ACT I

_What MR. LATIMER prefers to call the reception-room of his house is really the hall. You come straight into it through the heavy oak front door. But this door is so well built, so well protected by a thick purple curtain, and the room so well warmed by central heating, that none of the usual disadvantages of a hall on a November night attaches to it. Just now, of course, all the curtains are drawn, so that the whole of this side of the hall is purple-hung. In the middle of the room, a little to the right, is a mahogany table, clothless, laid for three. A beautiful blue bowl, filled with purple anemones, helps, with the silver and the old cut glass, to decorate it. Over the whole room there is something of an Arabian-night-adventure air. In the daytime, perhaps, it is an ordinary hall, furnished a trifle freakishly, but in the night time one wonders what is going to happen next._

_DOMINIC, tall, stout, and grave, the major-domo of the house, in a butler’s old-fashioned evening-dress, comes in. He stands looking at the room to see that all is as it should be, then walks to the table and gives a little touch to it here and there. He turns round and waits a moment. The Staff materialises suddenly—two footmen and two chambermaids. The men come from the left, the women from the right; over their clothes, too, MR. LATIMER has been a little freakish. They stand in a line._

* * * * *

DOMINIC. The blue room in the east wing is ready?

THE MEN. Yes, Mr. Dominic.

DOMINIC. The white room in the west wing is ready?

THE WOMEN. Yes, Mr. Dominic.

DOMINIC. The procedure will be as before.

THE FOUR. Yes, Mr. Dominic.

DOMINIC. See to it that I have no fault to find. That will do.

(_They go out. He looks at his watch and then follows the men. He is hardly out of the room when a bell rings. He returns slowly, draws the curtain from the front door, and opens it. LEONARD, in fur-coat and cap, is seen standing outside. He is a big, well-made man of about thirty-five—dark, with a little black tooth-brush moustache. When the door opens he gets his first sight of the interior of the room, and is evidently taken by surprise._)

LEONARD. Oh—er—is this—er—an hotel? My chauffeur said—we’ve had an accident, been delayed on the way—he said that we could put up here. (_He turns round and calls_) Here, Saunders! This can’t be the place. (_To DOMINIC_) Perhaps you could tell me——

ANNE (_from outside, invisible_). Saunders has gone, Leonard.

LEONARD (_turning round_). Gone! What the devil——(_He plunges into the darkness._)

DOMINIC. Saunders was perfectly correct, my lord. This _is_ a sort of hotel.

ANNE (_getting out of the car, but still invisible_). He went off as soon as you got out of the car. Leonard, are you sure——?

(_She comes into the light; he is holding her arm. Pretty she is, to the first sight; but what holds you is the mystery of her youthfulness; her aloof, untouched innocence; her grave coolness; her—well, we shall let her speak for herself. Just at present she is a little upset by the happenings of the night._)

DOMINIC. Saunders was perfectly correct, my lord. This _is_ a sort of hotel.

LEONARD (_puzzled_). What the devil’s happened to him? (_He looks out into the darkness._)

DOMINIC. Doubtless he has gone round to the garage to get the doors open. Won’t your lordship——

LEONARD. You can put us up? Just for to-night. My—er—wife and myself——

DOMINIC. If your lordship and her ladyship will come in—— (_He waits for them._)

LEONARD (_to ANNE_). It’s the best we can do, dear. I’m frightfully sorry about it, but, after all, what difference——

ANNE (_giving him a look which means “Don’t talk like this in front of hotel servants”_). I daresay it will be quite comfortable. It’s only for one night. (_She comes in, followed by LEONARD._)

DOMINIC. Thank you, my lady.

(_He shuts and bolts the doors, then draws the curtains. There is an air of finality about it. ANNE looks back at the noise of the bolts going home with something of a start. They are locked in now for good. LEONARD, his eye on the supper-table, is saying to himself, “Dashed rummy sort of hotel.”_)

DOMINIC. Allow me, my lady. (_He helps them off with their coats._)

LEONARD. You can give us something to eat?

ANNE. I don’t want anything, Leonard.

LEONARD. Nonsense, dear.

DOMINIC. Supper will be served in five minutes, my lord.

ANNE (_suddenly_). Do you know who we are?

DOMINIC. I have not that pleasure, my lady.

ANNE. Then why do you call me “my lady”?

LEONARD (_disliking a scene_). My dear!

ANNE (_waving back LEONARD’S protesting arm_). No, Leonard. (_To DOMINIC_) Well?

DOMINIC. His lordship mentioned that your ladyship was his wife.

