The Vortex

Name: The Vortex
Author: Noël Coward

Noël Coward

scroll plz ↓

To
G. Calthrop
with a good deal of gratitude

Dramatis Personae

Preston
Helen Saville
Pauncefort Quentin
Clara Hibbert
Florence Lancaster
Tom Veryan
Nicky Lancaster
David Lancaster
Bunty Mainwaring
Bruce Fairlight

Act I

The scene is the drawing-room of Mrs. Lancaster’s flat in London. The colors and decoration are on the verge of being original. The furniture is simple but distinctly expensive.

Persons shown are Helen Saville and Pauncefort Quentin. Helen Saville and Pauncefort Quentin are shown in by Preston. Helen is a smartly dressed woman of about thirty. “Pawnie” is an elderly maiden gentleman.

Preston	I’m expecting Mrs. Lancaster in at any moment now, ma’am.
Helen	Thank you, Preston, we’ll wait a little.
Preston	Shall I get you some tea?
Helen	No, thanks, we’ve already had some—give me a cigarette, Pawnie; they’re in that box on the table.
	Pawnie hands her cigarette box. Preston goes out.
Pawnie	It may be tiresome of me, but I think all this coloring is oppressive.
Helen	You make such a “fetish” of house decoration, Pawnie.
Pawnie	Wandering round the room. Not at all, but I do like things to be good and right.
Helen	Well, I don’t consider the new frieze in your bathroom either good or right.
Pawnie	How can you, Helen! It’s too marvelous for words. Parelli designed it specially for me.
Helen	Personally, it would make me self-conscious to sit in a bath surrounded by frisky gods and goddesses all with such better figures than mine.
Pawnie	I find it encouraging. This whole room is so typical of Florence.
Helen	In what way?
Pawnie	Every way. Look at the furniture.
Helen	A little artificial perhaps, but quite harmless.
Pawnie	Dear Helen, you’re such a loyal friend.
Helen	I’m very fond of Florence.
Pawnie	We all are. Oh, my God, look at that lampshade!
Helen	I gave it to her last Christmas.
Pawnie	Wasn’t that a little naughty of you?
Helen	I don’t see why; it’s extremely pretty.
Pawnie	Too unrestrained. Such a bad example for the servants. He takes up frame from desk. Who’s this boy?
Helen	Tom Veryan. You must have seen him.
Pawnie	Florence’s past, present, or future?
Helen	Present.
Pawnie	He has that innocent look that never fails to attract elderly women.
Helen	Don’t be a cat.
Pawnie	I wasn’t meaning Florence; she’s too divine to be in any marked category.
Helen	I wonder.
Pawnie	Oh, yes, Helen, deathless sort of magnetism, you know.
Helen	I often wonder what will happen to Florence eventually.
Pawnie	My dear, I’m far too occupied in wondering what’s going to happen to me to worry about other people.
Helen	I’ve always thought your course was quite clear, Pawnie.
Pawnie	However offensive that remark was intended to be, Helen, I shall take it in the most complimentary spirit.
Helen	I’m sure you will.
Pawnie	I expect Florence will just go on and on, then suddenly become quite beautifully old, and go on and on still more.
Helen	It’s too late now for her to become beautifully old, I’m afraid. She’ll have to be young indefinitely.
Pawnie	I don’t suppose she’ll mind that, but it’s trying for David.
Helen	And fiendish for Nicky.
Pawnie	Oh, no, my dear; you’re quite wrong there. I’m sure Nicky doesn’t care a damn.
Helen	It’s difficult to tell with Nicky.
Pawnie	He’s divinely selfish; all amusing people are.
Helen	Did you hear him play in Paris?
Pawnie	Yes.
Helen	Well?
Pawnie	Erratic—one or two things perfect, but he’s slovenly.
Helen	He only takes things seriously in spurts, but still he’s very young.
Pawnie	Do you really think that’s a good excuse?
Helen	No, I’m afraid not, especially when so much depends on it.
Pawnie	What does depend on it?
Helen	Everything—his life’s happiness.
Pawnie	Don’t be so terribly intense, dear.
Helen	It’s true.
Pawnie	I’m quite sure Nicky will be perfectly happy as long as he goes on attracting people; he loves being attractive.
Helen	Naturally, he’s Florence’s son.
Pawnie	Such an exciting thing to be.
Helen	You don’t believe Nicky’s got anything in him at all, do you?
Pawnie	Lightly. I don’t think it matters, anyway.
Helen	I do.
Pawnie	But you’ve got a loving nature, Helen. I always know it.
Helen	Nicky hasn’t had a chance.
Pawnie	Nonsense—he’s had everything he wanted ever since the day he was born, and he’ll go on wasting his opportunities until he dies.
Helen	Quite possibly.
Pawnie	Well, there you are then.
Helen	He may have had everything he wanted, but he’s had none of the things he really needs.
Pawnie	Are you talking socially or spiritually?
Helen	You’re quite right, Pawnie, you wouldn’t be so beautifully preserved if you’d wasted any of your valuable time or sincerity.
Pawnie	I forgive you for that, Helen, freely.
Helen	Thank you so much.
Pawnie	You must realize one thing, everyone is sacrificed to Florence—it’s as it should be—of course, she’s a couple of hundred years too late—she ought to have been a flaunting, intriguing King’s mistress, with black page boys and jade baths and things too divine—
	Enter Preston.
Preston	Announcing. Miss Hibbert.
	Enter Clara Hibbert—she is affected, but quite well-dressed. Preston* goes out.*
Clara	My dears. Isn’t Florence back yet?
Helen	No, we’re waiting for her.
Pawnie	You look harassed, Clara.
Clara	I am harassed.
Helen	Why?
Clara	I’m singing tonight for Laura Tennant—she’s giving a dreadful reception at her dreadful house for some dreadful Ambassador—
Pawnie	How dreadful!
Clara	No one will listen to me, of course—they’ll all be far too busy avoiding the Cup and searching for the Champagne.
Helen	What are you singing?
Clara	One Gabriel Faure, two Reynaldo Hahn’s and an Aria.
Pawnie	Which Aria?
Clara	I can’t think, but my accompanist will know—I’ve got a frightful headache.
Helen	Why don’t you take off your hat?
Clara	My dear, I daren’t—I’ve just had my hair done—I suppose you haven’t got a “Cachet Faivre,” either of you?
Helen	No, but Florence has, I expect—Preston will know where they are—ring the bell, Pawnie.
Pawnie	Ringing bell. My poor Clara—I do hope your singing tonight will justify the fuss you’re making this afternoon.
Clara	Don’t be so brutal, Pawnie.
Helen	Is Gregory going with you?
Clara	Of course—I never sing unless he’s there—he gives me such marvelous moral support.
Pawnie	“Moral” is hardly the word I should have chosen, dear.
	Enter Preston.
Helen	Do you know if Mrs. Lancaster has any “Cachet Faivre” anywhere?
Preston	Yes, ma’am—I think so.
Clara	Do get me one, Preston, I’m suffering tortures.
Preston	Very well, miss.
	She goes out.
Pawnie	Preston has such wonderful poise, hasn’t she?
Helen	She needs it in this house.
Clara	I do wish Florence would hurry up. I want to borrow her green fan. I’ve got a new Patou frock that positively demands it.
Helen	She can’t be long now.
Clara	I suppose I daren’t ask Preston for the fan and creep away with it?
Helen	I shouldn’t, if I were you—Florence is very touchy over that sort of thing.
Clara	She promised it to me ages ago.
Pawnie	Surely there isn’t such a desperate hurry? You won’t be singing until about half-past eleven.
Clara	Petulantly. My dear, I’ve got to rehearse—I don’t know a word—
	Reenter Preston* with a “Cachet Faivre” and a glass of water.*
Clara	You’re a saint, Preston—thank you a thousand times—
Pawnie	Soak it a little first, dear, or you’ll choke, and I should detest that.
	Clara soaks “Cachet” and then swallows it. Preston goes out.
Clara	Now I must lie down flat—get out of the way, Helen.
Pawnie	Perhaps you’d like us both to go right out of the room and sit in the hall?
Clara	No, Pawnie, I should never expect the least consideration from you.
	She lies down flat on the divan, Helen* arranges cushions for her.*
Clara	Thank you, Helen darling—I shall always come to you whenever I’m ill.
Helen	That will be nice.
	Enter Florence Lancaster followed by Tom Veryan. Florence is brilliantly dressed almost to the point of being “outré.” Her face still retains the remnants of great beauty. Tom is athletic and good-looking. One feels he is good at games and extremely bad at everything else.
Florence	Helen—Pawnie, have you been here long?
Pawnie	No, only a few hours.
Florence	My dear. I’m so frightfully sorry—we’ve been held up for ages in the traffic. Davis is a congenital idiot. Always manages to get to a turning just as the policeman puts out his hand. No initiative whatever. What’s happened to Clara? Has she been run over?
Clara	No, dear, I’ve got a frightful head.
Florence	Pawnie, you know Tom, don’t you?—Tom Veryan, Mr. Quentin, I’m sure you’ll adore each other.
Tom	Shaking hands. How are you?
Pawnie	Very well, thank you—how sweet of you to ask me?
Florence	Is there anything I can do, Clara?
Clara	Yes, dear, lend me your green fan for tonight.
Florence	All right—but you won’t get too carried away with it, will you, dear? I should hate the feathers to come out. Does anyone want any tea?
Helen	No thanks, dear.
Florence	Cocktails, then?
Pawnie	It’s too early.
Florence	Ringing bell. It’s never too early for a cocktail.
Clara	I should like to go quite quietly into a convent and never see anybody again ever—
Pawnie	Gregory would be bored stiff in a convent.
