ACT III

SCENE: _The big hall in the country place which MR. CHILLINGHAM (né BROXOPP) has bought. Through the open front doors can be seen a hint of the drive and the park beyond. It was JACK who chose it, and he has done the GREAT BROXOPP rather well; there was no such view from that third floor in Bloomsbury._

_It is about four o’clock in the afternoon. Hidden away in a big arm-chair sits NORAH FIELD, deep in a book. She is about twenty, wears a very short tweed skirt and very serviceable country shoes, has very decided opinions, and no hesitation at all about expressing them. RONNY DERWENT comes in. RONNY is also twenty, but younger than NORAH, and with no views on life other than that one’s hair ought to be kept well down. Without seeing NORAH, he rings the bell, and lights a cigarette while waiting for BENHAM to attend to him._

_Enter BENHAM_

* * * * *

RONNY. Oh, I want a whisky and soda, please, Benham.

BENHAM. Yes, sir.

NORAH (_from her chair_). You don’t really want one, Ronny.

RONNY. Good Lord! I didn’t know you were there.

NORAH. Mr. Derwent won’t have a whisky and soda, Benham; you can get him a glass of water if he’s thirsty.

RONNY. Look here, Norah—— (_She looks at him, and he ends up weakly_) Oh, very well.

BENHAM. Will you have the glass of water, sir?

RONNY (_sulkily_). No, thanks.

BENHAM. Thank you, sir.

[_BENHAM goes out._

RONNY. I didn’t know you were here, Norah. All the same, I don’t know why I shouldn’t have a drink if I want one.

NORAH. I can’t stand the way you children are always wanting to drink. You’ve done nothing to make you thirsty.

RONNY. If you knew a bit more, you’d know that it’s doing nothing that makes you thirsty. Talk to me and I’ll struggle on without it. What are you reading?

NORAH. Nobody you’ve ever heard of, Ronny. A man called Meredith.

RONNY. Oh! Any good?

NORAH (_looking at him with a smile_). In his way. A different way from the _Winning Post_, you know.

RONNY (_wanting to be fair_). Oh, well, there’s no accounting for tastes. Now, what do you think I found old man Chillingham reading last night?

NORAH (_returning to her book_). Don’t know.

RONNY. _Broxoppiana_. Ever heard of it?

NORAH. I’ve seen it on the bookstalls.

RONNY. _Broxoppiana_. That’s the name of the heroine, I suppose. And no better than she should be, if you ask _me_, because, when old man Chillingham saw I was looking, he slipped the book into his pocket and pretended to be very busy over another one.

NORAH. And I suppose you looked over his shoulder and found out what that one was too?

RONNY. Well, if you want to know, I didn’t. I knew what it was without looking over his shoulder. It was _The Science of Dry Fly Fishing_. Old man Chillingham trying to be a sportsman in his old age.

NORAH (_shutting her book_). I think you had better have that whisky and soda, Ronny; at any rate, it will prevent you trying to discuss your host with another of his guests.

RONNY. Rot, old girl. Jack’s my host.

NORAH. This is not Jack’s house.

RONNY. Then why did Iris write to me as if it was? “Dear Ronny, do come and spend a few days with us.—Yours sincerely, Iris Chillingham.” How’s that, eh?

NORAH (_patiently_). It is Mr. Chillingham’s house, but Mrs. Chillingham has been away for a few weeks. So Iris is playing hostess. I happened to mention that I had a disreputable little boy-cousin called Ronald Derwent, and she very kindly——

RONNY. Not so much of it, Norah. I knew Iris before you did, and I knew Jack as soon as you did. And if it’s old man Chillingham’s house, all I can say is that old man Chillingham has got a pretty taste in claret.

NORAH. Really, Ronny, to hear you talk about claret, anybody would think that you were grown up. Whereas we all know what you do with your threepence a week every Saturday. Pear-drops, my lad, pear-drops.

RONNY (_grimly_). Very well, Norah, you’ve done for yourself.

(_He seizes a cushion and advances upon her. She jumps out of the chair and runs to the other side of the hall, picking up a cushion on the way._)

NORAH. You’ll get your hair ruffled if you aren’t careful.

RONNY. You’ll be lucky if you have any hair left by the time I’ve finished with you. (_He hurls a cushion at her._)

NORAH. Oh, rotten shot!

(_He goes to the sofa to get more cushions, and dodges behind it as she flings hers at him. They are interrupted by BENHAM, who is crossing the hall with whisky and papers for SIR ROGER._)

RONNY (_who is about to throw a cushion_). All right, Benham. You go on.

BENHAM (_politely_). After you, sir. (_The cushion whizzes past his head at NORAH_) Thank you, sir.