ANNE. Y—yes.... Then you know _him_ by sight?

LEONARD (_complacently_). Well, my dear, that need not surprise you.

DOMINIC. I know his lordship’s rank, my lady. Not his lordship’s name.

LEONARD (_surprised_). My rank? How the devil——

DOMINIC. Supper will be served in five minutes, my lady. (_He bows and goes out._)

(_There is silence for a little. They look at the table, at the room, at each other. Then LEONARD says it aloud._)

LEONARD. Dashed rummy sort of hotel!

ANNE (_coming closer and holding his arm_). Leonard, I don’t like it.

LEONARD. Pooh! Nonsense, dear.

ANNE. It almost seems as though they had expected us.

LEONARD (_laughing_). My dear child, how could they? In the ordinary way we should have been at Dover—why, almost at Calais by this time.

ANNE. I know. (_In distress_) Why aren’t we?

LEONARD. The car—Saunders, a fool of a chauffeur—a series of unfortunate accidents——

ANNE. Do you often have these unfortunate accidents, Leonard?

LEONARD. My dear Anne, you aren’t suggesting that I’ve done this on purpose!

ANNE. No, no. (_She leaves him, and goes and sits down._) But why to-night of all nights?

LEONARD. Of course, it’s damned annoying missing the boat, but we can get it to-morrow morning. We shall be in Paris to-morrow night.

ANNE. To-morrow night—but that makes such a difference. I hate every hour we spend together like this in England.

LEONARD. Well, really, I don’t see why——

ANNE. You must take it that I do, Leonard. I told you from the first that it was run-away or nothing with me; there was going to be no intrigue, no lies and pretences and evasions. And somehow it seems less—less sordid, if we begin our new life together in a new country. (_With a little smile_) Perhaps the French for what we are doing is not quite so crude as the English.... Yes, I know it’s absurd of me, but there it is.

LEONARD (_with a shrug_). Oh, well! (_Taking out his case_) Do you mind a cigarette?

ANNE (_violently_). Oh, why do men _always_ want to smoke, even up to the moment when they’re going to eat? Can’t you breathe naturally for five minutes?

LEONARD (_sulkily, putting his case back_). I beg your pardon.

ANNE. No, I beg yours.

LEONARD. You’re all to bits.

ANNE. Nerves, I suppose.

LEONARD. Nonsense! My Anne with nerves? (_Bitterly_) Now if it had been Eustasia——

ANNE (_coldly_). Really, Leonard, I think we had better leave your wife out of the conversation.

LEONARD. I beg your pardon.

ANNE (_to herself_). Perhaps you’re right. In a crisis we are all alike, we women.

LEONARD (_going over to her_). No, damn it, I won’t have that. It’s—it’s blasphemy. Anne, my darling——(_She stands up and he takes her hands._)

ANNE. Oh!... I _am_ different, aren’t I?

LEONARD. Darling!

ANNE. I’m not a bit like—like anybody else, am I, not even when I’m cross?

LEONARD. Darling!

ANNE. And you do love me?

LEONARD. Darling! (_He wants to kiss her, but she stops him._)

ANNE. No. Now you’re going to smoke. (_She settles him in his chair, takes a cigarette from his case, and puts it in his mouth_) I’ll light it for you. Matches? (_She holds out her hand for them._)

DOMINIC (_who has a way of being there when wanted_). Matches, my lady. (_He hands them to her. They are both rather confused._)

ANNE. Thank you.

LEONARD (_annoyed_). Thanks. (_He gets up, takes the matches from ANNE, and lights his cigarette. DOMINIC gives a professional touch to the table and goes out._) Damn that fellow!

ANNE (_smiling_). After all, darling, he thinks I’m your wife.... Or don’t wives light their husband’s cigarettes?

LEONARD. I believe you’re right, Anne. There’s something odd about this place.

ANNE. So _you_ feel it now?

LEONARD. What did he mean by saying he knew my rank, but not my name?

ANNE (_lightly_). Perhaps he looked inside your cap—like Sherlock Holmes—and saw the embroidered coronet.

LEONARD. How do you mean? There’s nothing inside my cap.

ANNE. No, darling. That was a joke. (_He nods tolerantly._)

LEONARD. And the table laid. Only one table.

ANNE. Yes, but it’s for three. They didn’t expect _us_.

LEONARD (_relieved_). So it is.... It’s probably a new idea in hotels—some new stunt of Harrods—or what’s the fellow’s name?—Lyons. A country-house hotel. By the way, what will you drink?