Florence	We’ve just been to a most frightful Charity matinée. Nothing but inaudible speeches from dreary old actors, and leading ladies nudging one another all over the stage. Preston enters. Cocktails, Preston, and ask Barker to wrap up my green fan for Miss Hibbert to take away with her.
Preston	Very good, ma’am.
	She goes out.
Clara	You’re an angel, Florence—I think I’ll sit up now.
Florence	Do, dear, then Tom will be able to sit down.
Clara	Sitting up. I really do feel most peculiar.
Pawnie	You look far from normal, dear.
Clara	If Pawnie’s rude to me any more I shall burst into tears.
Florence	Tom, give me a cigarette.
Pawnie	Here are some.
Florence	No, Tom has a special rather hearty kind that I adore.
Clara	Lend me your lip stick, Helen; mine has sunk down into itself.
Helen	Here you are.
Clara	What a lovely color! I look far prettier than I feel.
Florence	To Tom. Thank you, angel.
Clara	I shan’t be able to get down to the house until Saturday evening, Florence—I’m seeing Gregory off to Newcastle.
Pawnie	Why Newcastle?
Clara	His home’s just near there—isn’t it too awful for him?
Florence	Well, wire me the time of your train, won’t you?
Clara	Of course, dear.
Helen	You’re smelling divinely, Florence. What is it?
Florence	Flicking her handkerchief. It is good, isn’t it?
Pawnie	“Narcisse Noir” of Caron. I use it.
Florence	Yes, you would, Pawnie.
	Reenter Preston* with parcel.*
Preston	Here is the fan, miss.
Clara	Taking it. Thank you so much—you are sweet, Florence. A fan gives me such a feeling of security when I’m singing modern stuff. Preston goes out. I must rush now—
Florence	Don’t you want a cocktail before you go?
Clara	No, darling—I should only hiccup all the evening. Goodbye, you’ve been such a comfort—goodbye, Helen—Pawnie, you will be nicer to me over the weekend, won’t you? I shall be so depressed, what with Gregory going away and everything—Goodbye, Tom—I shall dine in bed and give way at every pore—
	She goes out.
Pawnie	Poor Clara—she eternally labors under the delusion that she really matters.
Helen	We all do that a little.
Florence	Laughing. You’re awfully cruel to her, Pawnie.
Pawnie	She upsets my vibrations.
Florence	Before glass. I’ve taken a sudden hatred to this hat. She takes it off. That’s better—are you going to the New Elaine tonight, either of you?
Helen	I’m not—but Pawnie is, of course.
Pawnie	It’s going to be amazing—what a cast, my dear! Marvelous Selwyn Steele, Nora Dean, and that perfect woman, Lily Burfield—
Helen	I can’t stand her, she always overacts.
Pawnie	Incensed. How can you, Helen! Did you see her in Simple Faith?
Helen	Yes, unfortunately.
Pawnie	Oh, you’re really too tiresome for words!
Helen	Her technique creaks like machinery.
Pawnie	It’s sacrilege—she’s too, too marvelous.
	Enter Preston* with a tray of cocktails. All help themselves.*
Florence	What do you think about it, Tom?
Tom	I’ve never seen her.
Florence	Yes, you have. About three months ago, at the Comedy.
Tom	Oh. … I don’t remember.
Pawnie	Don’t remember! An artist like that! Good God, it’s agony!
Helen	You’ll look awfully tired at dinnertime, Pawnie, if you don’t calm down a little.
Florence	This is special—my own invention.
Helen	Absolutely delicious.
Tom	A bit too sweet.
Florence	Tom, darling, don’t be so taciturn—he’s always taciturn after a matinée.
Pawnie	When’s Nicky coming back?
Florence	Tomorrow. Isn’t it too divine? He’s been away for a whole year, but I saw him for a moment on my way through Paris last month.
Pawnie	Has he been working hard?
Florence	I suppose so, but you know what Nicky is—bless his heart!
Pawnie	I heard him play at Yvonne Mirabeau’s.
Florence	She’s a loathsome woman, isn’t she?
Helen	Not as bad as that.
Pawnie	She’s a half-wit. I can’t bear half-wits.
Florence	She goes on so dreadfully about things—devastating.
Pawnie	Funny Nicky liking her so much.
Florence	Only because she keeps on saying how wonderful he is—that always appeals to Nicky.
Pawnie	How old is he now?
Florence	Twenty-four. Isn’t it absurd to think I have such a grown-up son—old General Fenwick said last Thursday that—The telephone rings; she goes to it. Hallo—hallo! Yes, my dear. How are you? … Yes, so am I, simply worn out. … No. When? How perfectly marvelous! … No, dear, it’s a prescription; but I can let you have a little in a jar. … Quite easy. All you do is just rub it on at night. … Don’t be so silly. … Not in the least; if you send the car round that will be all right. … Very well. … Goodbye, darling. She hangs up receiver. I give Clara Hibbert ten for stupidity. Don’t you, Helen?
Helen	A hundred and ten.
Pawnie	Ten’s the limit.
Tom	I say, Florence—I think I’d better be getting along if I’ve got to be dressed and back here by half-past seven—
Florence	You’ve got half an hour.
Tom	That’s not very much.
Florence	The car’s outside … take it and send it straight back.
Pawnie	Can it drop me, Florence dear? I always feel so much richer in your car than anyone else’s.
Florence	Of course, Pawnie.
	The telephone rings again.
Florence	At telephone. Hallo! … Yes … speaking. … How do you do—?
Pawnie	Goodbye, Helen. It’s been divine—
Helen	Ring me up at teatime tomorrow.
Florence	How perfectly sweet of you! … Now, now, really. … Well, naturally, if you persist in saying such charming things … laughing gayly … What nonsense! …
Pawnie	Goodbye, Florence—
Florence	She puts her hand over mouthpiece. It’s that awful General Fenwick. … Goodbye, Pawnie dear. You’re coming down to the house on Friday?
Pawnie	Yes; too lovely—
Florence	Helen’s coming by the five-o’clock—you’d better travel together.
Pawnie	Perfect. To Tom. Are you ready?
Tom	Quite.
Pawnie	As they go out. You can drop me first, can’t you? I’m not as young as I was—
Florence	At telephone. Please forgive me. People rushing in and out, this house grows more like a railway station every day. … Now, General, that was a deliberate compliment. She laughs. Ridiculous man. … Very well. … Goodbye. She hangs up receiver. My God! ten for dreariness!
Helen	He’s not a bad old thing.
Florence	No, but he tries to be, and that’s what’s so frightful. Arranging her hair before glass. I look like Death. … Isn’t Tom a darling?
Helen	Yes, dear, without being aggressively brilliant.
Florence	I’m afraid, Helen, you’re getting rather bitter.
Helen	Nonsense.
Florence	It’s silly to be sarcastic about Tom.
Helen	It’s better than being maudlin about him.
Florence	I don’t know what you mean, dear. I’m not in the least maudlin, and never have been about anybody. I sometimes wish I could be—I’m too hard.
Helen	Taking a cigarette. Tom will let you down.
Florence	Let me down? Why … how … I don’t understand—
Helen	You’re more in love with him than he is with you.
Florence	Don’t be so absurd, Helen.
Helen	It’s true.
Florence	Complacently. He adores me—worships me—he’s never seen anyone like me before in his life. I’m something strange … exotic—
Helen	You’re more in love with him than he is with you.
Florence	You’re getting on my nerves today, Helen.
Helen	You do see that I’m right, don’t you?
Florence	If you knew some of the things he’s said to me.
Helen	I can guess them.
Florence	That boy was utterly unawakened until he met me.
Helen	He’s very young.
Florence	I’ve taught him—everything.
Helen	Or nothing.
Florence	Helen, I believe you’re jealous.
Helen	Don’t be a fool.
Florence	I wish I hadn’t this fatal knack of seeing through people.
Helen	How’s David?
Florence	I don’t know. He ought to be home soon.
Helen	Doesn’t he ever suspect anything?
Florence	Of course not—he adores me.
Helen	It seems so strange not to see—
Florence	I’m devoted to David—I’d do anything for him, anything in the world—but he’s grown old and I’ve kept young; it does muddle things up so. I can’t help having a temperament, can I?
Helen	Temperament. … No.
Florence	David’s always loved me and never understood me—you see, I’m such an extraordinary mixture. I have so many sides to my character. I adore being at home and running the house and looking after David and Nicky—
Helen	You don’t exactly overdo it.
Florence	Well, Nicky’s been away for such ages. Also, one must be in London for the season. You can’t expect me to bury myself in the country indefinitely. I shall be there practically all through the spring and summer.
Helen	Lovely tennis parties and cricket weeks and things—
Florence	Certainly.
Helen	Kissing her. You’re a divine creature, Florence.
Florence	Basking. Am I? The telephone rings. Hallo! … Yes—speaking. To Helen* in a whisper.* It’s Inez Zulieta. I never went to her recital. … Inez darling, I never recognized your voice. … Didn’t you get my note? … It was absolutely true, I was in agony. … Inez, don’t be angry. If you only knew how I longed for the sound of your wonderful, wonderful voice. … Darling. … Inez, don’t be so cruel. … Tomorrow, then. She hangs up receiver. I do wish Inez wasn’t so persistent.
Helen	You never stop encouraging her.
Florence	Oh, Helen, I’m so tired of everyone.
Helen	Except Tom?
Florence	Yes, except Tom; he’s such a darling.
Helen	How do you think he and Nicky will get on?
Florence	Marvelously—Tom loves music.
Helen	He says he does.
