JULIA (with suppressed fury). You seem to have found a very
interesting book, Dr. Paramore. (They look up, astonished.) May I ask
what it is? (She stoops swiftly; snatches the book from Paramore; and
comes down to the table quickly to look at it whilst they rise in
amazement.) Good Words! (She flings it on the table and sweeps back
past Charteris, exclaiming contemptuously) You fool! (Paramore and
Grace, meanwhile, come from the recess; Paramore bewildered, Grace
very determined.)

CHARTERIS (aside to Julia as he gets out of the easy chair). Idiot!
She'll have you turned out of the club for this.

JULIA (terrified). She can't--can she?

PARAMORE. What is the matter, Miss Craven?

CHARTERIS (hastily). Nothing--my fault--a stupid, practical joke. I
beg your pardon and Mrs. Tranfield's.

GRACE (firmly). It is not your fault in the least, Mr. Charteris. Dr.
Paramore: will you oblige me by finding Sylvia Craven for me, if you
can?

PARAMORE (hesitating). But--

GRACE. I want you to go now, if you please.

PARAMORE (succumbing). Certainly. (He bows and goes out by the
staircase door.)

GRACE. You are going with him, Charteris.

JULIA. You will not leave me here to be insulted by this woman, Mr.
Charteris. (She takes his arm as if to go with him.)

GRACE. When two ladies quarrel in this club, it is against the rules
to settle it when there are gentlemen present--especially the
gentleman they are quarrelling about. I presume you do not wish to
break that rule, Miss Craven. (Julia sullenly drops Charteris's arm.
Grace turns to Charteris and adds) Now! Trot off.

CHARTERIS. Certainly, certainly. (He follows Paramore ignominiously.)

GRACE (to Julia, with quiet peremptoriness). Now: what have you to say
to me?

JULIA (suddenly throwing herself tragically on her knees at Grace's
feet). Don't take him from me. Oh don't--don't be so cruel. Give him
back to me. You don't know what you're doing--what our past has
been--how I love him. You don't know--

GRACE. Get up; and don't be a fool. Suppose anyone comes in and sees
you in that ridiculous attitude!

JULIA. I hardly know what I'm doing. I don't care what I'm doing: I'm
too miserable. Oh, won't you listen to me?

GRACE. Do you suppose I am a man to be imposed on by this sort of
rubbish?

JULIA (getting up and looking darkly at her). You intend to take him
from me, then?

GRACE. Do you expect me to help you to keep him after the way you have
behaved?

JULIA (trying her theatrical method in a milder form--reasonable and
impulsively goodnatured instead of tragic). I know I was wrong to act
as I did last night. I beg your pardon. I am sorry. I was mad.

GRACE. Not a bit mad. You calculated to an inch how far you could go.
When he is present to stand between us and play out the scene with
you, I count for nothing. When we are alone you fall back on your
natural way of getting anything you want--crying for it like a baby
until it is given to you.

JULIA (with unconcealed hatred). You learnt this from him.

GRACE. I learnt it from yourself, last night and now. How I hate to be
a woman when I see, by you, what wretched childish creatures we are!
Those two men would cut you dead and have you turned out of the club
if you were a man and had behaved in such a way before them. But
because you are only a woman, they are forbearing, sympathetic,
gallant--Oh, if you had a scrap of self-respect, their indulgence
would make you creep all over. I understand now why Charteris has no
respect for women.

JULIA. How dare you say that?

GRACE. Dare! I love him. And I have refused his offer to marry me.

JULIA (incredulous but hopeful). You have refused!

GRACE. Yes: because I will not give myself to any man who has learnt
how to treat women from you and your like. I can do without his love,
but not without his respect; and it is your fault that I cannot have
both. Take his love then; and much good may it do you! Run to him and
beg him to have mercy on you and take you back.

JULIA. Oh, what a liar you are! He loved me before he ever saw
you--before he ever dreamt of you, you pitiful thing. Do you think _I_
need go down on my knees to men to make them come to me? That may be
your experience, you creature with no figure: it is not mine. There
are dozens of men who would give their souls for a look from me. I
have only to lift my finger.

GRACE. Lift it then; and see whether he will come.

JULIA. How I should like to kill you! I don't know why I don't.

GRACE. Yes: you like to get out of your difficulties cheaply--at other
people's expense. It is something to boast of, isn't it, that dozens
of men would make love to you if you invited them?

JULIA (sullenly). I suppose it's better to be like you, with a cold
heart and a serpent's tongue. Thank Heaven, I have a heart: that is
why you can hurt me as I cannot hurt you. And you are a coward. You
are giving him up to me without a struggle.

GRACE. Yes, it is for you to struggle. I wish you success. (She turns
away contemptuously and is going to the dining-room door when Sylvia
enters on the opposite side, followed by Cuthbertson and Craven, who
come to Julia, whilst Sylvia crosses to Grace.)

SYLVIA. Here I am, sent by the faithful Paramore. He hinted that I'd
better bring the elder members of the family too: here they are.
What's the row?

GRACE (quietly). Nothing, dear. There's no row.

