King Arthurs Socks and Other Village Plays | Page 9

home.
THE ANGEL. What! So soon?
THE POLICEMAN. I know how ye feel. I've been that way meself.
But I can't leave ye go traipsin' about in skirts.
THE ANGEL. (_drawing away_) Sir, I'm not traipsing about. I am

attending to important business, and I must ask you not to detain me.
THE POLICEMAN. (_suspiciously_) Not so fast, me laddie-buck.
What business have you at this hour of the night? Tell me that.
THE ANGEL. I don't mind telling you. It concerns a mortal called
James Pendleton.
THE POLICEMAN. (_genial again_) Aha! So you're a friend of Jimmy
Pendleton's, are you?
THE ANGEL. Not exactly. I am his Guardian Angel.
THE POLICEMAN. Well, faith, he needs one! Come, me b'y, I'll see
ye safe to his door.
THE ANGEL. Thank you. But, if you don't mind, I prefer to go alone.
He turns away.
THE POLICEMAN. Good night to you, then.
_He idly watches the angelic figure walk away, and then stares with
amazement as it spreads its wings and soars to the top of Washington
Arch. Pausing there a moment, it soars again in the air, and is seen
wafting its way over the neighbouring housetops to the northeast. The
policeman shakes his head in disapproval.
Jimmy Pendleton is dozing in an easy chair before the grate-fire in Ms
studio in Washington Mews. A yellow-backed French novel has fallen
from his knee to the floor. It is Anatole France's "La Revolte des
Anges". A suitcase stands beside the chair. Jimmy is evidently about to
go on some journey.
A clock begins to strike somewhere. Jimmy Pendleton awakes_.
JIMMY. What a queer dream! (He looks at his watch.) Twelve o'clock.
The taxi ought to be here. (_He takes two tickets from his pocket, looks
at them, and puts them back. Then he commences to pace nervously up
and down the room, muttering to himself_)--Fool! Idiot! Imbecile!
(_He is not, so that you could notice it, any of these things. He is a very
handsome man of forty. There is the blast of an auto-horn outside. He
makes an angry gesture_.) Too late! That's the taxi. (_But he stands
uncertainly in the middle of the floor. There is a loud pounding on the
knocker_.) Yes, yes!

_He makes a movement toward the door, when it suddenly opens, and a
lovely lady enters. He stares at her in surprise_.
JIMMY. Annabelle!
_Annabelle is little. Annabelle's petulant upturned lips are rosebud red.
Annabelle's round eyes are baby-blue. Annabelle is--young_.
ANNABELLE. Yes! It's me! (_There is a tiny lisp in Annabelle's
speech_.) I got tired of waiting, and the door was unlocked, so I came
right in.
JIMMY. Well!
ANNABELLE. (_hurt_) Aren't you glad to see me?
JIMMY. I'm--delighted. But--but--I thought we were to meet at the
station.
ANNABELLE. So we were.
JIMMY. You haven't changed your mind?
ANNABELLE. No. . . .
JIMMY. Er--good.
ANNABELLE. But--
JIMMY. Yes--?
ANNABELLE. I got to wondering. . . . (She drifts to the easy chair in
front of the fire.)
JIMMY. Wondering . . . about what? (He looks at his watch.)
ANNABELLE. About love. . . .
JIMMY. Well . . . (_He lights a cigarette_)--it's a subject that can stand

a good deal of wondering about. I've wondered about it myself.
ANNABELLE. That's just it--you speak so cynically about it. I don't
believe you're in love with me at all!
JIMMY. Nonsense! Of course I'm in love with you.
ANNABELLE. (_sadly_) No you're not.
JIMMY. (_angrily_) But I tell you I am!
ANNABELLE. No. . . .
JIMMY. Foolish child!
ANNABELLE. Well, let's not quarrel about it. We'll talk about
something else.
JIMMY. (_vehemently_) What do you suppose this insanity is if it is
not love? What do you imagine leads me to this preposterous escapade,
if not that preposterous passion?
ANNABELLE. That isn't the way I love you.
JIMMY. Then why do you come with me?
ANNABELLE. Perhaps I'm not coming.
JIMMY. Yes you are. It's foolish--mad--wicked--but you're coming.
(She begins to cry softly.) If not--ten minutes away is safety and peace
and comfort. Shall I call a taxi for you? (She shakes her head.) No, I
thought not. Oh, it's love all right. . . . Antony and Cleopatra defying
the Mann Act! Romance! Beauty! Adventure! How can you doubt it?
ANNABELLE. I hate you!
JIMMY. (_cheerfully_) I don't mind. (_Smiling_) I rather hate you
myself. And that's the final proof that this is love.

ANNABELLE. (_sobbing_) I thought love was something
quite--different!
JIMMY. You thought it was beautiful. It isn't. It's just blithering,
blathering folly. We'll both regret it tomorrow.
ANNABELLE. I Won't!
JIMMY. Yes you will. It's human nature. Face the facts.
ANNABELLE. (_tearfully_) Facing the facts is one thing and being in
love is another,
JIMMY. Quite so. Well, how long do you