MRS HUSHABYE [to Lady Utterword]. Her father is a very remarkable man,
Addy. His name is Mazzini Dunn. Mazzini was a celebrity of some kind who
knew Ellie's grandparents. They were both poets, like the Brownings; and
when her father came into the world Mazzini said, "Another soldier born
for freedom!" So they christened him Mazzini; and he has been fighting
for freedom in his quiet way ever since. That's why he is so poor.

ELLIE. I am proud of his poverty.

MRS HUSHABYE. Of course you are, pettikins. Why not leave him in it, and
marry someone you love?

LADY UTTERWORD [rising suddenly and explosively]. Hesione, are you going
to kiss me or are you not?

MRS HUSHABYE. What do you want to be kissed for?

LADY UTTERWORD. I DON'T want to be kissed; but I do want you to behave
properly and decently. We are sisters. We have been separated for
twenty-three years. You OUGHT to kiss me.

MRS HUSHABYE. To-morrow morning, dear, before you make up. I hate the
smell of powder.

LADY UTTERWORD. Oh! you unfeeling--[she is interrupted by the return of
the captain].

THE CAPTAIN [to Ellie]. Your room is ready. [Ellie rises]. The sheets
were damp; but I have changed them [he makes for the garden door on the
port side].

LADY UTTERWORD. Oh! What about my sheets?

THE CAPTAIN [halting at the door]. Take my advice: air them: or take
them off and sleep in blankets. You shall sleep in Ariadne's old room.

LADY UTTERWORD. Indeed I shall do nothing of the sort. That little hole!
I am entitled to the best spare room.

THE CAPTAIN [continuing unmoved]. She married a numskull. She told me
she would marry anyone to get away from home.

LADT UTTERWORD. You are pretending not to know me on purpose. I will
leave the house.

Mazzini Dunn enters from the hall. He is a little elderly man with
bulging credulous eyes and earnest manners. He is dressed in a blue
serge jacket suit with an unbuttoned mackintosh over it, and carries a
soft black hat of clerical cut.

ELLIE. At last! Captain Shotover, here is my father.

THE CAPTAIN. This! Nonsense! not a bit like him [he goes away through
the garden, shutting the door sharply behind him].

LADY UTTERWORD. I will not be ignored and pretended to be somebody else.
I will have it out with Papa now, this instant. [To Mazzini]. Excuse me.
[She follows the captain out, making a hasty bow to Mazzini, who returns
it].

MRS HUSHABYE [hospitably shaking hands]. How good of you to come, Mr
Dunn! You don't mind Papa, do you? He is as mad as a hatter, you know,
but quite harmless and extremely clever. You will have some delightful
talks with him.

MAZZINI. I hope so. [To Ellie]. So here you are, Ellie, dear. [He draws
her arm affectionately through his]. I must thank you, Mrs Hushabye, for
your kindness to my daughter. I'm afraid she would have had no holiday
if you had not invited her.

MRS HUSHABYE. Not at all. Very nice of her to come and attract young
people to the house for us.

MAZZINI [smiling]. I'm afraid Ellie is not interested in young men, Mrs
Hushabye. Her taste is on the graver, solider side.

MRS HUSHABYE [with a sudden rather hard brightness in her manner]. Won't
you take off your overcoat, Mr Dunn? You will find a cupboard for coats
and hats and things in the corner of the hall.

MAZZINI [hastily releasing Ellie]. Yes--thank you--I had better-- [he
goes out].

MRS HUSHABYE [emphatically]. The old brute!

ELLIE. Who?

MRS HUSHABYE. Who! Him. He. It [pointing after Mazzini]. "Graver,
solider tastes," indeed!

ELLIE [aghast]. You don't mean that you were speaking like that of my
father!

MRS HUSHABYE. I was. You know I was.

ELLIE [with dignity]. I will leave your house at once. [She turns to the
door].

MRS HUSHABYE. If you attempt it, I'll tell your father why.

ELLIE [turning again]. Oh! How can you treat a visitor like this, Mrs
Hushabye?

MRS HUSHABYE. I thought you were going to call me Hesione.

ELLIE. Certainly not now?

MRS HUSHABYE. Very well: I'll tell your father.

ELLIE [distressed]. Oh!

MRS HUSHABYE. If you turn a hair--if you take his part against me and
against your own heart for a moment, I'll give that born soldier of
freedom a piece of my mind that will stand him on his selfish old head
for a week.

ELLIE. Hesione! My father selfish! How little you know--

She is interrupted by Mazzini, who returns, excited and perspiring.

MAZZINI. Ellie, Mangan has come: I thought you'd like to know. Excuse
me, Mrs Hushabye, the strange old gentleman--

MRS HUSHABYE. Papa. Quite so.

MAZZINI. Oh, I beg your pardon, of course: I was a little confused by
his manner. He is making Mangan help him with something in the garden;
and he wants me too--

A powerful whistle is heard.

THE CAPTAIN'S VOICE. Bosun ahoy! [the whistle is repeated].

MAZZINI [flustered]. Oh dear! I believe he is whistling for me. [He
hurries out].

MRS HUSHABYE. Now MY father is a wonderful man if you like.

ELLIE. Hesione, listen to me. You don't understand. My father and Mr
Mangan were boys together. Mr Ma--

MRS HUSHABYE. I don't care what they were: we must sit down if you are
going to begin as far back as that. [She snatches at Ellie's waist, and
makes her sit down on the sofa beside her]. Now, pettikins, tell me all
about Mr Mangan. They call him Boss Mangan, don't they? He is a Napoleon
of industry and disgustingly rich, isn't he? Why isn't your father rich?

ELLIE. My poor father should never have been in business. His parents
were poets; and they gave him the noblest ideas; but they could not
afford to give him a profession.

MRS HUSHABYE. Fancy your grandparents, with their eyes in fine frenzy
rolling! And so your poor father had to go into business. Hasn't he
succeeded in it?

