The Fugitive | Page 7

not to be ugly.
MALISE. Thank God for beauty!
PAYNTER. [Opening the door] Mr. and Mrs. Fullarton.
MALISE. Who are they?
CLARE. [Rising] She's my chief pal. He was in the Navy.
She goes forward. MRS. FULLERTON is a rather tall woman, with dark hair and a quick eye. He, one of those clean-shaven naval men of good presence who have retired from the sea, but not from their susceptibility.
MRS. FULLARTON. [Kissing CLARE, and taking in both MALISE and her husband's look at CLARE] We've only come for a minute.
CLARE. They're playing Bridge in the dining-room. Mr. Malise doesn't play. Mr. Malise--Mrs. Fullarton, Mr. Fullarton.
[They greet.]
FULLARTON. Most awfully jolly dress, Mrs. Dedmond.
MRS. FULLARTON. Yes, lovely, Clare. [FULLARTON abases eyes which mechanically readjust themselves] We can't stay for Bridge, my dear; I just wanted to see you a minute, that's all. [Seeing HUNTINGDON coming in she speaks in a low voice to her husband] Edward, I want to speak to Clare. How d'you do, Captain Huntingdon?
MALISE. I'll say good-night.
He shakes hands with CLARE, bows to MRS. FULLARTON, and makes his way out. HUNTINGDON and FULLERTON foregather in the doorway.
MRS. FULLARTON. How are things, Clare? [CLARE just moves her shoulders] Have you done what I suggested? Your room?
CLARE. No.
MRS. FULLARTON. Why not?
CLARE. I don't want to torture him. If I strike--I'll go clean. I expect I shall strike.
MRS. FULLARTON. My dear! You'll have the whole world against you.
CLARE. Even you won't back me, Dolly?
MRS. FULLARTON. Of course I'll back you, all that's possible, but I can't invent things.
CLARE. You wouldn't let me come to you for a bit, till I could find my feet?
MRS. FULLARTON, taken aback, cannot refrain from her glance at FULLARTON automatically gazing at CLARE while he talks with HUNTINGDON.
MRS. FULLARTON. Of course--the only thing is that----
CLARE. [With a faint smile] It's all right, Dolly. I'm not coming.
MRS. FULLARTON. Oh! don't do anything desperate, Clare--you are so desperate sometimes. You ought to make terms--not tracks.
CLARE. Haggle? [She shakes her head] What have I got to make terms with? What he still wants is just what I hate giving.
MRS. FULLARTON. But, Clare----
CLARE. No, Dolly; even you don't understand. All day and every day --just as far apart as we can be--and still--Jolly, isn't it? If you've got a soul at all.
MRS. FULLARTON. It's awful, really.
CLARE. I suppose there are lots of women who feel as I do, and go on with it; only, you see, I happen to have something in me that--comes to an end. Can't endure beyond a certain time, ever.
She has taken a flower from her dress, and suddenly tears it to bits. It is the only sign of emotion she has given.
MRS. FULLARTON. [Watching] Look here, my child; this won't do. You must get a rest. Can't Reggie take you with him to India for a bit?
CLARE. [Shaking her head] Reggie lives on his pay.
MRS. FULLARTON. [With one of her quick looks] That was Mr. Malise, then?
FULLARTON. [Coming towards them] I say, Mrs. Dedmond, you wouldn't sing me that little song you sang the other night, [He hums] "If I might be the falling bee and kiss thee all the day"? Remember?
MRS. FULLARTON. "The falling dew," Edward. We simply must go, Clare. Good-night. [She kisses her.]
FULLARTON. [Taking half-cover between his wife and CLARE] It suits you down to the ground-that dress.
CLARE. Good-night.
HUNTINGDON sees them out. Left alone CLARE clenches her hands, moves swiftly across to the window, and stands looking out.
HUNTINGDON. [Returning] Look here, Clare!
CLARE. Well, Reggie?
HUNTINGDON. This is working up for a mess, old girl. You can't do this kind of thing with impunity. No man'll put up with it. If you've got anything against George, better tell me. [CLARE shakes her head] You ought to know I should stick by you. What is it? Come?
CLARE. Get married, and find out after a year that she's the wrong person; so wrong that you can't exchange a single real thought; that your blood runs cold when she kisses you--then you'll know.
HUNTINGDON. My dear old girl, I don't want to be a brute; but it's a bit difficult to believe in that, except in novels.
CLARE. Yes, incredible, when you haven't tried.
HUNTINGDON. I mean, you--you chose him yourself. No one forced you to marry him.
CLARE. It does seem monstrous, doesn't it?
HUNTINGDON. My dear child, do give us a reason.
CLARE. Look! [She points out at the night and the darkening towers] If George saw that for the first time he'd just say, "Ah, Westminster! Clock Tower! Can you see the time by it?" As if one cared where or what it was--beautiful like that! Apply that to every --every--everything.
HUNTINGDON. [Staring] George may be a bit prosaic. But, my dear old girl, if that's all----
CLARE. It's not all--it's nothing. I can't explain, Reggie--it's not reason, at all; it's--it's like being underground in a damp cell;