Act 1 — Scene 2

The curtain drops—to rise again three hours later. ARIADNE and HESTER are on the sofa, HESTER at work on something. The others are playing bridge. HORACE (with him JOHN) is winning; you can see it by the way he is snapping down the cards; JANET is losing and doesn’t like it; JOHN is dummy; and HECTOR for once is not talking, save for an occasional “Ah!” or “H’m!” or “You play that.”

HORACE. The last two are ours. Four tricks. That’s thirty-two below. That’s the rubber.

ARIADNE. Did you win, Mr. Meldrum?

HORACE. I did, dear lady.

ARIADNE. How clever of you!

HECTOR. You know the old adage, Horace. Lucky at cards, unlucky in love.

ARIADNE. Oh, I’m sure that doesn’t apply to Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE. I’m sure it doesn’t too.

HESTER. How much have you lost, Hector?

HECTOR. We haven’t worked it out yet, dear.

JANET (who has been scoring). Four hundred and seventy—that’s four and sixpence.

JOHN (who is also scoring). Five hundred and two.

HORACE. Five hundred and two, that’s five shillings.

JANET. How do you make that? (She looks over his shoulder) You have given yourself sixteen above, what’s that for?

JOHN. Simple honours.

HECTOR. We had the honours, dear boy.

JANET. Of course we did.

HECTOR. I had the knave.

JANET. And I had the queen and ten. Four and sixpence.

JOHN. Sorry. Four and sixpence.

HORACE (calmly). I had the knave.

HECTOR. My dear boy⁠——

JANET. I distinctly remember⁠——

HORACE. I had the knave.

JANET. I know Mr. Chadwick had the knave.

ARIADNE. Does it matter very much who had the knave?

JANET (to HORACE). We’ll turn up the tricks, if you like.

JOHN (to ARIADNE). It just makes the difference, dear.

HECTOR (to JANET). I’m afraid I’ve shuffled the cards now.

HORACE (getting up). Five shillings. Well, I’d sooner win it than lose it.

HECTOR (getting up and coming over to the sofa). You see, it’s either five shillings or four and six, according to who had the knave.

ARIADNE. Dear me! Then you all ought to have watched the poor man much more carefully.

JANET. I know Mr. Chadwick had it.

HORACE. Well, look here, I tell you what I’ll do, Hector. I’ll toss you ten shillings or nothing.

HECTOR. Right. (HORACE spins a coin.) Tails.

HORACE. Heads. My luck’s in.

HECTOR (making sure it was heads). Right. (He takes out a note which HORACE solemnly tucks away.)

JANET (defiantly to JOHN). Four and six. (She gives him the money.)

JOHN. Thanks. That’s all right.

HORACE. I’ll help myself to another drink if nobody objects.

JOHN. Oh do! Sorry! What about you, Hester?

HESTER. No, thank you.

HORACE. Mrs. John? Can’t I persuade you?

ARIADNE. No, thank you.

HORACE (humorously). I can afford it, you know. I’ve won ten shillings. (ARIADNE laughs kindly.) Miss Janet, what about you? Just to show there is no ill-feeling.

JANET (still rather ruffled over that sixpence). Thanks.

HESTER (getting up). Well, we ought to be going, I suppose. (To HECTOR) Are you ready?

HECTOR. Yes, dear. Ready, aye ready. (They say good-byes, and JOHN goes to the door with them.) (To JANET) I’m afraid it’s no good offering you a lift, as you don’t go our way.

ARIADNE (to JANET). Haven’t you got the car, dear?

JANET. Good Lord, no. Father doesn’t waste the car on me like that. I don’t mind walking. It isn’t far.

HECTOR (relieved). Ah well, that’s all right.

JOHN (from the door). I’ll see Miss Ingleby home.

JANET. No need to.

JOHN. Of course I will.

ARIADNE (the perfect wife). Of course he will! How is your father?