ELLIE. He always used to say he could succeed if he only had some
capital. He fought his way along, to keep a roof over our heads
and bring us up well; but it was always a struggle: always the same
difficulty of not having capital enough. I don't know how to describe it
to you.

MRS HUSHABYE. Poor Ellie! I know. Pulling the devil by the tail.

ELLIE [hurt]. Oh, no. Not like that. It was at least dignified.

MRS HUSHABYE. That made it all the harder, didn't it? I shouldn't
have pulled the devil by the tail with dignity. I should have pulled
hard--[between her teeth] hard. Well? Go on.

ELLIE. At last it seemed that all our troubles were at an end. Mr Mangan
did an extraordinarily noble thing out of pure friendship for my father
and respect for his character. He asked him how much capital he wanted,
and gave it to him. I don't mean that he lent it to him, or that he
invested it in his business. He just simply made him a present of it.
Wasn't that splendid of him?

MRS HUSHABYE. On condition that you married him?

ELLIE. Oh, no, no, no! This was when I was a child. He had never even
seen me: he never came to our house. It was absolutely disinterested.
Pure generosity.

MRS HUSHABYE. Oh! I beg the gentleman's pardon. Well, what became of the
money?

ELLIE. We all got new clothes and moved into another house. And I went
to another school for two years.

MRS HUSHABYE. Only two years?

ELLIE. That was all: for at the end of two years my father was utterly
ruined.

MRS HUSHABYE. How?

ELLIE. I don't know. I never could understand. But it was dreadful. When
we were poor my father had never been in debt. But when he launched out
into business on a large scale, he had to incur liabilities. When the
business went into liquidation he owed more money than Mr Mangan had
given him.

MRS HUSHABYE. Bit off more than he could chew, I suppose.

ELLIE. I think you are a little unfeeling about it.

MRS HUSHABYE. My pettikins, you mustn't mind my way of talking. I was
quite as sensitive and particular as you once; but I have picked up
so much slang from the children that I am really hardly presentable. I
suppose your father had no head for business, and made a mess of it.

ELLIE. Oh, that just shows how entirely you are mistaken about him. The
business turned out a great success. It now pays forty-four per cent
after deducting the excess profits tax.

MRS HUSHABYE. Then why aren't you rolling in money?

ELLIE. I don't know. It seems very unfair to me. You see, my father
was made bankrupt. It nearly broke his heart, because he had persuaded
several of his friends to put money into the business. He was sure it
would succeed; and events proved that he was quite right. But they all
lost their money. It was dreadful. I don't know what we should have done
but for Mr Mangan.

MRS HUSHABYE. What! Did the Boss come to the rescue again, after all his
money being thrown away?

ELLIE. He did indeed, and never uttered a reproach to my father. He
bought what was left of the business--the buildings and the machinery
and things--from the official trustee for enough money to enable my
father to pay six-and-eight-pence in the pound and get his discharge.
Everyone pitied Papa so much, and saw so plainly that he was an
honorable man, that they let him off at six-and-eight-pence instead
of ten shillings. Then Mr. Mangan started a company to take up the
business, and made my father a manager in it to save us from starvation;
for I wasn't earning anything then.

MRS. HUSHABYE. Quite a romance. And when did the Boss develop the tender
passion?

ELLIE. Oh, that was years after, quite lately. He took the chair one
night at a sort of people's concert. I was singing there. As an amateur,
you know: half a guinea for expenses and three songs with three encores.
He was so pleased with my singing that he asked might he walk home with
me. I never saw anyone so taken aback as he was when I took him home and
introduced him to my father, his own manager. It was then that my father
told me how nobly he had behaved. Of course it was considered a great
chance for me, as he is so rich. And--and--we drifted into a sort
of understanding--I suppose I should call it an engagement--[she is
distressed and cannot go on].

MRS HUSHABYE [rising and marching about]. You may have drifted into it;
but you will bounce out of it, my pettikins, if I am to have anything to
do with it.

ELLIE [hopelessly]. No: it's no use. I am bound in honor and gratitude.
I will go through with it.

MRS HUSHABYE [behind the sofa, scolding down at her]. You know, of
course, that it's not honorable or grateful to marry a man you don't
love. Do you love this Mangan man?

ELLIE. Yes. At least--

MRS HUSHABYE. I don't want to know about "at least": I want to know
the worst. Girls of your age fall in love with all sorts of impossible
people, especially old people.

ELLIE. I like Mr Mangan very much; and I shall always be--

MRS HUSHABYE [impatiently completing the sentence and prancing away
intolerantly to starboard]. --grateful to him for his kindness to dear
father. I know. Anybody else?

ELLIE. What do you mean?

MRS HUSHABYE. Anybody else? Are you in love with anybody else?

ELLIE. Of course not.

MRS HUSHABYE. Humph! [The book on the drawing-table catches her eye. She
picks it up, and evidently finds the title very unexpected. She looks at
Ellie, and asks, quaintly] Quite sure you're not in love with an actor?

ELLIE. No, no. Why? What put such a thing into your head?

MRS HUSHABYE. This is yours, isn't it? Why else should you be reading
Othello?

ELLIE. My father taught me to love Shakespeare.

MRS HUSHAYE [flinging the book down on the table]. Really! your father
does seem to be about the limit.

ELLIE [naively]. Do you never read Shakespeare, Hesione? That seems to
me so extraordinary. I like Othello.

MRS HUSHABYE. Do you, indeed? He was jealous, wasn't he?

ELLIE. Oh, not that. I think all the part about jealousy is horrible.
But don't you think it must have been a wonderful experience for
Desdemona, brought up so quietly at home, to meet a man who had been
out in the world doing all sorts of brave things and having terrible
adventures, and yet finding something in her that made him love to sit
and talk with her and tell her about them?

MRS HUSHABYE. That's your idea of romance, is it?

ELLIE. Not romance, exactly. It might really happen.

Ellie's eyes show that she is not arguing, but in a daydream. Mrs
Hushabye, watching her inquisitively, goes deliberately back to the sofa
and resumes her seat beside her.