Florence	My dear, I took him to that Russian thing the other day and he sat entranced from beginning to end.
Helen	Poor Nicky!
Florence	Why do you say that?
Helen	Because I sometimes feel it.
Florence	Suddenly furious. Oh, I wonder why we’re such friends—we’re so opposite—you don’t understand me a bit. I used to think you did, but you’ve been different lately—unsympathetic.
Helen	No, I haven’t.
Florence	Yes, you have—over Tom—I believe you’re in love with him yourself.
Helen	Smiling. No—it isn’t that.
Florence	Anyhow, you can’t bear him being in love with me.
Helen	I don’t think he is—really. I quite realize that he was very violently infatuated, but that is wearing off a bit now. I’m beginning to see him as he is. …
Florence	No, no, it’s not true—you don’t understand—
Helen	We are friends, Florence, though we’re so “opposite.” Do you really know the truth—inside you? Or is all this shrill vanity real?
Florence	What’s the matter with you?
Helen	You’re ten years older than I am, but when I’m your age I shall be twenty years older than you.
Florence	Darling, how deliciously involved—what can you mean by that?
Helen	I mean, I think it’s silly not to grow old when the time comes.
	She rises and goes towards door.
Florence	Outraged. Helen! There is suddenly heard a violent knocking at the front door. What on earth is that?
	There is a noise outside, then the door bursts open and Nicky* enters. He is extremely well-dressed in traveling clothes. He is tall and pale, with thin, nervous hands.*
Florence	Nicky!
Nicky	Mother!
	He embraces her.
Florence	But I’d no idea—I thought you were coming tomorrow.
Nicky	No, today—I wrote to you.
Florence	I’m terribly, terribly excited.
Nicky	Helen, dear, how are you?
	He kisses her.
Helen	Splendid, Nicky.
Florence	I can’t get over you arriving like this. … I never realized—
Nicky	Silly … you’re looking awfully well.
Florence	Am I?
Nicky	Wonderful, as usual.
Florence	I was talking to George Morrison only last Thursday—
Nicky	The man who wrote that fearful book?
Florence	It isn’t a fearful book, it’s brilliant—anyhow, he absolutely refused to believe that I had a grown-up son.
Helen	My dears, I must fly.
Nicky	Don’t go yet.
Helen	I must—I’m hours late as it is.
Nicky	Be a little later, then.
Florence	Remember, five-o’clock train on Friday.
Nicky	Oh, is she coming down to the house? Divine!
Helen	Yes, if Florence is still speaking to me. Goodbye.
	She goes out.
Nicky	Have you been having a scene?
Florence	No, dear.
Nicky	She’s a darling—Helen—
Florence	Extremely stupid and tactless sometimes.
Nicky	It doesn’t feel as though I’d been away at all.
Florence	I’ve missed you appallingly—we had such a short time together in Paris. Did you enjoy all my letters?
Nicky	I adored them—so did John Bagot. I used to read most of them aloud to him. He’s mad on you—saw your pictures in the Tatler, or something, and fell in love with it.
Florence	Is he nice?
Nicky	He’s grand.
Florence	We must all dine at the Embassy. When is he coming to England?
Nicky	Not until after Christmas.
Florence	You must see my new photographs; they’re wonderful.
	She takes large packet from desk.
Nicky	It’s heavenly—being back.
Florence	Look.
Nicky	I don’t like that one.
Florence	How can you, Nicky! Tom likes that one best of all.
Nicky	Who’s Tom?
Florence	Tom Veryan—he’s a dear; you’ll like him frightfully—you know—the very nicest type of Englishman.
Nicky	I hate the very nicest type of Englishman.
Florence	Don’t be tiresome, Nicky; he’s only twenty-four, and they all think so well of him—
Nicky	All who?
Florence	All his officers and people; he’s in the Brigade.
Nicky	Holding photograph away from him and scrutinizing it through half-closed eyes. Now that one really is enchanting—they’ve got your hair beautifully. Oh, yes, my dear, it’s perfect—
Florence	Complacently. It is good. She’s sweet—Madame Henderson, she simply won’t hear of my paying for these—she says it’s quite sufficient to be allowed to exhibit them in the window.
Nicky	Is anyone dining this evening?
Florence	No. Oh, dear! I’d forgotten—I’m dining out with Tom.
Nicky	Oh—I see.
Florence	Your first night home, too—how perfectly fiendish. What a fool I am to have muddled it up.
Nicky	It doesn’t matter, darling.
Florence	Oh, but it does. I wonder if we could get another seat—
Nicky	Seat? What for?
Florence	We’re going to the first night of The New Elaine. It’s going to be marvelous.
Nicky	Who’s in it?
Florence	Nora Dean and Selwyn Steele—
Nicky	Oh, God!
Florence	It’s silly of you always to jeer at Selwyn Steele. He’s a brilliant actor, if only he could get away from his wife. …
Nicky	I couldn’t bear him tonight, anyway; I’m tired. Is father home yet?
Florence	No, I don’t think so. Oh, I do feel such a beast—
Nicky	Don’t be silly—honestly, I don’t mind a bit.
Florence	I know—you have a nice quiet dinner here and join us at the Embassy afterwards.
Nicky	Is it a late night?
Florence	Yes, they play the most heavenly tune there now—Tom always makes them do it over and over again—I’ll put it on—
	She goes to the gramophone.
Nicky	How’s Iris?
Florence	My dear, don’t speak of her.
Nicky	Why—what’s she done?
Florence	She’s been absolutely foul.
Nicky	In what way?
Florence	Every way—I never trusted her, luckily—Thank God I’ve got instincts about people—listen, isn’t this marvelous—She said the most filthy things to Gloria Craig about me—I always knew she was insanely jealous, but there are limits. I loathe being at people’s beck and call. … Come and dance.
Nicky	As they dance. I’m sorry you’ve rowed—I rather liked her—
Florence	Only because she kept on saying how wonderful you were. … She doesn’t know a thing about music really.
Nicky	Oh yes, she does.
Florence	It’s merely bluff—all that appreciation. Darling, how oddly you’re dancing.
Nicky	It’s probably because we haven’t danced together for so long. …
Florence	Anyhow, now she’s gone off to Monte Carlo with Violet Fenchurch—silly fool—
	Enter David Lancaster. He is an elderly gray-haired pleasant man.
David	Delighted. Nicky—my boy—
Nicky	Kissing him. Hallo, father—
David	I thought—Florence said—tomorrow—
Nicky	Mother muddled it up.
David	You look rather tired.
Nicky	I’m splendid. How’s everything?
David	The same as usual. I’ve made lots of improvements down at the house.
Florence	David thinks and talks of nothing but the farm—
David	It’s beginning to pay a bit—Peterson’s an awfully good man.
Nicky	We’ll make a grand tour of it on Sunday.
David	Have you enjoyed yourself in Paris?
Nicky	Oh yes, rather—it’s a splendid place to work.
David	It never struck me that way quite, but still—
Florence	Sophie de Molignac said Nicky’s playing had improved wonderfully.
David	I’m so glad, Nicky.
Nicky	I’ve been doing some Spanish stuff lately.
David	I wish I knew more about it.
Nicky	Never mind, father.
David	Come to my room and talk. I can’t bear that thing—
Florence	Father’s such a beast; he never will dance with me.
David	Is the Evening News anywhere about?
Nicky	Yes, here.
	He gives it to him.
David	I’m so glad you’re home again, Nicky—don’t forget—come and talk. …
	He goes out.
Florence	David’s so much happier in the country.
Nicky	Why on earth doesn’t he retire and live at the house for good?
Florence	Work has become such a habit with him—he’s always hated giving up habits.
Nicky	Mother—I’ve got something rather important to tell you.
Florence	Darling, how thrilling! What is it?
Nicky	I am engaged to be married.
Florence	What!
Nicky	Practically—as much as one can be these days.
Florence	Nicky!
Nicky	Don’t look so stricken.
Florence	But, Nicky—I never sort of visualized you being engaged, or married, or anything.
Nicky	Why not?
Florence	You’re not old enough.
Nicky	I’m twenty-four.
Florence	You don’t look it. … Thank God!
Nicky	What do you really feel about it, mother?
Florence	Darling—I hardly know what to say—you’ve sprung it on me so suddenly. Who is she?
Nicky	A girl called Bunty Mainwaring.
Florence	What a silly name!
Nicky	It isn’t at all—it’s very attractive.
Florence	Is she an actress, or a student, or what?
Nicky	Neither—she is what is technically termed a “lady.”
Florence	Do you think she’ll like me?
Nicky	She went mad over your photograph.
Florence	Which one?
Nicky	The “looking out of the window” one.
Florence	That really is one of the best I’ve ever had done.
Nicky	She said you had the face of an heroic little boy.
Florence	What a divine thing to say!
	She glances at herself in the glass.
Nicky	She does say divine things—she’s supremely intelligent.
Florence	Is she in Paris?
Nicky	No, she came over with me today.
Florence	Where does she live?
Nicky	Just round the corner in Carbury Square.
Florence	Near the Churchingtons.
Nicky	It’s her mother’s house, but her mother’s away just now, so I asked her to change quickly and come on here.
Florence	Nicky!
Nicky	Why not? I wanted you to see her as soon as possible.
Florence	Realizing parental responsibility. It’s an awful shock, you know.
Nicky	Nonsense, mother—you’re quite excited about it, really.
Florence	With determination. I shall be charming to her.
Nicky	Then she’ll adore you at once—probably too much, and I shall be jealous.
