The Essential Plays of George Bernard Shaw (Illustrated Edition). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
finished with the instrument man. If Julia turns up I’ll ask her too.
PARAMORE (flushing with pleasure). I shall be very happy. Thank you. (He is going out at the right hand door when Craven enters.) Good morning, Colonel Craven.
CRAVEN (at the door). Good morning — glad to see you. I’m looking for Cuthbertson.
PARAMORE (smiling). There he is. (He goes out.)
CUTHBERTSON (greeting Craven effusively). Delighted to see you. Now will you come to the smoking room, or will you sit down here and have a chat while we’re waiting for Charteris. If you like company, the smoking room is always full of women. Here we shall have it pretty well all to ourselves until about three o’clock.
CRAVEN. I don’t like to see women smoking. I’ll make myself comfortable here. (Sits in an easy chair on the right.)
CUTHBERTSON (taking a chair beside him, on his left). Neither do I. There’s not a room in this club where I can enjoy a pipe quietly without a woman coming in and beginning to roll a cigarette. It’s a disgusting habit in a woman: it’s not natural to her sex.
CRAVEN (sighing). Ah, Jo, times have changed since we both courted Molly Ebden all those years ago. I took my defeat well, old chap, didn’t I?
CUTHBERTSON (with earnest approval). You did, Dan. The thought of it has often helped me to behave well myself: it has, on my honour.
CRAVEN. Yes, you always believe in hearth and home, Jo — in a true English wife and a happy wholesome fireside. How did Molly turn out?
CUTHBERTSON (trying to be fair to Molly). Well, not bad. She might have been worse. You see I couldn’t stand her relations: all the men were roaring cads; and she couldn’t get on with my mother. And then she hated being in town; and of course I couldn’t live in the country on account of my work. But we hit it off as well as most people, until we separated.
CRAVEN (taken aback). Separated! (He is irresistibly amused.) Oh, that was the end of the hearth and home, Jo, was it?
CUTHBERTSON (warmly). It was not my fault, Dan. (Sentimentally.) Some day the world will know how I loved that woman. But she was incapable of valuing a true man’s affection. Do you know, she often said she wished she’d married you instead.
CRAVEN (sobered by the suggestion). Dear me, dear me! Well, perhaps it was better as it was. You heard about my marriage, I suppose.
CUTHBERTSON. Oh yes: we all heard of it.
CRAVEN. Well, Jo, I may as well make a clean breast of it — everybody knew it. I married for money.
CUTHBERTSON (encouragingly). And why not, Dan, why not? We can’t get on without it, you know.
CRAVEN (with sincere feeling). I got to be very fond of her, Jo. I had a home until she died. Now everything’s changed. Julia’s always here. Sylvia’s of a different nature; but she’s always here too.
CUTHBERTSON (sympathetically). I know. It’s the same with Grace. She’s always here.
CRAVEN. And now they want me to be always here. They’re at me every day to join the club — to stop my grumbling, I suppose. That’s what I want to consult you about. Do you think I ought to join?
CUTHBERTSON. Well, if you have no conscientious objection —
CRAVEN (testily interrupting him). I object to the existence of the place on principle; but what’s the use of that? Here it is in spite of my objection, and I may as well have the benefit of any good that may be in it.
CUTHBERTSON (soothing him). Of course: that’s the only reasonable view of the matter. Well, the fact is, it’s not so inconvenient as you might think. When you’re at home, you have the house more to yourself; and when you want to have your family about you, you can dine with them at the club.
CRAVEN (not much attracted by this). True.
CUTHBERTSON. Besides, if you don’t want to dine with them, you needn’t.
CRAVEN (convinced). True, very true. But don’t they carry on here, rather?
CUTHBERTSON. Oh, no, they don’t exactly carry on. Of course the usual tone of the club is low, because the women smoke and earn their own living and all that; but still there’s nothing actually to complain of. And it’s convenient, certainly. (Charteris comes in, looking round for them.)
CRAVEN (rising). Do you know, I’ve a great mind to join, just to see what it’s like. Would you mind putting me up?
CUTHBERTSON. Delighted, Dan, delighted. (He grasps Craven’s hand.)
CHARTERIS (putting one hand on Craven’s shoulder and the other on Cuthbertson’s). Bless you, my children! (Cuthbertson, a little wounded in his dignity, moves away. The Colonel takes the jest in the utmost good humor.)
CRAVEN (cordially). Hallo!
CHARTERIS (to Craven). Hope I haven’t disturbed your chat by coming too soon.
CRAVEN. Not at all. Welcome, dear boy. (Shakes his hand.)
CHARTERIS. That’s right. I’m earlier than I intended. The fact is, I have something rather pressing to say to Cuthbertson.
CRAVEN. Private!
CHARTERIS. Not particularly. (To Cuthbertson.) Only what we were speaking of last night.
CUTHBERTSON. Well, Charteris, I think that is private, or ought to be.
CRAVEN (going up towards the table). I’ll just take a look at the Times —
CHARTERIS (stopping him). Oh, it’s no secret: everybody in the club guesses it. (To Cuthbertson.) Has Grace never mentioned to you that she wants to marry me?
CUTHBERTSON (indignantly). She has mentioned that you want to marry her.
CHARTERIS. Ah; but then it’s not what I want, but what Grace wants, that will weigh with you.
CRAVEN (a little shocked). Excuse me Charteris: this is private. I’ll leave you to yourselves. (Again moves towards the table.)
CHARTERIS. Wait a bit, Craven: you’re concerned in this. Julia wants to marry me too.
CRAVEN (in a tone of the strongest remonstrance). Now really! Now upon my life and soul!
CHARTERIS. It’s a fact, I assure you. Didn’t it strike you as rather odd, our being up there last night and Mrs. Tranfield not with us?
CRAVEN. Well, yes it did. But you explained it. And now really, Charteris, I must say your explanation was in shocking bad taste before Julia.
CHARTERIS. Never mind. It was a good, fat, healthy, bouncing lie.
CRAVEN and CUTHBERTSON. Lie!
CHARTERIS. Didn’t you suspect that?
CRAVEN. Certainly not. Did you, Jo?
CUTHBERTSON. No, most emphatically.
CRAVEN. What’s more, I don’t believe you. I’m sorry to have to say such a thing; but you forget that Julia was present and didn’t contradict you.
CHARTERIS. She didn’t want to.
CRAVEN. Do you mean to say that my daughter deceived me?
CHARTERIS. Delicacy towards me compelled her to, Craven.
CRAVEN (taking a very serious tone). Now look here, Charteris: have you any proper sense of the fact that you’re standing between two fathers?
CUTHBERTSON. Quite right, Dan, quite right. I repeat the question on my own account.
CHARTERIS. Well, I’m a little dazed still by standing for so long between two daughters; but I think I grasp the situation. (Cuthbertson flings away with an exclamation of disgust.)
CRAVEN. Then I’m sorry for your manners, Charteris: that’s all. (He turns away sulkily; then suddenly fires up and turns on Charteris.) How dare you tell me my daughter