JUDITH: Give me another of those disgusting cigarettes—I don’t know where they came from. SIMON (_giving her one_): Here. (_He lights it for her._) JUDITH: I’m going to forget entirely about all these dreadful people arriving. My mind henceforward shall be a blank on the subject. SOREL: It’s all very fine, Mother, but—— JUDITH: I made a great decision this morning. SIMON: What kind of decision? JUDITH: It’s a secret. SOREL: Aren’t you going to tell us? JUDITH: Of course. I meant it was a secret from your Father. SIMON: What is it? JUDITH: I’m going back to the stage. SIMON: I knew it! JUDITH: I’m stagnating, you see. I won’t stagnate as long as there’s breath left in my body. SOREL: Do you think it’s wise? You retired so very finally last year. What excuse will you give for returning so soon? JUDITH: My public, dear—letters from my public! SIMON: Have you had any? JUDITH: One or two. That’s what decided me, really—I ought to have had hundreds. SOREL: We’ll write some lovely ones, and you can publish them in the papers. JUDITH: Of course. SOREL: You will be dignified about it all, won’t you, darling? JUDITH: I’m much more dignified on the stage than in the country—it’s my _milieu_. I’ve tried terribly hard to be “landed gentry,” but without any real success. I long for excitement and glamour. Think of the thrill of a first night; all those ardent playgoers willing one to succeed; the critics all leaning forward with glowing faces, receptive and exultant—emitting queer little inarticulate noises as some witty line tickles their fancy. The satisfied grunt of the _Daily Mail_, the abandoned gurgle of the _Sunday Times_, and the shrill, enthusiastic scream of the _Daily Express_! I can distinguish them all—— SIMON: Have you got a play? JUDITH: I think I shall revive “Love’s Whirlwind.” SOREL (_collapsing on to sofa_): Oh, Mother! (_She gurgles with laughter._) SIMON (_weakly_): Father will be furious. JUDITH: I can’t help that. SOREL: It’s such a fearful play. JUDITH: It’s a marvellous part. You mustn’t say too much against it, Sorel. I’m willing to laugh at it a little myself, but, after all, it _was_ one of my greatest successes. SIMON: Oh, it’s appalling—but I love it. It makes me laugh. JUDITH: The public love it too, and it doesn’t make them laugh—much. (_She recites_) “You are a fool, a blind, pitiable fool. You think because you have bought my body that you have bought my soul!” You must say that’s dramatic.—“I’ve dreamed of love like this, but I never realised, I never knew how beautiful it could be in reality!” That line always brought a tear to my eye. SIMON: The Second Act _is_ the best, there’s no doubt about that. JUDITH: From the moment Victor comes in it’s strong—tremendously strong.... Be Victor a minute, Sorel—— SOREL: Do you mean when he comes in at the end of the act? JUDITH: Yes, you know—“Is this a game?” SOREL (_with feeling_): “Is this a game?”