Florence	You’d better both dine here together and come on to the Embassy. How old is she?
Nicky	Twenty-three.
Florence	What does she do?
Nicky	Nothing much—she writes things occasionally.
Florence	Where did you meet her?
Nicky	First of all at a party at Olive Lloyd-Kennedy’s.
Florence	I can’t bear Olive Lloyd-Kennedy—she’s a cat.
Nicky	Then I met her again at Marion Fawcett’s—a frightful sort of reception affair—she was staying with her.
Florence	She seems to move exclusively with my worst enemies. Is she pretty?
Nicky	I don’t know—I haven’t really noticed.
Florence	With a touch of real feeling. Nicky darling, I do feel so extraordinary about it.
Nicky	Why extraordinary?
Florence	It’s a milestone, isn’t it—you being engaged? A definite milestone? She catches sight of herself. Look at my nose. She powders it. I do hope she’ll like me—I must go and dress now; Tom is fetching me half-past seven. Bring her to my room when she comes.
Nicky	Don’t go for a minute.
Florence	I must, really—Tom will be furious.
Nicky	Oh, damn Tom!
Florence	Oh, Nicky, don’t go and take one of your tiresome prejudices against him.
Nicky	Smiling. All right, I’ll try not to.
Florence	He’s frightfully good-looking.
Nicky	Oh!
Florence	And he adores music.
Nicky	Now, then, mother—
Florence	He does, honestly.
Nicky	Good.
Florence	And he dances beautifully.
Nicky	I shall never stop dancing with him.
Florence	And he’s so good at games.
Nicky	He sounds adorable.
Florence	Of course, he needs knowing.
Nicky	So do I.
Florence	You will make an effort, though, darling, won’t you? For my sake!
Nicky	Yes, mother.
Florence	And we’ll all have a divine time together, Tom and me and you and what’s her name—
Nicky	Bunty.
Florence	Oh yes, of course, Bunty.
	Front door bell rings.
Nicky	This is her, I expect.
Florence	Do you feel wonderful about her?
Nicky	Yes.
Florence	It is thrilling, isn’t it—being in love?
Nicky	Frowning a little. Yes.
Florence	Your father was right—you look awfully tired, Nicky.
Nicky	What nonsense! I feel grand.
	Enter Preston.
Preston	Announcing. Miss Mainwaring.
	Bunty comes in, very self-assured and well-dressed. She is more attractive than pretty in a boyish sort of way. Preston goes out.
Nicky	Bunty. You have been quick.
Bunty	I’ve simply flown.
Nicky	Bunty … here is mother. …
Bunty	Oh!
Florence	Taking both her hands. This is frightfully exciting, isn’t it?
	She kisses her.
Nicky	I’ve told her.
Bunty	Are you furious?
Florence	Of course not. Why should I be? ’Specially now.
Bunty	It’s absolutely incredible, you being Nicky’s mother.
Florence	Am I anything like you thought I’d be?
Bunty	Yes, exactly—but I couldn’t believe it until I saw you.
Florence	Take off that perfectly divine cloak and have a cigarette. I’ve got to rush and dress now, because I’m terribly late, but you’re dining here with Nicky and joining Tom Veryan and me at the Embassy afterwards.
Bunty	Tom Veryan? …
Florence	Yes. Do you know him?
Bunty	I did when I was a child—if it’s the same one.
	She takes off her cloak.
Florence	Effusively. Nicky—I don’t feel extraordinary about it any more—I’m delighted.
Nicky	Angel.
Florence	Perhaps Bunty would like to come down to the house on Friday for the weekend?
Nicky	Oh yes! Marvelous.
Bunty	It’s awfully sweet of you, Mrs. Lancaster.
Florence	You must call me Florence; I can’t bear Mrs. Lancaster. I must fly; Tom will be here at any moment—that’s him on the desk.
Bunty	Going over to photograph. Yes—it is the same one.
Florence	How too divine! … Telephone rings. Hallo! … Yes, speaking! … Elsa darling, how are you? … What? … Tonight? … How perfectly heavenly! Of course, I’d adore it. … Listen. Nicky’s just back from Paris. Can he come, too, with Bunty Mainwaring? … Yes, he’s here. … See you tonight, dear. … Here, Nicky, talk to Elsa. … She snatches up her handbag and fur coat and kisses Bunty* effusively.* I’m so glad about you and Nicky—It’s too wonderful.
	She rushes out.
Nicky	At telephone. Hallo, Elsa. … I’d no idea you were in London. I’m terribly thrilled. My dear, you haven’t. … All those lovely tunes you played to me in Paris? … How amazing! I am glad. … Have you done anything with that Tango? … You must play it tonight; I want Bunty to hear it. … It is perfect, isn’t it? … Goodbye, dear. He hangs up the receiver. Bunty.
Bunty	What?
Nicky	I’m terribly happy.
Bunty	So am I.
Nicky	Do you remember how we planned all this—coming home together—and breaking it to mother—and everything?
Bunty	Rather.
Nicky	Do you really like her?
Bunty	I adore her—she’s a perfect angel.
Nicky	I told her your “heroic little boy” line; she loved it.
Bunty	It’s true, you know—rather defiant too—laughing at Fate.
Nicky	Doesn’t Paris seem ages away now?
Bunty	A different life altogether.
Nicky	That nasty little bit of Channel is such an enormous gulf, really. Did you put that dress on on purpose?
Bunty	Smiling. Perhaps.
Nicky	You are a devil.
Bunty	It’s such fun being reminded of things.
Nicky	And such agony, too.
Bunty	Nicky darling—why agony?
Nicky	It’s always agony being in love, and I started loving you in that dress.
Bunty	Did you?
Nicky	Don’t pretend you didn’t know.
Bunty	I suppose one always knows—really.
Nicky	From the very first moment.
Bunty	Yes.
Nicky	A sort of spark.
Bunty	Your playing helped a lot.
Nicky	I meant it to.
Bunty	Calculating pig.
Nicky	Have a cigarette?
Bunty	All right.
	He hands her box, and she takes one.
Nicky	Lighting her cigarette. I wish we weren’t so free.
Bunty	Why? What do you mean?
Nicky	I feel I should like to elope, or something violently romantic like that.
Bunty	Laughing. There wouldn’t be much point in it now, would there?
Nicky	Perhaps not. How much do you love me?
Bunty	I don’t know.
Nicky	It’s fun analyzing one’s emotions.
Bunty	Marvelous fun.
Nicky	And a comfort, too, when things go wrong—but it kills sentiment stone dead.
Bunty	A good job, too.
Nicky	You’re frightfully hard, Bunty.
Bunty	Am I?
Nicky	Much harder than me—really.
Bunty	You’ve got so much hysteria.
Nicky	I can’t help it.
Bunty	Of course not; it’s your temperament. You burst out suddenly.
Nicky	Not so badly as I used to.
Bunty	You’re growing older.
Nicky	God, yes! Isn’t it foul?
Bunty	Hell, my dear.
Nicky	It’s funny how mother’s generation always longed to be old when they were young, and we strain every nerve to keep young.
Bunty	That’s because we see what’s coming so much more clearly.
Nicky	Wouldn’t it be terrible to know exactly?—I feel frightened sometimes.
Bunty	Why?
Nicky	We’re all so hectic and nervy. …
Bunty	It doesn’t matter—it probably only means we shan’t live so long. …
Nicky	Suddenly. Shut up—shut up. …
	Enter Preston.
Preston	Announcing. Mr. Veryan.
	Enter Tom. Nicky* greets him and shakes hands. Exit Preston.*
Nicky	How are you? I’m Nicky—I came over today instead of tomorrow. …
Tom	Oh!
Nicky	Do you know Bunty Mainwaring?
Tom	Bunty—I say—I am glad.
	They shake hands warmly.
Nicky	We’d better have some cocktails. He goes to the door and shouts. Preston … bring us some cocktails. …
Tom	This is jolly. I didn’t know what had become of you.
Bunty	I’ve been living in Paris a good deal.
Tom	How many years ago is it since we? …
Bunty	During the War. The last time I saw you you were at Sandhurst.
Nicky	Such a pretty place.
Tom	You’ve hardly altered a bit—more grown up, of course.
Nicky	All this is most affecting.
Tom	Bunty and I used to know each other awfully well.
Nicky	What fun!
Bunty	Warningly. Nicky. …
Nicky	But it is—it’s thrilling—there’s nothing so charming as a reunion.
Bunty	Nicky and I have been traveling all day. … Boats and trains get on his nerves. …
Nicky	When the cocktails come, tell Preston to bring mine to me in father’s room.
Bunty	Nicky, don’t be so silly.
Nicky	Surely it’s not silly to want to talk to my aged father after a year’s debauch in Paris? I fail to see why you should have the monopoly of reunions.
Bunty	Well, don’t be long.
Tom	Cheerio!
Nicky	Crossly. Oh, God!
	He goes out.
Tom	What’s up?
Bunty	These temperamental musicians.
Tom	Silly ass.
Bunty	He isn’t really—he’s only jealous.
Tom	Why … is he? …
Bunty	We’re by way of being engaged.
Tom	What?
Bunty	Why not?
Tom	Are you … are you in love with him?
Bunty	Lightly. Yes—isn’t it damnable?
Tom	Good Lord!
	He laughs.
Bunty	What are you laughing at?
Tom	It seems so funny you being in love with that sort of chap.
Bunty	What do you mean by “that sort of chap”?
Tom	Oh—I don’t know, that type seems so unlike you.
Bunty	Type?
Tom	Yes, you know—up in the air—effeminate.
Bunty	You’re more bucolic than you used to be, Tom.
Tom	Here, I say. …
	Enter Preston* with cocktails.*
Bunty	Will you please take Mr. Nicky’s in to him in his father’s room?
Preston	Yes, miss.
Tom	Is Mrs. Lancaster nearly ready?
Preston	I think so, sir.
Tom	Ask her to hurry. We shall be late.
Preston	Yes, sir.
	He goes out.
Bunty	I can laugh now.
	She does so.
Tom	Why?
Bunty	I’ve just realized something.
Tom	What?
Bunty	We shall meet again—over the weekend.
Tom	Are you coming down to the house?
Bunty	Yes.
Tom	That’s splendid. Come for a tramp Sunday morning and we’ll talk.
Bunty	What about?
Tom	Oh, lots of things—old times.
Bunty	Lifting her cocktail. Old times, Tom.
Tom	Doing the same. Cheerio!
	Curtain.