DOMINIC (_there as usual_). Bollinger 1906, my lord. (_He has startled them again._) Mr. Latimer will be down in two minutes, my lady. He asks you to forgive him for not being here to receive you.

LEONARD. Mr. Latimer? Who on earth’s Mr. Latimer?

DOMINIC. If you would wish to be shown your room, my lady——

ANNE (_who has not taken her eyes off him_). No, thank you.

LEONARD (_stepping forward_). Look here, my man, is this an hotel or have we come to a private house by mistake?

DOMINIC. A sort of hotel, my lord. I assure your lordship there is no mistake. Thank you, my lady.

[_He goes out._

ANNE (_laughing half-hysterically as she sits down_). Very original man, Harrod. Or is it Lyons?

LEONARD. Look here, I’m going to get to the bottom of this. (_He starts after DOMINIC._)

ANNE. Why bother? Mr. Latimer will be here in two minutes.

LEONARD (_turning back_). Yes, but who the devil’s Mr. Latimer?

ANNE (_with interest_). Leonard, do you always arrange something fascinating like this when you elope? I think it’s so romantic of you. But don’t you think that the mere running away is enough just at first? Leaving the fogs and the frets of England, the weariness and the coldness of it, and escaping together to the warm, blue, sun-filled South—isn’t that romantic enough? Why drag in a mysterious and impossible inn, a mysterious and impossible Mr. Latimer? You should have kept them for afterwards; for the time when the poetry was wearing out, and we were beginning to get used to each other.

LEONARD. My dear girl, what _are_ you driving at? I say again—do you really think that I _arranged_ all this?

ANNE. Well, somebody did.

(_The two Footmen and the two Chambermaids come in and take up positions on each side of the table. They are followed by DOMINIC._)

DOMINIC. Mr. Latimer!

(_MR. LATIMER comes in, looks at the visitors, goes off absent-mindedly with DOMINIC and his Staff, and then comes apologetically back again._)

LATIMER. Good evening!

(_He bows with an air; an airy gentleman, neither young nor old, dressed rather fantastically as regards his tie and his dinner-jacket and the flower in his button-hole, and enjoying impishly every word of it._)

LEONARD. Good evening. Er——

LATIMER (_confidentially_). You will forgive me for being announced in my own house, but I find that it saves so much trouble. If I had just come in and said, “I am Mr. Latimer,” then _you_ would have had to say, “And I am—er—So-and-so, and this is—er——” Exactly. I mean we can get on so much better without names. But of course——

LEONARD. You will excuse me, sir, but——

LATIMER (_going happily on_). But of course, as you were just going to say, we must call each other _something_. (_Thoughtfully_) I think I shall call you Leonard. There is something about you—forgive the liberty—something Leonardish. (_With a very sweet smile to ANNE_) I am sure you agree with me.

ANNE. I am wondering whether this is really happening, or whether I am dreaming it.

LATIMER (_his back to LEONARD_). And Leonard isn’t wondering at all; he is just tapping his forehead with a great deal of expression.

(_LEONARD, who was doing this, stops in some confusion._)

LEONARD (_coldly_). I think we have had enough of this, Mr. Latimer. I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. If you are not mad, then I will ask you for some other explanation of all this nonsense.

LATIMER (_sniffing at the flower in his button-hole_). An impetuous character, Leonard. It must be so obvious to everybody else in the room that an explanation will be forthcoming. But why not a friendly explanation following a friendly supper?

ANNE. Are we your guests?

LATIMER. Please.

ANNE. Thank you.

LATIMER. But there is still this question of names. Now we agreed about Leonard——

ANNE (_looking at him fearlessly_). My name is Anne.

LATIMER. Thank you, Miss Anne.

LEONARD (_awkwardly_). Er—my wife.

LATIMER. Then I am tempted to leave out the “Miss.”

LEONARD (_annoyed again_). Look here——

LATIMER (_turning to him_). But there is nothing to look at if I do, Leonard. (_The Staff comes in._) Ah, supper! Will you sit here, Anne? (_He goes to the head of the table, and indicates the chair on the right of him._) And you here, Leonard? (_The chair on the left._) That’s right. (_They all sit down._)

(_DOMINIC and the Staff serve the supper. Five of them, so things go quickly._)

LATIMER. “A little fish, a bird, a little sweet. Enough to drink, but not too much to eat.” I composed that in my bath this morning. The wine has been waiting for you since 1906. How different from the turbot! ’Twas but yesterday it scarce had heard the name of Le-o-nard. (_They are all served with fish, and the wine has been poured out._) Dominic, dismiss the Staff. We would be alone. (_They are alone. He rises, glass in hand_) My friends, I will give you a toast. (_He raises his glass_) A Happy Ending!