JULIA (hysterically, tottering and stretching out her arms to Craven).
Daddy!

CRAVEN (taking her in his arms). My precious! What's the matter?

JULIA (through her tears). She's going to have me expelled from the
club; and we shall all be disgraced. Can she do it, Daddy?

CRAVEN. Well, really, the rules of this club are so extraordinary that
I don't know. (To Grace.) May I ask, Mrs. Tranfield, whether you have
any complaint to make of my daughter's conduct?

GRACE. Yes, Colonel Craven. I am going to complain to the committee.

SYLVIA. I knew you'd overdo it some day, Julia. (Craven, at a loss,
looks at Cuthbertson.)

CUTHBERTSON. Don't look at me, Dan. Within these walls a father's
influence counts for nothing.

CRAVEN. May I ask the ground of complaint, Mrs. Tranfield?

GRACE. Simply that Miss Craven is essentially a womanly woman, and, as
such, not eligible for membership.

JULIA. It's false. I'm not a womanly woman. I was guaranteed when I
joined just as you were.

GRACE. By Mr. Charteris, I think, at your own request. I shall call
him as a witness to your thoroughly womanly conduct just now in his
presence and Dr. Paramore's.

CRAVEN. Cuthbertson: are they joking; or am I dreaming?

CUTHBERTSON (grimly). It's real, Dan: you're awake.

SYLVIA (taking Craven's left arm and hugging it affectionately). Dear
old Rip Van Winkle!

CRAVEN. Well, Mrs. Tranfield, all I can say is that I hope you will
succeed in establishing your complaint, and that Julia may soon see
the last of this most outrageous institution. (Sylvia, still caressing
his arm, laughs at him; Charteris returns.)

CHARTERIS (at the door). May I come in?

SYLVIA (releasing the Colonel). Yes: you're wanted here as a witness.
(Charteris comes in.) It's a bad case of womanliness.

GRACE (half aside to him, significantly). You understand. (Julia,
watching them jealously, leaves her father and gets close to
Charteris. Grace adds aloud) I shall expect your support before the
committee.

JULIA. If you have a scrap of manhood you will take my part.

CHARTERIS. But then I shall be expelled for being a manly man.
Besides, I'm on the committee myself; I can't act as judge and
witness, too. You must apply to Paramore: he saw it all.

GRACE. Where is Dr. Paramore?

CHARTERIS. Just gone home.

JULIA (with sudden resolution). What is Dr. Paramore's number in
Savile Row?

CHARTERIS. Seventy-nine. (Julia goes out quickly by the staircase
door, to their astonishment. Charteris follows her to the door, which
swings back in his face, leaving him staring after her through, the
glass. Sylvia runs to Grace.)

SYLVIA. Grace: go after her. Don't let her get beforehand with
Paramore. She'll tell him the most heartbreaking stories about how
she's been treated, and get him round completely.

CRAVEN (floundering). Sylvia! Is that the way to speak of your sister,
miss? (Grace squeezes Sylvia's hand to console her, and sits down
calmly. Sylvia posts herself behind Grace's chair, leaning over the
back to watch the ensuing colloquy between the three men.) I assure
you, Mrs. Tranfield, Dr. Paramore has just invited us all to take
afternoon tea with him; and if my daughter has gone to his house, she
is simply taking advantage of his invitation to extricate herself from
a very embarrassing scene here. We're all going there. Come, Sylvia.
(He turns to go, followed by Cuthbertson.)

CHARTERIS (in consternation). Stop! (He gets between Craven and
Cuthbertson.) What hurry is there? Can't you give the man time?

CRAVEN. Time! What for?

CHARTERIS (talking foolishly in his agitation). Well, to get a little
rest, you know--a busy professional man like that! He's not had a
moment to himself all day.

CRAVEN. But Julia's with him.

CHARTERIS. Well, no matter: she's only one person. And she ought to
have an opportunity of laying her case before him. As a member of the
committee, I think that's only just. Be reasonable, Craven: give him
half an hour.

CUTHBERTSON (sternly). What do you mean by this, Charteris?

CHARTERIS. Nothing, I assure you. Only common consideration for poor
Paramore.

CUTHBERTSON. You've some motive. Craven: I strongly advise that we go
at once. (He grasps the door handle.)

CHARTERIS (coaxingly). No, no. (He puts his hand persuasively on
Craven's arm, adding) It's not good for your liver, Craven, to rush
about immediately after lunch.

CUTHBERTSON. His liver's cured. Come on. Craven. (He opens the door.)

CHARTERIS (catching Cuthbertson by the sleeve). Cuthbertson, you're
mad. Paramore's going to propose to Julia. We must give him time: he's
not the man to come to the point in three minutes as you or I would.
(Turning to Craven) Don't you see?--that will get me out of the
difficulty we were speaking of this morning--you and I and
Cuthbertson. You remember?

CRAVEN. Now, is this a thing to say plump out before everybody,
Charteris? Confound it, have you no decency?

CUTHBERTSON (severely). None whatever.

