Chapter 1
FIVE LITTLE PLAYS
FIVE LITTLE PLAYS
BY ALFRED SUTRO
BRENTANO NEW YORK 1922
_Printed in Great Britain by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh_
CONTENTS
THE MAN IN THE STALLS
A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED....
THE MAN ON THE KERB
THE OPEN DOOR
THE BRACELET
THE MAN IN THE STALLS
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY
HECTOR ALLEN ELIZABETH ALLEN (BETTY) WALTER COZENS
_This play was produced at the Palace Theatre on October 6, 1911_
THE MAN IN THE STALLS
_The sitting-room of a little flat in Shaftesbury Avenue. At back is a door leading to the dining-room--it is open, and the dinner-table is in full view of the audience. To the extreme right is another door, leading to the hall._
_The place is pleasantly and prettily, though quite inexpensively, furnished. To the left, at angles with the distempered wall, is a baby-grand piano; the fireplace, in which a fire is burning merrily, is on the same side, full centre. To the right of the door leading to the dining-room is a small side-table, on which there is a tray with decanter and glasses; in front of this, a card-table, open, with two packs of cards on it, and chairs on each side. Another table, a round one, is in the centre of the room--to right and to left of it are comfortable armchairs. Against the right wall is a long sofa; above it hang a few good, water-colours and engravings; on the piano and the table there are flowers. A general appearance of refinement and comfort pervades the room; no luxury, but evidence everywhere of good taste, and the countless feminine touches that make a room homelike and pleasant._
_When the curtain rises,_ HECTOR ALLEN, _a youngish man of forty, with an attractive intellectual face, is seen standing by the dining-table in the inner room, draining his liqueur-glass, with_ WALTER COZENS _to the right of him, lighting a cigarette._ WALTER _is a few years younger than his friend, moderately good-looking, with fine, curly brown hair and a splendid silky moustache. His morning-clothes are conspicuously well-cut--he is evidently something of a dandy;_ HECTOR _wears a rather shabby dress-suit, his boots are awkward, and his tie ready-made._ BETTY, _a handsome woman of thirty, wearing a very pretty tea-gown, is talking to the maid at the back of the dining-room._
HECTOR _puts down his glass and comes into the sitting-room, followed by_ WALTER. HECTOR _is puffing at a short, stumpy little black cigar._
HECTOR [_Talking as he comes through, continuing the conversation--he walks to the fireplace and stands with his back to it._] I tell you, if I'd known what it meant, I'd never have taken the job! Sounded so fine, to be reader of plays for the Duke's Theatre--adviser to the great Mr. Honeyswill! And then--when the old man said I was to go to all the first nights--why, I just chortled! "It's the first nights that show you the grip of the thing--that teach you most"--he said. Teach you! As though there were anything to learn! Oh my stars! I tell you, it's a dog's life!
WALTER. [_Sitting to left of the round table._] I'd change places with you, sonny.
HECTOR. You would, eh? That's what they all say! Four new plays this week, my lad--one yesterday, one to-day--another to-morrow, and the night after! All day long I'm _reading_ plays--and I spend my nights seeing 'em! D'you know I read about two thousand a year? Divide two thousand by three hundred and sixty five. A dog's life--that's what it is!
WALTER. Better than being a stockbroker's clerk--you believe _me!_
HECTOR. Is it? I wish _you_ could have a turn at it, my bonny boy! _Your_ hair'd go grey, like mine! And look here--what are the plays to-day? They're either so chock-full of intellect that they send you to sleep--or they reek of sentiment till you yearn for the smell of a cabbage!
WALTER. Well, you've the change, at any rate.
HECTOR. [_Snorting._] Change? By Jove, give me a Punch and Judy show on the sands--or performing dogs! Plays--I'm sick of 'em! And look here--the one I'm off to to-night. It's adapted from the French--well, we know what _that_ means. Husband, wife and mistress. Or wife, husband, lover. That's what a French play means. And you make it English, and pass the Censor, by putting the lady in a mackintosh, and dumping in a curate!
BETTY. [_Coming in, and closing the door leading to the dining-room._] You ought to be going, Hector.
[_She, stands listening for a moment, then goes through the other door into the hall._
HECTOR. [_Disregarding her, too intent on his theme._] And I tell you, of the two, I prefer the home-made stodge. I'm sick of the eternal triangle. They always do the same thing. Husband strikes attitudes--sometimes he strikes the lover. The lover never stands up to him--why shouldn't he? He would--in real life. [BETTY _comes back, with his overcoat and muffler--she proceeds affectionately to wrap this round his neck, and helps him on with his coat, he talking all the time._] He'd say, look here, you go to Hell. _That's_ what he'd say--well, there you'd have a situation. But not one of the playwriting chaps dares do it. Why not, I ask you? There you'd have truth, something big. But no--they're afraid--think the public won't like it. The husband's got to down the lover--like a big tom-cat with a mouse--or the author'd have to sell one of his motor-cars! That's just the fact of it!
