Waste | Page 8

mind much?
TREBELL. We both minded. But I had ideals of womanhood that I
wouldn't sacrifice to any human being. Then I fell in with a woman
who seduced me, and for a whole year led me the life of a French

novel ... played about with my emotion as I had tortured that other poor
girl's brains. Education you'd call it in the one case as I called it in the
other. What a waste of time!
AMY O'CONNELL. And what has become of your ideal?
TREBELL. [Relapsing to his former mood.] It's no longer a personal
matter.
AMY O'CONNELL. [With coquetry.] You're not interested in my
character?
TREBELL. Oh, yes, I am ... up to kissing point.
She does not shrink, but speaks with just a shade of contempt.
AMY O'CONNELL. You get that far more easily than a woman. That's
one of my grudges against men. Why can't women take love-affairs so
lightly?
TREBELL. There are reasons. But make a good beginning with this
one. Kiss me at once.
He leans towards her. She considers him quite calmly.
AMY O'CONNELL. No.
TREBELL. When will you, then?
AMY O'CONNELL. When I can't help myself ... if that time ever
comes.
TREBELL. [Accepting the postponement in a business-like spirit.]
Well ... I'm an impatient man.
AMY O'CONNELL. [Confessing engagingly.] I made up my mind to
bring you within arms' length of me when we'd met at Lady Percival's.
Do you remember? [His face shows no sign of it.] It was the day after
your speech on the Budget.

TREBELL. Then I remember. But I haven't observed the process.
AMY O'CONNELL. [Subtly.] Your sister grew to like me very soon.
That's all the cunning there has been.
TREBELL. The rest is just mutual attraction?
AMY O'CONNELL. And opportunities.
TREBELL. Such as this.
At the drop of their voices they become conscious of the silent house.
AMY O'CONNELL. Do you really think everyone has gone to bed?
TREBELL. [Disregardful.] And what is it makes my pressing
attentions endurable ... if one may ask?
AMY O'CONNELL. Some spiritual need or other, I suppose, which
makes me risk unhappiness ... in fact, welcome it.
TREBELL. [With great briskness.] Your present need is a good
shaking.... I seriously mean that. You get to attach importance to these
shades of emotion. A slight physical shock would settle them all. That's
why I asked you to kiss me just now.
AMY O'CONNELL. You haven't very nice ideas, have you?
TREBELL. There are three facts in life that call up emotion ... Birth,
Death, and the Desire for Children. The niceties are shams.
AMY O'CONNELL. Then why do you want to kiss me?
TREBELL. I don't ... seriously. But I shall in a minute just to finish the
argument. Too much diplomacy always ends in a fight.
AMY O'CONNELL. And if I don't fight ... it'd be no fun for you, I
suppose?

TREBELL. You would get that much good out of me. For it's my point
of honour ... to leave nothing I touch as I find it.
He is very close to her.
AMY O'CONNELL. You're frightening me a little ...
TREBELL. Come and look at the stars again. Come along.
AMY O'CONNELL. Give me my wrap ... [He takes it up, but holds it.]
Well, put it on me. [He puts it round her, but does not withdraw his
arms.] Be careful, the stars are looking at you.
TREBELL. No, they can't see so far as we can. That's the proper creed.
AMY O'CONNELL. [Softly, almost shyly.] Henry.
TREBELL. [Bending closer to her.] Yes, pretty thing.
AMY O'CONNELL. Is this what you call being in love?
He looks up and listens.
TREBELL. Here's somebody coming.
AMY O'CONNELL. Oh!...
TREBELL. What does it matter?
AMY O'CONNELL. I'm untidy or something....
She slips out, for they are close to the window. The FOOTMAN enters,
stops suddenly.
THE FOOTMAN. I beg your pardon, sir. I thought everyone had gone.
TREBELL. I've just been for a walk. I'll lock up if you like.
THE FOOTMAN. I can easily wait up, sir.

TREBELL. [At the window.] I wouldn't. What do you do ... just slide
the bolt?
THE FOOTMAN. That's all, sir.
TREBELL. I see. Good-night.
THE FOOTMAN. Good-night, sir.
He goes. TREBELL'S demeanour suddenly changes, becomes alert,
with the alertness of a man doing something in secret. He leans out of
the window and whispers.
TREBELL. Amy!
There is no answer, so he gently steps out. For a moment the room is
empty and there is silence. Then AMY has flown from him into the
safety of lights. She is flushed, trembling, but rather ecstatic, and her
voice has lost all affectation now.
AMY O'CONNELL. Oh ... oh ... you shouldn't have kissed me like
that!
TREBELL stands in the window-way; a