CHARTERIS (turning to Cuthbertson). No--don't be unkind, Cuthbertson.
Back me up. My future, her future, Mrs. Tranfield's future, Craven's
future, everybody's future depends on our finding Julia Paramore's
affianced bride when we go over to Savile Row. He's certain to propose
if you'll only give him time. You know you're a kindly and sensible
man as well as a deucedly clever one, Cuthbertson, in spite of all
your nonsense. Say a word for me.

CRAVEN. I'm quite willing to leave the decision to Cuthbertson; and I
have no doubt whatever as to what that decision will be. (Cuthbertson
carefully shuts the door, and comes back into the room with an air of
weighty reflection.)

CUTHBERTSON. I am now going to speak as a man of the world: that is,
without moral responsibility.

CRAVEN. Quite so, Jo. Of course.

CUTHBERTSON. Therefore, though I have no sympathy whatever with
Charteris's views, I think we can do no harm by waiting--say ten
minutes or so. (He sits down.)

CHARTERIS (delighted). Ah, there's nobody like you after all,
Cuthbertson, when there's a difficult situation to be judged.

CRAVEN (deeply disappointed). Oh, well, Jo, if that is your decision,
I must keep my word and abide by it. Better sit down and make
ourselves comfortable, I suppose. (He sits also, under protest.)

CHARTERIS (fidgeting about). I can't sit down: I'm too restless. The
fact is, Julia has made me so nervous that I can't answer for myself
until I know her decision. Mrs. Tranfield will tell you what a time
I've had lately. Julia's really a most determined woman, you know.

CRAVEN (starting up). Well, upon my life! Upon my honor and
conscience!! Now really!!! I shall go this instant. Come on, Sylvia.
Cuthbertson: I hope you'll mark your sense of this sort of thing by
coming on to Paramore's with us at once. (He marches to the door.)

CHARTERIS (desperately). Craven: you're trifling with your daughter's
happiness. I only ask five minutes more.

CRAVEN. Not five seconds, sir. Fie for shame, Charteris! (He goes
out.)

CUTHBERTSON (to Charteris, as he passes him on his way to the door).
Bungler! (He follows Craven.)

SYLVIA. Serve you right, you duffer! (She follows Cuthbertson.)

CHARTERIS. Oh, these headstrong old men! (To Grace) Nothing to be done
now but go with them and delay the Colonel as much as possible. So I'm
afraid I must leave you.

GRACE (rising). Not at all. Paramore invited me, too, when we were
talking over there.

CHARTERIS (aghast). You don't mean to say you're coming!

GRACE. Most certainly. Do you suppose I will let that woman think I am
afraid to meet her? (Charteris sinks on a chair with a prolonged
groan.) Come: don't be silly: you'll not overtake the Colonel if you
delay any longer.

CHARTERIS. Why was I ever born, child of misfortune that I am! (He
rises despairingly.) Well, if you must come, you must. (He offers his
arm, which she takes.) By the way, what happened after I left you?

GRACE. I gave her a lecture on her behavior which she will remember to
the last day of her life.

CHARTERIS (approvingly). That was right, darling. (He slips his arm
round her waist.) Just one kiss--to soothe me.

GRACE (complacently offering her cheek). Foolish boy! (He kisses her.)
Now come along. (They go out together.)


END OF ACT III.





ACT IV

Sitting-room in Paramore's apartments in Savile Row.
The darkly respectable furniture is, so to speak, en
suite with Paramore's frock coat and cuffs. Viewing the
room from the front windows, the door is seen in the
opposite wall near the left hand corner. Another door,
a light, noiseless partition one covered with a green
baize, is in the right hand wall toward the back,
leading to Paramore's consulting room. The fireplace is
on the left. At the nearest corner of it a couch is
placed at right angles to the wall, settlewise. On the
right the wall is occupied by a bookcase, further
forward than the green baize door. Beyond the door is a
cabinet of anatomical preparations, with a framed
photograph of Rembrandt's School of Anatomy hanging on
the wall above it. In front, a little to the right, a
tea-table.

Paramore is seated in a round-backed chair, on castors,
pouring out tea. Julia sits opposite him, with her back
to the fire. He is in high spirits: she very downcast.

PARAMORE (handing her the cup he has just filled). There! Making tea
is one of the few things I consider myself able to do thoroughly well.
Cake?

JULIA. No, thank you. I don't like sweet things. (She sets down the
cup untasted.)

PARAMORE. Anything wrong with the tea?

JULIA. No, it's very nice.

PARAMORE. I'm afraid I'm a very bad entertainer. The fact is, I'm too
professional. I only shine in consultation. I almost wish you had
something the matter with you; so that you might call out my knowledge
and sympathy. As it is, I can only admire you, and feel how pleasant
it is to have you here.

JULIA (bitterly). And pet me, and say pretty things to me! I wonder
you don't offer me a saucer of milk at once?

PARAMORE (astonished). Why?

JULIA. Because you seem to regard me very much as if I were a Persian
cat.

PARAMORE (in strong remonstrance). Miss Cra--

JULIA (cutting him short). Oh, you needn't protest. I'm used to it:
It's the only sort of attachment I seem always to inspire.
(Ironically) You can't think how flattering it is!