fetching the rest…

Dramatis Personae

Preston

Helen Saville

Pauncefort Quentin

Clara Hibbert

Florence Lancaster

Tom Veryan

Nicky Lancaster

David Lancaster

Bunty Mainwaring

Bruce Fairlight

Act I

The scene is the drawing-room of Mrs. Lancaster’s flat in London. The colors and decoration are on the verge of being original. The furniture is simple but distinctly expensive.

Preston

I’m expecting Mrs. Lancaster in at any moment now, ma’am.

Helen

Thank you, Preston, we’ll wait a little.

Preston

Shall I get you some tea?

Helen

No, thanks, we’ve already had some—give me a cigarette, Pawnie; they’re in that box on the table.

Pawnie hands her cigarette box. Preston goes out.

Pawnie

It may be tiresome of me, but I think all this coloring is oppressive.

Helen

You make such a “fetish” of house decoration, Pawnie.

Pawnie

Wandering round the room.

Not at all, but I do like things to be good and right.

Helen

Well, I don’t consider the new frieze in your bathroom either good or right.

Pawnie

How can you, Helen! It’s too marvelous for words. Parelli designed it specially for me.

Helen

Personally, it would make me self-conscious to sit in a bath surrounded by frisky gods and goddesses all with such better figures than mine.

Pawnie

I find it encouraging. This whole room is so typical of Florence.

Helen

In what way?

Pawnie

Every way. Look at the furniture.

Helen

A little artificial perhaps, but quite harmless.

Pawnie

Dear Helen, you’re such a loyal friend.

Helen

I’m very fond of Florence.

Pawnie

We all are. Oh, my God, look at that lampshade!

Helen

I gave it to her last Christmas.

Pawnie

Wasn’t that a little naughty of you?

Helen

I don’t see why; it’s extremely pretty.

Pawnie

Too unrestrained. Such a bad example for the servants. He takes up frame from desk. Who’s this boy?

Helen

Tom Veryan. You must have seen him.

Pawnie

Florence’s past, present, or future?

Helen

Present.

Pawnie

He has that innocent look that never fails to attract elderly women.

Helen

Don’t be a cat.

Pawnie

I wasn’t meaning Florence; she’s too divine to be in any marked category.

Helen

I wonder.

Pawnie

Oh, yes, Helen, deathless sort of magnetism, you know.

Helen

I often wonder what will happen to Florence eventually.

Pawnie

My dear, I’m far too occupied in wondering what’s going to happen to me to worry about other people.

Helen

I’ve always thought your course was quite clear, Pawnie.

Pawnie

However offensive that remark was intended to be, Helen, I shall take it in the most complimentary spirit.

Helen

I’m sure you will.

Pawnie

I expect Florence will just go on and on, then suddenly become quite beautifully old, and go on and on still more.

Helen

It’s too late now for her to become beautifully old, I’m afraid. She’ll have to be young indefinitely.

Pawnie

I don’t suppose she’ll mind that, but it’s trying for David.

Helen

And fiendish for Nicky.

Pawnie

Oh, no, my dear; you’re quite wrong there. I’m sure Nicky doesn’t care a damn.

Helen

It’s difficult to tell with Nicky.

Pawnie

He’s divinely selfish; all amusing people are.

Helen

Did you hear him play in Paris?

Pawnie

Yes.

Helen

Well?

Pawnie

Erratic—one or two things perfect, but he’s slovenly.

Helen

He only takes things seriously in spurts, but still he’s very young.

Pawnie

Do you really think that’s a good excuse?

Helen

No, I’m afraid not, especially when so much depends on it.

Pawnie

What does depend on it?

Helen

Everything—his life’s happiness.

Pawnie

Don’t be so terribly intense, dear.

Helen

It’s true.

Pawnie

I’m quite sure Nicky will be perfectly happy as long as he goes on attracting people; he loves being attractive.

Helen

Naturally, he’s Florence’s son.

Pawnie

Such an exciting thing to be.

Helen

You don’t believe Nicky’s got anything in him at all, do you?

Pawnie

Lightly.

I don’t think it matters, anyway.

Helen

I do.

Pawnie

But you’ve got a loving nature, Helen. I always know it.

Helen

Nicky hasn’t had a chance.

Pawnie

Nonsense—he’s had everything he wanted ever since the day he was born, and he’ll go on wasting his opportunities until he dies.

Helen

Quite possibly.

Pawnie

Well, there you are then.

Helen

He may have had everything he wanted, but he’s had none of the things he really needs.

Pawnie

Are you talking socially or spiritually?

Helen

You’re quite right, Pawnie, you wouldn’t be so beautifully preserved if you’d wasted any of your valuable time or sincerity.

Pawnie

I forgive you for that, Helen, freely.

Helen

Thank you so much.

Pawnie

You must realize one thing, everyone is sacrificed to Florence—it’s as it should be—of course, she’s a couple of hundred years too late—she ought to have been a flaunting, intriguing King’s mistress, with black page boys and jade baths and things too divine—

Enter Preston.

Preston

Announcing.

Miss Hibbert.

Enter Clara Hibbert—she is affected, but quite well-dressed. Preston goes out.

Clara

My dears. Isn’t Florence back yet?

Helen

No, we’re waiting for her.

Pawnie

You look harassed, Clara.

Clara

I am harassed.

Helen

Why?

Clara

I’m singing tonight for Laura Tennant—she’s giving a dreadful reception at her dreadful house for some dreadful Ambassador—

Pawnie

How dreadful!

Clara

No one will listen to me, of course—they’ll all be far too busy avoiding the Cup and searching for the Champagne.

Helen

What are you singing?

Clara

One Gabriel Faure, two Reynaldo Hahn’s and an Aria.

Pawnie

Which Aria?

Clara

I can’t think, but my accompanist will know—I’ve got a frightful headache.

Helen

Why don’t you take off your hat?

Clara

My dear, I daren’t—I’ve just had my hair done—I suppose you haven’t got a “Cachet Faivre,” either of you?

Helen

No, but Florence has, I expect—Preston will know where they are—ring the bell, Pawnie.

Pawnie

Ringing bell.

My poor Clara—I do hope your singing tonight will justify the fuss you’re making this afternoon.

Clara

Don’t be so brutal, Pawnie.

Helen

Is Gregory going with you?

Clara

Of course—I never sing unless he’s there—he gives me such marvelous moral support.

Pawnie

“Moral” is hardly the word I should have chosen, dear.

Enter Preston.

Helen

Do you know if Mrs. Lancaster has any “Cachet Faivre” anywhere?

Preston

Yes, ma’am—I think so.

Clara

Do get me one, Preston, I’m suffering tortures.

Preston

Very well, miss.

She goes out.

Pawnie

Preston has such wonderful poise, hasn’t she?

Helen

She needs it in this house.

Clara

I do wish Florence would hurry up. I want to borrow her green fan. I’ve got a new Patou frock that positively demands it.

Helen

She can’t be long now.

Clara

I suppose I daren’t ask Preston for the fan and creep away with it?

Helen

I shouldn’t, if I were you—Florence is very touchy over that sort of thing.

Clara

She promised it to me ages ago.

Pawnie

Surely there isn’t such a desperate hurry? You won’t be singing until about half-past eleven.

Clara

Petulantly.

My dear, I’ve got to rehearse—I don’t know a word—

Reenter Preston with a “Cachet Faivre” and a glass of water.

Clara

You’re a saint, Preston—thank you a thousand times—

Pawnie

Soak it a little first, dear, or you’ll choke, and I should detest that.

Clara soaks “Cachet” and then swallows it. Preston goes out.

Clara

Now I must lie down flat—get out of the way, Helen.

Pawnie

Perhaps you’d like us both to go right out of the room and sit in the hall?

Clara

No, Pawnie, I should never expect the least consideration from you.

She lies down flat on the divan, Helen arranges cushions for her.

Clara

Thank you, Helen darling—I shall always come to you whenever I’m ill.

Helen

That will be nice.

Enter Florence Lancaster followed by Tom Veryan. Florence is brilliantly dressed almost to the point of being “outré.” Her face still retains the remnants of great beauty. Tom is athletic and good-looking. One feels he is good at games and extremely bad at everything else.

Florence

Helen—Pawnie, have you been here long?

Pawnie

No, only a few hours.

Florence

My dear. I’m so frightfully sorry—we’ve been held up for ages in the traffic. Davis is a congenital idiot. Always manages to get to a turning just as the policeman puts out his hand. No initiative whatever. What’s happened to Clara? Has she been run over?

Clara

No, dear, I’ve got a frightful head.

Florence

Pawnie, you know Tom, don’t you?—Tom Veryan, Mr. Quentin, I’m sure you’ll adore each other.

Tom

Shaking hands.

How are you?

Pawnie

Very well, thank you—how sweet of you to ask me?

Florence

Is there anything I can do, Clara?

Clara

Yes, dear, lend me your green fan for tonight.

Florence

All right—but you won’t get too carried away with it, will you, dear? I should hate the feathers to come out. Does anyone want any tea?

Helen

No thanks, dear.

Florence

Cocktails, then?

Pawnie

It’s too early.

Florence

Ringing bell.

It’s never too early for a cocktail.

Clara

I should like to go quite quietly into a convent and never see anybody again ever—

Pawnie

Gregory would be bored stiff in a convent.

Florence

We’ve just been to a most frightful Charity matinée. Nothing but inaudible speeches from dreary old actors, and leading ladies nudging one another all over the stage. Preston enters. Cocktails, Preston, and ask Barker to wrap up my green fan for Miss Hibbert to take away with her.