ANNE (_lifting her glass_). A Happy Ending!

LATIMER. You don’t drink, Leonard. You would have the adventure end unhappily, as is the way of the modern novel?

LEONARD. I don’t understand the beginning of it, Mr. Latimer. I don’t—you will forgive me for saying so—I don’t see how _you_ came into it. Who _are_ you?

ANNE. Our host, Leonard.

LEONARD. So it seems, my dear. But in that case, how did we come here? My chauffeur told us that this was an hotel—your man assured me, when I asked, that it was an hotel, a sort of hotel. And now it seems that we are in a private house. Moreover, we seem to have been expected. And then again—if you will forgive me—it appears to be an unusual kind of house. I tell you frankly that I don’t understand it.

LATIMER. I see your difficulty, Leonard.

LEONARD (_stiffly_). Nor am I accustomed to being called Leonard by a perfect stranger.

LATIMER. What you are saying for yourself is, “Who is this man Latimer? Is he _known_? Is he in the Stud Book?—I mean Debrett. Is he perhaps one of the Hammersmith Latimers, or does he belong to the Ealing Branch?”

ANNE (_calmly eating_). What does it matter?

LATIMER. Yes, but then _you_ like the fish. Leonard doesn’t.

LEONARD. I have no fault to find with the fish. You have an excellent cook.

LATIMER (_gravely bowing_). I beg your pardon, I thank you. (_DOMINIC comes in._) His lordship likes the fish.

DOMINIC. Thank you, sir. I will inform the cook.

[_He goes out._

ANNE. When you are giving us your tiresome explanations after supper, Mr. Latimer, I wish you would just add one more to them.

LATIMER. But of course!

ANNE. Your Mr. Dominic’s appearances are so apt. How is it done?

LATIMER (_pulling down his cuff_). Yes, I’ll make a note of that. (_He writes on it_) Dominic—Apt appearance of.

_DOMINIC reappears._

LATIMER. Admit the bird, Dominic.

[_DOMINIC goes out._

LEONARD (_rising stiffly_). I’m afraid we shall have to be getting on now, Mr. Latimer.... Anne, dear.... We are much obliged for your hospitality, but—er—I imagine we are not far from Dover——

LATIMER. On the Dover Road, certainly.

LEONARD. Exactly. So if you would—er—have instructions given to my chauffeur—er—— (_He hesitates as the Staff comes in._)

LATIMER. Dominic, his lordship’s glass is empty. He wishes to drink my health.

DOMINIC. I beg your pardon, my lord. (_The glass is filled._)

LATIMER. And while he is up, just find his lordship a more comfortable chair. He has been a little uneasy on that one all through the fish.

DOMINIC. I beg your pardon, my lord. (_The chair is changed._)

LATIMER (_rising with his glass and drinking to LEONARD_). Your happiness! (_He sits down, and LEONARD mechanically sits down too._) Now for the bird. (_To ANNE_) I like these little ceremonies in between the courses. Don’t you?

ANNE. I’m liking my supper.

LATIMER. I am so glad. (_As ANNE is helped_) I shot this bird myself. (_He looks at it through his glass_) What is it, Dominic?

DOMINIC. _Poulet en casserole_ with mushrooms, sir.

LATIMER. _Poulet en casserole_ with mushrooms. I shot the mushrooms.... A large help for his lordship, Dominic. (_To LEONARD_) Let me introduce your chicken to you, Leonard. One of the Buff-Orpingtons. I daresay you know the family. His mother was a Wyandotte. He was just about to contract an alliance with one of the Rock girls, the Plymouth Rocks, when the accident happened.

(_They are alone again now, plates and glasses well filled. LEONARD, who has been waiting impatiently for the Staff to go, pushes back his chair and gets up._)

LATIMER. Dear me! Not a third chair, surely?

LEONARD. Now look here, Mr. Latimer, this farce has gone on long enough. I do not propose to sit through a whole meal without some further explanation. Either we have that explanation now, or else—Anne, dear—or else we’ll be getting on our way.

LATIMER (_thoughtfully_). Ah, but which is your way?

LEONARD. Dover. My chauffeur seems to have got off the track a little, but if you can put us on to the Dover Road——

LATIMER (_to himself_). The Dover Road! The Dover Road! A dangerous road, my friends. And you’re travelling in the dark.