PARAMORE. My dear Miss Craven, what a cynical thing to say! You! who
are loved at first sight by the people in the street as you pass. Why,
in the club I can tell by the faces of the men whether you have been
lately in the room or not.

JULIA (shrinking fiercely). Oh, I hate that look in their faces. Do
you know that I have never had one human being care for me since I was
born?

PARAMORE. That's not true, Miss Craven. Even if it were true of your
father, and of Charteris, who loves you madly in spite of your dislike
for him, it is not true of me.

JULIA (startled). Who told you that about Charteris?

PARAMORE. Why, he himself.

JULIA (with deep, poignant conviction). He cares for only one person
in the world; and that is himself. There is not in his whole nature
one unselfish spot. He would not spend one hour of his real life
with-- (a sob chokes her: she rises passionately, crying) You are all
alike, every one of you. Even my father only makes a pet of me. (She
goes away to the fireplace and stands with her back to him.)

PARAMORE (following her humbly). I don't deserve this from you: indeed
I do not.

JULIA (rating him). Then why do you talk about me with Charteris,
behind my back?

PARAMORE. We said nothing disparaging of you. Nobody shall ever do
that in my presence. We spoke of the subject nearest our hearts.

JULIA. His heart! Oh, God, his heart! (She sits down on the couch and
hides her face.)

PARAMORE (sadly). I am afraid you love him, for all that, Miss Craven.

JULIA (raising her head instantly). If he says that, he lies. If ever
you hear it said that I cared for him, contradict it: it is false.

PARAMORE (quickly advancing to her). Miss Craven: is the way clear for
me then?

JULIA (pettishly--losing interest in the conversation and looking
crossly into the fire). What do you mean?

PARAMORE (impetuously). You must see what I mean. Contradict the
rumour of your attachment to Charteris, not by words--it has gone too
far for that--but by becoming my wife. (Earnestly.) Believe me: it is
not merely your beauty that attracts me: (Julia, interested, looks up
at him quickly) I know other beautiful women. It is your heart, your
sincerity, your sterling reality, (Julia rises and gazes at him,
breathless with a new hope) your great gifts of character that are
only half developed because you have never been understood by those
about you.

JULIA (looking intently at him, and yet beginning to be derisively
sceptical in spite of herself). Have you really seen all that in me?

PARAMORE. I have felt it. I have been alone in the world; and I need
you, Julia. That is how I have divined that you, also, are alone in
the world.

JULIA (with theatrical pathos). You are right there. I am indeed alone
in the world.

PARAMORE (timidly approaching her). With you I should not be alone.
And you?--with me?

JULIA. You! (She gets quickly out of his reach, taking refuge at the
tea-table.) No, no. I can't bring myself-- (She breaks off, perplexed,
and looks uneasily about her.) Oh, I don't know what to do. You will
expect too much from me. (She sits down.)

PARAMORE. I have more faith in you than you have in yourself. Your
nature is richer than you think.

JULIA (doubtfully). Do you really believe that I am not the shallow,
jealous, devilish tempered creature they all pretend I am?

PARAMORE. I am ready to place my happiness in your hands. Does that
prove what I think of you?

JULIA. Yes: I believe you really care for me. (He approaches her
eagerly: she has a violent revulsion, and rises with her hand raised
as if to beat him off, crying) No, no, no, no. I cannot. It's
impossible. (She goes towards the door.)

PARAMORE (looking wistfully after her). Is it Charteris?

JULIA (stopping and turning). Ah, you think that! (She comes back.)
Listen to me. If I say yes, will you promise not to touch me--to give
me time to accustom myself to the idea of our new relations?

PARAMORE. I promise most faithfully. I would not press you for the
world.

JULIA. Then--then--yes: I promise. (He is about to utter his rapture;
she will not have it.) Now, not another word of it. Let us forget it.
(She resumes her seat at the table.) Give me some more tea. (He
hastens to his former seat. As he passes, she puts her left hand on
his arm and says) Be good to me, Percy, I need it sorely.

PARAMORE (transported). You have called me Percy! Hurrah! (Charteris
and Craven come in. Paramore hastens to meet them, beaming.) Delighted
to see you here with me, Colonel Craven. And you, too, Charteris. Sit
down. (The Colonel sits down on the end of the couch.) Where are the
others?

CHARTERIS. Sylvia has dragged Cuthbertson off into the Burlington
Arcade to buy some caramels. He likes to encourage her in eating
caramels: he thinks it's a womanly taste. Besides, he likes them
himself. They'll be here presently. (He strolls across to the cabinet
and pretends to study the Rembrandt photograph, so as to be as far out
of Julia's reach as possible.)

CRAVEN. Yes; and Charteris has been trying to persuade me that there's
a short cut between Cork Street and Savile Row somewhere in Conduit
Street. Now did you ever hear such nonsense? Then he said my coat was
getting shabby, and wanted me to go into Poole's and order a new one.
Paramore: is my coat shabby?

PARAMORE. Not that I can see.

CRAVEN. I should think not. Then he wanted to draw me into a dispute
about the Egyptian war. We should have been here quarter of an hour
ago only for his nonsense.