MRS HUSHABYE. Ellie darling, have you noticed that some of those stories
that Othello told Desdemona couldn't have happened--?

ELLIE. Oh, no. Shakespeare thought they could have happened.

MRS HUSHABYE. Hm! Desdemona thought they could have happened. But they
didn't.

ELLIE. Why do you look so enigmatic about it? You are such a sphinx: I
never know what you mean.

MRS HUSHABYE. Desdemona would have found him out if she had lived, you
know. I wonder was that why he strangled her!

ELLIE. Othello was not telling lies.

MRS HUSHABYE. How do you know?

ELLIE. Shakespeare would have said if he was. Hesione, there are men who
have done wonderful things: men like Othello, only, of course, white,
and very handsome, and--

MRS HUSHABYE. Ah! Now we're coming to it. Tell me all about him. I knew
there must be somebody, or you'd never have been so miserable about
Mangan: you'd have thought it quite a lark to marry him.

ELLIE [blushing vividly]. Hesione, you are dreadful. But I don't want to
make a secret of it, though of course I don't tell everybody. Besides, I
don't know him.

MRS HUSHABYE. Don't know him! What does that mean?

ELLIE. Well, of course I know him to speak to.

MRS HUSHABYE. But you want to know him ever so much more intimately, eh?

ELLIE. No, no: I know him quite--almost intimately.

MRS HUSHABYE. You don't know him; and you know him almost intimately.
How lucid!

ELLIE. I mean that he does not call on us. I--I got into conversation
with him by chance at a concert.

MRS HUSHABYE. You seem to have rather a gay time at your concerts,
Ellie.

ELLIE. Not at all: we talk to everyone in the greenroom waiting for our
turns. I thought he was one of the artists: he looked so splendid. But
he was only one of the committee. I happened to tell him that I was
copying a picture at the National Gallery. I make a little money that
way. I can't paint much; but as it's always the same picture I can do it
pretty quickly and get two or three pounds for it. It happened that he
came to the National Gallery one day.

MRS HUSHABYE. One students' day. Paid sixpence to stumble about through
a crowd of easels, when he might have come in next day for nothing and
found the floor clear! Quite by accident?

ELLIE [triumphantly]. No. On purpose. He liked talking to me. He knows
lots of the most splendid people. Fashionable women who are all in love
with him. But he ran away from them to see me at the National Gallery
and persuade me to come with him for a drive round Richmond Park in a
taxi.

MRS HUSHABYE. My pettikins, you have been going it. It's wonderful what
you good girls can do without anyone saying a word.

ELLIE. I am not in society, Hesione. If I didn't make acquaintances in
that way I shouldn't have any at all.

MRS HUSHABYE. Well, no harm if you know how to take care of yourself.
May I ask his name?

ELLIE [slowly and musically]. Marcus Darnley.

MRS HUSHABYE [echoing the music]. Marcus Darnley! What a splendid name!

ELLIE. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. I think so too; but I was afraid it
was only a silly fancy of my own.

MRS HUSHABYE. Hm! Is he one of the Aberdeen Darnleys?

ELLIE. Nobody knows. Just fancy! He was found in an antique chest--

MRS HUSHABYE. A what?

ELLIE. An antique chest, one summer morning in a rose garden, after a
night of the most terrible thunderstorm.

MRS HUSHABYE. What on earth was he doing in the chest? Did he get into
it because he was afraid of the lightning?

ELLIE. Oh, no, no: he was a baby. The name Marcus Darnley was
embroidered on his baby clothes. And five hundred pounds in gold.

MRS HUSHABYE [Looking hard at her]. Ellie!

ELLIE. The garden of the Viscount--

MRS HUSHABYE. --de Rougemont?

ELLIE [innocently]. No: de Larochejaquelin. A French family. A vicomte.
His life has been one long romance. A tiger--

MRS HUSHABYE. Slain by his own hand?

ELLIE. Oh, no: nothing vulgar like that. He saved the life of the tiger
from a hunting party: one of King Edward's hunting parties in India.
The King was furious: that was why he never had his military services
properly recognized. But he doesn't care. He is a Socialist and despises
rank, and has been in three revolutions fighting on the barricades.

MRS HUSHABYE. How can you sit there telling me such lies? You, Ellie, of
all people! And I thought you were a perfectly simple, straightforward,
good girl.

ELLIE [rising, dignified but very angry]. Do you mean you don't believe
me?

MRS HUSHABYE. Of course I don't believe you. You're inventing every word
of it. Do you take me for a fool?

Ellie stares at her. Her candor is so obvious that Mrs Hushabye is
puzzled.

ELLIE. Goodbye, Hesione. I'm very sorry. I see now that it sounds very
improbable as I tell it. But I can't stay if you think that way about
me.

MRS HUSHABYE [catching her dress]. You shan't go. I couldn't be so
mistaken: I know too well what liars are like. Somebody has really told
you all this.

ELLIE [flushing]. Hesione, don't say that you don't believe him. I
couldn't bear that.

MRS HUSHABYE [soothing her]. Of course I believe him, dearest. But you
should have broken it to me by degrees. [Drawing her back to her seat].
Now tell me all about him. Are you in love with him?

ELLIE. Oh, no. I'm not so foolish. I don't fall in love with people. I'm
not so silly as you think.

MRS HUSHABYE. I see. Only something to think about--to give some
interest and pleasure to life.

ELLIE. Just so. That's all, really.

MRS HUSHABYE. It makes the hours go fast, doesn't it? No tedious waiting
to go to sleep at nights and wondering whether you will have a bad
night. How delightful it makes waking up in the morning! How much better
than the happiest dream! All life transfigured! No more wishing one had
an interesting book to read, because life is so much happier than any
book! No desire but to be alone and not to have to talk to anyone: to be
alone and just think about it.

ELLIE [embracing her]. Hesione, you are a witch. How do you know? Oh,
you are the most sympathetic woman in the world!

MRS HUSHABYE [caressing her]. Pettikins, my pettikins, how I envy you!
and how I pity you!

ELLIE. Pity me! Oh, why?