(_He goes on to the morning-room. By the time that he returns the combatants have disappeared, leaving most of their ammunition behind them. As he crosses by the window, BROXOPP is seen approaching from the outside. BROXOPP is now the complete country gentleman, with fishing outfit. But he looks unhappy in his new clothes, and he is not the BROXOPP he was._)

BROXOPP. Ah, Benham.

BENHAM (_taking his things_). Any sport, sir?

BROXOPP. No.... That is to say, _I_ didn’t have any. I can’t speak for the fish. They may have enjoyed it.

BENHAM. I’ve heard gentlemen say that it can be a very attractive recreation, even when (_he looks into the obviously empty basket_)—as in this case, sir.

BROXOPP. To a man who really enjoys fishing—as I am told I do—no doubt that is so.

BENHAM. Yes, you’re quite an enthusiast, sir.

BROXOPP. So they assure me, Benham. Golf is another pastime to which—I understand—I am devoted. (_He looks in astonishment at the disordered hall, with its overturned chairs and scattered cushions_) Has anything been happening?

BENHAM (_as he begins to restore the place to order_). Nothing at all out of the way, sir.

BROXOPP. Oh!

BENHAM. Quite a feature of the best country-house life, sir, as you might say. The younger members of the party are often extremely partial to it. In this case, sir, Mr. Derwent and Miss Field were letting off their high spirits with a few cushions. It brought back the old castle days very pleasurably, sir.

BROXOPP. Yes.... Yes.... They come back, the old days, don’t they, Benham?

BENHAM. They do, indeed, sir.

BROXOPP (_with a sigh_). Yes. Mrs. Chillingham has not arrived yet, I suppose?

BENHAM. No, sir. Is she expected back this afternoon?

BROXOPP. Of course she is. The 4.10. (_Looking at his watch_) I suppose the train was late. Didn’t Mr. Jack tell you about sending in the car?

BENHAM. I have not had any instructions myself, sir, but no doubt he informed Rogers. He was down at the stables after lunch with Mr. Derwent.

BROXOPP. Ah, yes.... Well, I’ll go and wash. (_He moves off._)

BENHAM. Thank you, sir.

[_He goes out._

(_BROXOPP is still in the hall, putting a cushion or two straight, when RONNY comes back, his hair rather rumpled._)

RONNY. Hullo! Any luck?

BROXOPP (_wishing to be fair to the sport_). Compared with yesterday—yes.

RONNY. What happened yesterday?

BROXOPP. I fell in.

RONNY (_tittering_). Bad luck. I’m not frightfully keen on fishing myself—I prefer golf. We’re having a foursome after tea; I expect you’d rather practise by yourself, wouldn’t you?

BROXOPP. Thank you, I shall not be playing golf after tea to-day.

RONNY. I thought you were so frightfully keen. Jack said so.

BROXOPP. Ah, well, Jack would know. But, you see, Mrs. Chillingham will be here directly——

RONNY (_surprised_). Oh, is she coming back?

BROXOPP (_nodding_). Yes. She has been away three weeks now, staying in London with her sister. She’ll be glad to get back. She is very fond of the country, you know. And this house.

RONNY (_kindly_). Well, it isn’t half a bad place really. I don’t know what the shooting’s like.

BROXOPP. Very good, Jack’s friends tell me.... Well, I must go and wash, if you will excuse me, Mr. Derwent.

RONNY (_with a nod_). Righto.

[_BROXOPP goes out._

(_RONNY lights a cigarette and goes across to the billiard-room door and opens it._)

RONNY. Good Lord, haven’t you finished yet?

JACK (_from inside_). This very minute as ever is.

(_IRIS and JACK come out together_)

RONNY. Who won?

IRIS. Jack gave me twenty-five and—— My dear Ronny, what _have_ you been doing to your hair?

RONNY (_looking at himself in the glass—horrified_). Good Lord, I oughtn’t to be seen like this.

[_He hurries out._

JACK. It’s all right, we won’t tell anybody. I suppose I was as young as Ronny once, but it must have been a long time ago. (_He goes to the bell and rings it_) Shall we have tea in here?

IRIS. If you like.

JACK. I suppose Dad isn’t back yet.... Oh, Lord!

IRIS. What is it, darling? Have you been bad?

JACK. I’m a blessed idiot.

_Enter BENHAM._

BENHAM. Yes, sir?

JACK. Benham, is any one meeting the 4.10?

BENHAM. I have given no instructions in the matter myself, sir.

IRIS. Jack, do you mean to say that nobody is meeting Nancy?

JACK. Kick me if you like, darling. It’s my fault entirely. (_Looking at his watch_) Send the car at once, Benham. It will probably be too late, but it can bring the luggage along.

BENHAM. Yes, sir. Rogers informs me that he only requires the level five minutes when meeting trains—unhampered, as you might say.

JACK (_to IRIS_). I’m afraid she’ll walk through the woods, you know. (_To BENHAM_) We’ll have tea in here.