Preston

Very good, ma’am.

She goes out.

Clara

You’re an angel, Florence—I think I’ll sit up now.

Florence

Do, dear, then Tom will be able to sit down.

Clara

Sitting up.

I really do feel most peculiar.

Pawnie

You look far from normal, dear.

Clara

If Pawnie’s rude to me any more I shall burst into tears.

Florence

Tom, give me a cigarette.

Pawnie

Here are some.

Florence

No, Tom has a special rather hearty kind that I adore.

Clara

Lend me your lip stick, Helen; mine has sunk down into itself.

Helen

Here you are.

Clara

What a lovely color! I look far prettier than I feel.

Florence

To Tom.

Thank you, angel.

Clara

I shan’t be able to get down to the house until Saturday evening, Florence—I’m seeing Gregory off to Newcastle.

Pawnie

Why Newcastle?

Clara

His home’s just near there—isn’t it too awful for him?

Florence

Well, wire me the time of your train, won’t you?

Clara

Of course, dear.

Helen

You’re smelling divinely, Florence. What is it?

Florence

Flicking her handkerchief.

It is good, isn’t it?

Pawnie

“Narcisse Noir” of Caron. I use it.

Florence

Yes, you would, Pawnie.

Reenter Preston with parcel.

Preston

Here is the fan, miss.

Clara

Taking it.

Thank you so much—you are sweet, Florence. A fan gives me such a feeling of security when I’m singing modern stuff. Preston goes out. I must rush now—

Florence

Don’t you want a cocktail before you go?

Clara

No, darling—I should only hiccup all the evening. Goodbye, you’ve been such a comfort—goodbye, Helen—Pawnie, you will be nicer to me over the weekend, won’t you? I shall be so depressed, what with Gregory going away and everything—Goodbye, Tom—I shall dine in bed and give way at every pore—

She goes out.

Pawnie

Poor Clara—she eternally labors under the delusion that she really matters.

Helen

We all do that a little.

Florence

Laughing.

You’re awfully cruel to her, Pawnie.

Pawnie

She upsets my vibrations.

Florence

Before glass.

I’ve taken a sudden hatred to this hat. She takes it off. That’s better—are you going to the New Elaine tonight, either of you?

Helen

I’m not—but Pawnie is, of course.

Pawnie

It’s going to be amazing—what a cast, my dear! Marvelous Selwyn Steele, Nora Dean, and that perfect woman, Lily Burfield—

Helen

I can’t stand her, she always overacts.

Pawnie

Incensed.

How can you, Helen! Did you see her in Simple Faith?

Helen

Yes, unfortunately.

Pawnie

Oh, you’re really too tiresome for words!

Helen

Her technique creaks like machinery.

Pawnie

It’s sacrilege—she’s too, too marvelous.

Enter Preston with a tray of cocktails. All help themselves.

Florence

What do you think about it, Tom?

Tom

I’ve never seen her.

Florence

Yes, you have. About three months ago, at the Comedy.

Tom

Oh. … I don’t remember.

Pawnie

Don’t remember! An artist like that! Good God, it’s agony!

Helen

You’ll look awfully tired at dinnertime, Pawnie, if you don’t calm down a little.

Florence

This is special—my own invention.

Helen

Absolutely delicious.

Tom

A bit too sweet.

Florence

Tom, darling, don’t be so taciturn—he’s always taciturn after a matinée.

Pawnie

When’s Nicky coming back?

Florence

Tomorrow. Isn’t it too divine? He’s been away for a whole year, but I saw him for a moment on my way through Paris last month.

Pawnie

Has he been working hard?

Florence

I suppose so, but you know what Nicky is—bless his heart!

Pawnie

I heard him play at Yvonne Mirabeau’s.

Florence

She’s a loathsome woman, isn’t she?

Helen

Not as bad as that.

Pawnie

She’s a half-wit. I can’t bear half-wits.

Florence

She goes on so dreadfully about things—devastating.

Pawnie

Funny Nicky liking her so much.

Florence

Only because she keeps on saying how wonderful he is—that always appeals to Nicky.

Pawnie

How old is he now?

Florence

Twenty-four. Isn’t it absurd to think I have such a grown-up son—old General Fenwick said last Thursday that—The telephone rings; she goes to it. Hallo—hallo! Yes, my dear. How are you? … Yes, so am I, simply worn out. … No. When? How perfectly marvelous! … No, dear, it’s a prescription; but I can let you have a little in a jar. … Quite easy. All you do is just rub it on at night. … Don’t be so silly. … Not in the least; if you send the car round that will be all right. … Very well. … Goodbye, darling. She hangs up receiver. I give Clara Hibbert ten for stupidity. Don’t you, Helen?

Helen

A hundred and ten.

Pawnie

Ten’s the limit.

Tom

I say, Florence—I think I’d better be getting along if I’ve got to be dressed and back here by half-past seven—

Florence

You’ve got half an hour.

Tom

That’s not very much.

Florence

The car’s outside … take it and send it straight back.

Pawnie

Can it drop me, Florence dear? I always feel so much richer in your car than anyone else’s.

Florence

Of course, Pawnie.

The telephone rings again.

Florence

At telephone.

Hallo! … Yes … speaking. … How do you do—?

Pawnie

Goodbye, Helen. It’s been divine—

Helen

Ring me up at teatime tomorrow.

Florence

How perfectly sweet of you! … Now, now, really. … Well, naturally, if you persist in saying such charming things … laughing gayly … What nonsense! …

Pawnie

Goodbye, Florence—

Florence

She puts her hand over mouthpiece.

It’s that awful General Fenwick. … Goodbye, Pawnie dear. You’re coming down to the house on Friday?

Pawnie

Yes; too lovely—

Florence

Helen’s coming by the five-o’clock—you’d better travel together.

Pawnie

Perfect. To Tom. Are you ready?

Tom

Quite.

Pawnie

As they go out.

You can drop me first, can’t you? I’m not as young as I was—

Florence

At telephone.

Please forgive me. People rushing in and out, this house grows more like a railway station every day. … Now, General, that was a deliberate compliment. She laughs. Ridiculous man. … Very well. … Goodbye. She hangs up receiver. My God! ten for dreariness!

Helen

He’s not a bad old thing.

Florence

No, but he tries to be, and that’s what’s so frightful. Arranging her hair before glass. I look like Death. … Isn’t Tom a darling?

Helen

Yes, dear, without being aggressively brilliant.

Florence

I’m afraid, Helen, you’re getting rather bitter.

Helen

Nonsense.

Florence

It’s silly to be sarcastic about Tom.

Helen

It’s better than being maudlin about him.

Florence

I don’t know what you mean, dear. I’m not in the least maudlin, and never have been about anybody. I sometimes wish I could be—I’m too hard.

Helen

Taking a cigarette.

Tom will let you down.

Florence

Let me down? Why … how … I don’t understand—

Helen

You’re more in love with him than he is with you.

Florence

Don’t be so absurd, Helen.

Helen

It’s true.

Florence

Complacently.

He adores me—worships me—he’s never seen anyone like me before in his life. I’m something strange … exotic—

Helen

You’re more in love with him than he is with you.

Florence

You’re getting on my nerves today, Helen.

Helen

You do see that I’m right, don’t you?

Florence

If you knew some of the things he’s said to me.

Helen

I can guess them.

Florence

That boy was utterly unawakened until he met me.

Helen

He’s very young.

Florence

I’ve taught him—everything.

Helen

Or nothing.

Florence

Helen, I believe you’re jealous.

Helen

Don’t be a fool.

Florence

I wish I hadn’t this fatal knack of seeing through people.

Helen

How’s David?

Florence

I don’t know. He ought to be home soon.

Helen

Doesn’t he ever suspect anything?

Florence

Of course not—he adores me.

Helen

It seems so strange not to see—

Florence

I’m devoted to David—I’d do anything for him, anything in the world—but he’s grown old and I’ve kept young; it does muddle things up so. I can’t help having a temperament, can I?

Helen

Temperament. … No.

Florence

David’s always loved me and never understood me—you see, I’m such an extraordinary mixture. I have so many sides to my character. I adore being at home and running the house and looking after David and Nicky—

Helen

You don’t exactly overdo it.

Florence

Well, Nicky’s been away for such ages. Also, one must be in London for the season. You can’t expect me to bury myself in the country indefinitely. I shall be there practically all through the spring and summer.

Helen

Lovely tennis parties and cricket weeks and things—

Florence

Certainly.

Helen

Kissing her.

You’re a divine creature, Florence.

Florence

Basking.

Am I? The telephone rings. Hallo! … Yes—speaking. To Helen in a whisper. It’s Inez Zulieta. I never went to her recital. … Inez darling, I never recognized your voice. … Didn’t you get my note? … It was absolutely true, I was in agony. … Inez, don’t be angry. If you only knew how I longed for the sound of your wonderful, wonderful voice. … Darling. … Inez, don’t be so cruel. … Tomorrow, then. She hangs up receiver. I do wish Inez wasn’t so persistent.

Helen

You never stop encouraging her.

Florence

Oh, Helen, I’m so tired of everyone.

Helen

Except Tom?

Florence

Yes, except Tom; he’s such a darling.

Helen

How do you think he and Nicky will get on?

Florence

Marvelously—Tom loves music.

Helen

He says he does.

Florence

My dear, I took him to that Russian thing the other day and he sat entranced from beginning to end.

Helen

Poor Nicky!

Florence

Why do you say that?

Helen

Because I sometimes feel it.

Florence

Suddenly furious.

Oh, I wonder why we’re such friends—we’re so opposite—you don’t understand me a bit. I used to think you did, but you’ve been different lately—unsympathetic.

Helen

No, I haven’t.

Florence

Yes, you have—over Tom—I believe you’re in love with him yourself.