LEONARD. Really, Mr. Latimer, that needn’t frighten us.

ANNE (_putting her hand on his arm_). What do you mean?

LATIMER. A strange road, Anne, for _you_. A new, untravelled road.

LEONARD. Nonsense. She’s often been this way before. Haven’t you, dear?

ANNE (_shaking her head_). No.... But I’m not frightened, Mr. Latimer.

(_There is silence for a little. Then DOMINIC appears noiselessly._)

LATIMER. Dominic, supper is over. His lordship loved the chicken—too well to eat it. He adored the mushrooms—in silence. Inform the cook.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir.

LATIMER (_offering his case to ANNE_). A cigarette?

ANNE. No, thank you.

LATIMER. You permit it?

ANNE. Of course.

LATIMER. Thank you.

DOMINIC (_to LEONARD_). Cigar, my lord?

LEONARD. Er—er—(_but they are good ones_)—thanks.

LATIMER. Well, shall we——?

(_They get up, and move into more comfortable chairs, LATIMER talking._)

LATIMER. Which chair would you like, Anne? There? (_She sits down._) That’s right. Now then, Leonard, we want something especially comfortable for you. You are a little finicky about chairs, if you don’t mind my saying so.... What about _that_ one? Just try it and see how you like it. (_LEONARD tries it, and sinks into it up to the neck._) Yes, I think you will be happy there. And I shall sit here. Now everything is ready. (_They are alone again._)

LEONARD (_with as much dignity as is possible from that sort of chair_). I am waiting, Mr. Latimer.

LATIMER. I am waiting, Leonard, for your questions.

ANNE. Let me begin with one. (_He turns to her._) Your table was laid for three. For whom were the other two places intended?

LATIMER. For yourself and Leonard.

ANNE. You expected us?

LATIMER. Yes.

ANNE. How did you know we were coming?

LATIMER. Saunders had his instructions to bring you.

LEONARD (_starting up from his chair—or trying to_). Saunders! My chauffeur! Do you mean to say——

LATIMER. Let me help you up, Leonard. You have the wrong chair again. It is difficult to be properly indignant in that one. (_He helps him into a sitting position_) That’s better. You were saying——

LEONARD. You mean to tell me that you had the audacity to bribe my chauffeur?

LATIMER. No, no, Leonard. What I mean is that _you_ had the foolhardiness to bribe my friend Saunders to be your chauffeur.

LEONARD. Upon my word——

ANNE. Who is Saunders?

LATIMER. Saunders? He’s Joseph’s brother. Joseph was the gentleman in orange. He helped you to fish.

LEONARD (_out of the chair at last_). How dare you interfere in my concerns in this way, sir!

ANNE. Before you explain how you dare, Mr. Latimer, I should like to know _why_ you are so interested in us. Who are you?

LATIMER. No more than Mr. Latimer. It is a purely impersonal interest which I take—and I take it just because you are going the Dover Road, my dear, and it is a dangerous road for a young girl to travel.

ANNE (_very cool, very proud_). I don’t think I asked you to be interested in me.

LATIMER. Nobody does, my dear. But I am. Very interested. In all my fellow-travellers. It is my hobby.

LEONARD. Anne! (_He means, “Let’s get out of this.” He makes a movement to the front door._)

LATIMER. The door is locked, Leonard.

LEONARD (_bending over him and putting his face very close to LATIMER’S_). Ah! Then I will give you one minute in which to open it.

_DOMINIC has come in._

LATIMER. Dominic, his lordship’s face is just a little too close to mine. Could you—thank you! (_LEONARD has started back on noticing DOMINIC._) Coffee? Excellent. (_The Footmen are there with coffee._)

ANNE. No, thank you.

LEONARD. No, thanks. (_He sits on another chair._)

LATIMER. No, thank you. By the way, Dominic, did you go round to the Hospital this afternoon?

DOMINIC. Yes, sir. The young gentleman is getting on nicely. He was able to take a little bread-and-milk this morning.

LATIMER. Ah, I’m glad. Nothing solid yet?

DOMINIC. No, sir. The jaw is still very tender.

[_He goes out._

LATIMER (_to LEONARD_). He bumped it against my knuckles last week. An impetuous young fellow. He was running away with—dear me, I forget her name—I always forget names. I think he called her Pussy. She had several children. (_Unconsciously he has shot his cuff, and sees suddenly the note he has made_) What’s this? “Dominic—Apt appearance of.” Ah, yes. (_He turns to ANNE_) It’s very simple. A little fad of mine. There are bells everywhere in this room—in every chair, on the table, in the floor; wherever I am, I can press a bell for Dominic. He is always close at hand on reception-evenings. Yes.