BENHAM. Yes, sir. [_Exit BENHAM._

IRIS. Jack, you _have_ been bad.

JACK. After all, darling, it’s only a mile by the short way, and it’s a jolly afternoon. There won’t be anything about it in the papers.

IRIS (_shaking her head at him_). Oh, Jack! (_She sits on the arm of his chair_) Jack, don’t you think it’s time we had a house of our own? This has been very jolly for a few months, but—you _do_ want to get started on your work, don’t you?

JACK. Of course I do, sweetheart. Only, we can’t begin till we get the studio, can we?

IRIS. London’s full of studios, lazy one.

JACK. Yes, but you don’t realise how important it is to an artist to get the exact surroundings. Now that we’ve found _the_ studio in _all_ London, and the man who’s in it happens to be leaving in six months, it’s absurd to go looking about for another. It’s simply a question of waiting.

IRIS. Six months?

JACK. Well, if we’re lucky, he might die suddenly.... You should read your Bible more. Moses, or somebody, said that no husband ought to do any work for a year after he’s married. I quite agree with him. (_Playing with her hair_) Did I ever tell you that I much prefer your hair to the stuff you see hanging in shop windows in Bond Street?

IRIS (_softly_). Do you?

JACK. It’s all fastened on quite naturally, isn’t it?

IRIS. I think it must be.

JACK. Wonderful hair.... Did I ever tell you that I like your eyes much better than the ones you see lying about in fishmongers’ shops next to the ice?

IRIS (_smiling_). Do you?

JACK. They’ve got so much more expression.... Did I ever tell you—— Hullo, here’s tea. (_BENHAM comes in_) Has the car gone, Benham?

BENHAM. Yes, sir.

JACK. Good. Let’s hope the train’s late.

BENHAM (_arranging the tea_). I’m afraid it is not very likely, sir. I remember His Grace once commenting on the curious fact that, whenever one particularly wished a train to be late, it was invariably punctual.

JACK. His Grace seems to have been a highly original thinker.

BENHAM. Yes, sir, he was very well tolerated in the family.

JACK. Well, this must seem rather a holiday for you after the intellectual life at the Castle. You must make the most of it, Benham.

BENHAM. Thank you, sir.

IRIS. Is Mr. Chillingham back yet?

BENHAM. Yes, madam. He will be down directly. Sir Roger is engaged in the morning-room, madam, with the financial papers, and will not require tea.

IRIS. Thank you.

BENHAM. Thank you, madam. [_He goes out._

IRIS. I wonder what Father’s up to now?

JACK (_carelessly_). Losing Dad’s money for him, I expect.

IRIS (_seriously_). Jack, you don’t really mean that?

JACK (_laughing_). Of course not, darling. What’s the matter with giving me some tea? We needn’t wait for Dad. (_To NORAH and RONNY as they come in_) Come along. You’re just in time.... Ah, now you look quite nice again, Ronny.

(_They all sit round the tea-things._)

IRIS. What had you been doing to him, Norah?

NORAH. I told him he wasn’t grown-up yet, and he tried to prove he was by throwing cushions at me.

JACK. That’s a nasty one, Ronny. You’ll have to write to your solicitors about that.

RONNY. Now, look here, I don’t want any more of it, Norah. I’m older than you, anyway. And Jack and Iris aren’t exactly bald yet.... What about that foursome after tea?

IRIS (_doubtfully_). Well, I’m not quite sure if I——

RONNY. If you’re thinking about Mr. Chillingham, he doesn’t want to play. I asked him.

IRIS (_relieved_). Oh well, then, that’s all right. He wants to wait for Nancy, I expect. Bless them!

NORAH. I’m not at all sure that I approve of this old-fashioned sentiment about married life.

JACK. I say, this is rather alarming.

(_BROXOPP comes in, and stands waiting, awkwardly._)

NORAH. Women will never be properly free——

RONNY (_offering plate_). Oh, Lord! have a bun!

NORAH (_taking one_) ——until it is recognised that marriage——

JACK (_seeing BROXOPP_). Hullo, Dad, what luck?

BROXOPP (_sitting in an uncomfortable chair a little way from the table_). Ah, tea.

JACK. Fish rising?

BROXOPP. They may have risen, Jack, but if so they went back again. (_Looking at his watch_) The train’s very late. She ought to have been here by now.

IRIS. There was some mistake about the car, dear. She will be here directly. (_She gives BROXOPP his tea._)

BROXOPP. Thank you, thank you.

NORAH. I was just saying, Mr. Chillingham, that women will never be properly free until it is recognised that marriage is only an intellectual partnership in which both the contracting parties have equal rights. Of course, I can hardly expect you to agree with me.

