The Fugitive | Page 5

her son] Well, George. Where's Clare?
GEORGE. Afraid she's late.
LADY DEDMOND. Are we early?
GEORGE. As a matter of fact, she's not in.
LADY DEDMOND. Oh?
SIR CHARLES. H'm! Not--not had a rumpus?
GEORGE. Not particularly. [With the first real sign of feeling] What I
can't stand is being made a fool of before other people. Ordinary
friction one can put up with. But that----
SIR CHARLES. Gone out on purpose? What!
LADY DEDMOND. What was the trouble?
GEORGE. I told her this morning you were coming in to Bridge.
Appears she'd asked that fellow Malise, for music.

LADY DEDMOND. Without letting you know?
GEORGE. I believe she did tell me.
LADY DEDMOND. But surely----
GEORGE. I don't want to discuss it. There's never anything in
particular. We're all anyhow, as you know.
LADY DEDMOND. I see. [She looks shrewdly at her son] My dear, I
should be rather careful about him, I think.
SIR CHARLES. Who's that?
LADY DEDMOND. That Mr. Malise.
SIR CHARLES. Oh! That chap!
GEORGE. Clare isn't that sort.
LADY DEDMOND. I know. But she catches up notions very easily. I
think it's a great pity you ever came across him.
SIR CHARLES. Where did you pick him up?
GEORGE. Italy--this Spring--some place or other where they couldn't
speak English.
SIR CHARLES. Um! That's the worst of travellin'.
LADY DEDMOND. I think you ought to have dropped him. These
literary people---[Quietly] From exchanging ideas to something else,
isn't very far, George.
SIR CHARLES. We'll make him play Bridge. Do him good, if he's that
sort of fellow.
LADY DEDMOND. Is anyone else coming?
GEORGE. Reggie Huntingdon, and the Fullartons.
LADY DEDMOND. [Softly] You know, my dear boy, I've been
meaning to speak to you for a long time. It is such a pity you and
Clare--What is it?
GEORGE. God knows! I try, and I believe she does.
SIR CHARLES. It's distressin'--for us, you know, my dear fellow--
distressin'.
LADY DEDMOND. I know it's been going on for a long time.
GEORGE. Oh! leave it alone, mother.
LADY DEDMOND. But, George, I'm afraid this man has brought it to
a point--put ideas into her head.
GEORGE. You can't dislike him more than I do. But there's nothing
one can object to.
LADY DEDMOND. Could Reggie Huntingdon do anything, now he's

home? Brothers sometimes----
GEORGE. I can't bear my affairs being messed about----
LADY DEDMOND. Well! it would be better for you and Clare to be
supposed to be out together, than for her to be out alone. Go quietly
into the dining-room and wait for her.
SIR CHARLES. Good! Leave your mother to make up something.
She'll do it!
LADY DEDMOND. That may be he. Quick!
[A bell sounds.]
GEORGE goes out into the hall, leaving the door open in his haste.
LADY DEDMOND, following, calls "Paynter!" PAYNTER enters.
LADY DEDMOND. Don't say anything about your master and
mistress being out. I'll explain.
PAYNTER. The master, my lady?
LADY DEDMOND. Yes, I know. But you needn't say so. Do you
understand?
PAYNTER. [In polite dudgeon] Just so, my lady.
[He goes out.]
SIR CHARLES. By Jove! That fellow smells a rat!
LADY DEDMOND. Be careful, Charles!
SIR CHARLES. I should think so.
LADY DEDMOND. I shall simply say they're dining out, and that
we're not to wait Bridge for them.
SIR CHARLES. [Listening] He's having a palaver with that man of
George's.
PAYNTER, reappearing, announces: "Captain Huntingdon." SIR
CHARLES and LADY DEDMOND turn to him with relief.
LADY DEDMOND. Ah! It's you, Reginald!
HUNTINGDON. [A tall, fair soldier, of thirty] How d'you do? How are
you, sir? What's the matter with their man?
SHE CHARLES. What!
HUNTINGDON. I was going into the dining-room to get rid of my
cigar; and he said: "Not in there, sir. The master's there, but my
instructions are to the effect that he's not."
SHE CHARLES. I knew that fellow----
LADY DEDMOND. The fact is, Reginald, Clare's out, and George is
waiting for her. It's so important people shouldn't----

HUNTINGDON. Rather!
They draw together, as people do, discussing the misfortunes of
members of their families.
LADY DEDMOND. It's getting serious, Reginald. I don't know what's
to become of them. You don't think the Rector--you don't think your
father would speak to Clare?
HUNTINGDON. Afraid the Governor's hardly well enough. He takes
anything of that sort to heart so--especially Clare.
SIR CHARLES. Can't you put in a word yourself?
HUNTINGDON. Don't know where the mischief lies.
SIR CHARLES. I'm sure George doesn't gallop her on the road. Very
steady-goin' fellow, old George.
HUNTINGDON. Oh, yes; George is all right, sir.
LADY DEDMOND. They ought to have had children.
HUNTINGDON. Expect they're pretty glad now they haven't. I really
don't know what to say, ma'am.
SIR CHARLES. Saving your presence, you know, Reginald, I've often