The Second Series Plays | Page 3

Dunning
and Rose Taylor?
LADY CHESHIRE. I'm afraid so, dear.
CHRISTINE. But can't they be----
DOT. Ah! ah-h! [CHRISTINE and her mother are silent.] My child, I'm
not the young person.
CHRISTINE. No, of course not--only--[nodding towards JOAN and
Mable].

DOT. Look here! This is just an instance of what I hate.
LADY CHESHIRE. My dear? Another one?
DOT. Yes, mother, and don't you pretend you don't understand,
because you know you do.
CHRISTINE. Instance? Of what?
JOAN and MABEL have ceased talking, and listen, still at the fire.
DOT. Humbug, of course. Why should you want them to marry, if he's
tired of her?
CHRISTINE. [Ironically] Well! If your imagination doesn't carry you
as far as that!
DOT. When people marry, do you believe they ought to be in love with
each other?
CHRISTINE. [With a shrug] That's not the point.
DOT. Oh? Were you in love with Ronny?
CHRISTINE. Don't be idiotic!
DOT. Would you have married him if you hadn't been?
CHRISTINE. Of course not!
JOAN. Dot! You are!----
DOT. Hallo! my little snipe!
LADY CHESHIRE. Dot, dear!
DOT. Don't shut me up, mother! [To JOAN.] Are you in love with John?
[JOAN turns hurriedly to the fire.] Would you be going to marry him if
you were not?
CHRISTINE. You are a brute, Dot.
DOT. Is Mabel in love with--whoever she is in love with?
MABEL. And I wonder who that is.
DOT. Well, would you marry him if you weren't?
MABEL. No, I would not.
DOT. Now, mother; did you love father?
CHRISTINE. Dot, you really are awful.
DOT. [Rueful and detached] Well, it is a bit too thick, perhaps.
JOAN. Dot!
DOT. Well, mother, did you--I mean quite calmly?
LADY CHESHIRE. Yes, dear, quite calmly.
DOT. Would you have married him if you hadn't? [LADY CHESHIRE
shakes her head] Then we're all agreed!
MABEL. Except yourself.

DOT. [Grimly] Even if I loved him, he might think himself lucky if I
married him.
MABEL. Indeed, and I'm not so sure.
DOT. [Making a face at her] What I was going to----
LADY CHESHIRE. But don't you think, dear, you'd better not?
DOT. Well, I won't say what I was going to say, but what I do say
is--Why the devil----
LADY CHESHIRE. Quite so, Dot!
DOT. [A little disconcerted.] If they're tired of each other, they ought
not to marry, and if father's going to make them----
CHRISTINE. You don't understand in the least. It's for the sake of
the----
DOT. Out with it, Old Sweetness! The approaching infant! God bless
it!
There is a sudden silence, for KEITH and LATTER are seen coming
from the dining-room.
LATTER. That must be so, Ronny.
KEITH. No, John; not a bit of it!
LATTER. You don't think!
KEITH. Good Gad, who wants to think after dinner!
DOT. Come on! Let's play pool. [She turns at the billiard-room door.]
Look here! Rehearsal to-morrow is directly after breakfast; from
"Eccles enters breathless" to the end.
MABEL. Whatever made you choose "Caste," DOT? You know it's
awfully difficult.
DOT. Because it's the only play that's not too advanced. [The girls all
go into the billiard-room.]
LADY CHESHIRE. Where's Bill, Ronny?
KEITH. [With a grimace] I rather think Sir William and he are in
Committee of Supply--Mem-Sahib.
LADY CHESHIRE. Oh!
She looks uneasily at the dining-room; then follows the girls out.
LATTER. [In the tone of one resuming an argument] There can't be
two opinions about it, Ronny. Young Dunning's refusal is simply
indefensible.
KEITH. I don't agree a bit, John.
LATTER. Of course, if you won't listen.

KEITH. [Clipping a cigar] Draw it mild, my dear chap. We've had the
whole thing over twice at least.
LATTER. My point is this----
KEITH. [Regarding LATTER quizzically with his halfclosed eyes] I
know--I know--but the point is, how far your point is simply
professional.
LATTER. If a man wrongs a woman, he ought to right her again.
There's no answer to that.
KEITH. It all depends.
LATTER. That's rank opportunism.
KEITH. Rats! Look here--Oh! hang it, John, one can't argue this out
with a parson.
LATTER. [Frigidly] Why not?
HAROLD. [Who has entered from the dining-room] Pull devil, pull
baker!
KEITH. Shut up, Harold!
LATTER. "To play the game" is the religion even of the Army.
KEITH. Exactly, but what is the game?
LATTER. What else can it be in this case?
KEITH. You're too puritanical, young John. You can't help it--line of
country laid down for you. All drag-huntin'! What!
LATTER. [With concentration] Look here!
HAROLD. [Imitating the action of a man pulling at a horse's head]
'Come hup, I say, you hugly beast!'
KEITH. [To LATTER] You're not going to draw me, old chap. You
don't see where you'd land us all. [He smokes calmly]
LATTER. How do you imagine vice takes its