CHARTERIS (still contemplating Rembrandt). I did my best to keep him
from disturbing you, Paramore.

PARAMORE (gratefully). You have come in the nick of time. Colonel
Craven: I have something very particular to say to you.

CRAVEN (springing up in alarm). In private, Paramore: now really it
must be in private.

PARAMORE (surprised). Of course. I was about to suggest my consulting
room: there's nobody there. Miss Craven: will you excuse me: Charteris
will entertain you until I return. (He leads the way to the green
baize door.)

CHARTERIS (aghast). Oh, I say, hadn't you better wait until the others
come?

PARAMORE (exultant). No need for further delay now, my best friend.
(He wrings Charteris's hand.) Will you come, Colonel?

CRAVEN. At your service, Paramore: at your service. (Craven and
Paramore go into the consulting room. Julia turns her head and stares
insolently at Charteris. His nerves play him false: he is completely
out of countenance in a moment. She rises suddenly. He starts, and
comes hastily forward between the table and the bookcase. She crosses
to that side behind the table; and he immediately crosses to the
opposite side in front of it, dodging her.)

CHARTERIS (nervously). Don't, Julia. Now don't abuse your advantage.
You've got me here at your mercy. Be good for once; and don't make a
scene.

JULIA (contemptuously). Do you suppose I am going to touch you?

CHARTERIS. No. Of course not. (She comes forward on her side of the
table. He retreats on his side of it. She looks at him with utter
scorn; sweeps across to the couch; and sits down imperially. With a
great sigh of relief he drops into Paramore's chair.)

JULIA. Come here. I have something to say to you.

CHARTERIS. Yes? (He rolls the chair a few inches towards her.)

JULIA. Come here, I say. I am not going to shout across the room at
you. Are you afraid of me?

CHARTERIS. Horribly. (He moves the chair slowly, with great misgiving,
to the end of the couch.)

JULIA (with studied insolence). Has that woman told you that she has
given you up to me without an attempt to defend her conquest?

CHARTERIS (whispering persuasively). Shew that you are capable of the
same sacrifice. Give me up, too.

JULIA. Sacrifice! And so you think I'm dying to marry you, do you?

CHARTERIS. I am afraid your intentions have been honourable, Julia.

JULIA. You cad!

CHARTERIS (with a sigh). I confess I am something either more or less
than a gentleman, Julia. You once gave me the benefit of the doubt.

JULIA. Indeed! _I_ never told you so. If you cannot behave like a
gentleman, you had better go back to the society of the woman who has
given you up--if such a cold-blooded, cowardly creature can be called
a woman. (She rises majestically; he makes his chair fly back to the
table.) I know you now, Leonard Charteris, through and through, in all
your falseness, your petty spite, your cruelty and your vanity. The
place you coveted has been won by a man more worthy of it.

CHARTERIS (springing up, and coming close to her, gasping with
eagerness). What do you mean? Out with it. Have you accep--

JULIA. I am engaged to Dr. Paramore.

CHARTERIS (enraptured). My own Julia! (He attempts to embrace her.)

JULIA (recoiling--he catching her hands and holding them). How dare
you! Are you mad? Do you wish me to call Dr. Paramore?

CHARTERIS. Call everybody, my darling--everybody in London. Now I
shall no longer have to be brutal--to defend myself--to go in fear of
you. How I have looked forward to this day! You know now that I don't
want you to marry me or to love me: Paramore can have all that. I only
want to look on and rejoice disinterestedly in the happiness of
(kissing her hand) my dear Julia (kissing the other), my beautiful
Julia. (She tears her hands away and raises them as if to strike him,
as she did the night before at Cuthbertson's.) No use to threaten me
now: I am not afraid of those hands--the loveliest hands in the world.

JULIA. How have you the face to turn round like this after insulting
and torturing me!

CHARTERIS. Never mind, dearest: you never did understand me; and you
never will. Our vivisecting friend has made a successful experiment at
last.

JULIA (earnestly). It is you who are the vivisector--a far crueller,
more wanton vivisector than he.

CHARTERIS. Yes; but then I learn so much more from my experiments than
he does! And the victims learn as much as I do. That's where my moral
superiority comes in.

JULIA (sitting down again on the couch with rueful humour). Well, you
shall not experiment on me any more. Go to your Grace if you want a
victim. She'll be a tough one.

CHARTERIS (reproachfully sitting down beside her). And you drove me to
propose to her to escape from you! Suppose she had accepted me, where
should I be now?

JULIA. Where _I_ am, I suppose, now that I have accepted Paramore.

CHARTERIS. But I should have made Grace unhappy. (Julia sneers).
However, now I come to think of it, you'll make Paramore unhappy. And
yet if you refused him he would be in despair. Poor devil!

JULIA (her temper flashing up for a moment again). He is a better man
than you.

CHARTERIS (humbly). I grant you that, my dear.

JULIA (impetuously). Don't call me your dear. And what do you mean by
saying that I shall make him unhappy? Am I not good enough for him?