JANET (not realising how nearly a dog bit him outside the Town Hall). Oh, all right. Well then, I’ll say good-night. And thanks very much.

ARIADNE. Good-night, dear. Sure you are all right?

JANET. Of course. Good-night, Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE. Good-night, Miss Janet. Remember me to your father. I’ll be round seeing him one of these days, I expect.

JANET (as she goes out). Right. I’ll count the spoons.

HORACE. Ha, ha, ha! Smart little devil. I like a girl with spirit.

(Final good-nights are heard from the hall. Then after a pause comes “Ready?” from JOHN and “Right” from JANET. After another pause the front door is heard to shut. During this, HORACE has been staring at ARIADNE, the self-assured stare of the man who is certain that that is what a pretty woman likes. ARIADNE sits demurely on the sofa waiting for him to begin.)

HORACE. I got your message.

ARIADNE. What message was that?

HORACE. The one you are sending me now.

ARIADNE. Am I?

HORACE. Your rose, dear lady.

ARIADNE (demurely). Oh!

HORACE. My rose.

ARIADNE (more demurely). Oh!

HORACE. Our rose.

ARIADNE (most demurely). Oh!

HORACE. How beautiful it looks there. (Striving for the right metaphor) Nesting.

ARIADNE. I didn’t know roses did that.

HORACE. Ariadne’s does. It nests in her bosom like a—like⁠——

ARIADNE. It is difficult, isn’t it? You’ll have to start again.

HORACE (who has probably had just a little too much whisky). Like a dove. Like a little dove. A little pink dove.

ARIADNE. Fancy! I wonder what a pink dove looks like, nesting in a buttonhole. (He comes towards her. She takes it out of her dress and puts it in his buttonhole) There! It looks just like a rose.

HORACE. Thank you, dear lady. (He kisses her fingers; then goes back to his place, and expands himself) Somehow I never feel properly dressed until a pretty woman has put a flower in my buttonhole. (He stands in front of the fireplace jingling his money.)

ARIADNE. Had a good week?

HORACE. Pretty fair, pretty fair. And a bit more to come to-morrow morning.

ARIADNE. I suppose I mustn’t ask how much.

HORACE. You’d be surprised if I told you.

ARIADNE. Try me.

HORACE. Not far short of a cool thousand. That’s about what it will work out at for the week.

ARIADNE. A cool thousand! Fancy. And a bachelor. No wonder you are always properly dressed.

HORACE. So to-morrow afternoon I am running up to dear old London to see what Piccadilly Circus looks like.

ARIADNE. On business?

HORACE (chuckling). Strictly on business. Strictly on business. And if anybody asks me what business, I shall say that’s my business. (He laughs heartily.)

ARIADNE. Then I shan’t ask you what business.

HORACE. I’d tell you, my dear lady. I’m going to see my doctor. Ha, ha! That’s a good one. My doctor.

ARIADNE. Yes, that’s a good one. I like that one.

HORACE. Joking apart, my dear, I’ll tell you why I’m going to London. Just for a little bit of fun. Just a little bit of fun after a hard week’s work. On a Friday night I say to myself sometimes, “Horace, you’ve been a good boy all the week, and you’ve earned your little bit of fun.”

ARIADNE. I’m sure you have.

HORACE. That’s what I call going to see my doctor. Doctor Fun I call him. L. B. Fun.

ARIADNE. What amusing things you say.

HORACE. Little Bitta Fun. L. B. Fun—see it?

ARIADNE. Yes, now I do.

HORACE. Well, that’s what I’m going to London for. Get up in time for lunch. What about a cosy little lunch at Frascati’s; just as a start?

ARIADNE. Alone?

HORACE. Aha, dear lady, that’s telling.

ARIADNE. Perhaps I oughtn’t to have asked.

HORACE. Well, let’s say not quite alone. A little bit of pink muslin opposite, with perhaps something inside it.

ARIADNE. What a sweet way of putting it.

HORACE. After lunch—what shall we say? You shall say, dear lady.