A very handsome man of fifty, with mousquetaire moustaches, wearing
a rather dandified curly brimmed hat, and carrying an elaborate
walking-stick, comes into the room from the hall, and stops short at
sight of the women on the sofa.

ELLIE [seeing him and rising in glad surprise]. Oh! Hesione: this is Mr
Marcus Darnley.

MRS HUSHABYE [rising]. What a lark! He is my husband.

ELLIE. But now--[she stops suddenly: then turns pale and sways].

MRS HUSHABYE [catching her and sitting down with her on the sofa].
Steady, my pettikins.

THE MAN [with a mixture of confusion and effrontery, depositing his
hat and stick on the teak table]. My real name, Miss Dunn, is Hector
Hushabye. I leave you to judge whether that is a name any sensitive man
would care to confess to. I never use it when I can possibly help it. I
have been away for nearly a month; and I had no idea you knew my wife,
or that you were coming here. I am none the less delighted to find you
in our little house.

ELLIE [in great distress]. I don't know what to do. Please, may I speak
to papa? Do leave me. I can't bear it.

MRS HUSHABYE. Be off, Hector.

HECTOR. I--

MRS HUSHABYE. Quick, quick. Get out.

HECTOR. If you think it better--[he goes out, taking his hat with him
but leaving the stick on the table].

MRS HUSHABYE [laying Ellie down at the end of the sofa]. Now, pettikins,
he is gone. There's nobody but me. You can let yourself go. Don't try to
control yourself. Have a good cry.

ELLIE [raising her head]. Damn!

MRS HUSHABYE. Splendid! Oh, what a relief! I thought you were going to
be broken-hearted. Never mind me. Damn him again.

ELLIE. I am not damning him. I am damning myself for being such a fool.
[Rising]. How could I let myself be taken in so? [She begins prowling to
and fro, her bloom gone, looking curiously older and harder].

MRS HUSHABYE [cheerfully]. Why not, pettikins? Very few young women
can resist Hector. I couldn't when I was your age. He is really rather
splendid, you know.

ELLIE [turning on her]. Splendid! Yes, splendid looking, of course. But
how can you love a liar?

MRS HUSHABYE. I don't know. But you can, fortunately. Otherwise there
wouldn't be much love in the world.

ELLIE. But to lie like that! To be a boaster! a coward!

MRS HUSHABYE [rising in alarm]. Pettikins, none of that, if you please.
If you hint the slightest doubt of Hector's courage, he will go straight
off and do the most horribly dangerous things to convince himself
that he isn't a coward. He has a dreadful trick of getting out of one
third-floor window and coming in at another, just to test his nerve. He
has a whole drawerful of Albert Medals for saving people's lives.

ELLIE. He never told me that.

MRS HUSHABYE. He never boasts of anything he really did: he can't
bear it; and it makes him shy if anyone else does. All his stories are
made-up stories.

ELLIE [coming to her]. Do you mean that he is really brave, and really
has adventures, and yet tells lies about things that he never did and
that never happened?

MRS HUSHABYE. Yes, pettikins, I do. People don't have their virtues and
vices in sets: they have them anyhow: all mixed.

ELLIE [staring at her thoughtfully]. There's something odd about this
house, Hesione, and even about you. I don't know why I'm talking to
you so calmly. I have a horrible fear that my heart is broken, but that
heartbreak is not like what I thought it must be.

MRS HUSHABYE [fondling her]. It's only life educating you, pettikins.
How do you feel about Boss Mangan now?

ELLIE [disengaging herself with an expression of distaste]. Oh, how can
you remind me of him, Hesione?

MRS HUSHABYE. Sorry, dear. I think I hear Hector coming back. You don't
mind now, do you, dear?

ELLIE. Not in the least. I am quite cured.

Mazzini Dunn and Hector come in from the hall.

HECTOR [as he opens the door and allows Mazzini to pass in]. One second
more, and she would have been a dead woman!

MAZZINI. Dear! dear! what an escape! Ellie, my love, Mr Hushabye has
just been telling me the most extraordinary--

ELLIE. Yes, I've heard it [she crosses to the other side of the room].

HECTOR [following her]. Not this one: I'll tell it to you after dinner.
I think you'll like it. The truth is I made it up for you, and was
looking forward to the pleasure of telling it to you. But in a moment
of impatience at being turned out of the room, I threw it away on your
father.

ELLIE [turning at bay with her back to the carpenter's bench, scornfully
self-possessed]. It was not thrown away. He believes it. I should not
have believed it.

MAZZINI [benevolently]. Ellie is very naughty, Mr Hushabye. Of course
she does not really think that. [He goes to the bookshelves, and
inspects the titles of the volumes].

Boss Mangan comes in from the hall, followed by the captain. Mangan,
carefully frock-coated as for church or for a diHECTORs' meeting, is
about fifty-five, with a careworn, mistrustful expression, standing
a little on an entirely imaginary dignity, with a dull complexion,
straight, lustreless hair, and features so entirely commonplace that it
is impossible to describe them.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [to Mrs Hushabye, introducing the newcomer]. Says his
name is Mangan. Not able-bodied.

MRS HUSHABYE [graciously]. How do you do, Mr Mangan?

MANGAN [shaking hands]. Very pleased.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Dunn's lost his muscle, but recovered his nerve. Men
seldom do after three attacks of delirium tremens [he goes into the
pantry].

MRS HUSHABYE. I congratulate you, Mr Dunn.

MAZZINI [dazed]. I am a lifelong teetotaler.

MRS HUSHABYE. You will find it far less trouble to let papa have his own
way than try to explain.

MAZZINI. But three attacks of delirium tremens, really!

MRS HUSHABYE [to Mangan]. Do you know my husband, Mr Mangan [she
indicates Hector].

MANGAN [going to Hector, who meets him with outstretched hand]. Very
pleased. [Turning to Ellie]. I hope, Miss Ellie, you have not found the
journey down too fatiguing. [They shake hands].

MRS HUSHABYE. Hector, show Mr Dunn his room.