CHARTERIS (dubiously). Well, that depends on what you mean by good
enough.

JULIA (earnestly). You might have made me good if you had chosen to.
You had a great power over me. I was like a child in your hands; and
you knew it.

CHARTERIS (with comic acquiescence). Yes, my dear. That means that
whenever you got jealous and flew into a violent rage, I could always
depend on it's ending happily if I only waited long enough, and petted
you very hard all the time. When you had had your fling, and called
the object of your jealousy every name you could lay your tongue to,
and abused me to your heart's content for a couple of hours, then the
reaction would come; and you would at last subside into a soothing
rapture of affection which gave you a sensation of being angelically
good and forgiving. Oh, I know that sort of goodness! You may have
thought on these occasions that I was bringing out your latent
amiability; but I thought you were bringing out mine, and using up
rather more than your fair share of it.

JULIA. According to you, then, I have no good in me! I am an utterly
vile, worthless woman. Is that it?

CHARTERIS. Yes, if you are to be judged as you judge others. From the
conventional point of view, there's nothing to be said for you,
Julia--nothing. That's why I have to find some other point of view to
save my self-respect when I remember how I have loved you. Oh, what I
have learnt from you!--from you, who could learn nothing from me! I
made a fool of you; and you brought me wisdom: I broke your heart; and
you brought me joy: I made you curse your womanhood; and you revealed
my manhood to me. Blessings forever and ever on my Julia's name! (With
genuine emotion, he takes her hand to kiss it again.)

JULIA (snatching her hand away in disgust). Oh, stop talking that
nasty sneering stuff.

CHARTERIS (laughingly appealing to the heavens). She calls it nasty
sneering stuff! Well, well: I'll never talk like that to you again,
dearest. It only means that you are a beautiful woman, and that we all
love you.

JULIA. Don't say that: I hate it. It sounds as if I were a mere
animal.

CHARTERIS. Hm! A fine animal is a very wonderful thing. Don't let us
disparage animals, Julia.

JULIA. That is what you really think me.

CHARTERIS. Come, Julia: you don't expect me to admire you for your
moral qualities, do you? (She turns and looks hard at him. He starts
up apprehensively and backs away from her. She rises and follows him
up slowly and intently.)

JULIA (deliberately). I have seen you very much infatuated with this
depraved creature who has no moral qualities.

CHARTERIS (retreating). Keep off, Julia. Remember your new obligations
to Paramore.

JULIA (overtaking him in the middle of the room). Never mind Paramore:
that is my business. (She grasps the lappels of his coat in her hands,
and looks fixedly at him.) Oh, if the people you talk so cleverly to
could only know you as I know you! Sometimes I wonder at myself for
ever caring for you.

CHARTERIS (beaming at her). Only sometimes?

JULIA. You fraud! You humbug! You miserable little plaster saint! (He
looks delighted.) Oh! (In a paroxysm half of rage, half of tenderness,
she shakes him, growling over him like a tigress over her cub.
Paramore and Craven at this moment return from the consulting room,
and are thunderstruck at the spectacle.)

CRAVEN (shouting, utterly scandalized). Julia!! (Julia releases
Charteris, but stands her ground disdainfully as they come forward,
Craven on her left, Paramore on her right.)

PARAMORE. What's the matter?

CHARTERIS. Nothing, nothing. You'll soon get used to this, Paramore.

CRAVEN. Now really, Julia, this is a very extraordinary way to behave.
It's not fair to Paramore.

JULIA (coldly). If Dr. Paramore objects he can break off our
engagement. (To Paramore) Pray don't hesitate.

PARAMORE (looking doubtfully and anxiously at her). Do you wish me to
break it off?

CHARTERIS (alarmed). Nonsense! don't act so hastily. It was my fault.
I annoyed Miss Craven--insulted her. Hang it all, don't go and spoil
everything like this.

CRAVEN. This is most infernally perplexing. I can't believe that you
insulted Julia, Charteris. I've no doubt you annoyed her--you'd annoy
anybody; upon my soul you would--but insult!--now what do you mean by
that?

PARAMORE (very earnestly). Miss Craven; delicacy and sincerity I ask
you to be frank with me. What are the relations between you and
Charteris?

JULIA. Ask him. (She goes to the fireplace, her back on them.)

CHARTERIS. Certainly: I'll confess. I'm in love with Miss
Craven--always have been; and I've persecuted her with my addresses
ever since I knew her. It's been no use: she utterly despises me. A
moment ago the spectacle of a rival's happiness stung me to make a
nasty, sneering speech; and she--well, she just shook me a little, as
you saw.

PARAMORE (chivalrously). I shall never forget that you helped me to
win her, Charteris. (Julia quickly, a spasm of fury in her face.)

CHARTERIS. Sh! For Heaven's sake don't mention it.

CRAVEN. This is a very different story to the one you told Cuthbertson
and myself this morning. You'll excuse my saying that it sounds much
more like the the truth. Come: you were humbugging us, weren't you?

CHARTERIS. Ask Julia. (Paramore and Craven turn to Julia. Charteris
remains doggedly looking straight before him.)