ARIADNE. Well—what about the South Kensington Museum?

HORACE (much amused). Aha, that’s a good one! A visit to the South Kensington Museum, tea with the Dean of St. Paul’s, dinner at an A.B.C., a concert at the Albert Hall, and a snack of something at Fulham Palace to end up with. Ha, ha, ha! That’s me!

ARIADNE (pretending to be offended). I don’t believe you’re serious. You’re laughing at me.

HORACE. Laughing at you? Bless my soul, whatever put that into your pretty little head? Look in at the South Kensington Museum at three o’clock to-morrow, and you will find your humble servant talking to the head keeper.

ARIADNE. I’ve a good mind to take you at your word, and look in at three o’clock.

HORACE (coming closer to her). Why don’t you?

ARIADNE. I shan’t have time, I’m afraid. I’m catching the 3.10 back.

HORACE. Back? Are you going to London to-morrow?

ARIADNE. Yes.

HORACE. Fancy that. Alone?

ARIADNE. I don’t know yet.

HORACE. When will you know?

ARIADNE. Perhaps in a minute or two.

HORACE (joining her on the sofa). How very curious that you should be going to London to-morrow—too.

ARIADNE. That’s what John said.

HORACE (doubtfully). John? So John said that. Why did John say that?

ARIADNE. He said that it was cheaper to go on Wednesday.

HORACE (relieved). Oh, I see! But only if you go third class.

ARIADNE. But then I always do.

HORACE. Poor little woman, what a shame!

ARIADNE. Why? It’s much more amusing.

HORACE. If you are alone, perhaps⁠——

ARIADNE. Oh, you are never alone third class.

HORACE (getting very close). But for two it’s much more amusing first class.

ARIADNE. Is it?

HORACE. Particularly if the guard is a friend of yours.

ARIADNE. Oh?

HORACE. He’s a very great friend of mine.

ARIADNE. Oh!

HORACE. It’s funny we should both be going to London to-morrow, isn’t it?

ARIADNE. But we mightn’t both be going by the same train.

HORACE. Ah!... What train are you going by?

ARIADNE. The 10.15.

HORACE (disappointed). Oh! That’s a pity.

ARIADNE. Why?

HORACE. I can’t get away before the 12.5. There’s a bit of business I’ve got to see to⁠——

ARIADNE (demurely). I think I am going first class.

HORACE (considering). It may mean a matter of a hundred pounds⁠——

ARIADNE. Or aren’t there any first-class carriages on the 10.15 train?

HORACE (making up his mind). No, dammit, one can’t throw away good business just for a bit of fun.

ARIADNE. Not even if it wore pink muslin?

HORACE (slapping his knee). That’s it! You do your shopping or whatever it is, and I’ll come up later, call for you wherever you like, and we’ll have that little lunch at Frascati’s. How’s that? I’ll be with you at half-past one.

ARIADNE. Well, of course, I do like something to eat about then.

HORACE. Right! That’s a bet! Where do I pick you up?

ARIADNE. Well, I shall be at my club⁠——

HORACE (jovially contemptuous). Your club! You women and your clubs! But bless you, in spite of your votes and your clubs and your cigarettes, you are just the same women under your clothes as Eve was before you. And, thank God, you always will be.

ARIADNE. Yes, but that isn’t the address of the club. Or don’t you want to know the address?

HORACE. Well, give us the name. I suppose the cabman will know where it is.

ARIADNE. The United Arts.

HORACE (whipping out his pencil and writing on his cuff). A. W. United Arts, 1.30.

ARIADNE (watching him). What an interesting time your laundress must have.

HORACE. Naturally, I never put any business secrets there. (He puts back his pencil.)

ARIADNE. A very wise distinction.

HORACE. One-thirty at the United Arts. And now what about that train back?

ARIADNE. Which one?

HORACE. Exactly, which one?

ARIADNE. I’m catching the 3.10.

HORACE. But that makes it such a very little bit of fun.