Helen

Smiling.

No—it isn’t that.

Florence

Anyhow, you can’t bear him being in love with me.

Helen

I don’t think he is—really. I quite realize that he was very violently infatuated, but that is wearing off a bit now. I’m beginning to see him as he is. …

Florence

No, no, it’s not true—you don’t understand—

Helen

We are friends, Florence, though we’re so “opposite.” Do you really know the truth—inside you? Or is all this shrill vanity real?

Florence

What’s the matter with you?

Helen

You’re ten years older than I am, but when I’m your age I shall be twenty years older than you.

Florence

Darling, how deliciously involved—what can you mean by that?

Helen

I mean, I think it’s silly not to grow old when the time comes.

She rises and goes towards door.

Florence

Outraged.

Helen! There is suddenly heard a violent knocking at the front door. What on earth is that?

There is a noise outside, then the door bursts open and Nicky enters. He is extremely well-dressed in traveling clothes. He is tall and pale, with thin, nervous hands.

Florence

Nicky!

Nicky

Mother!

He embraces her.

Florence

But I’d no idea—I thought you were coming tomorrow.

Nicky

No, today—I wrote to you.

Florence

I’m terribly, terribly excited.

Nicky

Helen, dear, how are you?

He kisses her.

Helen

Splendid, Nicky.

Florence

I can’t get over you arriving like this. … I never realized—

Nicky

Silly … you’re looking awfully well.

Florence

Am I?

Nicky

Wonderful, as usual.

Florence

I was talking to George Morrison only last Thursday—

Nicky

The man who wrote that fearful book?

Florence

It isn’t a fearful book, it’s brilliant—anyhow, he absolutely refused to believe that I had a grown-up son.

Helen

My dears, I must fly.

Nicky

Don’t go yet.

Helen

I must—I’m hours late as it is.

Nicky

Be a little later, then.

Florence

Remember, five-o’clock train on Friday.

Nicky

Oh, is she coming down to the house? Divine!

Helen

Yes, if Florence is still speaking to me. Goodbye.

She goes out.

Nicky

Have you been having a scene?

Florence

No, dear.

Nicky

She’s a darling—Helen—

Florence

Extremely stupid and tactless sometimes.

Nicky

It doesn’t feel as though I’d been away at all.

Florence

I’ve missed you appallingly—we had such a short time together in Paris. Did you enjoy all my letters?

Nicky

I adored them—so did John Bagot. I used to read most of them aloud to him. He’s mad on you—saw your pictures in the Tatler, or something, and fell in love with it.

Florence

Is he nice?

Nicky

He’s grand.

Florence

We must all dine at the Embassy. When is he coming to England?

Nicky

Not until after Christmas.

Florence

You must see my new photographs; they’re wonderful.

She takes large packet from desk.

Nicky

It’s heavenly—being back.

Florence

Look.

Nicky

I don’t like that one.

Florence

How can you, Nicky! Tom likes that one best of all.

Nicky

Who’s Tom?

Florence

Tom Veryan—he’s a dear; you’ll like him frightfully—you know—the very nicest type of Englishman.

Nicky

I hate the very nicest type of Englishman.

Florence

Don’t be tiresome, Nicky; he’s only twenty-four, and they all think so well of him—

Nicky

All who?

Florence

All his officers and people; he’s in the Brigade.

Nicky

Holding photograph away from him and scrutinizing it through half-closed eyes.

Now that one really is enchanting—they’ve got your hair beautifully. Oh, yes, my dear, it’s perfect—

Florence

Complacently.

It is good. She’s sweet—Madame Henderson, she simply won’t hear of my paying for these—she says it’s quite sufficient to be allowed to exhibit them in the window.

Nicky

Is anyone dining this evening?

Florence

No. Oh, dear! I’d forgotten—I’m dining out with Tom.

Nicky

Oh—I see.

Florence

Your first night home, too—how perfectly fiendish. What a fool I am to have muddled it up.

Nicky

It doesn’t matter, darling.

Florence

Oh, but it does. I wonder if we could get another seat—

Nicky

Seat? What for?

Florence

We’re going to the first night of The New Elaine. It’s going to be marvelous.

Nicky

Who’s in it?

Florence

Nora Dean and Selwyn Steele—

Nicky

Oh, God!

Florence

It’s silly of you always to jeer at Selwyn Steele. He’s a brilliant actor, if only he could get away from his wife. …

Nicky

I couldn’t bear him tonight, anyway; I’m tired. Is father home yet?

Florence

No, I don’t think so. Oh, I do feel such a beast—

Nicky

Don’t be silly—honestly, I don’t mind a bit.

Florence

I know—you have a nice quiet dinner here and join us at the Embassy afterwards.

Nicky

Is it a late night?

Florence

Yes, they play the most heavenly tune there now—Tom always makes them do it over and over again—I’ll put it on—

She goes to the gramophone.

Nicky

How’s Iris?

Florence

My dear, don’t speak of her.

Nicky

Why—what’s she done?

Florence

She’s been absolutely foul.

Nicky

In what way?

Florence

Every way—I never trusted her, luckily—Thank God I’ve got instincts about people—listen, isn’t this marvelous—She said the most filthy things to Gloria Craig about me—I always knew she was insanely jealous, but there are limits. I loathe being at people’s beck and call. … Come and dance.

Nicky

As they dance.

I’m sorry you’ve rowed—I rather liked her—

Florence

Only because she kept on saying how wonderful you were. … She doesn’t know a thing about music really.

Nicky

Oh yes, she does.

Florence

It’s merely bluff—all that appreciation. Darling, how oddly you’re dancing.

Nicky

It’s probably because we haven’t danced together for so long. …

Florence

Anyhow, now she’s gone off to Monte Carlo with Violet Fenchurch—silly fool—

Enter David Lancaster. He is an elderly gray-haired pleasant man.

David

Delighted.

Nicky—my boy—

Nicky

Kissing him.

Hallo, father—

David

I thought—Florence said—tomorrow—

Nicky

Mother muddled it up.

David

You look rather tired.

Nicky

I’m splendid. How’s everything?

David

The same as usual. I’ve made lots of improvements down at the house.

Florence

David thinks and talks of nothing but the farm—

David

It’s beginning to pay a bit—Peterson’s an awfully good man.

Nicky

We’ll make a grand tour of it on Sunday.

David

Have you enjoyed yourself in Paris?

Nicky

Oh yes, rather—it’s a splendid place to work.

David

It never struck me that way quite, but still—

Florence

Sophie de Molignac said Nicky’s playing had improved wonderfully.

David

I’m so glad, Nicky.

Nicky

I’ve been doing some Spanish stuff lately.

David

I wish I knew more about it.

Nicky

Never mind, father.

David

Come to my room and talk. I can’t bear that thing—

Florence

Father’s such a beast; he never will dance with me.

David

Is the Evening News anywhere about?

Nicky

Yes, here.

He gives it to him.

David

I’m so glad you’re home again, Nicky—don’t forget—come and talk. …

He goes out.

Florence

David’s so much happier in the country.

Nicky

Why on earth doesn’t he retire and live at the house for good?

Florence

Work has become such a habit with him—he’s always hated giving up habits.

Nicky

Mother—I’ve got something rather important to tell you.

Florence

Darling, how thrilling! What is it?

Nicky

I am engaged to be married.

Florence

What!

Nicky

Practically—as much as one can be these days.

Florence

Nicky!

Nicky

Don’t look so stricken.

Florence

But, Nicky—I never sort of visualized you being engaged, or married, or anything.

Nicky

Why not?

Florence

You’re not old enough.

Nicky

I’m twenty-four.

Florence

You don’t look it. … Thank God!

Nicky

What do you really feel about it, mother?

Florence

Darling—I hardly know what to say—you’ve sprung it on me so suddenly. Who is she?

Nicky

A girl called Bunty Mainwaring.

Florence

What a silly name!

Nicky

It isn’t at all—it’s very attractive.

Florence

Is she an actress, or a student, or what?

Nicky

Neither—she is what is technically termed a “lady.”

Florence

Do you think she’ll like me?

Nicky

She went mad over your photograph.

Florence

Which one?

Nicky

The “looking out of the window” one.

Florence

That really is one of the best I’ve ever had done.

Nicky

She said you had the face of an heroic little boy.

Florence

What a divine thing to say!

She glances at herself in the glass.

Nicky

She does say divine things—she’s supremely intelligent.

Florence

Is she in Paris?

Nicky

No, she came over with me today.

Florence

Where does she live?

Nicky

Just round the corner in Carbury Square.

Florence

Near the Churchingtons.

Nicky

It’s her mother’s house, but her mother’s away just now, so I asked her to change quickly and come on here.

Florence

Nicky!

Nicky

Why not? I wanted you to see her as soon as possible.

Florence

Realizing parental responsibility.

It’s an awful shock, you know.

Nicky

Nonsense, mother—you’re quite excited about it, really.

Florence

With determination.

I shall be charming to her.

Nicky

Then she’ll adore you at once—probably too much, and I shall be jealous.

Florence

You’d better both dine here together and come on to the Embassy. How old is she?

Nicky

Twenty-three.

Florence

What does she do?

Nicky

Nothing much—she writes things occasionally.

Florence

Where did you meet her?

Nicky

First of all at a party at Olive Lloyd-Kennedy’s.

Florence

I can’t bear Olive Lloyd-Kennedy—she’s a cat.

Nicky

Then I met her again at Marion Fawcett’s—a frightful sort of reception affair—she was staying with her.

Florence

She seems to move exclusively with my worst enemies. Is she pretty?

Nicky

I don’t know—I haven’t really noticed.

Florence

With a touch of real feeling.

Nicky darling, I do feel so extraordinary about it.

Nicky

Why extraordinary?