BROXOPP (_looking blankly at her_). I’m afraid I——

RONNY. Agree with you? I should think not, indeed. If you knew a little more about the world——

NORAH. My dear Ronny, the only world that _you_ know is bounded on the north by Newmarket, on the south by the Savoy, on the east by the Empire, and on the west by the _Winning Post_.

IRIS. You’ll have to write to your solicitors again, Ronny.

JACK. I say, Norah, you mustn’t say things like that without warning. Must she, Dad? Bread and butter? (_He offers the plate to BROXOPP, who takes a piece._)

BROXOPP (_bewildered_). I’m afraid I hardly——Thank you.

IRIS. Was that original, Norah?

NORAH. Perfectly. Why not? I suppose Jack thinks that all the clever things must be said by men. I don’t know what you feel about it, Mr. Chillingham——

BROXOPP. I—er——

JACK. Then, all I can say is, that you must have bribed Ronny to lead up to it.

IRIS. They might go on at the Palladium as “Ronald and Norah,” Ronald leaning over the piano in white gloves.

JACK. Norah in a smile and shoulder-straps threatening to return to Dixie.

NORAH (_to BROXOPP_). This, Mr. Chillingham, is the marriage of intellect on an equal basis, which I was advocating just now.

BROXOPP. You—er—were advo——?

JACK. Ronny, it’s _your_ turn to say something brilliant.

RONNY. No, thanks, I’ll leave that to Norah’s husband. When they are living in intellectual companionship together, they can fire off epigrams at each other all day long. What a life! Don’t you agree with me, Mr. Chillingham? Have another bun, won’t you? (_He takes one himself._)

BROXOPP. Miss Field was talking about the marriage of intellects. I remember. (_To RONNY with the bun plate_) No, thank you.

NORAH. Don’t eat too many, Ronny. We’ve got to beat them afterwards, you know. You’re not playing, Mr. Chillingham?

BROXOPP. No, I think I——

JACK. Beat us, indeed! I should like to see you do it.

RONNY. Well, you will, Jack, old boy.

IRIS (_to BROXOPP_). You’ll want to wait for Nancy; won’t you, dear?

RONNY. Do play if you’d like to, you know. Of course, it will dish the foursome rather.

BROXOPP. Thank you, Mr. Derwent, but I shall be waiting for Mrs. Chillingham.

NORAH. I was saying just now, Mr. Chillingham, that I don’t altogether approve of married people——

JACK. Help! She’s leading up to her epigram again.

BROXOPP. Yes, Miss Field? You were saying——?

RONNY. I say, don’t encourage her; we’ve had it all once. (_To IRIS, as he gets up_) Are you ready?

IRIS. I think so; aren’t we, Jack? (_To BROXOPP_) Will you have some more tea, dear?

BROXOPP. Not now, thank you, Iris. I’ll wait for Nancy.

JACK (_finishing his tea_). I say, what’s the hurry? I’ve only just begun.

RONNY. Rot. Come on.

IRIS (_getting up_). I’ll have half-a-crown on it, Norah.

NORAH. Done.

RONNY. You, too, Jack?

JACK. Rather!

RONNY. Good man! What about Mr. Chillingham? Care to bet against us? I’ll give you five to four as you’re a friend.

BROXOPP. No, I think not, thank you, Mr. Derwent.

RONNY. Perhaps you’re wise. You wouldn’t have a chance. (_To the others_) Come along.

IRIS. Benham will make you some fresh tea, dear. Give Nancy a special kiss from me.

BROXOPP. Thank you, Iris, I will.

NORAH (_at the door_). The whole question of kissing seems to me——

RONNY. Oh, come off it. (_He drags her away._)

JACK. Cheer-oh, Dad! You and Mother might come along and watch us if you’ve nothing better to do. (_To RONNY, in front_) All right, we’re coming.

[_They go out._

(_Left alone, BROXOPP rings the bell, and then sits down in rather a bewildered way._)

_BENHAM comes in._

BROXOPP. We shall want some fresh tea for Mrs. Chillingham when she comes in.

BENHAM. Yes, sir. I think I saw her just coming through the rose-garden, sir.

BROXOPP (_jumping up and going to the door_). Coming through the—you don’t mean to say that—— Why, Nancy! (_He brings her in_) Benham, get that fresh tea at once!

BENHAM (_going to tea-table_). Yes, sir.

NANCY. How are you, Benham? Isn’t it nice to be back! Yes, I should like some tea, please. And you had better send the car for my luggage.

BROXOPP. Your luggage? You don’t mean——

BENHAM. The car has gone, madam.

NANCY. Ah, that’s right.

[_BENHAM goes out._

BROXOPP (_horrified_). Nancy, you weren’t _met_?

NANCY. No, darling. I suppose there was some mistake.

BROXOPP (_throwing up his hands in despair_). I thought I could leave that much to Jack. Well, let’s have a look at you. (_He holds her at arms’ length_) And they forgot all about you!

