad! cad! unutterable cad! [She[151] gives him another slap between each word. He remains motionless. They stand facing each other. Carol puts her hand to her head.] I think—I think I’m going to be ill.

[She falls in a heap at his feet. He carries her back to the sofa. He deposits her there and rushes to get some more brandy. When his back is turned she lifts her head sharply and looks at him, then lets it drop attractively against the side of the sofa. He returns and ministers the brandy. After a slight pause she opens her eyes and sits up and finishes the brandy.]

You’d better wait a moment until you feel stronger. I won’t say any more—I promise.

I understand why you did it. It’s not that I’m crying for. It’s—it’s— O God!

The things you’ve said to me are right—I have been shallow and cheap; but there’s a reason that you don’t know.

You’ve heard Edward’s side of the story and you’ve mixed yourself up in our lives—more than ever now. It’s only fair for you to hear my side, too—

I’ll hear your side if you want me to, but what’s the use of going on any further?

[She comes back to the sofa and leans against it, looking at him. Her face is pale and she looks extremely sad and quite lovely.]

[He sits down on the sofa and stares into the fire. Carol stands just behind him with her hands resting on his shoulders. Both their faces are half turned to the audience. She speaks very slowly.]

You’ve been pretty brutal to me to-night and some of the hard things you said I deserve, but not all of them. I’m selfish and occasionally cheap and rather vain—and I have been unfaithful to my husband, but not before he had been unfaithful to me—

I mean exactly what I say. I was completely faithful to Edward until eighteen months ago, when I discovered that he was having an affair with Zoe St. Merryn—

I suspected for a little while and said nothing until I could bear it no longer; then I asked Edward and he admitted it—

Why? Edward’s awfully weak, and Zoe—[She laughs sadly.] Will you turn around again now, please. [Evelyn does so and buries his face in his hands.] Don’t be upset about it, Evie—it’s between[159] Edward and me, really, and nobody knew—until now. I made him swear never to tell a soul, otherwise he’d have told you ages ago—he always tells you everything. I’ve behaved rather badly since then, I know, but something went dead, inside me and—well, it doesn’t seem to matter much, does it?

It’s all right—don’t be afraid. I’m going now—but I didn’t want you to think me too cheap—that’s all.

Good night, my dear. [She comes to him and kisses him gently on the mouth. Suddenly he crushes her to him. After a moment she disentangles herself.] No, no! I didn’t mean it, really. I’m not going to be cheap any more. Stand quite still where you are, not looking. I don’t want you to move until I’ve gone.

[She goes out quietly, leaving him standing stock-still. After a moment the front door slams. Evelyn turns in the direction of the sound.]

[He goes over to the sofa and flings himself down on it, with his face buried in his hands. Carol comes softly in again. Her cloak is over her arm. She gives one look in his direction and then goes noiselessly into his bedroom, closing the door after her.]

The scene is the same as Act I. It is about twelve o’clock in the morning. One night has elapsed since Act II.

[When the curtain rises the studio is empty. There is the sound of the front-door bell ringing with some violence. Berry enters, R., and crosses over L. He exits and reappears in a moment, ushering in Evelyn. Evelyn is looking extremely white and strained.]

[Berry goes out. Evelyn proceeds to pace up and down the room a little. Berry returns with a whisky and soda.]

[He goes out again. Evelyn once more proceeds to pace up and down with the whisky and soda in his hand. He is obviously extremely agitated. After a moment Carol enters from R. She looks fresh and charming. She gives a slight start on seeing Evelyn.]

I love you—I love you. Tell what you like—shout it from the housetops. I love you!

It’s nothing of the sort, and if you calm yourself and think seriously for a moment, you’ll realize the complete absurdity of it. You must be sensible. Do you hear—you must be sensible. You’re on the verge of wrecking everything out of sheer hysteria.

Everything is wrecked already. I’ve got nothing left—no honor, no decency—

I gave myself to you completely and for one reason only—I loved you. I love you now.

You can help it. What you’re contemplating is utterly without reason. If you’re trying to vindicate your honor, you can’t seriously achieve it by betraying mine. We’ve both behaved abominably, I admit. We’ve both been weak and uncontrolled and given way completely and we shall suffer for it accordingly, you needn’t doubt that for a minute. We’re[181] in a terrible mess, but we’re in it together and together we must remain—

You’ll only succeed in making him suffer as well as yourself and me. Can’t you see the uselessness of it?

You must—so must I. It’s the just penalty for what we’ve done. You said just now you never[182] wanted to see me again. Well, I promise you you never shall—alone. You at least can go away. I can’t—I’ve got to stay and get through the next few months as best I can—

Nothing—nothing yet, anyhow. Think sensibly and quietly—everything depends on your keeping calm—

I don’t see how you could fail to unless you travel exclusively in the underground.

It’s so comforting to know that we both look so awfully well. Can I have a cigarette?

How annoying! Wait a minute. [She takes another box off a table, left.] Here—

Good-by. I’m sorry you’re so seedy. I’m afraid you’ve been overdoing it lately.

[Carol goes out. Zoe wanders round the room, smiling to herself, examining various portraits, etc. After a moment Edward enters.]

If you like. I’ve got to go to Sloane Street first and look at Mary Phillip’s house. She wants to let it to me.

I’m so old-fashioned—I like love stories without the slightest suggestion of sex.

You think I’d be happier if I bashed about making scenes and delivering ultimatums?

If I stay, we shall probably fall in love properly—we’re both at a perilous age.

It matters a lot. I’ve had enough squalor in the past few years to last me for life.

What difference does that make? Really, Edward, you’re being horribly flaccid over the whole thing!

[She goes out. Edward walks up and down irritably for a moment, then lights a cigarette and flings himself into an armchair. The telephone rings. He gives an exclamation of annoyance and rises to answer it.]

