Waste | Page 6

in an odd sort of way.
FRANCES TREBELL. That's just respect for work done ... one can't escape from it.
There is a slight pause in their talk. By some not very devious route MRS. FARRANT'S mind travels to the next subject.
MRS. FARRANT. Fanny ... how fond are you of Amy O'Connell?
FRANCES TREBELL. She says we're great friends.
MRS. FARRANT. She says that of me.
FRANCES TREBELL. It's a pity about her husband.
MRS. FARRANT. [Almost provokingly.] What about him?
FRANCES TREBELL. It seems to be understood that he treats her badly.
LADY DAVENPORT. [A little malicious.] Is there any particular reason he should treat her well?
FRANCES TREBELL. Don't you like her, Lady Davenport?
LADY DAVENPORT. [Dealing out justice.] I find her quite charming to look at and talk to ... but why shouldn't Justin O'Connell live in Ireland for all that? I'm going to bed, Julia.
She collects her belongings and gets up.
MRS. FARRANT. I must look in at the billiard room.
FRANCES TREBELL. I won't come, Julia.
MRS. FARRANT. What's your brother working at?
FRANCES TREBELL. I don't know. Something we shan't hear of for a year, perhaps.
MRS. FARRANT. On the Church business, I daresay.
FRANCES TREBELL. Did you hear Lord Horsham at dinner on the lack of dignity in an irreligious state?
MRS. FARRANT. Poor Cyril ... he'll have to find a way round that opinion of his now.
FRANCES TREBELL. Does he like leading his party?
MRS. FARRANT. [After due consideration.] It's an intellectual exercise. He's the right man, Fanny. You see it isn't a party in the active sense at all, except now and then when it's captured by someone with an axe to grind.
FRANCES TREBELL. [Humorously.] Such as my brother.
MRS. FARRANT. [As humorous.] Such as your brother. It expresses the thought of the men who aren't taken in by the claptrap of progress.
FRANCES TREBELL. Sometimes they've a queer way of expressing their love for the people of England.
MRS. FARRANT. But one must use democracy. Wellington wouldn't ... Disraeli did.
LADY DAVENPORT. [At the door.] Good-night, Miss Trebell.
FRANCES TREBELL. I'm coming ... it's past eleven.
MRS. FARRANT. [At the window.] What a gorgeous night! I'll come in and kiss you, Mamma.
FRANCES follows LADY DAVENPORT and MRS. FARRANT starts across the lawn to the billiard room.... An hour later you can see no change in the room except that only one lamp is alight on the table in the middle. AMY O'CONNELL and HENRY TREBELL walk past one window and stay for a moment in the light of the other. Her wrap is about her shoulders. He stands looking down at her.
AMY O'CONNELL. There goes the moon ... it's quieter than ever now. [She comes in.] Is it very late?
TREBELL. [As he follows.] Half-past twelve.
TREBELL is hard-bitten, brainy, forty-five and very sure of himself. He has a cold keen eye, which rather belies a sensitive mouth; hands which can grip, and a figure that is austere.
AMY O'CONNELL. I ought to be in bed. I suppose everyone has gone.
TREBELL. Early trains to-morrow. The billiard room lights are out.
AMY O'CONNELL. The walk has just tired me comfortably.
TREBELL. Sit down. [She sits by the table. He sits by her and says with the air of a certain buyer at a market.] You're very pretty.
AMY O'CONNELL. As well here as by moonlight? Can't you see any wrinkles?
TREBELL. One or two ... under the eyes. But they give character and bring you nearer my age. Yes, Nature hit on the right curve in making you.
She stretches herself, cat-like.
AMY O'CONNELL. Praise is the greatest of luxuries, isn't it, Henry? ... Henry ... [she caresses the name.]
TREBELL. Quite right ... Henry.
AMY O'CONNELL. Henry ... Trebell.
TREBELL. Having formally taken possession of my name....
AMY O'CONNELL. I'll go to bed.
His eyes have never moved from her. Now she breaks the contact and goes towards the door.
TREBELL. I wouldn't ... my spare time for love making is so limited.
She turns back, quite at ease, her eyes challenging him.
AMY O'CONNELL. That's the first offensive thing you've said.
TREBELL. Why offensive?
AMY O'CONNELL. I may flirt. Making love's another matter.
TREBELL. Sit down and explain the difference ... Mrs. O'Connell.
She sits down.
AMY O'CONNELL. Quite so. 'Mrs. O'Connell'. That's the difference.
TREBELL. [Provokingly.] But I doubt if I'm interested in the fact that your husband doesn't understand you and that your marriage was a mistake ... and how hard you find it to be strong.
AMY O'CONNELL. [Kindly.] I'm not quite a fool though you think so on a three months' acquaintance. But tell me this ... what education besides marriage does a woman get?
TREBELL. [His head lifting quickly.] Education....
AMY O'CONNELL. Don't be business-like.
TREBELL. I beg your pardon.
AMY O'CONNELL. Do you think the things you like to have taught in schools are any use to one when one comes to deal with you?
TREBELL. [After a little scrutiny of her-face.] Well, if marriage is only the means to an end ... what's the end?