Overruled | Page 9

that's a trick of mine. Rather a silly trick, I Suppose;
but there's something pathetic to me about men: I find myself calling
them poor So-and-So when there's nothing whatever the matter with
them.
GREGORY [who has listened in growing alarm]. But--I--is?-- wa--?
Oh, Lord!
MRS. JUNO. What's the matter?
GREGORY. Nothing.
MRS. JUNO. Nothing! [Rising anxiously]. Nonsense: you're ill.
GREGORY. No. It was something about your late husband--
MRS. JUNO. My LATE husband! What do you mean? [clutching him,
horror-stricken]. Don't tell me he's dead.
GREGORY [rising, equally appalled]. Don't tell me he's alive.
MRS. JUNO. Oh, don't frighten me like this. Of course he's
alive--unless you've heard anything.
GREGORY. The first day we met--on the boat--you spoke to me of
your poor dear husband.
MRS. JUNO [releasing him, quite reassured]. Is that all?

GREGORY. Well, afterwards you called him poor Tops. Always poor
Tops, Our poor dear Tops. What could I think?
MRS. JUNO [sitting down again]. I wish you hadn't given me such a
shock about him; for I haven't been treating him at all well. Neither
have you.
GREGORY [relapsing into his seat, overwhelmed]. And you mean to
tell me you're not a widow!
MRS. JUNO. Gracious, no! I'm not in black.
GREGORY. Then I have been behaving like a blackguard. I have
broken my promise to my mother. I shall never have an easy
conscience again.
MRS. JUNO. I'm sorry. I thought you knew.
GREGORY. You thought I was a libertine?
MRS. JUNO. No: of course I shouldn't have spoken to you if I had
thought that. I thought you liked me, but that you knew, and would be
good.
GREGORY [stretching his hands towards her breast]. I thought the
burden of being good had fallen from my soul at last. I saw nothing
there but a bosom to rest on: the bosom of a lovely woman of whom I
could dream without guilt. What do I see now?
MRS. JUNO. Just what you saw before.
GREGORY [despairingly]. No, no.
MRS. JUNO. What else?
GREGORY. Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted: Trespassers Will Be
Prosecuted.
MRS. JUNO. They won't if they hold their tongues. Don't be such a

coward. My husband won't eat you.
GREGORY. I'm not afraid of your husband. I'm afraid of my
conscience.
MRS. JUNO [losing patience]. Well! I don't consider myself at all a
badly behaved woman; for nothing has passed between us that was not
perfectly nice and friendly; but really! to hear a grown-up man talking
about promises to his mother!
GREGORY [interrupting her]. Yes, Yes: I know all about that. It's not
romantic: it's not Don Juan: it's not advanced; but we feel it all the
same. It's far deeper in our blood and bones than all the romantic stuff.
My father got into a scandal once: that was why my mother made me
promise never to make love to a married woman. And now I've done it
I can't feel honest. Don't pretend to despise me or laugh at me. You feel
it too. You said just now that your own conscience was uneasy when
you thought of your husband. What must it be when you think of my
wife?
MRS. JUNO [rising aghast]. Your wife!!! You don't dare sit there and
tell me coolly that you're a married man!
GREGORY. I never led you to believe I was unmarried.
MRS. JUNO. Oh! You never gave me the faintest hint that you had a
wife.
GREGORY. I did indeed. I discussed things with you that only married
people really understand.
MRS. JUNO. Oh!!
GREGORY. I thought it the most delicate way of letting you know.
MRS. JUNO. Well, you ARE a daisy, I must say. I suppose that's
vulgar; but really! really!! You and your goodness! However, now
we've found one another out there's only one thing to be done. Will you

please go?
GREGORY [rising slowly]. I OUGHT to go.
MRS. JUNO. Well, go.
GREGORY. Yes. Er--[he tries to go]. I--I somehow can't. [He sits
down again helplessly]. My conscience is active: my will is paralyzed.
This is really dreadful. Would you mind ringing the bell and asking
them to throw me out? You ought to, you know.
MRS. JUNO. What! make a scandal in the face of the whole hotel!
Certainly not. Don't be a fool.
GREGORY. Yes; but I can't go.
MRS. JUNO. Then I can. Goodbye.
GREGORY [clinging to her hand]. Can you really?
MRS. JUNO. Of course I--[she wavers]. Oh, dear! [They contemplate
one another helplessly]. I can't. [She sinks on the lounge, hand in hand
with him].
GREGORY. For heaven's sake pull yourself together. It's a question of
self-control.
MRS. JUNO [dragging her hand away and retreating to the end of the
chesterfield]. No: it's a question of distance. Self-control is all very well
two or