She. There'll be enough of those later on Good-night, Captain Congleton. Going to the singing - quadrilles already? What dances am I giving you next week? No! You must have written them down wrong. Five and Seven, I said. If you've made a mistake, I certainly don't intend to suffer for it. You must alter your programme.
He. I thought you told me that you had not been going out much this season?
She. Quite true, but when I do I dance with Captain Congleton. He dances very nicely.
He. And sit out with him, I suppose?
She. Yes. Have you any objection? Shall I stand under the chandelier in future?
He. What does he talk to you about?
She. What do men talk about when they sit out?
He. Ugh! Don't! Well, now I'm up, you must dispense with the fascinating Congleton for a while. I don't like him.
She (after a pause). Do you know what you have said?
He 'Can't say that I do exactly. I'm not in the best of tempers.
She So I see, and feel. My true and faithful lover, where is your 'eternal constancy,' 'unalterable trust,' and 'reverent devotion'? I remember those phrases; you seem to have forgotten them. I mention a man's name He. A good deal more than that.
She. Well, speak to him about a dance perhaps the last dance that I shall ever dance in my life before I, before I go away; and you at once distrust and insult me.
He. I never said a word.
She. How much did you imply? Guy, is this amount of confidence to be our stock to start the new life on?
He. No, of course not. I didn't mean that. On my word and honour, I didn't. Let it pass, dear. Please let it pass.
She. This once yes and a second time, and again and again, all through the years when I shall be unable to resent it. You want too much, my Lancelot, and, you know too much.
He. How do you mean?
She. That is a part of the punishment. There cannot be perfect trust between us.
He. In Heaven's name, why not?
She. Hush! The Other Place is quite enough. Ask yourself.
He. I don't follow.
She. You trust me so implicitly that when I look at another man Never mind. Guy, have you ever made love to a girl a good girl?
He. Something of the sort. Centuries ago in the Dark Ages, before I ever met you, dear.
She. Tell me what you said to her.
He. What does a man say to a girl? I've forgotten.
She. I remember. He tells her that he trusts her and worships the ground she walks on, and that he'll love and honour and protect her till her dying day; and so she marries in that belief. At least, I speak of one girl who was not protected.
He. Well, and then?
She. And then, Guy, and then, that girl needs ten times the love and trust and honour yes, honour that was enough when she was only a mere wife if if the other life she chooses to lead is to be made even bearable. Do you understand?
He. Even bearable! It'll be Paradise.
She. Ah! Can you give me all I've asked for not now, nor a few months later, but when you begin to think of what you might have done if you had kept your own appointment and your caste here when you begin to look upon me as a drag and a burden? I shall want it most then, Guy, for there will be no one in the wide world but you.
He. You're a little over-tired to-night, Sweetheart, and you're taking a stage view of the situation. After the necessary business in the Courts, the road is clear to She. 'The holy state of matrimony!' Ha! ha! ha!
He. Ssh! Don't laugh in that horrible way!
She. I I c-c-c-can't help it! Isn't it too absurd! Ah! Ha! ha! ha! Guy, stop me quick or I shall l-l-laugh till we get to the Church.
He. For goodness sake, stop! Don't make an exhibition of yourself.
What is the matter with you?
She. N-nothing. I'm better now.
He. That's all right. One moment, dear. There's a little wisp of hair got loose from behind your right ear and it's straggling over your cheek. So!
She. Thank'oo. I'm 'fraid my hat's on one side, too.
He. What do you wear these huge dagger bonnet-skewers for?
They're big enough to kill a man with.
She. Oh! don't kill me, though. You're sticking it into my head! Let me do it. You men are so clumsy.
He. Have you had many opportunities of comparing us in this sort of work?
She. Guy, what is my name?
He. Eh! I don't follow.
She. Here's my card-case. Can you read?
He. Yes. Well?
She. Well, that answers your question. You know the other's man's name. Am I sufficiently humbled, or would you like to ask me if there is any one else?
He. I see now. My darling, I never meant that for an instant. I was only joking. There! Lucky there's no one on the road. They'd be scandalised.
She. They'll be more scandalised before the end.
He. Do-on't! I don't like you to talk in that way.
She. Unreasonable man! Who asked me to face the situation and accept it? Tell me, do I look like Mrs. Penner? Do I look like a naughty woman! Swear I don't! Give me your word of honour, my honourable friend, that I'm not like Mrs. Buzgago. That's the way she stands, with her hands clasped at the back of her head. D'you like that?