Hallo!... Yes—yes.... Who is it speaking?... No, I’m afraid you can’t. She isn’t very well—

Hallo!... Yes, it’s me.... No—no, I can’t. I’m sorry.... All right, if you like.... I’ll be in between six and seven.... Yes.... Good-by.

[She hangs up the receiver and looks toward Edward who has his back turned. She is about to go out again, when he turns.]

Sit down. This is not a scene—it’s a process of readjustment. Please let us keep it as brief as possible.

Carol, let me disillusion you. I’m not bluffing. I know. I’ve known for ages. It’s no use wasting time denying and arguing. We must decide what’s to be done about it.

You’re not being insulted—it’s I who have been insulted. You’ve been publicly underrating my intelligence for months.

The object, as I said before, is to get our relationship satisfactorily defined.

That’s charming of you—and fits in beautifully with your behavior during the last year.

I admit that it would be more comfortable for you if I just suffered and suffered in silence.

You’ve been unfaithful to me three times during the past year—Maurice Verney, Geoffrey Poole, and now Harry Challoner!

All three married men, which adds considerably to the general sordidness of the whole business.

I mean it. Whether the man happens to be married or single will not make the slightest difference.

Incidentally, I wish you to give up Harry Challoner entirely. I object to you even being seen with such a second-rate bounder.

We’ll both do our best to forget the whole thing. We can get along perfectly well together with a little effort.

[Carol goes slowly toward the door in silence. Her expression is very thoughtful. When she reaches the door she turns.]

It isn’t nonsense—it’s you I love really all the time. I hate Harry Challoner, really. I’ve been trying to break with him for ages. I made a vow weeks ago that I’d never be unfaithful to you again—honestly I did, I swear it. I’m sick of everybody. I wanted[221] to ask you to take me away abroad somewhere, but I didn’t dare—you had so much work to do—and you were so cold and horrid. Edward—Edward—you’ve got to love me again—you must. I shall go mad if you don’t. Please—Edward darling.

[She goes out slowly, still half sobbing. Edward heaves a sigh of mingled relief and irritation,[223] he again flings himself into an armchair. Then comes the sound of the front-door bell. He groans. Berry enters from R.]

Very good, sir. [He goes out L. After a moment he re-enters.] I’m very sorry, sir; it’s Major Bathurst. The porter downstairs told him you’d just come in; he’s called already this morning.

He isn’t. He’s in Cheltenham, but he sent me a wire saying I ought to go out there at once.

Look here, Edward, I came here this morning because I felt I owed it to our friendship to confess the truth to you—

Will you ask your mistress to come down immediately, please, Berry? It’s very important.

Shut up and don’t be an ass. You and Carol have brought about this abominable situation. It’s up to you to keep quiet and let me straighten it out in my own way.

Thank you. Now then—Evie, you asked Carol to dine with you alone at your flat?

You’re perfectly right, it is. I gather that the first part of the lesson, Evie, necessitated you making love to her. Am I right?

Tell me the truth, then, Carol. It will simplify matters considerably. Do you love Evie?

Because he insulted me and tried to humiliate me and I determined to show him that he wasn’t as clever as he thought he was.

Admirable. You, Evie, had the ineffable conceit to pit your meager experience of the world against an extremely attractive and obviously unscrupulous woman. You then give in to her completely despite the fact that she is the wife of your friend; and not content with that, you turn on her afterward, work yourself up into a frenzy of false melodramatic values, rush round here and blurt it out to me doubtless under the delusion that by uncovering the whole shameful business you are vindicating your own honor! Oh, Evie, what a pitiful fool you are!

It’s no use blackguarding me any more, is it? What are you going to do about it?

I’m afraid I’m a bitter disappointment to you both. You see emotionally I’m unmoved. The capacity for feeling very deeply over Carol died a long while ago.

That’s sheer cant. You’ve considerably over-estimated our friendship for years. If you care to analyze it honestly you’ll discover that we both bore one another stiff and always have. We were at school together—in different forms—since when we’ve dined together on an average of once a month. We’ve confided our troubles superficially for the want of something to talk about. We’re poles apart mentally and physically; we’ve built up this so-called great friendship on a basis of false tradition, and the only reason I realized it first is because my brain functions quicker than yours—

And I should like to add—having naturally a more acute sense of sex psychology than you—that the reason you took such a fatal interest in Carol’s morals was not on my account at all, but because she’d snubbed you severely several times and you were probably very much attracted to her.

Wait a moment. Let me explain. Carol, you and I have no longer the slightest justification for living together. If you go away abroad somewhere I will make it perfectly easy for you to divorce me. If you don’t agree to this, I shall file a petition against you at once, naming Evie as corespondent. That’s the second ultimatum I’ve delivered this morning and I’m feeling extremely tired.

That’s been hurled at me so often just lately that I’m honestly beginning to believe I am.

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The Project Gutenberg eBook of This was a man

“THIS WAS A MAN”

ERRATUM

“THIS WAS A MAN”

CHARACTERS

SCENES

ACT I

ACT II

ACT III

“THIS WAS A MAN”
Act One

ACT I

Scene I

Scene II

“THIS WAS A MAN”
Act Two

ACT II

“THIS WAS A MAN”
Act Three

ACT III

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of This was a man

“THIS WAS A MAN”

ERRATUM

“THIS WAS A MAN”

CHARACTERS

SCENES

ACT I

ACT II

ACT III

“THIS WAS A MAN” Act One

ACT I

Scene I

Scene II

“THIS WAS A MAN” Act Two

ACT II

“THIS WAS A MAN” Act Three

ACT III

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

“THIS WAS A MAN”
Act One

“THIS WAS A MAN”
Act Two

“THIS WAS A MAN”
Act Three