The Benefit of the Doubt; a Comedy in Three ActsPinero, Arthur Wing
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The Benefit of the Doubt; a Comedy in Three Acts
Pinero, Arthur Wing
English drama -- 19th century
MRS. EMPTAGE.
To Theophila?
SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.
A judge never apologises.
MRS. EMPTAGE.
He might do worse, where such undeserved distress is occasioned a young
wife and her husband——
MRS. QUINTON TWELVES.
Hear, hear!
MRS. EMPTAGE.
To say nothing of her mother!
SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.
I surmise that the judgment of my friend Sir William was very strongly
worded, and I daresay an expression of regret followed from Mrs.
Allingham’s counsel. But I had quitted the Court, you know——
MRS. EMPTAGE.
Oh, yes; Theo wrote you a note——
SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.
But you are losing my anecdote. It appears that a man of the name of
Babbitt—— One thing, Muriel, I will stake my reputation upon.
MRS. EMPTAGE.
[_Peeping out at the side of the window blind._] What’s that?
SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.
That the public applauded the decision roundly.
MRS. EMPTAGE.
[_Pacing the room again._] I can hear them doing it! Bravo, Mrs. Fraser!
Eh, girls?
MRS. QUINTON TWELVES.
Plucky Mrs. Fraser!
JUSTINA.
How jolly to have been there just then!
SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.
As a matter of fact, I talked with several strangers of a humble rank of
life, and hinted that a few cheers—so regrettable and unseemly in a
court of law as a rule—I hinted that a few cheers would undoubtedly be
justifiable in the present instance, as well as peculiarly agreeable to
me. It seems that Babbitt——
[HORTON _enters with a card_.
MRS. EMPTAGE.
[_After glancing at the card._] Oh——!
SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.
Eh?
JUSTINA.
What’s up?
MRS. EMPTAGE.
[_To_ HORTON.] Where _is_ Mrs. Cloys?
[SIR FLETCHER, JUSTINA _and_ CLAUDE _rise precipitately_.
HORTON.
In the morning-room, ma’am. She preferred——
MRS. EMPTAGE.
[_Taking the card._] I—I—some one will come to her.
[HORTON _retires_.
SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.
Harriet here!
JUSTINA.
By Jove!
CLAUDE.
[_Making for the door._] No; she is too impossible.
MRS. EMPTAGE.
[_Intercepting him._] Claude, I dare you to leave the house!
[SIR FLETCHER _also moves towards the door_.
MRS. EMPTAGE.
[_Stopping him._] Fletcher, you mustn’t!
SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.
Muriel, I distinctly prefer not to meet——
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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