Five Little Plays | Page 8

As we are--you and Betty--I've got the dummy. [_He shuffles the cards_--BETTY _cuts--he begins to deal._] That's how I like it--one on each side of me. Also I like having dummy. Now, Betty, play up. Oh, Lord, how good it is, how good! A nightmare, I tell you--terrible! And really you must forgive me for being such an ass. But the way you played up, both of you! My little Betty--a Duse, that's what she is--a real Duse! [_He gathers up his cards._] And the gods are kind to me--I've got a hand, I tell you! I call NO TRUMPS!
[_He beams at them--they are placidly sorting their cards. He puts his hand down and proceeds to look at his dummy, as the curtain falls._
CURTAIN

A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED....

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY
MR. HARRISON CROCKSTEAD LADY ALINE DE VAUX
_Produced at the Garrick Theatre on March 27, 1904_

A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED....
SCENE _The conservatory of No. 300 Grosvenor Square. Hour, close on midnight. A ball is in progress, and dreamy waltz music is heard in the distance._
LADY ALINE DE VAUX _enters, leaning on the arm of_ MR. HARRISON CROCKSTEAD.
LADY ALINE _is a tall, exquisitely-gowned girl, of the conventional and much-admired type of beauty. Put her in any drawing-room in the world, and she would at once be recognised as a highborn Englishwoman. She has in her, in embryo, all those excellent qualities that go to make a great lady: the icy stare, the haughty movement of the shoulder, the disdainful arch of the lip; she has also, but only an experienced observer would notice it, something of wistfulness, something that speaks of a sore and wounded heart--though it is sufficiently evident that this organ is kept under admirable control. A girl who has been placed in a position of life where artificiality rules, who has been taught to be artificial and has thoroughly learned her lesson; yet one who would unhesitatingly know the proper thing to do did a camel bolt with her in the desert, or an eastern potentate invite her to become his two hundred and fifty-seventh wife. In a word, a lady of complete self-possession and magnificent control._ MR. CROCKSTEAD _is a big, burly man of forty or so, and of the kind to whom the ordinary West End butler would consider himself perfectly justified in declaring that her ladyship was not at home. And yet his evening clothes sit well on him; and there is a certain air of command about the man that would have made the butler uncomfortable. That functionary would have excused himself by declaring that_ MR. CROCKSTEAD _didn't look a gentleman. And perhaps he doesn't. His walk is rather a slouch; he has a way of keeping his hands in his pockets, and of jerking out his sentences; a way, above all, of seeming perfectly indifferent to the comfort of the people he happens to be addressing. The impression he gives is one of power, not of refinement; and the massive face, with its heavy lines, and eyes that are usually veiled, seems to give no clue whatever to the character of the man within._
_The couple break apart when they enter the room;_ LADY ALINE _is the least bit nervous, though she shows no trace of it;_ MR. CROCKSTEAD _absolutely imperturbable and undisturbed._
CROCKSTEAD. [_Looking around._] Ah--this is the place--very quiet, retired, romantic--et cetera. Music in the distance--all very appropriate and sentimental.
[_She leaves him, and sits, quietly fanning herself; he stands, looking at her._] You seem perfectly calm, Lady Aline?
ALINE. [_Sitting._] Conservatories are not unusual appendages to a ball-room, Mr. Crockstead; nor is this conservatory unlike other conservatories.
CROCKSTEAD [_Turning to her._] I wonder why women are always so evasive?
ALINE. With your permission we will not discuss the sex. You and I are too old to be cynical, and too young to be appreciative. And besides, it is a rule of mine, whenever I sit out a dance, that my partner shall avoid the subjects of women--and golf.
CROCKSTEAD. You limit the area of conversation. But then, in this particular instance, I take it, we have not come here to talk?
ALINE. [_Coldly._] I beg your pardon!
CROCKSTEAD. [_Sitting beside her._] Lady Aline, they are dancing a cotillon in there, so we have half an hour before us. We shall not be disturbed, for the Duchess, your aunt, has considerately stationed her aged companion in the corridor, with instructions to ward off intruders.
ALINE. [_Very surprised._] Mr. Crockstead!
CROCKSTEAD. [_Looking hard at her._] Didn't you know? [ALINE _turns aside, embarrassed._] That's right--of course you did. Don't you know why I have brought you here? That's right; of course you do. The Duchess, your aunt, and the Marchioness, your mother--observe how fondly my tongue trips out the titles--smiled sweetly on us as we left the ball-room. There will be a notice in