Plays: Lady Frederick, The Explorer, A Man of HonourMaugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
General
Plays: Lady Frederick, The Explorer, A Man of Honour
Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
English drama
He's been brooding over it. I know him so well, I knew there was
something he was thinking over. Oh, John, I couldn't live without him.
I'd rather die. If he leaves me, I swear I'll kill myself.
JOHN.
[_Walking up and down._] I wish I could help you. I don't see anything I
can do.
JENNY.
Oh, yes, there is. Speak to your sister-in-law. Ask her to have mercy on
me. Perhaps she doesn't know what she's doing. Tell her I love him....
Take care. There's Basil. If he knew what I'd said he'd never speak to
me again.
[BASIL _comes in, dressed in a frock-coat; with a
tall hat in his hand_.
BASIL.
I'm ready. We've just got time to catch the train.
JOHN.
All right. Good-bye, Mrs. Kent.
JENNY.
[_Keeping her eyes fixed on_ BASIL.] Good-bye.
[_The two men go out._ JENNY _runs to the door
and calls out_.
JENNY.
Basil, I want you a moment, Basil!
[BASIL _appears at the door_.
JENNY.
Are you really going to Chancery Lane?
[BASIL _makes a movement of impatience and
goes out again without answering_.
JENNY.
[_Alone._] Oh, well, I'm going to see that for myself. [_Calling to the_
MAID.] Fanny!... Bring my hat and my jacket. Quick!
[_She runs to the window and looks out at_ BASIL
_and_ JOHN _going away_. FANNY _appears
with the clothes_. JENNY _hurriedly puts
them on_.
JENNY.
[_As_ FANNY _is helping her_.] What time is it?
FANNY.
[_Looking up at the clock._] Five minutes past four.
JENNY.
I think I can catch it. He said 4.15.
FANNY.
Will you be in to tea, mum?
JENNY.
I don't know. [_She runs to the door and rushes out._]
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
THE THIRD ACT
THE SAME AFTERNOON.
[_A luxuriously furnished drawing-room at_ MRS. MURRAY'S _house in
Charles Street, Mayfair. Everything in it is beautiful, but
suggests in the owner good taste rather than originality._]
[HILDA _is seated near a tea-table, elaborately gowned, and with
her is_ MABEL. MR. ROBERT BRACKLEY _is sitting down, a stout,
round-faced man, clean-shaven and very bald; about forty; he is
attired in the height of fashion, in a frock-coat, patent-leather
boots and an eye-glass. He talks very quickly, in a careless
frivolous fashion, and is always much amused at what he says._]
MABEL.
What is the time, Mr. Brackley?
BRACKLEY.
I shan't tell you again.
MABEL.
How brutal of you!
BRACKLEY.
There's something unhealthy in your passion for information. I've
already told you five times.
HILDA.
It's very unflattering to us who've been doing our little best to amuse
you.
MABEL.
I can't imagine what's happened to John. He promised to fetch me here.
HILDA.
He's sure to come if you'll only wait patiently.
MABEL.
But I hate waiting patiently.
HILDA.
You shouldn't have let him out of your sight.
MABEL.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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