It is five o'clock of the same day. The scene is the smoking-room, with walls of Leander red, covered by old steeplechase and hunting prints. Armchairs encircle a high ferulered hearth, in which a fire is burning. The curtains are not yet drawn across mullioned windows, but electric light is burning. There are two doors, leading, the one to the billiard-room, the other to a corridor. BILL is pacing up and doom;
HAROLD, at the fireplace, stands looking at him with commiseration.
BILL. What's the time?
HAROLD. Nearly five. They won't be in yet, if that's any consolation. Always a tough meet--[softly] as the tiger said when he ate the man.
BILL. By Jove! You're the only person I can stand within a mile of me, Harold.
HAROLD. Old boy! Do you seriously think you're going to make it any better by marrying her?
[Bill shrugs his shoulders, still pacing the room.]
BILL. Look here! I'm not the sort that finds it easy to say things.
HAROLD. No, old man.
BILL. But I've got a kind of self-respect though you wouldn't think it!
HAROLD. My dear old chap!
BILL. This is about as low-down a thing as one could have done, I suppose--one's own mother's maid; we've known her since she was so high. I see it now that--I've got over the attack.
HAROLD. But, heavens! if you're no longer keen on her, Bill! Do apply your reason, old boy.
There is silence; while BILL again paces up and dozen.
BILL. If you think I care two straws about the morality of the thing.
HAROLD. Oh! my dear old man! Of course not!
BILL. It's simply that I shall feel such a d---d skunk, if I leave her in the lurch, with everybody knowing. Try it yourself; you'd soon see!
HAROLD. Poor old chap!
BILL. It's not as if she'd tried to force me into it. And she's a soft little thing. Why I ever made such a sickening ass of myself, I can't think. I never meant----HAROLD. No, I know! But, don't do anything rash, Bill; keep your head, old man!
BILL. I don't see what loss I should be, if I did clear out of the country. [The sound of cannoning billiard balls is heard] Who's that knocking the balls about?
HAROLD. John, I expect. [The sound ceases.]
BILL. He's coming in here. Can't stand that!
As LATTER appears from the billiard-room, he goes hurriedly out.
LATTER. Was that Bill?
HAROLD. Yes.
LATTER. Well?
HAROLD. [Pacing up and down in his turn] Rat in a cage is a fool to him. This is the sort of thing you read of in books, John! What price your argument with Runny now? Well, it's not too late for you luckily.
LATTER. What do you mean?
HAROLD. You needn't connect yourself with this eccentric family!
LATTER. I'm not a bounder, Harold.
HAROLD. Good!
LATTER. It's terrible for your sisters.
HAROLD. Deuced lucky we haven't a lot of people staying here! Poor mother! John, I feel awfully bad about this. If something isn't done, pretty mess I shall be in.
LATTER. How?
HAROLD. There's no entail. If the Governor cuts Bill off, it'll all come to me.
LATTER. Oh!
HAROLD. Poor old Bill! I say, the play! Nemesis! What? Moral!
Caste don't matter. Got us fairly on the hop.
LATTER. It's too bad of Bill. It really is. He's behaved disgracefully.
HAROLD. [Warningly] Well! There are thousands of fellows who'd never dream of sticking to the girl, considering what it means.
LATTER. Perfectly disgusting!
HAROLD. Hang you, John! Haven't you any human sympathy? Don't you know how these things come about? It's like a spark in a straw-yard.
LATTER. One doesn't take lighted pipes into strawyards unless one's an idiot, or worse.
HAROLD. H'm! [With a grin] You're not allowed tobacco. In the good old days no one would hive thought anything of this. My great-grandfather----LATTER. Spare me your great-grandfather.
HAROLD. I could tell you of at least a dozen men I know who've been through this same business, and got off scot-free; and now because Bill's going to play the game, it'll smash him up.
LATTER. Why didn't he play the game at the beginning?
HAROLD. I can't stand your sort, John. When a thing like this happens, all you can do is to cry out: Why didn't he--? Why didn't she--? What's to be done--that's the point!
LATTER. Of course he'll have to----.
HAROLD. Ha!
LATTER. What do you mean by--that?
HAROLD. Look here, John! You feel in your bones that a marriage'll be hopeless, just as I do, knowing Bill and the girl and everything!
Now don't you?
LATTER. The whole thing is--is most unfortunate.
HAROLD. By Jove! I should think it was!
As he speaks CHRISTINE and KEITH Come in from the billiard-room.
He is still in splashed hunting clothes, and looks exceptionally weathered, thin-lipped, reticent. He lights a cigarette and sinks into an armchair. Behind them DOT and JOAN have come stealing in.
CHRISTINE. I've told Ronny.
JOAN. This waiting for father to be told is awful.
HAROLD. [To KEITH] Where did you leave the old man?
KEITH. Clackenham. He'll be home in ten minutes.
DOT. Mabel's going. [They all stir, as if at fresh consciousness of discomfiture]. She walked into Gracely and sent herself a telegram.
HAROLD. Phew!
DOT. And we shall say good-bye, as if nothing had happened.
HAROLD. It's up to you, Ronny.
KEITH, looking at JOAN, slowly emits smoke; and LATTER passing his arm through JOAN'S, draws her away with him into the billiard-room.
KEITH. Dot?
DOT. I'm not a squeamy squirrel.
KEITH. Anybody seen the girl since?
DOT. Yes.
HAROLD. Well?
DOT. She's just sitting there.
CHRISTINE. [In a hard voice] As we're all doing.
DOT. She's so soft, that's what's so horrible. If one could only feel----!
KEITH. She's got to face the music like the rest of us.
DOT. Music! Squeaks! Ugh! The whole thing's like a concertina, and some one jigging it!
They all turn as the door opens, and a FOOTMAN enters with a tray of whiskey, gin, lemons, and soda water. In dead silence the FOOTMAN puts the tray down.
HAROLD. [Forcing his voice] Did you get a run, Ronny? [As KEITH nods] What point?
KEITH. Eight mile.
FOOTMAN. Will you take tea, sir?
KEITH. No, thanks, Charles!
In dead silence again the FOOTMAN goes out, and they all look after him.