HECTOR. Certainly. Come along, Mr Dunn. [He takes Mazzini out].

ELLIE. You haven't shown me my room yet, Hesione.

MRS HUSHABYE. How stupid of me! Come along. Make yourself quite at home,
Mr Mangan. Papa will entertain you. [She calls to the captain in the
pantry]. Papa, come and explain the house to Mr Mangan.

She goes out with Ellie. The captain comes from the pantry.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. You're going to marry Dunn's daughter. Don't. You're
too old.

MANGAN [staggered]. Well! That's fairly blunt, Captain.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. It's true.

MANGAN. She doesn't think so.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. She does.

MANGAN. Older men than I have--

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [finishing the sentence for him].--made fools of
themselves. That, also, is true.

MANGAN [asserting himself]. I don't see that this is any business of
yours.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. It is everybody's business. The stars in their courses
are shaken when such things happen.

MANGAN. I'm going to marry her all the same.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. How do you know?

MANGAN [playing the strong man]. I intend to. I mean to. See? I never
made up my mind to do a thing yet that I didn't bring it off. That's the
sort of man I am; and there will be a better understanding between us
when you make up your mind to that, Captain.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. You frequent picture palaces.

MANGAN. Perhaps I do. Who told you?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Talk like a man, not like a movie. You mean that you
make a hundred thousand a year.

MANGAN. I don't boast. But when I meet a man that makes a hundred
thousand a year, I take off my hat to that man, and stretch out my hand
to him and call him brother.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Then you also make a hundred thousand a year, hey?

MANGAN. No. I can't say that. Fifty thousand, perhaps.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. His half brother only [he turns away from Mangan with
his usual abruptness, and collects the empty tea-cups on the Chinese
tray].

MANGAN [irritated]. See here, Captain Shotover. I don't quite understand
my position here. I came here on your daughter's invitation. Am I in her
house or in yours?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. You are beneath the dome of heaven, in the house of
God. What is true within these walls is true outside them. Go out on the
seas; climb the mountains; wander through the valleys. She is still too
young.

MANGAN [weakening]. But I'm very little over fifty.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. You are still less under sixty. Boss Mangan, you will
not marry the pirate's child [he carries the tray away into the pantry].

MANGAN [following him to the half door]. What pirate's child? What are
you talking about?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [in the pantry]. Ellie Dunn. You will not marry her.

MANGAN. Who will stop me?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [emerging]. My daughter [he makes for the door leading
to the hall].

MANGAN [following him]. Mrs Hushabye! Do you mean to say she brought me
down here to break it off?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [stopping and turning on him]. I know nothing more than
I have seen in her eye. She will break it off. Take my advice: marry
a West Indian negress: they make excellent wives. I was married to one
myself for two years.

MANGAN. Well, I am damned!

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. I thought so. I was, too, for many years. The negress
redeemed me.

MANGAN [feebly]. This is queer. I ought to walk out of this house.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Why?

MANGAN. Well, many men would be offended by your style of talking.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Nonsense! It's the other sort of talking that makes
quarrels. Nobody ever quarrels with me.

A gentleman, whose first-rate tailoring and frictionless manners
proclaim the wellbred West Ender, comes in from the hall. He has an
engaging air of being young and unmarried, but on close inspection is
found to be at least over forty.

THE GENTLEMAN. Excuse my intruding in this fashion, but there is no
knocker on the door and the bell does not seem to ring.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Why should there be a knocker? Why should the bell
ring? The door is open.

THE GENTLEMAN. Precisely. So I ventured to come in.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Quite right. I will see about a room for you [he makes
for the door].

THE GENTLEMAN [stopping him]. But I'm afraid you don't know who I am.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. DO you suppose that at my age I make distinctions
between one fellow creature and another? [He goes out. Mangan and the
newcomer stare at one another].

MANGAN. Strange character, Captain Shotover, sir.

THE GENTLEMAN. Very.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [shouting outside]. Hesione, another person has arrived
and wants a room. Man about town, well dressed, fifty.

THE GENTLEMAN. Fancy Hesione's feelings! May I ask are you a member of
the family?

MANGAN. No.

THE GENTLEMAN. I am. At least a connection.

Mrs Hushabye comes back.

MRS HUSHABYE. How do you do? How good of you to come!

THE GENTLEMAN. I am very glad indeed to make your acquaintance, Hesione.
[Instead of taking her hand he kisses her. At the same moment the
captain appears in the doorway]. You will excuse my kissing your
daughter, Captain, when I tell you that--

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Stuff! Everyone kisses my daughter. Kiss her as much
as you like [he makes for the pantry].

THE GENTLEMAN. Thank you. One moment, Captain. [The captain halts and
turns. The gentleman goes to him affably]. Do you happen to remember but
probably you don't, as it occurred many years ago-- that your younger
daughter married a numskull?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Yes. She said she'd marry anybody to get away from
this house. I should not have recognized you: your head is no longer
like a walnut. Your aspect is softened. You have been boiled in bread
and milk for years and years, like other married men. Poor devil! [He
disappears into the pantry].

MRS HUSHABYE [going past Mangan to the gentleman and scrutinizing him].
I don't believe you are Hastings Utterword.

THE GENTLEMAN. I am not.

MRS HUSHABYE. Then what business had you to kiss me?

THE GENTLEMAN. I thought I would like to. The fact is, I am Randall
Utterword, the unworthy younger brother of Hastings. I was abroad
diplomatizing when he was married.

LADY UTTERWORD [dashing in]. Hesione, where is the key of the wardrobe
in my room? My diamonds are in my dressing-bag: I must lock it
up--[recognizing the stranger with a shock] Randall, how dare you? [She
marches at him past Mrs Hushabye, who retreats and joins Mangan near the
sofa].

RANDALL. How dare I what? I am not doing anything.

LADY UTTERWORD. Who told you I was here?

RANDALL. Hastings. You had just left when I called on you at Claridge's;
so I followed you down here. You are looking extremely well.