JULIA. It's quite true. He has been in love with me; he has persecuted
me; and I utterly despise him.

GRAVEN. Don't rub it in, Julia: it's not kind. No man is quite himself
when he's crossed in love. (To Charteris.) Now listen to me,
Charteris. When I was a young fellow, Cuthbertson and I fell in love
with the same woman. She preferred Cuthbertson. I was taken aback: I
won't deny it. But I knew my duty; and I did it. I gave her up and
wished Cuthbertson joy. He told me this morning, when we met after
many years, that he has respected and liked me ever since for it. And
I believe him and feel the better for it. (Impressively.) Now,
Charteris, Paramore and you stand to-day where Cuthbertson and I stood
on a certain July evening thirty-five years ago. How are you going to
take it?

JULIA (indignantly). How is he going to take it, indeed! Really, papa,
this is too much. If Mrs. Cuthbertson wouldn't have you, it may have
been very noble of you to make a virtue of giving her up, just as you
made a virtue of being a teetotaller when Percy cut off your wine. But
he shan't be virtuous over me. I have refused him; and if he doesn't
like it he can--he can--

CHARTERIS. I can lump it. Precisely. Craven: you can depend on me.
I'll lump it. (He moves off nonchalantly, and leans against the
bookcase with his hands in his pockets.)

CRAVEN (hurt). Julia: you don't treat me respectfully. I don't wish to
complain; but that was not a becoming speech.

JULIA (bursting into tears and throwing herself into the large chair).
Is there anyone in the world who has any feeling for me--who does not
think me utterly vile? (Craven and Paramore hurry to her in the
greatest consternation.)

CRAVEN (remorsefully). My pet: I didn't for a moment mean--

JULIA. Must I stand to be bargained for by two men--passed from one to
the other like a slave in the market, and not say a word in my own
defence?

CRAVEN. But, my love--

JULIA. Oh, go away, all of you. Leave me. I--oh-- (She gives way to a
passion of tears.)

PARAMORE (reproachfully to Craven). You've wounded her cruelly,
Colonel Craven--cruelly.

CRAVEN. But I didn't mean to: I said nothing. Charteris: was I harsh?

CHARTERIS. You forget the revolt of the daughters, Craven. And you
certainly wouldn't have gone on like that to any grown up woman who
was not your daughter.

CRAVEN. Do you mean to say that I am expected to treat my daughter the
same as I would any other girl?

PARAMORE. I should say certainly, Colonel Craven.

CRAVEN. Well, dash me if I will. There!

PARAMORE. If you take that tone, I have nothing more to say. (He
crosses the room with offended dignity and posts himself with his back
to the bookcase beside Charteris.)

JULIA (with a sob). Daddy.

CRAVEN (turning solicitously to her). Yes, my love.

JULIA (looking up at him tearfully and kissing his hand). Don't mind
them. You didn't mean it, Daddy, did you?

CRAVEN. No, no, my precious. Come: don't cry.

PARAMORE (to Charteris, looking at Julia with delight). How
beautiful she is!

CHARTERIS (throwing up his hands). Oh, Lord help you, Paramore! (He
leaves the bookcase and sits at the end of the couch farthest from the
fire. Meanwhile Sylvia arrives.)

SYLVIA (contemplating Julia). Crying again! Well, you are a womanly
one!

CRAVEN. Don't worry your sister, Sylvia. You know she can't bear it.

SYLVIA. I speak for her good, Dad. All the world can't be expected to
know that she's the family baby.

JULIA. You will get your ears boxed presently, Silly.

CRAVEN. Now, now, now, my dear children, really now! Come, Julia: put
up your handkerchief before Mrs. Tranfield sees you. She's coming
along with Jo.

JULIA (rising). That woman again!

SYLVIA. Another row! Go it, Julia!

CRAVEN. Hold your tongue, Sylvia. (He turns commandingly to Julia.)
Now look here, Julia.

CHARTERIS. Hallo! A revolt of the fathers!

CRAVEN. Silence, Charteris. (To Julia, unanswerably.) The test of a
man or woman's breeding is how they behave in a quarrel. Anybody can
behave well when things are going smoothly. Now you said to-day, at
that iniquitous club, that you were not a womanly woman. Very well: I
don't mind. But if you are not going to behave like a lady when Mrs.
Tranfield comes into this room, you've got to behave like a gentleman;
or fond as I am of you, I'll cut you dead exactly as I would if you
were my son.

PARAMORE (remonstrating). Colonel Craven--

CRAVEN (cutting him short). Don't be a fool, Paramore.

JULIA (tearfully excusing herself). I'm sure, Daddy--

CRAVEN. Stop snivelling. I'm not speaking as your Daddy now: I'm
speaking as your commanding officer.

SYLVIA. Good old Victoria Cross! (Craven turns sharply on her; and she
darts away behind Charteris, and presently seats herself on the couch,
so that she and Charteris are shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite
ways. Cuthbertson arrives with Grace, who remains near the door whilst
her father joins the others.)

CRAVEN. Ah, Jo, here you are. Now, Paramore, tell 'em the news.