Florence

It’s a milestone, isn’t it—you being engaged? A definite milestone? She catches sight of herself. Look at my nose. She powders it. I do hope she’ll like me—I must go and dress now; Tom is fetching me half-past seven. Bring her to my room when she comes.

Nicky

Don’t go for a minute.

Florence

I must, really—Tom will be furious.

Nicky

Oh, damn Tom!

Florence

Oh, Nicky, don’t go and take one of your tiresome prejudices against him.

Nicky

Smiling.

All right, I’ll try not to.

Florence

He’s frightfully good-looking.

Nicky

Oh!

Florence

And he adores music.

Nicky

Now, then, mother—

Florence

He does, honestly.

Nicky

Good.

Florence

And he dances beautifully.

Nicky

I shall never stop dancing with him.

Florence

And he’s so good at games.

Nicky

He sounds adorable.

Florence

Of course, he needs knowing.

Nicky

So do I.

Florence

You will make an effort, though, darling, won’t you? For my sake!

Nicky

Yes, mother.

Florence

And we’ll all have a divine time together, Tom and me and you and what’s her name—

Nicky

Bunty.

Florence

Oh yes, of course, Bunty.

Front door bell rings.

Nicky

This is her, I expect.

Florence

Do you feel wonderful about her?

Nicky

Yes.

Florence

It is thrilling, isn’t it—being in love?

Nicky

Frowning a little.

Yes.

Florence

Your father was right—you look awfully tired, Nicky.

Nicky

What nonsense! I feel grand.

Enter Preston.

Preston

Announcing.

Miss Mainwaring.

Bunty comes in, very self-assured and well-dressed. She is more attractive than pretty in a boyish sort of way.

Preston goes out.

Nicky

Bunty. You have been quick.

Bunty

I’ve simply flown.

Nicky

Bunty … here is mother. …

Bunty

Oh!

Florence

Taking both her hands.

This is frightfully exciting, isn’t it?

She kisses her.

Nicky

I’ve told her.

Bunty

Are you furious?

Florence

Of course not. Why should I be? ’Specially now.

Bunty

It’s absolutely incredible, you being Nicky’s mother.

Florence

Am I anything like you thought I’d be?

Bunty

Yes, exactly—but I couldn’t believe it until I saw you.

Florence

Take off that perfectly divine cloak and have a cigarette. I’ve got to rush and dress now, because I’m terribly late, but you’re dining here with Nicky and joining Tom Veryan and me at the Embassy afterwards.

Bunty

Tom Veryan? …

Florence

Yes. Do you know him?

Bunty

I did when I was a child—if it’s the same one.

She takes off her cloak.

Florence

Effusively.

Nicky—I don’t feel extraordinary about it any more—I’m delighted.

Nicky

Angel.

Florence

Perhaps Bunty would like to come down to the house on Friday for the weekend?

Nicky

Oh yes! Marvelous.

Bunty

It’s awfully sweet of you, Mrs. Lancaster.

Florence

You must call me Florence; I can’t bear Mrs. Lancaster. I must fly; Tom will be here at any moment—that’s him on the desk.

Bunty

Going over to photograph.

Yes—it is the same one.

Florence

How too divine! …

Telephone rings.

Hallo! … Yes, speaking! … Elsa darling, how are you? … What? … Tonight? … How perfectly heavenly! Of course, I’d adore it. … Listen. Nicky’s just back from Paris. Can he come, too, with Bunty Mainwaring? … Yes, he’s here. … See you tonight, dear. …

Here, Nicky, talk to Elsa. …

She snatches up her handbag and fur coat and kisses Bunty effusively.

I’m so glad about you and Nicky—It’s too wonderful.

She rushes out.

Nicky

At telephone.

Hallo, Elsa. … I’d no idea you were in London. I’m terribly thrilled. My dear, you haven’t. … All those lovely tunes you played to me in Paris? … How amazing! I am glad. … Have you done anything with that Tango? … You must play it tonight; I want Bunty to hear it. … It is perfect, isn’t it? … Goodbye, dear. He hangs up the receiver. Bunty.

Bunty

What?

Nicky

I’m terribly happy.

Bunty

So am I.

Nicky

Do you remember how we planned all this—coming home together—and breaking it to mother—and everything?

Bunty

Rather.

Nicky

Do you really like her?

Bunty

I adore her—she’s a perfect angel.

Nicky

I told her your “heroic little boy” line; she loved it.

Bunty

It’s true, you know—rather defiant too—laughing at Fate.

Nicky

Doesn’t Paris seem ages away now?

Bunty

A different life altogether.

Nicky

That nasty little bit of Channel is such an enormous gulf, really. Did you put that dress on on purpose?

Bunty

Smiling.

Perhaps.

Nicky

You are a devil.

Bunty

It’s such fun being reminded of things.

Nicky

And such agony, too.

Bunty

Nicky darling—why agony?

Nicky

It’s always agony being in love, and I started loving you in that dress.

Bunty

Did you?

Nicky

Don’t pretend you didn’t know.

Bunty

I suppose one always knows—really.

Nicky

From the very first moment.

Bunty

Yes.

Nicky

A sort of spark.

Bunty

Your playing helped a lot.

Nicky

I meant it to.

Bunty

Calculating pig.

Nicky

Have a cigarette?

Bunty

All right.

He hands her box, and she takes one.

Nicky

Lighting her cigarette.

I wish we weren’t so free.

Bunty

Why? What do you mean?

Nicky

I feel I should like to elope, or something violently romantic like that.

Bunty

Laughing.

There wouldn’t be much point in it now, would there?

Nicky

Perhaps not. How much do you love me?

Bunty

I don’t know.

Nicky

It’s fun analyzing one’s emotions.

Bunty

Marvelous fun.

Nicky

And a comfort, too, when things go wrong—but it kills sentiment stone dead.

Bunty

A good job, too.

Nicky

You’re frightfully hard, Bunty.

Bunty

Am I?

Nicky

Much harder than me—really.

Bunty

You’ve got so much hysteria.

Nicky

I can’t help it.

Bunty

Of course not; it’s your temperament. You burst out suddenly.

Nicky

Not so badly as I used to.

Bunty

You’re growing older.

Nicky

God, yes! Isn’t it foul?

Bunty

Hell, my dear.

Nicky

It’s funny how mother’s generation always longed to be old when they were young, and we strain every nerve to keep young.

Bunty

That’s because we see what’s coming so much more clearly.

Nicky

Wouldn’t it be terrible to know exactly?—I feel frightened sometimes.

Bunty

Why?

Nicky

We’re all so hectic and nervy. …

Bunty

It doesn’t matter—it probably only means we shan’t live so long. …

Nicky

Suddenly.

Shut up—shut up. …

Enter Preston.

Preston

Announcing.

Mr. Veryan.

Enter Tom. Nicky greets him and shakes hands. Exit Preston.

Nicky

How are you? I’m Nicky—I came over today instead of tomorrow. …

Tom

Oh!

Nicky

Do you know Bunty Mainwaring?

Tom

Bunty—I say—I am glad.

They shake hands warmly.

Nicky

We’d better have some cocktails.

He goes to the door and shouts.

Preston … bring us some cocktails. …

Tom

This is jolly. I didn’t know what had become of you.

Bunty

I’ve been living in Paris a good deal.

Tom

How many years ago is it since we? …

Bunty

During the War. The last time I saw you you were at Sandhurst.

Nicky

Such a pretty place.

Tom

You’ve hardly altered a bit—more grown up, of course.

Nicky

All this is most affecting.

Tom

Bunty and I used to know each other awfully well.

Nicky

What fun!

Bunty

Warningly.

Nicky. …

Nicky

But it is—it’s thrilling—there’s nothing so charming as a reunion.

Bunty

Nicky and I have been traveling all day. … Boats and trains get on his nerves. …

Nicky

When the cocktails come, tell Preston to bring mine to me in father’s room.

Bunty

Nicky, don’t be so silly.

Nicky

Surely it’s not silly to want to talk to my aged father after a year’s debauch in Paris? I fail to see why you should have the monopoly of reunions.

Bunty

Well, don’t be long.

Tom

Cheerio!

Nicky

Crossly.

Oh, God!

He goes out.

Tom

What’s up?

Bunty

These temperamental musicians.

Tom

Silly ass.

Bunty

He isn’t really—he’s only jealous.

Tom

Why … is he? …

Bunty

We’re by way of being engaged.

Tom

What?

Bunty

Why not?

Tom

Are you … are you in love with him?

Bunty

Lightly.

Yes—isn’t it damnable?

Tom

Good Lord!

He laughs.

Bunty

What are you laughing at?

Tom

It seems so funny you being in love with that sort of chap.

Bunty

What do you mean by “that sort of chap”?

Tom

Oh—I don’t know, that type seems so unlike you.

Bunty

Type?

Tom

Yes, you know—up in the air—effeminate.

Bunty

You’re more bucolic than you used to be, Tom.

Tom

Here, I say. …

Enter Preston with cocktails.

Bunty

Will you please take Mr. Nicky’s in to him in his father’s room?

Preston

Yes, miss.

Tom

Is Mrs. Lancaster nearly ready?

Preston

I think so, sir.

Tom

Ask her to hurry. We shall be late.

Preston

Yes, sir.

He goes out.

Bunty

I can laugh now.

She does so.

Tom

Why?

Bunty

I’ve just realized something.

Tom

What?

Bunty

We shall meet again—over the weekend.

Tom

Are you coming down to the house?

Bunty

Yes.

Tom

That’s splendid. Come for a tramp Sunday morning and we’ll talk.

Bunty

What about?

Tom

Oh, lots of things—old times.

Bunty

Lifting her cocktail.

Old times, Tom.

Tom

Doing the same.

Cheerio!

Curtain.