NANCY. Oh, but I enjoyed my walk, you know. The woods, Jim! You never saw anything like them just now.

BROXOPP. Oh, well, nothing matters now you’re here. (_He kisses her._) Do you know Miss Norah Field, Nancy?

NANCY. I expect she was at the wedding, wasn’t she? Iris told me she wanted to ask her here. Is she nice?

BROXOPP (_kissing her again_). She doesn’t approve of kissing.

NANCY (_sitting down at the tea-table_). Perhaps she’s never tried. (_Enter BENHAM._) Tea! how nice! You must have it with me, Jim.

BROXOPP (_firmly_). I’m going to.

BENHAM. Is there anything more, madam?

NANCY. No, thank you. Are you quite well, Benham?

BENHAM. Yes, thank you, madam. Pretty well, considering.

NANCY. That’s right.

[_BENHAM goes out._

(_As soon as they are alone NANCY blows BROXOPP a kiss, and then pours out tea._)

NANCY. Well, how has everybody been getting on without me?

BROXOPP (_tapping his chest_). Me?

NANCY. You, and everybody. I suppose Sir Roger is still here?

BROXOPP. Oh yes.

NANCY. Well, all of you. Have you been very lonely without me?

BROXOPP. Very.

NANCY. The one letter I had from Iris seemed to say that you were all enjoying yourselves very much. What have _you_ been doing? You didn’t tell me much about yourself.

BROXOPP. Oh, fishing, golf—all the usual things. Talking to Jack and his friends. (_Grimly_) They are wonderful talkers.

NANCY (_proudly_). So are you, Jim.

BROXOPP (_shaking his head_). The world is getting too quick for me. When I talk I like to finish what I have to say. I never seem to have a chance now.... But never mind about me. Tell me about yourself. How’s old London looking?

NANCY (_smiling_). Just the same.... Where do you think I was yesterday?

BROXOPP (_excitedly_). Broxopp’s?

NANCY (_shaking her head_). No—but not far wrong. Bloomsbury way.

BROXOPP. Number 26?

NANCY. Yes! I happened to be that way, and I thought I’d go past the door, and there was a board up on the third floor, so I went in and asked to look over the rooms—pretended I was just married. There they were, just the same—and I did wish you had been with me.

BROXOPP (_with a laugh_). We’ve climbed a bit since those days.

NANCY. We always knew we should, didn’t we?

BROXOPP. And I began as an errand-boy at fourteen! Let Mr. Ronny Derwent beat that if he can!

NANCY. I’m sure Mr. Ronny Derwent couldn’t.

BROXOPP (_casually_). And you didn’t happen to look in at Broxopp’s at all?

NANCY. Oh no. I don’t suppose anybody would have known me.

BROXOPP (_eagerly_). Old Carter would—I suppose he’s still there. They wouldn’t get rid of Carter. He always used to remember how you came up the first day we opened the office, and I’d had lunch sent in—do you remember?—and a bottle of champagne. The first champagne you’d ever had—do you remember, Nancy?—and how frightened you were when the cork came out?

NANCY (_gently_). I remember, Jim.

BROXOPP. I thought perhaps you might just have passed by outside—on your way somewhere. (_Wistfully_) I suppose you still see the same—the same advertisements everywhere? Have we—have they got any new ones?

NANCY. I didn’t notice any.

BROXOPP (_nodding his head_). They can’t do better than the old ones. (_After a pause_) Of course, there are new ideas—(_he gets up and walks about_)—there was one I was thinking of this morning when I was out—nothing to do with me now—I just happened to think of it. (_He is carried away by it as he goes on_) I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a man drawing on a film—you see a few lines first, which mean nothing, and then gradually it begins to take shape. Well, you’d have your posters like that—altering every week. A large poster with just a few meaningless lines on it. Everybody would wonder what it meant. They’d all talk about it. Next week a curve here and there, a bit of shading somewhere. People get more and more interested. What is coming? And so it goes on. And then, in the last week, the lines all join together, some of them become writing, you see “BROXOPP’S”—— (_He breaks off, pulls himself together, and says casually_) The idea just came to me this morning when I was out. Of course, it’s nothing to do with me now. (_He gives a little laugh and sits down again._)

NANCY (_who has been listening raptly_). It’s a wonderful idea.

BROXOPP (_pleased_). Not bad, is it? (_With an effort_) However, that’s nothing to do with it, now.

NANCY (_with a sigh_). No, not now.

BROXOPP. And how did you leave Emily?

NANCY. Oh, she was very well. She sent her love to you.

BROXOPP. That’s good. And did you bring me an evening paper?

NANCY (_smiling_). Of course I did. (_She takes it out of her bag_) Knowing what a baby you are.

BROXOPP (_apologetically_). There’s something about an evening paper—— You know, Nancy, I think I miss my evening paper more than anything. (_He opens it_) So much more happens in an evening paper. Of course, this is an early edition.... And so Emily was well, was she? That’s good.