ANNE. That was a little warning which you were giving us just now?

LATIMER (_apologetically_). Yes. I thought it better. Leonard is so impetuous. Joseph and Jacob were both amateur champions in their day. Dominic is a very heavy fall-er. He never has to fall on a man twice. If all this is quite understood at the beginning, it makes it so much easier.

ANNE (_getting up_). Mr. Latimer, I assure you that this is not a sudden freak of fancy, and that I know my own mind. I ask you, as a gentleman, to open the door.

LATIMER (_shaking his head_). I am afraid it is impossible, Anne. (_She shrugs her shoulders and sits down._)

LEONARD (_calm for the moment_). So we are kept here by force?

LATIMER. Need we insist upon it? Let us rather say that you have postponed your visit to France in order to spend a few days with a friend.

LEONARD. I prefer to say force.

LATIMER (_with a bow_). I do not dictate your words to you. Your movements for the moment, yes. So let us say “force.”

LEONARD. We are prisoners, in fact?

LATIMER. Within the limits of my house.

LEONARD. And if my—my wife chooses to walk out of your front door to-morrow morning, your—your fellow-conspirators would lay hands on her and stop her?

LATIMER. My dear Leonard, why should your—your wife want to walk out of the front door to-morrow? What would she want to do in the garden in November? Do be reasonable.

LEONARD. Suppose she wished to walk to the nearest police-station?

LATIMER (_to ANNE_). Do you?

ANNE (_with a smile_). Could I?

LATIMER. If you stood on Leonard’s shoulders you might just reach the top of the wall.... Dominic tells me that they have lost the key of the gates. Very careless of them.

LEONARD. Well, I’m—— It’s monstrous!

ANNE. Yes, but we can’t keep on saying that. Here we are apparently, and here we have to stay. But I still want to know very much _why_ Mr. Latimer has this great desire for our company.

LEONARD. You have the advantage of me now, sir, but you will not always have it. The time will come when I shall demand satisfaction for this insult.

LATIMER (_with an air—rising and bowing_). My lord! Letters addressed to me at the Charing Cross Post Office will always be forwarded!

LEONARD (_slightly upset_). This gross insult to myself and—er—my wife.

LATIMER. No, no, not your wife.

LEONARD. How dare you!

LATIMER (_in alarm_). Surely I haven’t made a mistake. (_To ANNE_) You and he are running away together, aren’t you?

LEONARD (_a step nearer_). Look here, sir——

ANNE. Oh, Leonard, what’s the good? We aren’t ashamed of it, are we? Yes, Mr. Latimer, we are running away together.

LATIMER. Of course! Why not? Leonard, _you_ aren’t ashamed of it, are you?

LEONARD. I object to this interference in my private affairs by a——

LATIMER. Yes, yes, but you’ve said all that. It’s interfering of me, damnably interfering. But I am doing it because I want you both to be happy.

LEONARD. I can look after my own happiness.

LATIMER. _And_ this lady’s?

LEONARD. She is good enough to believe it.

ANNE. I am not a child. Do you think I haven’t thought? The scandal, the good name I am going to lose, the position of that other woman, I have thought of all these things.

LATIMER. There is one thing of which you haven’t thought, Anne.

ANNE (_how young she is_). I am afraid you are old-fashioned. You are going to talk to me of morality.

LATIMER (_smiling_). Oh no, I wasn’t.

ANNE (_not heeding him_). Living alone here, a bachelor, within these high walls which keep the world out, you believe what the fairy-books tell us, that once two people are married they live happy ever after.

LATIMER. Oh, no, I don’t.

ANNE. I am the wicked woman, coming between the happy husband and wife, breaking up the happy home. Is that it, Mr. Latimer?

LEONARD. Rubbish! The happy home! Why, this is my first real chance of happiness.

LATIMER. His first real chance of happiness! As he said when he proposed to Eustasia.

LEONARD (_upset_). What’s that?

LATIMER (_to ANNE_). May I ask _you_ some questions now?

ANNE. Yes?

LATIMER. Eustasia will divorce him?

LEONARD. We shall not defend the suit.

LATIMER. And then you will marry Anne?

LEONARD. Another insult. I shall not forget it.

LATIMER. I beg your pardon. I simply wanted an answer.

ANNE. He will marry me.