PARAMORE. Mrs. Tranfield--Cuthbertson--allow me to introduce you to my
future wife.

CUTHBERTSON (coming forward to shake hands with Paramore). My
heartiest congratulations! (Paramore goes to shake hands with Grace.)
Miss Craven: you will accept Grace's congratulations as well as mine,
I hope.

CRAVEN. She will, Jo. (In a tone of command.) Now, Julia. (Julia
slowly rises.)

CUTHBERTSON. Now, Grace. (He conducts her to Julia's right; then posts
himself on the hearthrug, with his back to the fire, watching them.
The Colonel keeps guard on the other side.)

GRACE (speaking in a low voice to Julia alone). So you have shewn him
that you can do without him! Now I take back everything I said. Will
you shake hands with me? (Julia gives her hand painfully, with her
face averted.) They think this a happy ending, Julia--these men--our
lords and masters! (The two stand silent, hand in hand.)

SYLVIA (leaning back across the couch, aside to Charteris). Has she
really chucked you? (He nods assent. She looks at him dubiously, and
adds) I expect you chucked her.

CUTHBERTSON. And now, Paramore, mind you don't stand any chaff from
Charteris about this. He's in the same predicament himself. He's
engaged to Grace.

JULIA (dropping Grace's hand, and speaking with breathless anguish,
but not violently). Again!

CHARTERIS (rising hastily). Don't be alarmed. It's all off.

SYLVIA (rising indignantly). What! You've chucked Grace too! What a
shame! (She goes to the other side of the room, fuming.)

CHARTERIS (following her and putting his hand soothingly on her
shoulder). She won't have me, old chap--that is (turning to the
others) unless Mrs. Tranfield has changed her mind again.

GRACE. No: we shall remain very good friends, I hope; but nothing
would induce me to marry you. (She goes to chair above the fireplace
and sits down with perfect composure.)

JULIA. Ah! (She sits down with a great sigh of relief.)

SYLVIA (consoling Charteris). Poor old Leonard!

CHARTERIS. Yes: this is the doom of the philanderer. I shall have to
go on philandering now all my life. No domesticity, no fireside, no
little ones, nothing at all in Cuthbertson's line! Nobody will marry
me--unless you, Sylvia--eh?

SYLVIA. Not if I know it, Charteris.

CHARTERIS (to them all). You see!

CRAVEN (coming between Charteris and Sylvia). Now you really shouldn't
make a jest of these things: upon my life and soul you shouldn't,
Charteris.

CUTHBERTSON (on the hearthrug). The only use he can find for sacred
things is to make a jest of them. That's the New Order. Thank Heaven,
we belong to the Old Order, Dan!

CHARTERIS. Cuthbertson: don't be symbolic.

CUTHBERTSON (outraged). Symbolic! That is an accusation of Ibsenism.
What do you mean?

CHARTERIS. Symbolic of the Old Order. Don't persuade yourself that you
represent the Old Order. There never was any Old Order.

CRAVEN. There I flatly contradict you and stand up for Jo. I'd no more
have behaved as you do when I was a young man than I'd have cheated at
cards. _I_ belong to the Old Order.

CHARTERIS. You're getting old, Craven; and you want to make a merit of
it, as usual.

CRAVEN. Come, now, Charteris: you're not offended, I hope. (With a
conciliatory outburst.) Well, perhaps I shouldn't have said that about
cheating at cards. I withdraw it (offering his hand).

CHARTERIS (taking Craven's hand). No offence, my dear Craven: none in
the world. I didn't mean to shew any temper. But (aside, after looking
round to see whether the others are listening) only just
consider!--the spectacle of a rival's happiness!

CRAVEN (aloud, decisively). Charteris: now you've got to behave like a
man. Your duty's plain before you. (To Cuthbertson.) Am I right, Jo?

CUTHBERTSON (firmly). You are, Dan.

CRAVEN (to Charteris). Go straight up and congratulate Julia. And do
it like a gentleman, smiling.

CHARTERIS. Colonel: I will. Not a muscle shall betray the conflict
within.

CRAVEN. Julia: Charteris has not congratulated you yet. He's coming to
do it. (Julia rises and fixes a dangerous look on Charteris.)

SYLVIA (whispering quickly behind Charteris as he is about to
advance). Take care. She's going to hit you. I know her. (Charteris
stops and looks cautiously at Julia, measuring the situation. They
regard one another steadfastly for a moment. Grace softly rises and
gets close to Julia.)

CHARTERIS (whispering over his shoulder to Sylvia). I'll chance it.
(He walks confidently up to Julia.) Julia? (He proffers his hand.)

JULIA (exhausted, allowing herself to take it). You are right. I am a
worthless woman.

CHARTERIS (triumphant, and gaily remonstrating). Oh, why?

JULIA. Because I am not brave enough to kill you.

GRACE (taking her in her arms as she sinks, almost fainting, away from
him). Oh, no. Never make a hero of a philanderer. (Charteris, amused
and untouched, shakes his head laughingly. The rest look at Julia with
concern, and even a little awe, feeling for the first time the
presence of a keen sorrow.)



CURTAIN.