Alfred Sutro

“ JOE. If I'd taken that money—
MARY. It's too late for that now. And I'm glad you didn't—yes, I am—I'm glad. We'll go before God clean-handed. And we'll say to Him we didn't steal, or do anything He didn't want us too. And we'll tell Him we've died because people wouldn't allow us to live.
JOE. [With a shudder.] No. Not that—we'll wait, Mary. Don't speak of that.
MARY. [Wistfully.] You've thought of it too?
JOE. Thought of it! Don't, Mary, don't! It's bad enough, in the night, when I lie there and think of to-morrow! Something will happen—it must.
MARY. What? We haven't a friend in the world. ”

“ Within two days she has the boy at her feet! Then your bride becomes jealous. Your tyranny offends her—she begins to see you are old. Romance drops off like paper from a damp wall. Everard's coolness piqued her—she proceeds to discover that she loves Everard. You in dressing gown and slippers—he young Greek god. And, after a month's steady digging—we arrive—at—the real girl!
Sir J. A month....
Mollen. May be less, may be less! Finally, explanation—you discover her in tears—you play the noble Roman, release her unconditionally, Rosamund sends Everard to her—you join their hands. ”

“ SIR GEOFFREY. By day and by night—you, and only you!
LADY TORMINSTER. And I have loved you—ah, yes, I have loved you!... And, having said this to each other, we will not meet again—till you bring me your wife.
SIR GEOFFREY. Ah—then!
LADY TORMINSTER. I have loved you, and I love you, for the fine, upright, loyal creature that you are. I love you for loving Jack; and it is Jack's great quality in my eyes that he has been able to inspire such love. And, my dear friend, let us not be ashamed, we two, but only very proud, and very happy. We shall go our ways, and do our duty ”

“ Everard. (miserably) Mr. Mollentrave!
Mollen. Are there many other young ladies—whom you have to say good-bye to, Everard?
Everard. Be merciful, sir! Oh, Mr. Mollentrave. I love Margaret! (going to her)
Margaret. (reproachfully) Everard!
Everard. I do, I do! And she loves me! Oh, Mr. Mollentrave, help us!
(Both kneel C. holding hands)
Margaret. Yes, yes, help us!
Mollen. What a position for a father! When I think of my Rosamund—the blow to her! And Balsted—poor, doting Balsted!
Margaret. (crawling towards Mollentrave, humbly) We've been very wicked, we know! But we'll do what you tell us! ”

“ LADY TORMINSTER. I am saying the things a woman says once in a lifetime, and feels all her life. Oh, it was all so simple! You loved me—you ... were blind because of Jack ... And I married Jack ... I mustn't complain ... I am one of the hundreds of women who marry—Jacks.
SIR GEOFFREY. A better, finer man never lived.
LADY TORMINSTER. I dare say—in fact, I am sure. But you should see us when we are alone, sitting there night after night, with never a word to say to each other! You tell me you're tired of polo, and golf, and bridge. ”

“ Everard. I read Mr. Mollentrave's wicked book, and believed it! Oh, Margaret, Margaret, can you think that any other woman in the world—
[Pg 79]
Margaret. (trembling) Then—then—
Everard. I always have loved you—always—always! But when I found that you—
Margaret. I see it all! You proposed to Lady Claude—for my sake!
Everard. I was so unhappy!
Margaret. And you don't love her? Then I have ruined your life!
Everard. It's not too late!
Margaret. It is—it is! Can we break both their hearts? Oh, Everard—we must be noble!
Everard. Poor Lady Claude! I'm afraid I've been very cruel! ”

“ LADY TORMINSTER. Why?
SIR GEOFFREY. Well, one must breakfast somewhere. It's a convention.
LADY TORMINSTER. Sir Geoffrey, I want you to tell me what this means.
SIR GEOFFREY. Give your decision, said the judge to the arbitrator, but never your reasons. I go, because I go. Besides, has one reasons? Why do people die, or get married, or buy umbrellas? Because of typhoid, love, or the rain? Not at all. Isn't that so?
LADY TORMINSTER. I wish you'd be serious.
SIR GEOFFREY. I'm fearfully serious. When Jack shot that tiger he had to go so near the brute that he held his life in his hands. ”

“ Margaret. (more and more puzzled) If you wish it.
Mollen. Ten thousand thanks. You simplify my task. Because the theme on which I have to dwell is not one that can be coldly attacked—scarred veteran as I am, there are still feeble pulsations in my heart when I breathe the magic word—Love! (He looks searchingly at her)
Margaret. (startled) Love! (she throws a quick glance at Sir Joseph, who dives down deeper behind his desk)
Mollen. (with much sentiment) Love! I am fresh from hearing a man tell of his love—oh, the word is too cold!—of his deep, overpowering passion! ”

“ SIR GEOFFREY. [A little uncomfortable.] Persian poets, like all poets, have a funny way of pretending that the stars take an interest in us. To me, it's their chief charm that they're so unconcerned. They are lonely, too.
LADY TORMINSTER. [Suddenly, violently.] Don't say that again—don't—I can't bear it!
SIR GEOFFREY. [Aghast.] Gertrude!!!
LADY TORMINSTER. [In a whisper.] Yes.
[He stares haggardly at her; she does not move, but looks out, through the open window, into the night.
SIR GEOFFREY. [With a deep breath.] ”