LATIMER. I see. And then, as the fairy-books tell us, you will live happy ever after? (_ANNE is silent._)

LEONARD. I need hardly say that I shall do my best to——

LATIMER (_to ANNE_). And then, as the fairy-books tell us, you will live happy ever after? (_ANNE is silent._) I live within my high walls which keep the world out; I am old-fashioned, Anne. You are modern, you know the world. You don’t believe the fairy-books, and yet—you are going to live happy ever after?

LEONARD. I don’t see what you’re driving at.

LATIMER. Anne does.

ANNE (_raising her eyes to his_). I take the risk, Mr. Latimer.

LATIMER. But a big risk.... Oh, believe me, I am not so much out of the world as you think. Should I have known all about you, should I have brought you here, if I were? I know the world; I know the risks of marriage. Marriage is an art—well, it’s a profession in itself. (_Sharply_) And what are you doing? Marrying a man whose only qualification for the profession is that he has tried it once, and made a damned hash of it.

LEONARD. Well, really, sir!

LATIMER. Isn’t it true?

LEONARD. Well—er—I admit my marriage has not been a happy one, but I venture to say—well, I don’t wish to say anything against Eustasia——

LATIMER. Go on. Life is too short for us to be gentlemen all the time.

LEONARD (_explosively_). Well, then, I say that not even St. Michael and all his angels could have made a success of it. I mean, not even St. Michael.

LATIMER. Yet you chose her.

LEONARD. Er—well—— (_But he has nothing to say._)

LATIMER (_after a pause_). Miss Anne, I am not being moral. You see, I am a very rich man, and we know on good authority that it is difficult for a very rich man to be a very good man. But being a very rich man I try to spend my money so that it makes somebody else happy besides myself. It’s the only happy way of spending money, isn’t it? And it’s my hobby to prevent people—to try if I can prevent people—making unhappy marriages.... It’s wonderful what power money gives you. Nobody realises it, because nobody ever spends it save in the obvious ways.... You may say that I should have prevented Leonard from marrying Eustasia in the first place. I have done that sometimes. I have asked two young people here—oh, properly chaperoned—and guests, not prisoners as you are—two young people who thought that they were in love, and I have tried to show each to the other in the most unromantic light.... Sometimes the engagement has been broken off. Sometimes they have married and—lived happy ever after.... But mostly it is my hobby to concentrate on those second marriages into which people plunge—with no parents now to restrain them—so much more hastily even than they plunge into their first adventure. Yet how much more carefully they should be considered, seeing that one at least of the parties has already proved his utter ignorance of the art of marriage.... And so, my dear friends, when I hear—and a rich man has many means of hearing—when I hear that two people are taking the Dover Road, as you were taking it to-night, I venture to stop them, and say, in the words of the fairy-book, “Are you _sure_ you are going to live happy ever after?”

LEONARD. Your intentions may be good, but I can only repeat that your interference is utterly unwarranted, and you are entirely mistaken as to the power and authority which your money gives you.

LATIMER. Authority, none. But power? (_He laughs_) Why, my dear Leonard, if I offered you a hundred thousand pounds to go back to your wife to-night, this lady would never see you again.

LEONARD. Well, of all the damnable things to say——

LATIMER. How damnable the truth is! Think it over to-night, Leonard. You are a poor man for your position—think of all the things you could do with a hundred thousand pounds. Turn it over in your mind—and then over and over again. A hundred thousand pounds.

(_For a moment it seems as if LEONARD is beginning to turn it, but ANNE interrupts._)

ANNE (_scornfully_). Is this part of the treatment? Am I being shown my lover when he is mercenary?

LATIMER (_with a laugh_). Oh no! If that were part of my treatment, there would be no marriages at all. Oh no, it isn’t a genuine offer. (_To LEONARD_) It’s off, Leonard. You needn’t think it out any more. (_LEONARD wakes up suddenly, a poor man._) Besides, you misunderstand me. I don’t want to separate you by force—I have no right to.

ANNE. But how modest suddenly!

LATIMER (_with a bow and a smile_). Madam, I admire your spirit.

ANNE. Leonard, I am receiving the attentions of another man. Beware of jealousy.... All part of the treatment, Mr. Latimer?

LATIMER. You’re splendid. (_Seriously_) But I meant what I said just now. I am not preventing you from going the Dover Road, I am only asking you to wait a few days and see how you get on. It may be that you two are the perfect soul-mates; that your union has already been decreed in Heaven and will be watched over by the angels. If so, nobody will rejoice in your happiness more than I. I shall not say, “You have no right to be happy together. Leonard must remain with his lawfully-wedded Eustasia.” Believe me, I do not waste my money, my time, my breath in upholding the sanctity of an unhappy marriage. I was brought up in the sanctity of an unhappy marriage; even as a child I knew all about it. (_Less seriously_) But oh, my dear Anne, let us have a little common sense before we adventure marriage with a man who is always making a mess of it. We know what Leonard is—how perfectly hopeless as a husband.

