The Pigeon: A Fantasy in Three ActsGalsworthy, John
General
The Pigeon: A Fantasy in Three Acts
Galsworthy, John
English drama; Philanthropists -- Drama
MRS. MEGAN. Of course, I could get me night's lodging if I like to
do--the same as some of them.
WELLWYN. No! no! Never, my child! Never!
MRS. MEGAN. It's easy that way.
WELLWYN. Heavens! But your husband! Um?
MRS. MEGAN. [With stoical vindictiveness.] He's after one I know of.
WELLWYN. Tt! What a pickle!
MRS. MEGAN. I'll 'ave to walk about the streets.
WELLWYN. [To himself.] Now how can I?
[MRS. MEGAN looks up and smiles at him, as if she had already
discovered that he is peculiar.]
WELLWYN. You see, the fact is, I mustn't give you anything--because
--well, for one thing I haven't got it. There are other reasons, but
that's the--real one. But, now, there's a little room where my
models dress. I wonder if you could sleep there. Come, and see.
[The Girl gets up lingeringly, loth to leave the warmth. She
takes up her wet stockings.]
MRS. MEGAN. Shall I put them on again?
WELLWYN. No, no; there's a nice warm pair of slippers. [Seeing the
steam rising from her.] Why, you're wet all over. Here, wait a
little!
[He crosses to the door into the house, and after stealthy
listening, steps through. The Girl, like a cat, steals back to
the warmth of the fire. WELLWYN returns with a candle, a
canary-coloured bath gown, and two blankets.]
WELLWYN. Now then! [He precedes her towards the door of the model's
room.] Hsssh! [He opens the door and holds up the candle to show
her the room.] Will it do? There's a couch. You'll find some
washing things. Make yourself quite at home. See!
[The Girl, perfectly dumb, passes through with her basket--and
her shoes and stockings. WELLWYN hands her the candle,
blankets, and bath gown.]
WELLWYN. Have a good sleep, child! Forget that you're alive!
[He closes the door, mournfully.] Done it again! [He goes to the
table, cuts a large slice of cake, knocks on the door, and hands it
in.] Chow-chow! [Then, as he walks away, he sights the opposite
door.] Well--damn it, what could I have done? Not a farthing on me!
[He goes to the street door to shut it, but first opens it wide to
confirm himself in his hospitality.] Night like this!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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