What Every Woman Knows | Page 9

for the young man,
David.
DAVID. Not at all. You'll be the making of him. [She lifts the two
volumes.] Are you taking the books to your bed, Maggie?
MAGGIE. Yes. I don't want him to know things I don't know myself.
[She departs with the books; and ALICK and DAVID, the villains, now
want to get away from each other.]
ALICK. Yes--yes. Oh yes--ay, man--it is so--umpha. You'll lift the big
coals off, David.
[He wanders away to his spring mattress. DAVID removes the coals.]
JAMES [who would like to sit down and have an argy-bargy]. It's a
most romantical affair. [But he gets no answer.] I wonder how it'll turn
out? [No answer.] She's queer, Maggie. I wonder how some clever
writers has never noticed how queer women are. It's my belief you
could write a whole book about them. [DAVID remains obdurate.] It
was very noble of her to tell him she's twenty-six. [Muttering as he too
wanders away.] But I thought she was twenty-seven.

[DAVID turns out the light.]

ACT II
[Six years have elapsed and John Shand's great hour has come. Perhaps
his great hour really lies ahead of him, perhaps he had it six years ago;
it often passes us by in the night with such a faint call that we don't
even turn in our beds. But according to the trumpets this is John's great
hour; it is the hour for which he has long been working with his coat
off; and now the coat is on again (broadcloth but ill- fitting), for there is
no more to do but await results. He is standing for Parliament, and this
is election night.
As the scene discloses itself you get, so to speak, one of John Shand's
posters in the face. Vote for Shand. Shand, Shand, Shand. Civil and
Religious Liberty, Faith, Hope, Freedom. They are all fly- blown
names for Shand. Have a placard about Shand, have a hundred placards
about him, it is snowing Shand to-night in Glasgow; take the paste out
of your eye, and you will see that we are in one of Shand's committee
rooms. It has been a hairdresser's emporium, but Shand, Shand, Shand
has swept through it like a wind, leaving nothing but the fixtures; why
shave, why have your head doused in those basins when you can be
brushed and scraped and washed up for ever by simply voting for
Shand?
There are a few hard chairs for yelling Shand from, and then rushing
away. There is an iron spiral staircase that once led to the ladies'
hairdressing apartments, but now leads to more Shand, Shand, Shand.
A glass door at the back opens on to the shop proper, screaming Civil
and Religious Liberty, Shand, as it opens, and beyond is the street
crammed with still more Shand pro and con. Men in every sort of garb
rush in and out, up and down the stair, shouting the magic word. Then
there is a lull, and down the stair comes Maggie Wylie, decidedly
overdressed in blue velvet and (let us get this over) less good- looking
than ever. She raises her hands to heaven, she spins round like a little
teetotum. To her from the street, suffering from a determination of the

word Shand to the mouth, rush Alick and David. Alick is thinner (being
older), David is stouter (being older), and they are both in tweeds and
silk hats.]
MAGGIE. David--have they--is he? quick, quick! DAVID. There's no
news yet, no news. It's terrible.
[The teetotum revolves more quickly.]
ALICK. For God's sake, Maggie, sit down.
MAGGIE. I can't, I can't.
DAVID. Hold her down.
[They press her into a chair; JAMES darts in, stouter also. His necktie
has gone; he will never again be able to attend a funeral in that hat.]
JAMES [wildly]. John Shand's the man for you. John Shand's the man
for you. John Shand's the man for you.
DAVID [clutching him]. Have you heard anything?
JAMES. Not a word.
ALICK. Look at her.
DAVID. Maggie [he goes on his knees beside her, pressing her to him
in affectionate anxiety]. It was mad of him to dare.
MAGGIE. It was grand of him.
ALICK [moving about distraught]. Insane ambition.
MAGGIE. Glorious ambition.
DAVID. Maggie, Maggie, my lamb, best be prepared for the worst.
MAGGIE [husky]. I am prepared.

ALICK. Six weary years has she waited for this night.
MAGGIE. Six brave years has John toiled for this night.
JAMES. And you could have had him, Maggie, at the end of five. The
document says five.
MAGGIE. Do you think I grudge not being married to him yet? Was I
to hamper him till the fight was won?
DAVID [with wrinkled brows]. But if it's lost?
[She can't answer.]
ALICK [starting]. What's that?
[The