NANCY. They’d had rather a fright about their money. There was a Building Society—I forget its name—all the advertisements said it was a wonderful investment——

BROXOPP. They didn’t put their money into it?

NANCY. They were just going to when——

BROXOPP. That’s all right. Because here you are—in the Stop Press News. (_Reading_) “Great City Failure. Collapse of Excelsior Building Society.” Was that the one?

NANCY. Jim! (_Trying to remember_) Excelsior—no, I don’t think—— Well, it doesn’t matter, because they didn’t put their money in, anyhow. A friend warned them——

BROXOPP. Funny how everybody thinks he can make money in the City without working for it. People used to say to me, “You’re a business man.” I used to say, “I’m not a business man. I’m an artist. I have large ideas. I _employ_ business men.” Same way I employ Sir Roger. He knows; I don’t. I am above all that.

NANCY. I’ve been thinking about Sir Roger. _Does_ he know?

BROXOPP (_a little alarmed_). What do you mean, Nancy?

NANCY. Of course, he’s quite honest, but I think sometimes we’ve been rather foolish in letting him have so much to say in the investing of your money. I suppose you keep an eye on things for yourself, Jim?

BROXOPP (_hastily_). Yes, yes, of course I do.... He is a little difficult to—er—I mean he _has_ rather a way with him, which—— But I must certainly go into things with him. You’re quite right, Nancy. I’m not going to let Sir Roger or any one else play ducks and drakes with the money which _I_ earned.

NANCY. The money on which we were going to retire so happily.

BROXOPP (_with a sigh_). Yes!

NANCY (_with a sigh_). Yes! (_They are silent for a little._) No more anxieties, no more hard work. Just a happy, quiet life, all the day to yourself, doing whatever you liked.

BROXOPP (_less heartily_). Er—yes. Yes.

NANCY. Fishing——

BROXOPP (_doing his best_). Yes.

NANCY. Golf——

BROXOPP (_looking at her and looking away again_). Yes.

NANCY. Talking to Jack’s friends—(_BROXOPP doesn’t exactly say anything_) enjoying yourself from morning till night.

BROXOPP. You, too, Nancy. A house always full of people—plenty of servants to look after—bazaars to open—society——

NANCY (_with a sigh_). Yes!

(_They are silent again. Then BROXOPP—sure that they are alone—brings his chair a little nearer to Nancy’s._)

BROXOPP. You know, Nancy, sometimes I have hoped—I mean, I have thought—that perhaps Sir Roger—that perhaps he is being a little reckless—a little foolish—that perhaps——

NANCY (_eagerly_). Oh, Jim! Do you think he is?

BROXOPP. Supposing he came to me and said, “The fact is, Brox”—I mean Chillingham—“the fact is, Chillingham, things haven’t turned out quite as I expected, and—er—we have had losses.” I should say, “That’s all right, Sir Roger, I don’t blame you; you have done your best.” And even if it meant giving up the house, and——

NANCY. And the fishing, and the golf——

BROXOPP. Er—exactly. I shouldn’t reproach him.

NANCY. No, dear.

BROXOPP (_drawing his chair still closer and speaking eagerly_). Suppose we found that we only had £1000 a year left—I mean after we’d provided for Jack and Iris——

NANCY (_surprised_). A thousand?

BROXOPP. Well, six hundred. I’m only supposing. Six hundred. Enough for just a little house—well, where shall we say? I—I don’t think the country, do you?

NANCY. Well, of course, I _do_ like the country, Jim, but——

BROXOPP. The worst of the country is that people will come and stay with you. One is never alone.

NANCY. Yes.... And you _must_ have your evening paper.

BROXOPP (_with a shrug_). Oh, well.... Now, I thought of a little house, Streatham way, as it might be. You’re in touch with everything—you get the papers—you have neighbours who don’t come and live with you, but drop in when you want them—you can get to London easily, and yet, at the same time—— Or Norwood, say.

NANCY. Norwood, yes.

BROXOPP. I daresay I should join the Borough Council. I’ve no doubt I could give them a few ideas——

NANCY. Of course you could.

BROXOPP. I daresay it isn’t often they have an artist on the Borough Council. And then there would be a Norwood Literary and Debating Society, no doubt. They might care about a lecture on modern methods of advertising, or something of the sort—a reading from _Broxoppiana_, maybe—one way and another there would be plenty to occupy us. What do you say, Nancy?

NANCY (_thoughtfully_). I think perhaps £800 a year would be safer.

BROXOPP. Well, we should want a couple of servants, I suppose. You could manage with a couple?

NANCY. Oh yes!

