Three Plays by Granville-Barker. Granville-Barker Harley
sister Ann.
ann. Why didn't you leave us weeks ago?
george. Why!
They pace away, arm-in-arm.
carnaby. [Bitterly.] Glad to go! Brighton, Sarah.
sarah. No, I shall not come, Papa.
carnaby. Coward. [Then to remnant.] Good-night.
dr. remnant. [Covering the insolent dismissal.] With your kind permission I will take my leave. [Then he bows to sarah.] Lady Cottesham.
sarah. [Curtseying.] Doctor Remnant, I am yours.
carnaby. [Sitting by the fountain, stamping his foot.] Oh, this cracked earth! Will it rain . . will it rain?
dr. remnant. I doubt now. That cloud has passed.
carnaby. Soft, pellucid rain! There's a good word and I'm not at all sure what it means.
dr. remnant. Per . . lucere … letting light through.
remnant leaves them.
carnaby. Soft, pellucid rain! . . thank you. Brighton, Sarah.
sarah. Ann needs new clothes.
carnaby. See to it.
sarah. I shall not be there.
She turns from him.
carnaby. Pretty climax to a quarrel!
sarah. Not a quarrel.
carnaby. A political difference.
sarah. Don't look so ferocious.
carnaby. My arm is in great pain and the wine's in my head.
sarah. Won't you go to bed?
carnaby. I'm well enough . . to travel. This marriage makes us safe, Sarah . . an anchor in each camp . . There's a mixed metaphor.
sarah. If you'll have my advice, Papa, you'll keep those plans clear from Ann's mind.
carnaby. John Carp is so much clay . . a man of forty ignorant of himself.
sarah. But if the Duke will not . .
carnaby. The Duke hates a scandal.
sarah. Does he detest scandal!
carnaby. The girl is well-bred and harmless . . why publicly quarrel with John and incense her old brute of a father? There's the Duke in a score of words. He'll take a little time to think it out so.
sarah. And I say: Do you get on the right side of the Duke once again—that's what we've worked for—and leave these two alone.
carnaby. Am I to lose my daughter?
sarah. Papa . . your food's intrigue.
carnaby. Scold at Society . . and what's the use?
sarah. We're over-civilized.
ann rejoins them now. The twilight is gathering.
carnaby. My mother's very old … your grandfather's younger and seventy-nine . . he swears I'll never come into the title. There's little else.
sarah. You're feverish . . why are you saying this?
carnaby. Ann . . George . . George via Wycombe . . Wycombe Court . . Sir George Leete baronet, Justice of the Peace, Deputy Lieutenant . . the thought's tumbled. Ann, I first saw your mother in this garden . . there.
ann. Was she like me?
sarah. My age when she married.
carnaby. She was not beautiful . . then she died.
ann. Mr. Tatton thinks it a romantic garden.
carnaby. [Pause.] D'ye hear the wind sighing through that tree?
ann. The air's quite still.
carnaby. I hear myself sighing . . when I first saw your mother in this garden … that's how it was done.
sarah. For a woman must marry.
carnaby. [Rises.] You all take to it as ducks to water . . but apple sauce is quite correct . . I must not mix metaphors.
mrs. opie comes from the house.
sarah. Your supper done, Mrs. Opie?
mrs. opie. I eat little in the evening.
sarah. I believe that saves digestion.
mrs. opie. Ann, do you need me more to-night?
ann. Not any more.
mrs. opie. Ann, there is gossip among the servants about a wager …
ann. Mrs. Opie, that was … yesterday.
mrs. opie. Ann, I should be glad to be able to contradict a reported . . embrace.
ann. I was kissed.
mrs. opie. I am shocked.
carnaby. Mrs. Opie, is it possible that all these years I have been nourishing a prude in my . . back drawing-room?
mrs. opie. I presume I am discharged of Ann's education; but as the salaried mistress of your household, Mr. Leete, I am grieved not to be able to deny such a rumour to your servants.
She sails back, righteously indignant.
carnaby. Call out that you're marrying the wicked man . . comfort her.
sarah. Mrs. Opie!
carnaby. Consider that existence. An old maid . . so far as we know. Brevet rank . . missis. Not pleasant.
ann. She wants nothing better . . at her age.
sarah. How forgetful!
carnaby. [The force of the phrase growing.] Brighton, Sarah.
sarah. Now you've both read the love-letter which Tetgeen brought me.
carnaby. Come to Brighton.
ann. Come to Brighton, Sally.
sarah. No. I have been thinking. I think I will accept the income, the house, coals, butter and eggs.
carnaby. I give you a fortnight to bring your husband to his knees . . to your feet.
sarah. I'm not sure that I could. My marriage has come naturally to an end.
carnaby. Sarah, don't annoy me.
sarah. Papa, you joined my bridegroom's political party . . now you see fit to leave it.
She glances at ann, who gives no sign, however.
carnaby. What have you been doing in ten years?
sarah. Waiting for this to happen . . now I come to think.
carnaby. Have ye the impudence to tell me that ye've never cared for your husband?
sarah. I was caught by the first few kisses; but he …
carnaby. Has he ever been unkind to you?
sarah. Never. He's a gentleman through and through … quite charming to live with.
carnaby. I see what more you expect. And he neither drinks nor . . nor . . no one even could suppose your leaving him.
sarah. No. I'm disgraced.
carnaby. Fight for your honour.
sarah. You surprise me sometimes by breaking out into cant phrases.
carnaby. What is more useful in the world than honour?
sarah. I think we never had any . . we!
carnaby. Give me more details. Tell me, who is this man?
sarah.