BETTY. [_Looking at the clock on the mantelpiece._] Twenty-five past, Hector.
HECTOR. [_Cheerily._] All right, my lass, I'm off. By-bye, Walter--keep the old woman company for a bit. Good-bye, sweetheart. [_He kisses her._] Don't wait up. Now for the drama. Oh, the dog's life!
[_He goes._ BETTY _waits till the hall door has banged, then she sits on the elbow of_ WALTER'S _chair, and rests her head on his shoulder._
BETTY. [_Softly._] Poor Hector!
WALTER. [_Uncomfortably._] ... Yes ...
BETTY. Doesn't it make you feel dreadful when he talks like that? [_She kisses him; then puts her arms round his neck, draws his face to her, and kisses him again, on the cheek._] Doesn't it?
[_She nestles contentedly closer to him._
WALTER. [_Trying to edge away._] Well, it does. Yes.
BETTY. [_Dreamily._] I--like it.
WALTER. Betty!
BETTY. Yes, I like it. I don't know why. I suppose I'm frightfully wicked. Or the danger perhaps--I don't know.
WALTER. [_Making a futile effort to get up._] Betty--
BETTY. [_Tightening her arms around him._] Stop there, and don't move. How smooth your chin is--_his_ scrapes. Why don't husbands shave better? Or is it that the forbidden chin is always smoother? Poor old Hector! If he could see us! He hasn't a suspicion. I think it's lovely--really, I do. He leaves us here together, night after night, and imagines you're teaching me bridge.
WALTER. [_Restlessly._] So I am. Where are the cards?
BETTY. [_Caressing him._] Silly, have you forgotten that this is Tuesday--Maggie's night out? She's gone--I told her she needn't wait to clear away. We've arranged master's supper. Master! _You're_ my master, aren't you?
WALTER. ... I don't know what I am ...
BETTY. Oh yes you do--you're my boy. Whom I love. There. [_She kisses him again, full on the lips._] That was a nice one, wasn't it? Poor old Hector, sitting in his stall--thinks he's so wonderful, knows such a lot! Yes, Maggie's out--with _her_ young man, I suppose. The world's full of women, with their young men--and husbands sitting in the stalls.... And I suppose that's how it always has been, and always will be.
WALTER. [_Shifting uneasily._] Don't, Betty--I don't like it. I mean, he has such confidence in us.
BETTY. Of course he has. And quite rightly. Aren't you his oldest friend?
WALTER. [_With something of a groan._] I've known him since I was seven.
BETTY. The first man he introduced me to--his best man at the wedding--do you remember coming to see us during the honeymoon? I liked you _then._
WALTER. [_Really shocked._] Betty!
BETTY. I did. You had a way of squeezing my hand.... And then when we came back here. You know it didn't take me long to discover--
WALTER. [_Protesting._] I scarcely saw you the first two or three years!
BETTY. No--you were afraid. Oh I thought you so silly! [_He suddenly contrives to release himself--gets up, and moves to the card-table._] Why, what's the matter?
WALTER. [_At the table, with his back to her._] I hate hearing you talk like this.
BETTY. Silly boy! [_She rises, and goes to him; he has taken a cigarette out of the box on the table, and stands there, with his head bent, tapping the cigarette against his hand._] Women only talk "like this," as you call it, to their lovers. They talk "like that" to their husbands--and that's why the husbands never know. That's why the husbands are always sitting in the stalls, looking on. [_She puts her arms round him again._] Looking and not seeing.
[_She approaches her lips to his--he almost fretfully unclasps her arms._
WALTER. Betty--I want to say a--serious word ...
BETTY. [_Looking fondly at him._] Well, isn't what _I'm_ saying serious?
WALTER. I'm thirty-eight.
BETTY. Yes. I'm only thirty. But I'm not complaining.
WALTER. Has it ever occurred to you--
[_He stops._
BETTY. What?
[WALTER _looks at her--tries to speak, but cannot--then he breaks away, goes across the room to the fireplace and stands for a moment looking into the fire. She has remained where she was, her eyes following him wonderingly. Suddenly he stamps his foot violently._
WALTER. Damn it! DAMN it!
BETTY. [_Moving towards him in alarm._] What's the matter?
WALTER. [_With a swift turn towards her._] I'm going to get married.