BROXOPP. Say £80 a year for the rent—with a bit of a garden—you’d like that, wouldn’t you?—rates, taxes, say another——

(_But at this moment, when they are just moving into the house, SIR ROGER comes in. In some confusion, the BROXOPPS get to their feet._)

TENTERDEN. Ah, Mrs. Chillingham, so you’re back! Welcome home!

NANCY. How do you do, Sir Roger?

TENTERDEN. A pleasant visit, I hope?

NANCY. Very, thank you. But I’m glad to be home again.

TENTERDEN. With so beautiful a house, who would not?

BROXOPP. Oh, we’re very comfortable here—aren’t we, Nancy?

NANCY. I’ve always liked the country.... Have you had tea, Sir Roger?

TENTERDEN. Yes, yes, thank you, all I want. Been busy all day, Mrs. Chillingham. A great nuisance, business, on a day like this. And when there is so much that is attractive all around one. And there’s your lucky husband—no cares at all—goes off fishing—— By the way, Chillingham, what luck?

BROXOPP (_carelessly_). Oh, about the usual.... Er—I was—er—wanting to talk to you, Sir Roger, about—er—

TENTERDEN. My dear friend, by all means.

NANCY (_preparing to go_). Well, I must take off my things. And you can talk business together. But don’t keep him too long, Sir Roger, because I want him.

(_TENTERDEN is moving politely to the door, but BROXOPP does not move._)

BROXOPP (_with a smile_). You’re my business partner, Nancy. I’ve no secrets from you. If you don’t mind, Sir Roger?

TENTERDEN. It is just as Mrs. Chillingham wishes.

NANCY. You can always tell me afterwards, Jim.

BROXOPP. Nonsense, we may want your help. (_To TENTERDEN_) I remember once putting a little money into a mine, which a friend had spoken well of. My wife was very much against it—do you remember, Nancy? She said that it would be much safer in the bank. Well, she was quite right.

NANCY (_sitting down again_). Of course I was. (_With a smile of remembrance_) But do you remember what fun we had watching the papers to see whether it went up or down?

BROXOPP. Yes ... it went down.

TENTERDEN. Ah, what mine was that?

BROXOPP. Oh, I really forget now. Some Welsh gold-mine, I believe.

TENTERDEN. Yes. I think I could have given you a word of warning about Welsh gold-mines, Chillingham, if you had consulted me.

BROXOPP. This was long before we had the pleasure of knowing you, Sir Roger.

TENTERDEN. Ah, a pity, a pity!

NANCY. That’s why we’re so glad to have your help now. I should never have trusted Jim with all the money he got from Broxopp’s Beans.

TENTERDEN (_wincing at the hated word_). All the money he—ah—retired with. Yes. Well, I hope, Chillingham, I really hope that we shall be able to do something for you before very long.

BROXOPP. Well, I left it to you, Sir Roger. But naturally I like to know how things are going on. How are those oil shares?

TENTERDEN. Oil! Oil! Ah yes! Well, we have lost a little there. (_With a charming smile_) You know how it is, Mrs. Chillingham. One loses a little here, and picks up a little more there.... Yes, I have been disappointed over the oil.

NANCY. I always think that something safe, however little interest it pays, is—is safest.

TENTERDEN. Safer than losing it, my dear Mrs. Chillingham—all women will agree with you there—but not so pleasant as winning a little more. Your husband sold his business at an unfortunate time. Our hand was forced; we had to sell; we had to take the price they offered. Naturally your husband felt that a little speculation before investing—— And had it come off——

BROXOPP (_sharply_). Had it come off, you say?

TENTERDEN. Exactly. As you know, my dear Chillingham, one loses a little here and picks up a little there. In the end, one finds that one has picked up a good deal more than one has lost. If one knows the ropes, Mrs. Chillingham.

BROXOPP (_fiercely_). How much of my money have you lost?

TENTERDEN (_gently_). I think, Chillingham, that that is hardly the way to put it. I am not (_with a bow_) an absconding solicitor.

NANCY. (_To JIM_) Dear one!

BROXOPP. I beg your pardon, Sir Roger. But I understood——

TENTERDEN (_beautifully_). My dear Chillingham, of course, of course. I will let you have a note of your investments this evening. Naturally you will wish to conduct your business yourself in the future, or to take other advice.

NANCY. Oh, but I’m sure Jim didn’t mean to suggest——

TENTERDEN (_smiling_). That I was a knave? No, hardly. But that I was a fool! Eh, Chillingham? Oh, I think so. I think so.

BROXOPP (_very uncomfortably_). Sir Roger—you see—of course I don’t——

TENTERDEN (_holding up his hand_). Please, please don’t say any more. If anything, the apology should come from me. I have lost your money. (_To NANCY, charmingly_) Yes, Mrs. Chillingham, a good deal of it. And a good deal of my own, too. Fortunately I have already taken steps to recover it. What we lose on the oil, we gain on—shall I say the cocoanuts?