ARIADNE. I think John will expect me⁠——

HORACE. Not if you tell him you are coming by a later one.

ARIADNE. Is there a later one?

HORACE. There’s one about five.

ARIADNE. I don’t think I know that one.

HORACE. It isn’t a very good one. There’s a better one about eight.

ARIADNE. It seems a much later one.

HORACE. But the best of them all is the 10.45.

ARIADNE. Why is that the best of them all?

HORACE. I would try to explain why—before we caught it.

ARIADNE. It seems a very long explanation.

HORACE. You wouldn’t be bored.

ARIADNE. Attractive man!

HORACE. Adorable woman!

ARIADNE. You seem very certain of yourself.

HORACE. It isn’t difficult to entertain a pretty woman.

ARIADNE. Experienced man!

HORACE. Well, yes, I’ve knocked about a bit.

ARIADNE. But all women like that, don’t they?

HORACE. They do, you may take my word for it.

ARIADNE. I don’t think I shall go to London to-morrow.

HORACE. Oh yes, you will.

ARIADNE. Well, perhaps I will.

HORACE. Of course you will.

ARIADNE. But I shall come back by the 3 train.

HORACE. Oh no, you won’t.

ARIADNE. Well, perhaps I won’t.

HORACE. Of course you won’t.

ARIADNE. Masterful man!

HORACE. I know how to manage women, bless their pretty little faces.

ARIADNE. I can see you do.

HORACE. Now, let’s be practical.

ARIADNE. Businesslike.

HORACE. You can’t be shopping in London till ten o’clock at night; you’ll have to say you’ve been called away suddenly—to a sick relative.

ARIADNE. Why are sick people always supposed to want their relations so badly? I never want anybody when I’m looking my worst.

HORACE. Have you got any relations?

ARIADNE. Heaps—and all John’s.

HORACE. Any in London of your own?

ARIADNE. An uncle. I was telling Hester about him. He lost his liver in Burmah. He’s touchy about it now.

HORACE. Well, there you are; he’s ill. D’you see? You leave a note to-morrow to say you’ve just been rung up as you were starting to the station. Uncle dying. May not be back till late. See?

ARIADNE. I see. Isn’t it rather deceitful?

HORACE. Little bit of fun. What’s the harm in a little bit of fun?

ARIADNE. True. You mustn’t think I haven’t got a sense of humour.

HORACE. Well then, you see, it doesn’t matter what time you come back. Your ground’s prepared ... even if⁠——(He hesitates.)

ARIADNE. Well?

HORACE. Even if—(very softly)—we found a better train than the 10.45.

ARIADNE. But I thought you said that that was the best?

HORACE. The best—on Saturday night.

ARIADNE (looking at him thoughtfully). Do you know you’re a very wonderful man? (HORACE laughs comfortably.) Even I—hardly realised⁠——(He leans towards her. She gets up hastily.)

HORACE. What is it?

ARIADNE. John. I heard the door.

HORACE (getting up). One-thirty. (He kisses his hand to her.)

JOHN comes in.

ARIADNE. How quick you’ve been!

HORACE. Well, I must be getting along.

ARIADNE. Oh no! Must you?

JOHN. Have another drink?

HORACE. No thanks, my boy. (To ARIADNE) Afraid I must, Mrs. John. Got a lot to do to-morrow. (Holding out his hand) Good-bye—and thank you for a most delightful evening.

ARIADNE. Good-night. I’ve enjoyed it too, you know.

HORACE. How nice of you! (To JOHN) No, don’t bother.

(But JOHN insists on seeing his most important client out. Alone, ARIADNE drops into the sofa with the evening paper.)

JOHN (coming back). Well! It wasn’t so bad after all, was it? (He pours himself out a drink.)

ARIADNE (reading her paper). Not so bad.

JOHN. Did you get on with Meldrum all right?

ARIADNE. Quite all right, John.

JOHN (with a sigh of relief). That’s good.

(He drinks.)