BETTY. [_Stonily, stopping by the round table._] You ...
WALTER. [_Savagely._] Going to get married, yes. Married, married!
[_She stands there and doesn't stir--doesn't speak or try to speak; merely stands there, and looks at him, giving no sign. Her silence irritates him; he becomes more and more violent, as though to give himself courage._
WALTER. You're wonderful, you women--you really are. Always contrive to make us seem brutes, or cowards! I've wanted to tell you this a dozen times--I've not had the pluck. Well, to-day I must. Must, do you hear that?... Oh, for Heaven's sake, say something.
BETTY. [_Still staring helplessly at him._] You ...
WALTER. [_Feverishly._] Yes, I, I! Now it's out, at least--it's spoken! I mean to get married, like other men--fooled, too, I dare say, like the others--at least I deserve it! But I'm tired, I tell you--tired--
BETTY. Of me?
WALTER. Tired of the life I lead--the beastly, empty rooms--the meals at the Club. And I'm thirty-eight--it's now or never.
BETTY. [_Slowly._] And how about--me?
WALTER. You?
BETTY. [_Passionately._] Yes. Me. Me!
WALTER. You didn't think this would last for ever?
BETTY. [_Nodding her head._] I did--yes--I did. Why shouldn't it?
WALTER. [_Working himself into a fury again._] Why? You ask that? Why? Oh yes, it's all right for _you_--you've your home and your husband--I'm there as an--annexe. To be telephoned to, when I'm wanted, at your beck and call, throw over everything, come when you whistle. And it's not only that--I tell you it makes me feel--horrid. After all, he's my--friend.
BETTY. He has been that always. You didn't feel--horrid--before.... Who is she?
WALTER. [_Shortly, as he turns back to the fire._] That doesn't matter.
BETTY. Yes, it does. Who?
WALTER. [_Fretfully._] Oh, why should we--
BETTY. I want to know--I'm _entitled_ to know.
WALTER. [_Still with his back to her._] Mary Gillingham.
BETTY. Mary Gillingham!
WALTER. [_Firmly, swinging round to her._] Yes.
BETTY. That child, that chit of a girl!
WALTER. She's twenty-three.
BETTY. Whom I introduced you to--my own friend?
WALTER. [_Grumbling._] What _has_ that to do with it? And besides ... [_He suddenly changes his tone, noticing how calm she has become--he takes a step towards her, and stands by her side, at the back of the table, his voice becomes gentle and affectionate._] But I say, really, you're taking it awfully well--pluckily. I knew you would--I knew I was an ass to be so--afraid.... And look here, we'll always be pals--the very best of pals. I'll ... never forget--never. You may be quite sure ... of that. I want to get married--I do--have a home of my own, and so forth--but you'll still be--just the one woman I really have loved--the one woman in my life--to whom I owe--everything.
BETTY. [_With a mirthless laugh._] Do you tell all that--to Mary Gillingham?
WALTER. [_Pettishly, as he moves away._] Do I--don't be so absurd.
BETTY. You tell _her_ she is the only _girl_ you have loved.
WALTER. [_Moving back to the fire, with his back to her._] I tell her--I tell her--what does it matter what I tell her? And one girl or another--she or someone else--
BETTY. But you haven't answered my question--what's to become of me?
WALTER. [_Angrily, facing her._] Become of you! Don't talk such nonsense. Because it is--really it is. You'll be as you were. And Hector's a splendid chap--and after all we've been frightfully wrong--treating him infernally badly--despicably. Oh yes, we have--and you know it. Lord, there've been nights when I have--but never mind that--that's all over! In future we can look him in the face without feeling guilty--we can--
BETTY. [_Quietly._] _You_ can.
WALTER. What do you mean?
BETTY. _You_ can, because of this girl. Oh, I know, of course! You'll come here three or four times--then you'll drop off--you'll feel I'm not quite the woman you want your wife to know.
WALTER. [_With genuine feeling, as he impulsively steps towards her._] Betty, Betty, what sort of cad do you take me for? What sort of cad, or bounder? Haven't I told you I'd never forget--never? And you think you'll pass out of my life--that I _want_ you to? Why, good Heaven, I'll be your best friend as long as I live. Friend--yes--what I always should have been--meant to be! And Hector. Why, Betty, I tell you, merely talking to-night, as I've done, has made me feel--different--sort of--lifted--a load. Because I've always had it--somewhere deep down in me--when I've thought of--him.
BETTY. [_Calmly._] Liar.
WALTER. [_Falling back._] Betty!
BETTY. Liar--yes. Why these stupid, silly lies? "Always, deep down in me!" Where was it, this beautiful feeling, when you got me to go to your rooms?