NANCY (_prompting him_). Jim! “That’s all right, Sir Roger....”

BROXOPP (_with an effort_). That’s all right, Sir Roger. I don’t blame you. You have done your best.

TENTERDEN (_amazed that there should have been any thought of blame_). I’m afraid that I haven’t made myself clear. When I say cocoanuts——

NANCY. Sir Roger, has my husband lost much of his money?

TENTERDEN. My dear Mrs. Chillingham, five minutes ago I should not have used the word “lost” at all. It was just, if I may put it so, the opening skirmish in a campaign. One does not say that a campaign is lost because at the first few shots—— (_He shrugs his shoulders._)

NANCY. Yes, I understand.... And the cocoanuts——?

TENTERDEN. A manner of speaking. Actually (_he beams at them both_) a Building Society. Our motto is—Excelsior!

BROXOPP (_jumping up_). The Excelsior? My money is in that?

TENTERDEN. All, my dear Chillingham. And safe as—shall I say houses? But, of course, whether you leave it there or not is now a matter for your own judgment. Between ourselves, Mrs. Chillingham, I shall be glad to be relieved of the responsibility. (_Looking through the window_) Beautiful weather we’re having just now. The young people are out enjoying themselves, I suppose? Golf, what? No cares, no responsibilities—lucky young people! (_He gives them a pleasant nod and goes out._)

(_BROXOPP and NANCY stand looking at each other._)

BROXOPP. Well, Nancy?

NANCY. Well, Jim?

BROXOPP (_with a bitter laugh_). Funny, isn’t it?

NANCY (_smiling_). Well, it is rather.

BROXOPP (_with a groan_). Funny! I said six hundred a year—you said eight hundred—and now we shall have tuppence.

NANCY. That’s what makes it rather funny.

BROXOPP. Sir Roger’s a fool, but I’m a worse one to have trusted him.

NANCY. There’ll be something left.

BROXOPP. And yet—I daresay I’d do it again. There were those Tenterdens and Jack. They wanted me to give up things for them—my name, my home, my business. Well, I wasn’t going to give grudgingly. Let them have it all, I said. Let Sir Roger play the fool with my money, let Jack choose my house for me, let Iris fill it with her friends. It was their show this time. That’s the way I have to do things—the large way. It—it appeals to me somehow, Nancy. Well, you know me—you married that sort of man.

NANCY. I’m glad I married that sort of man.

BROXOPP. And now he’s let you down.

NANCY. There’ll be something left. We were just saying——

BROXOPP (_shaking his head_). There’s Jack to remember. We must give him his chance—he may be a genius—my son—(_as an afterthought_) your son—why not?

NANCY. Yes, dear.... If we only had five hundred a year, it wouldn’t be—I could make you comfortable—even four hundred——

(_She is already adding up the butcher’s bills, and the baker’s bills, and the servant’s wages—only one servant ... when BROXOPP breaks in on her thoughts._)

BROXOPP. Nancy!

NANCY. Yes, Jim.

BROXOPP. I’m just over fifty.

NANCY. Yes, Jim.

BROXOPP. And you?

NANCY. Just under fifty.

BROXOPP. M’m.... A hundred between us.

NANCY. I don’t feel that we’re a hundred, do you?

BROXOPP. No. Still, there it is. Will you mind very much?

NANCY. Mind what?

BROXOPP. Beginning again at fifty?

NANCY (_a little frightened now_). Do you mean—working again?

BROXOPP. Yes. Looking for work again. Trying to earn a living again. Will you mind very much?

NANCY (_coming close_). N—no, dear.

BROXOPP. Not frightened?

NANCY (_coming closer_). N—no, dear.

BROXOPP (_valiantly_). After all, what I have done, I can do!

NANCY (_now much more bravely_). Yes, dear.... (_After a pause_) It was funny my going into Number 26 this morning.

BROXOPP. What?

NANCY. The rooms at 26 are empty—our old rooms—I told you.

BROXOPP (_eagerly_). Go back to them?

NANCY. Well, there they are.

BROXOPP (_dropping into a chair_). Beginning again at fifty.... It will be a hard struggle.

NANCY. Yes, dear.

(_They are sitting side by side now, looking in front of them at that struggle. He follows it in his mind.... There must be something pleasing in the prospect of it, for the frown slowly becomes a smile. Still smiling, he gives a sidelong glance at NANCY. Curiously enough, she too is not altogether miserable. But as their eyes meet they pull themselves together with a start, and BROXOPP frowns heavily and speaks again._)

BROXOPP. A hard struggle.

NANCY (_sternly_). A hard struggle.

(_Again they look in front of them at it, and again there seems to be something in the prospect not unattractive. Once more their eyes meet, but this time they do not try to hide from each other what their hearts are saying. They are saying quite unmistakably, “What fun!” Hand in hand they sit there, waiting for it to begin._)