LADY UTTERWORD. Don't presume to tell me so.

MRS HUSHABYE. What is wrong with Mr Randall, Addy?

LADY UTTERWORD [recollecting herself]. Oh, nothing. But he has no right
to come bothering you and papa without being invited [she goes to the
window-seat and sits down, turning away from them ill-humoredly and
looking into the garden, where Hector and Ellie are now seen strolling
together].

MRS HUSHABYE. I think you have not met Mr Mangan, Addy.

LADY UTTERWORD [turning her head and nodding coldly to Mangan]. I beg
your pardon. Randall, you have flustered me so: I make a perfect fool of
myself.

MRS HUSHABYE. Lady Utterword. My sister. My younger sister.

MANGAN [bowing]. Pleased to meet you, Lady Utterword.

LADY UTTERWORD [with marked interest]. Who is that gentleman walking in
the garden with Miss Dunn?

MRS HUSHABYE. I don't know. She quarrelled mortally with my husband only
ten minutes ago; and I didn't know anyone else had come. It must be a
visitor. [She goes to the window to look]. Oh, it is Hector. They've
made it up.

LADY UTTERWORD. Your husband! That handsome man?

MRS HUSHABYE. Well, why shouldn't my husband be a handsome man?

RANDALL [joining them at the window]. One's husband never is, Ariadne
[he sits by Lady Utterword, on her right].

MRS HUSHABYE. One's sister's husband always is, Mr Randall.

LADY UTTERWORD. Don't be vulgar, Randall. And you, Hesione, are just as
bad.

Ellie and Hector come in from the garden by the starboard door. Randall
rises. Ellie retires into the corner near the pantry. Hector comes
forward; and Lady Utterword rises looking her very best.

MRS. HUSHABYE. Hector, this is Addy.

HECTOR [apparently surprised]. Not this lady.

LADY UTTERWORD [smiling]. Why not?

HECTOR [looking at her with a piercing glance of deep but respectful
admiration, his moustache bristling]. I thought-- [pulling himself
together]. I beg your pardon, Lady Utterword. I am extremely glad
to welcome you at last under our roof [he offers his hand with grave
courtesy].

MRS HUSHABYE. She wants to be kissed, Hector.

LADY UTTERWORD. Hesione! [But she still smiles].

MRS HUSHABYE. Call her Addy; and kiss her like a good brother-in-law;
and have done with it. [She leaves them to themselves].

HECTOR. Behave yourself, Hesione. Lady Utterword is entitled not only to
hospitality but to civilization.

LADY UTTERWORD [gratefully]. Thank you, Hector. [They shake hands
cordially].

Mazzini Dunn is seen crossing the garden from starboard to port.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [coming from the pantry and addressing Ellie]. Your
father has washed himself.

ELLIE [quite self-possessed]. He often does, Captain Shotover.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. A strange conversion! I saw him through the pantry
window.

Mazzini Dunn enters through the port window door, newly washed and
brushed, and stops, smiling benevolently, between Mangan and Mrs
Hushabye.

MRS HUSHABYE [introducing]. Mr Mazzini Dunn, Lady Ut--oh, I forgot:
you've met. [Indicating Ellie] Miss Dunn.

MAZZINI [walking across the room to take Ellie's hand, and beaming at
his own naughty irony]. I have met Miss Dunn also. She is my daughter.
[He draws her arm through his caressingly].

MRS HUSHABYE. Of course: how stupid! Mr Utterword, my sister's--er--

RANDALL [shaking hands agreeably]. Her brother-in-law, Mr Dunn. How do
you do?

MRS HUSHABYE. This is my husband.

HECTOR. We have met, dear. Don't introduce us any more. [He moves away
to the big chair, and adds] Won't you sit down, Lady Utterword? [She
does so very graciously].

MRS HUSHABYE. Sorry. I hate it: it's like making people show their
tickets.

MAZZINI [sententiously]. How little it tells us, after all! The great
question is, not who we are, but what we are.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Ha! What are you?

MAZZINI [taken aback]. What am I?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. A thief, a pirate, and a murderer.

MAZZINI. I assure you you are mistaken.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. An adventurous life; but what does it end in?
Respectability. A ladylike daughter. The language and appearance of a
city missionary. Let it be a warning to all of you [he goes out through
the garden].

DUNN. I hope nobody here believes that I am a thief, a pirate, or a
murderer. Mrs Hushabye, will you excuse me a moment? I must really go
and explain. [He follows the captain].

MRS HUSHABYE [as he goes]. It's no use. You'd really better-- [but Dunn
has vanished]. We had better all go out and look for some tea. We
never have regular tea; but you can always get some when you want: the
servants keep it stewing all day. The kitchen veranda is the best place
to ask. May I show you? [She goes to the starboard door].

RANDALL [going with her]. Thank you, I don't think I'll take any tea
this afternoon. But if you will show me the garden--

MRS HUSHABYE. There's nothing to see in the garden except papa's
observatory, and a gravel pit with a cave where he keeps dynamite and
things of that sort. However, it's pleasanter out of doors; so come
along.

RANDALL. Dynamite! Isn't that rather risky?

MRS HUSHABYE. Well, we don't sit in the gravel pit when there's a
thunderstorm.

LADY UTTERORRD. That's something new. What is the dynamite for?

HECTOR. To blow up the human race if it goes too far. He is trying to
discover a psychic ray that will explode all the explosive at the well
of a Mahatma.

ELLIE. The captain's tea is delicious, Mr Utterword.

MRS HUSHABYE [stopping in the doorway]. Do you mean to say that you've
had some of my father's tea? that you got round him before you were ten
minutes in the house?

ELLIE. I did.

MRS HUSHABYE. You little devil! [She goes out with Randall].

MANGAN. Won't you come, Miss Ellie?

ELLIE. I'm too tired. I'll take a book up to my room and rest a little.
[She goes to the bookshelf].

MANGAN. Right. You can't do better. But I'm disappointed. [He follows
Randall and Mrs Hushabye].