WALTER. [_Harshly._] We needn't--
BETTY. I liked you--I've said that--I liked you from the first. But I was straight enough. Liked you, of course--but I had no idea, not the slightest.... Thought it fun to play the fool, flirt just a bit. But it was you, you, _you_ who--
WALTER. [_Breaking in sulkily and stamping his foot._] Never mind about who it was.
BETTY. [_Passionately._] Never mind! You dare!
WALTER. [_Doggedly._] Yes--I dare. And look here--since you force me to it--that's all rot--yes, it is--just rot. Just as you like it now, hearing Hector ask me to stop with you, and kissing me the moment his back is turned--so you met me halfway, and more than halfway.
BETTY. You cur!
WALTER. That's what a woman always says, when a man speaks the truth. Because it _is_ the truth--and you know it. "The way I squeezed your hand!" D'you think I _meant_ to squeeze it--in a way! Why, as there's a Heaven above me, you were as sacred to me--as my own sister!
BETTY. [_Quietly, as she sits, to right of the table._] What I'm wondering is--you see, you're the only lover I've had--what I wonder is, when a man breaks off, tells a woman he's tired of her, wants to get married--does he _always_ abuse the woman--
WALTER. [_Sulkily._] I haven't--
BETTY. Degrade, and throw mud on, the love she has had for him?
WALTER. [_With a bitter shrug._] Love--
BETTY. [_Passionately, as she springs to her feet._] Love, love, yes, you--cruel man! Love, what else? I adore you, don't you know that? Live for you! would give up everything in the world--everything, everything! And Walter, Walter! If it's only _that_--that you want a home--well, let's go off together. He'll divorce us--we can get married. Don't go away, and leave me here, alone with him! I couldn't stand it--Walter, I couldn't, I couldn't!
[_She goes eagerly to him, flings her arms round his neck, and a dry sob bursts from her._
WALTER. [_Very gently._] Betty, Betty, you've been so brave ... Betty, dear, the horrid things I've said were only to make you angry, to make you feel what a brute I was, how well you're rid of me. Oh, I'm not proud of myself! But look here, we must be sensible--we must, really.... You know, if you were divorced--if I were the co-respondent in a divorce case--I'd lose my berth, get the sack--
BETTY. [_Clinging to him._] We could go to Australia--anywhere--
WALTER. I've no money.
BETTY. [_With a sudden movement, raising her head and leaving him._] And Mary Gillingham has lots?
WALTER. It's not for her money that I--
BETTY. [_With a start._] You love her?
WALTER. [_Dropping his head, and speaking under his breath._] Yes.
BETTY. [_Wringing her hands._] You do, you do?
WALTER. Yes, that's the truth--I do. Oh, Betty I'm so frightfully sorry--
BETTY. [_With a groan._] Then you don't love me any more ...
WALTER. It's not that. But you see--
BETTY. [_Moaning._] You don't, you don't!
[_She stands there, crushed, overwhelmed, dry-eyed, broken moans escaping from her; suddenly she hears a key turning in the lock of the hall-door outside, and rushes to the card-table._
BETTY. Hector! Quick, quick--the cards!
[WALTER _flies to the table, and sits by her side. He seizes one pack and proceeds to shuffle it, she is dealing with the other. All this takes only a second._ HECTOR _comes in--they both spring up._
BETTY. Hector! You're not ill?
HECTOR. [_Kissing her._] Play postponed, my child--bit of luck! When I got to the theatre I found that the actor-manager's car had collided with a cab outside the stage-door--he was thrown through the window--there's a magnificent exit for you! and has been cut about a bit. Nothing serious. But the play's postponed for a week. Bit of luck!
WALTER. [_Sitting._] Not for him.
HECTOR. Oh _he_ has had luck enough--tons of it! I'll get into a jacket--then we'll have some bridge. See what progress you've made, Betty!
[_He hurries out, and closes the door._
BETTY. [_Producing a little mirror from her bag, looking into it, touching her hair._] We were only just in time.
WALTER. [_Eagerly, as he bends across the table._] You're splendid--you are--splendid!
BETTY. Yes. All very nice and comfortable for you--isn't it? [_She puts the mirror back into the bag._]
WALTER. [_Coaxingly._] Betty.
BETTY. To-morrow you'll go to her--or to-night perhaps--
WALTER. To-night--ridiculous! At this hour!
BETTY. She's a deceitful little cat. I saw her last week--she never told me--
WALTER. I don't think she knew. I only proposed to-day.
BETTY. [_Flinging herself back in her chair, and opening wide eyes._] You--proposed--to-day!