ANNE. I don’t think that is quite fair.

LATIMER. Well, as far as we can tell. You’ve never made a happy marriage yet, have you, Leonard?

LEONARD (_sulkily_). I don’t want to say anything against Eustasia——

LATIMER. Good God, man, aren’t you shouting it all the time? Why else are you here? But don’t try to pretend that it’s all Eustasia’s fault.

LEONARD (_doubtfully_). Well——

LATIMER. Or that it will be all Anne’s fault _next_ year.

LEONARD. What do you mean, next year?

LATIMER. I beg your pardon. I should have said the year after next. (_There is a little silence._)

ANNE (_getting up_). I think I will go to bed. How long do you want us to wait?

LATIMER. Can you spare a week? You with so many years in front of you.

ANNE (_deciding that the moment has come to put MR. LATIMER in his place_). I have a father. I left him a note to say what I was doing. We don’t see much of each other, but I thought it polite. (_Triumphantly_) Does _that_ interfere with your plans at all?

LATIMER (_smiling_). Not at all. There was a little mistake about the delivery of that note. Your father is under the impression that you are staying with friends—in Kent.... A great power, money.

ANNE (_deciding, with dignity, that the moment has not come_). I congratulate you on the perfection of your methods. Good night.

(_DOMINIC is in the room._)

LATIMER. Her ladyship will retire.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir.

[_He goes out._

LATIMER. Good night, Miss Anne.

ANNE (_holding out her hand suddenly_). Without prejudice.

LATIMER (_bending over it gallantly_). Ah, but you are prejudicing me entirely.

_A MAID comes in._

MAID. This way, my lady.

(_She leads the way to a door on the right, and ANNE follows her._)

LATIMER (_pleasantly, to LEONARD_). And did _you_ leave a note for _your_ father, Leonard?

LEONARD. You ought to know. You appear to have your conspirators everywhere. Saunders—and, I suppose, Anne’s maid—and God knows who else.

LATIMER. Money, Leonard, money. A pity you refused that hundred thousand pounds. You could have bribed the Archbishop of Canterbury to curse me.... Well, a week here won’t do either of you any harm. Have a whisky and soda?

LEONARD. I am not at all sure that I ought to drink in your house.

LATIMER. You will be thirsty before you go.

LEONARD (_hesitating_). Well——

(_A Footman appears with the whisky._)

LATIMER. That’s right. Help yourself, won’t you?

LEONARD (_helping himself_). Please understand that I do this, as I do everything else in your house, under protest.

LATIMER (_shooting his cuff and taking out his pencil_). Your protest is noted.

LEONARD (_returning to the too comfortable chair_). As I have already said, your conduct is perfectly outrageous. (_He sinks into its depths._)

LATIMER. And as I have already said, you can’t do moral indignation from that chair. Remember what happened to you last time.

LEONARD. Perfectly outrageous. (_He drinks._)

LATIMER. Have another cigar?

LEONARD. I shall go to bed as soon as I have drunk this. (_He drinks._)

LATIMER. You wouldn’t care for a game of billiards first?

LEONARD. I am not in the mood for billiards.

LATIMER. By the way, we have another runaway couple here. But their week of probation is just over. They expect to leave to-morrow.

LEONARD. I am not interested in your earlier crimes.

LATIMER. I think you would be interested in _this_ couple, Leonard.

LEONARD. I assure you I am not.

LATIMER. Ah! (_Picking up a review and settling himself_) Very good article this month by Sidney Webb. You ought to read it.

LEONARD. I am not interested in Sidney Webb.

LATIMER. Breakfast is at ten o’clock. In here.

LEONARD (_struggling out of his chair_). I shall eat it under protest.

LATIMER. You’re off? Then I’ll say good night.

(_DOMINIC and the two Footmen, JOSEPH and JACOB, have come in._)

LEONARD (_stiffly_). Good night.

(_He walks up to the door on the right. JACOB is in front of it. LEONARD is pulled up at sight of him. DOMINIC indicates the door on the left._)

DOMINIC. _This_ way, my lord.

LEONARD. Er—er—thank you.

(_He goes out, followed by JOSEPH.... MR. LATIMER is alone with Sidney Webb._)