Ellie, Hector, and Lady Utterword are left. Hector is close to Lady
Utterword. They look at Ellie, waiting for her to go.

ELLIE [looking at the title of a book]. Do you like stories of
adventure, Lady Utterword?

LADY UTTERWORD [patronizingly]. Of course, dear.

ELLIE. Then I'll leave you to Mr Hushabye. [She goes out through the
hall].

HECTOR. That girl is mad about tales of adventure. The lies I have to
tell her!

LADY UTTERWORD [not interested in Ellie]. When you saw me what did you
mean by saying that you thought, and then stopping short? What did you
think?

HECTOR [folding his arms and looking down at her magnetically]. May I
tell you?

LADY UTTERWORD. Of course.

HECTOR. It will not sound very civil. I was on the point of saying, "I
thought you were a plain woman."

LADY UTTERWORD. Oh, for shame, Hector! What right had you to notice
whether I am plain or not?

HECTOR. Listen to me, Ariadne. Until today I have seen only photographs
of you; and no photograph can give the strange fascination of the
daughters of that supernatural old man. There is some damnable quality
in them that destroys men's moral sense, and carries them beyond honor
and dishonor. You know that, don't you?

LADY UTTERWORD. Perhaps I do, Hector. But let me warn you once for all
that I am a rigidly conventional woman. You may think because I'm a
Shotover that I'm a Bohemian, because we are all so horribly Bohemian.
But I'm not. I hate and loathe Bohemianism. No child brought up in a
strict Puritan household ever suffered from Puritanism as I suffered
from our Bohemianism.

HECTOR. Our children are like that. They spend their holidays in the
houses of their respectable schoolfellows.

LADY UTTERWORD. I shall invite them for Christmas.

HECTOR. Their absence leaves us both without our natural chaperones.

LADY UTTERWORD. Children are certainly very inconvenient sometimes. But
intelligent people can always manage, unless they are Bohemians.

HECTOR. You are no Bohemian; but you are no Puritan either: your
attraction is alive and powerful. What sort of woman do you count
yourself?

LADY UTTERWORD. I am a woman of the world, Hector; and I can assure
you that if you will only take the trouble always to do the perfectly
correct thing, and to say the perfectly correct thing, you can do just
what you like. An ill-conducted, careless woman gets simply no chance.
An ill-conducted, careless man is never allowed within arm's length of
any woman worth knowing.

HECTOR. I see. You are neither a Bohemian woman nor a Puritan woman. You
are a dangerous woman.

LADY UTTERWORD. On the contrary, I am a safe woman.

HECTOR. You are a most accursedly attractive woman. Mind, I am not
making love to you. I do not like being attracted. But you had better
know how I feel if you are going to stay here.

LADY UTTERWORD. You are an exceedingly clever lady-killer, Hector. And
terribly handsome. I am quite a good player, myself, at that game. Is it
quite understood that we are only playing?

HECTOR. Quite. I am deliberately playing the fool, out of sheer
worthlessness.

LADY UTTERWORD [rising brightly]. Well, you are my brother-in-law,
Hesione asked you to kiss me. [He seizes her in his arms and kisses her
strenuously]. Oh! that was a little more than play, brother-in-law. [She
pushes him suddenly away]. You shall not do that again.

HECTOR. In effect, you got your claws deeper into me than I intended.

MRS HUBHABYE [coming in from the garden]. Don't let me disturb you; I
only want a cap to put on daddiest. The sun is setting; and he'll catch
cold [she makes for the door leading to the hall].

LADY UTTERWORD. Your husband is quite charming, darling. He has actually
condescended to kiss me at last. I shall go into the garden: it's cooler
now [she goes out by the port door].

MRS HUSHABYE. Take care, dear child. I don't believe any man can kiss
Addy without falling in love with her. [She goes into the hall].

HECTOR [striking himself on the chest]. Fool! Goat!

Mrs Hushabye comes back with the captain's cap.

HECTOR. Your sister is an extremely enterprising old girl. Where's Miss
Dunn!

MRS HUSHABYE. Mangan says she has gone up to her room for a nap. Addy
won't let you talk to Ellie: she has marked you for her own.

HECTOR. She has the diabolical family fascination. I began making love
to her automatically. What am I to do? I can't fall in love; and I can't
hurt a woman's feelings by telling her so when she falls in love with
me. And as women are always falling in love with my moustache I get
landed in all sorts of tedious and terrifying flirtations in which I'm
not a bit in earnest.

MRS HUSHABYE. Oh, neither is Addy. She has never been in love in her
life, though she has always been trying to fall in head over ears. She
is worse than you, because you had one real go at least, with me.

HECTOR. That was a confounded madness. I can't believe that such an
amazing experience is common. It has left its mark on me. I believe that
is why I have never been able to repeat it.

MRS HUSHABYE [laughing and caressing his arm]. We were frightfully in
love with one another, Hector. It was such an enchanting dream that I
have never been able to grudge it to you or anyone else since. I have
invited all sorts of pretty women to the house on the chance of giving
you another turn. But it has never come off.

HECTOR. I don't know that I want it to come off. It was damned
dangerous. You fascinated me; but I loved you; so it was heaven. This
sister of yours fascinates me; but I hate her; so it is hell. I shall
kill her if she persists.

MRS. HUSHABYE. Nothing will kill Addy; she is as strong as a horse.
[Releasing him]. Now I am going off to fascinate somebody.

HECTOR. The Foreign Office toff? Randall?

MRS HUSHABYE. Goodness gracious, no! Why should I fascinate him?

HECTOR. I presume you don't mean the bloated capitalist, Mangan?

MRS HUSHABYE. Hm! I think he had better be fascinated by me than by
Ellie. [She is going into the garden when the captain comes in from it
with some sticks in his hand]. What have you got there, daddiest?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Dynamite.

MRS HUSHABYE. You've been to the gravel pit. Don't drop it about the
house, there's a dear. [She goes into the garden, where the evening
light is now very red].