WALTER. [_Very embarrassed._] Yes--I mean--
BETTY. You--proposed--to-day! And waited till she had accepted you--to tell _me_--
WALTER. [_Eagerly._] Don't be so silly--come, come, he'll be back in a minute.... And, believe me, I'm not worth making a fuss about!
BETTY. [_Looking contemptuously at him._] That's true.
WALTER. Yes, it is, worse luck! I deserve all you've said to me. And you'll be ... much better ... without me.
BETTY. Better?
WALTER. Yes, better, better--any way you choose to put it! I'm a--but never mind that!--Look here--you'd like me to stop?
BETTY. He wants to play bridge.
WALTER. Don't you think that I--
BETTY.[_Hearing_ HECTOR _coming._] Sh.
[HECTOR _comes in--she is idly tossing the cards about._ HECTOR _has put on a smoking-jacket--he comes in, very jolly, fussing around, rubbing his hands, so glad to be home. He sits, to the right of_ BETTY.
HECTOR. Now for a game!
[_He seizes a pack, and spreads out the cards._
BETTY. [_Leaning back._] Not sure that I want to play.
HECTOR. Don't be disagreeable, Betty! Why?
BETTY. [_Listlessly, as she rises and moves across the room._] No fun, being three.
HECTOR. Good practice for you. Come on.
BETTY. [_Leaning against the other table, and turning and facing them._] Besides, _he_ has something to tell you.
HECTOR. Walter?
BETTY. Yes.
HECTOR. [_Looking inquiringly at_ WALTER.] To tell _me?_ What is it?
BETTY. That he's engaged.
HECTOR. [_Shouting, as he leans across the table._] Never! Walter! Engaged? You?
WALTER. [_Nervously._] Yes.
HECTOR. [_Noisily and affectionately._] You old scoundrel! You rascal and villain! Engaged--and you don't come and tell _me_ first! Well I--am--damned!
WALTER. [_Trying to take it gaily._] I knew you'd chaff me about it.
HECTOR. Chaff you! Silly old coon! why I'm glad! Of course we shall miss you--but marriage--it's the only thing, my boy--the only thing! Who is she? Do I know her?
WALTER. [_Mumbling, as he fingers the cards._] A friend of Betty's--I fancy you've met her--
HECTOR. Who?
BETTY. Mary Gillingham. We're the first to know--he only proposed to-day.
HECTOR. Gillingham, Gillingham.... Oh yes, I've seen her, just seen her, but I don't remember.... I say, not the daughter of the sealing-wax man?
WALTER. Yes.
HECTOR. Then there's lots of tin! Fine! Oh you artful old dodger! Is she pretty?
WALTER. So-So.
BETTY. [_Still leaning against the table, and looking at them both._] She's excessively pretty. She has yellow hair and blue eyes.
HECTOR. [_Chuckling._] And she has caught old Wallie. The cynical old Wallie who sniffed at women! Though perhaps it's the money--
BETTY. No. He's in love with her.
HECTOR. That's good. I'm glad. And I congratulate you--heartily, my boy. [_He seizes_ WALTER'S _hand, and wrings it._] We must drink to it! [_He gets up, goes to the side-table, and pours some whiskey into a tumbler._] Charge your glass, Walter! [WALTER _rises and goes to the side-table._] Ladies and gentlemen. I give you the bride and bridegroom! [_He fills the glass from the syphon and passes it to_ WALTER, _then proceeds to fill his own._] Betty, you must join us.
BETTY. [_Quietly._] No.
HECTOR. You can't toast him in water, of course. Has she cleared away yet? I'll get you some Hock.
[_He puts his glass down and moves to the door at back._
BETTY. Don't be so silly. I won't drink at all.
HECTOR. [_Amazed._] Not to old Walter?
BETTY. [_Steadily._] No.
HECTOR. Why?
BETTY. [_Almost jeeringly._] Because--old Walter--has been my lover.
HECTOR. [_Stopping, and staring at her._] What?
BETTY. [_Calmly, looking full at him._] My lover ... these last two years.
HECTOR. [_Staring stupidly at her._] He has been--
BETTY. [_Impatiently, as she taps the floor with her foot._] Yes, yes. How often must I tell you? My lover--don't you know what that means? Why do you stare at me with those fat goggle-eyes of yours? He has been my lover--and now he has fallen in love with this girl and means to marry her. That's all.
HECTOR. [_Turning towards_ WALTER, _who hasn't stirred from the side-table._] What? You?
[WALTER _remains motionless and silent._
HECTOR. [_In muffled tones, scarcely able to speak._] You! It's true what this woman says?
BETTY. [_Contemptuously._] This woman! Don't be so melodramatic! Have you forgotten my name?