“ But Margaret, tell me—Everard has been imploring—
Margaret. (softly) Ah, poor Everard! It was not till you opened my eyes, dear Treaby, that I—of course I am fond of Everard—oh, very fond! But—can I hesitate! Between a boy—and a great man—a leader of men! Dear Treaby, (rise and up C.) I beseech you—leave me here, for a moment!
Miss Tre. (rise and up L. C.) I go, dear child, I go—I feel that my eyes are red—I must wash away these tears. Plead for me with your guardian, Margaret—rid us of the hateful Martelli! ”

“ I must go to my husband." "Good-night, Lady Torminster." A clasp of the hand—a hot tear—mine—on your wrist. But you sit there. Splendid!
LADY TORMINSTER. I ask you again—is that truly why you are going?
SIR GEOFFREY. Well, yes, that's the fact. I apologise humbly—it's so conventional. Isn't it?
LADY TORMINSTER. I suppose it's difficult for human beings to invent new situations.
SIR GEOFFREY. You've known it, of course, all the time; you've known it ever since Jack brought me to you, the day after you were engaged. And that's nine years ago. It's the usual kind of fatality. ”

“ The poets have babbled of love since the first introduction of rhyme;—but all that we know, or need know, is that Cupid is—young! (he turns to Sir Joseph) Balsted! The elderly fisherman baits his fat hook and thinks he has landed the salmon—down below, a barefoot boy wades in, and captures the prize! As a lover, Balsted, you have every quality—every one in the world that appeals to a beautiful girl—every one, with the exception of youth! ”

“ Lady Aline, I am a self-made man, as the foolish phrase has it—a man whose early years were spent in savage and desolate places, where the devil had much to say; a man in whom whatever there once had been of natural kindness was very soon kicked out. I was poor, and lonely, for thirty-two years: I have been rich, and lonely, for ten. My millions have been made honestly enough; but poverty and wretchedness had left their mark on me, and you will find very few men with a good word to say for Harrison Crockstead. ”

“ Against the right wall is a long sofa; above it hang a few good, water-colours and engravings; on the piano and the table there are flowers. A general appearance of refinement and comfort pervades the room; no luxury, but evidence everywhere of good taste, and the countless feminine touches that make a room homelike and pleasant.
When the curtain rises, HECTOR ALLEN, a youngish man of forty, with an attractive intellectual face, is seen standing by the dining-table in the inner room, draining his liqueur-glass, with WALTER COZENS to the right of him, lighting a cigarette. ”

“ Everard has fallen—in love—with you?
Lady C. Yes! Imagine it! A catastrophe!
Sir J. (dully, down R. C. and sitting) Very awkward. Very.
Lady C. (C.) How could one conceive it! I've been sympathetic—that's all! Talked about Margaret! Oh, I assure you, I've done nothing but talk about Margaret!
Sir J. There's something odd about boys and girls nowadays. But, of course, it's all Mollentrave— (he clenches his fist)
Lady C. What must I do? Tell me—advise me!
Sir J. You haven't accepted him?
Lady C. (indignantly) Sir Joseph!
Sir J. You see, things are just a trifle topsy-turvy. ”

“ A dog's life—that's what it is!
WALTER. Better than being a stockbroker's clerk—you believe me!
HECTOR. Is it? I wish you could have a turn at it, my bonny boy! Your hair'd go grey, like mine! And look here—what are the plays to-day? They're either so chock-full of intellect that they send you to sleep—or they reek of sentiment till you yearn for the smell of a cabbage!
WALTER. Well, you've the change, at any rate.
HECTOR. [Snorting.] Change? By Jove, give me a Punch and Judy show on the sands—or performing dogs! Plays—I'm sick of 'em! And look here—the one I'm off to to-night. ”

“ Everard. (C. in absolute dismay) Why—what—
Sir J. Isn't the world full of girls whom you could fall in love with? Don't they—pullulate? Aren't there a hundred thousand more women than men in London alone? And must you select, out of them all, the very one whom you—shouldn't?
Everard. (sinking his head) That wretched Treable woman has told you about the verses!
Sir J. Verses! You stooped to verses!
Everard. (humbly) I cribbed them.
Sir J. An attempt to obtain credit—under false pretences! Confess it then, degenerate boy! You love my ward!
Everard. (drawing himself up) Uncle, I do! ”

“ SIR GEOFFREY. [Doggedly.] You are talking to Jack's friend.
LADY TORMINSTER. Jack's friend—and mine—don't forget that! And could I say these things about Jack to any one else, and can't you conceive what a joy it is to say them? Besides, aren't we just now on the rim of the world—aren't we a little more than ourselves—aren't we almost on the other side of things? If we ever meet again, we shall look curiously at each other, and wonder, was it all true? As it is, I am scarcely sure that you are real. Everything is so still, so strange. Jack! ”

“ JOE. No one followed you?
MARY. No one. I couldn't run, as I had to carry Minnie.
JOE. What made you do it?
MARY. I don't know—something in me did it—She put the purse down just by the side of my hand—my fingers clutched it before I knew—and I was out in the street.
JOE. How much is there in it?
MARY. I haven't looked, Joe.
JOE. [Wondering.] You haven't looked?
MARY. No; I didn't dare.
JOE. [Sorrowfully.] I didn't think we'd come to this, Mary.
MARY. [Desperately.] We've got to do something. Before we can earn any money at making matchboxes we'll have to spend some weeks learning. ”