HECTOR. Listen, O sage. How long dare you concentrate on a feeling
without risking having it fixed in your consciousness all the rest of
your life?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Ninety minutes. An hour and a half. [He goes into the
pantry].

Hector, left alone, contracts his brows, and falls into a day-dream. He
does not move for some time. Then he folds his arms. Then, throwing his
hands behind him, and gripping one with the other, he strides tragically
once to and fro. Suddenly he snatches his walking stick from the teak
table, and draws it; for it is a swordstick. He fights a desperate
duel with an imaginary antagonist, and after many vicissitudes runs him
through the body up to the hilt. He sheathes his sword and throws it on
the sofa, falling into another reverie as he does so. He looks straight
into the eyes of an imaginary woman; seizes her by the arms; and says
in a deep and thrilling tone, "Do you love me!" The captain comes out
of the pantry at this moment; and Hector, caught with his arms stretched
out and his fists clenched, has to account for his attitude by going
through a series of gymnastic exercises.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. That sort of strength is no good. You will never be as
strong as a gorilla.

HECTOR. What is the dynamite for?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. To kill fellows like Mangan.

HECTOR. No use. They will always be able to buy more dynamite than you.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. I will make a dynamite that he cannot explode.

HECTOR. And that you can, eh?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Yes: when I have attained the seventh degree of
concentration.

HECTOR. What's the use of that? You never do attain it.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. What then is to be done? Are we to be kept forever in
the mud by these hogs to whom the universe is nothing but a machine for
greasing their bristles and filling their snouts?

HECTOR. Are Mangan's bristles worse than Randall's lovelocks?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER,. We must win powers of life and death over them both.
I refuse to die until I have invented the means.

HECTOR. Who are we that we should judge them?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. What are they that they should judge us? Yet they do,
unhesitatingly. There is enmity between our seed and their seed. They
know it and act on it, strangling our souls. They believe in themselves.
When we believe in ourselves, we shall kill them.

HECTOR. It is the same seed. You forget that your pirate has a very nice
daughter. Mangan's son may be a Plato: Randall's a Shelley. What was my
father?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. The damnedst scoundrel I ever met. [He replaces the
drawing-board; sits down at the table; and begins to mix a wash of
color].

HECTOR. Precisely. Well, dare you kill his innocent grandchildren?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. They are mine also.

HECTOR. Just so--we are members one of another. [He throws himself
carelessly on the sofa]. I tell you I have often thought of this killing
of human vermin. Many men have thought of it. Decent men are like Daniel
in the lion's den: their survival is a miracle; and they do not always
survive. We live among the Mangans and Randalls and Billie Dunns as
they, poor devils, live among the disease germs and the doctors and the
lawyers and the parsons and the restaurant chefs and the tradesmen and
the servants and all the rest of the parasites and blackmailers. What
are our terrors to theirs? Give me the power to kill them; and I'll
spare them in sheer--

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [cutting in sharply]. Fellow feeling?

HECTOR. No. I should kill myself if I believed that. I must believe that
my spark, small as it is, is divine, and that the red light over their
door is hell fire. I should spare them in simple magnanimous pity.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. You can't spare them until you have the power to kill
them. At present they have the power to kill you. There are millions
of blacks over the water for them to train and let loose on us. They're
going to do it. They're doing it already.

HECTOR. They are too stupid to use their power.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER [throwing down his brush and coming to the end of the
sofa]. Do not deceive yourself: they do use it. We kill the better half
of ourselves every day to propitiate them. The knowledge that these
people are there to render all our aspirations barren prevents us having
the aspirations. And when we are tempted to seek their destruction they
bring forth demons to delude us, disguised as pretty daughters, and
singers and poets and the like, for whose sake we spare them.

HECTOR [sitting up and leaning towards him]. May not Hesione be such a
demon, brought forth by you lest I should slay you?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. That is possible. She has used you up, and left you
nothing but dreams, as some women do.

HECTOR. Vampire women, demon women.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Men think the world well lost for them, and lose it
accordingly. Who are the men that do things? The husbands of the shrew
and of the drunkard, the men with the thorn in the flesh. [Walking
distractedly away towards the pantry]. I must think these things out.
[Turning suddenly]. But I go on with the dynamite none the less. I will
discover a ray mightier than any X-ray: a mind ray that will explode the
ammunition in the belt of my adversary before he can point his gun at
me. And I must hurry. I am old: I have no time to waste in talk [he is
about to go into the pantry, and Hector is making for the hall, when
Hesione comes back].

MRS HUSHABYE. Daddiest, you and Hector must come and help me to
entertain all these people. What on earth were you shouting about?

HECTOR [stopping in the act of turning the door handle]. He is madder
than usual.

MRS HUSHABYE. We all are.

HECTOR. I must change [he resumes his door opening].

MRS HUSHABYE. Stop, stop. Come back, both of you. Come back. [They
return, reluctantly]. Money is running short.

HECTOR. Money! Where are my April dividends?

MRS HUSHABYE. Where is the snow that fell last year?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Where is all the money you had for that patent
lifeboat I invented?

MRS HUSHABYE. Five hundred pounds; and I have made it last since Easter!

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Since Easter! Barely four months! Monstrous
extravagance! I could live for seven years on 500 pounds.

MRS HUSHABYE. Not keeping open house as we do here, daddiest.

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. Only 500 pounds for that lifeboat! I got twelve
thousand for the invention before that.

MRS HUSHABYE. Yes, dear; but that was for the ship with the magnetic
keel that sucked up submarines. Living at the rate we do, you cannot
afford life-saving inventions. Can't you think of something that will
murder half Europe at one bang?

CAPTAIN SHOTOVER. No. I am ageing fast. My mind does not dwell on
slaughter as it did when I was a boy. Why doesn't your husband invent
something? He does nothing but tell lies to women.

HECTOR. Well, that is a form of invention, is it not? However, you are
right: I ought to support my wife.

MRS HUSHABYE. Indeed you shall do nothing of the sort: I should never
see you from breakfast to dinner. I want my husband.

HECTOR [bitterly]. I might as well be your lapdog.