Джон Голсуорси
Plays : Fifth Series
He goes out, followed by COOK. A moment's suspense.
YOUNG M. Well, I can't wait any longer. I suppose we can go out the back way?
He draws FAITH towards the windows. But JOHNNY stands there, barring the way. JOHNNY. No, you don't.
FAITH. [Scared] Oh! Let me go—let him go!
JOHNNY. You may go. [He takes her arm to pull her to the window] He can't.
FAITH. [Freeing herself] No—no! Not if he doesn't.
JOHNNY has an evident moment of hesitation, and before it is over MR MARCH comes in again, followed by a man in a neat suit of plain clothes.
MR MARCH. I should like you to say that in front of her.
P. C. MAN. Your service, ma'am. Afraid I'm intruding here. Fact is, I've been waiting for a chance to speak to this young woman quietly. It's rather public here, sir; but if you wish, of course, I'll mention it. [He waits for some word from some one; no one speaks, so he goes on almost apologetically] Well, now, you're in a good place here, and you ought to keep it. You don't want fresh trouble, I'm sure.
FAITH. [Scared] What do you want with me?
P. C. MAN. I don't want to frighten you; but we've had word passed that you're associating with the young man there. I observed him to-night again, waiting outside here and whistling.
YOUNG M. What's the matter with whistling?
P. C. MAN. [Eyeing him] I should keep quiet if I was you. As you know, sir [To MR MARCH] there's a law nowadays against soo-tenors.
MR MARCH. Soo—?
JOHNNY. I knew it.
P. C. MAN. [Deprecating] I don't want to use any plain English—with ladies present—
YOUNG M. I don't know you. What are you after? Do you dare—?
P. C. MAN. We cut the darin', 'tisn't necessary. We know all about you.
FAITH. It's a lie!
P. C. MAN. There, miss, don't let your feelings—
FAITH. [To the YOUNG MAN] It's a lie, isn't it?
YOUNG M. A blankety lie.
MR MARCH. [To BARNABAs] Have you actual proof?
YOUNG M. Proof? It's his job to get chaps into a mess.
P. C. MAN. [Sharply] None of your lip, now!
At the new tone in his voice FAITH turns and visibly quails, like a dog that has been shown a whip.
MR MARCH. Inexpressibly painful!
YOUNG M. Ah! How would you like to be insulted in front of your girl? If you're a gentleman you'll tell him to leave the house. If he's got a warrant, let him produce it; if he hasn't, let him get out.
P. C. MAN. [To MR MARCH] You'll understand, sir, that my object in speakin' to you to-night was for the good of the girl. Strictly, I've gone a bit out of my way. If my job was to get men into trouble, as he says, I'd only to wait till he's got hold of her. These fellows, you know, are as cunning as lynxes and as impudent as the devil.
YOUNG M. Now, look here, if I get any more of this from you—I—I'll consult a lawyer.
JOHNNY. Fellows like you—
MR MARCH. Johnny!
P. C. MAN. Your son, sir?
YOUNG M. Yes; and wants to be where I am. But my girl knows better; don't you?
He gives FAITH a look which has a certain magnetism.
P. C. MAN. If we could have the Court cleared of ladies, sir, we might speak a little plainer.
MR MARCH. Joan!
But MRS MARCH does not vary her smiling immobility; FAITH draws a little nearer to the YOUNG MAN. MARY turns to the fire.
P. C. MAN. [With half a smile] I keep on forgettin' that women are men nowadays. Well!
YOUNG M. When you've quite done joking, we'll go for our walk.
MR MARCH. [To BARNABAS] I think you'd better tell her anything you know.
P. C. MAN. [Eyeing FAITH and the YOUNG MAN] I'd rather not be more precise, sir, at this stage.
YOUNG M. I should think not! Police spite! [To FAITH] You know what the Law is, once they get a down on you.
P. C. MAN. [To MR MARCH] It's our business to keep an eye on all this sort of thing, sir, with girls who've just come out.
JOHNNY. [Deeply] You've only to look at his face!
YOUNG M. My face is as good as yours.
FAITH lifts her eyes to his.
P. C. MAN. [Taking in that look] Well, there it is! Sorry I wasted my time and yours, Sir!
MR MARCH. [Distracted] My goodness! Now, Faith, consider! This is the turning-point. I've told you we'll stand by you.
FAITH. [Flashing round] Leave me alone! I stick to my friends. Leave me alone, and leave him alone! What is it to you?
P. C. MAN. [With sudden resolution] Now, look here! This man George Blunter was had up three years ago—for livin' on the earnings of a woman called Johnson. He was dismissed with a caution. We got him again last year over a woman called Lee—that time he did—
YOUNG M. Stop it! That's enough of your lip. I won't put up with this —not for any woman in the world. Not I!
FAITH. [With a sway towards him] It's not—!
YOUNG M. I'm off! Bong Swore la Companee! He tarns on his heel and walks out unhindered.
P. C. MAN. [Deeply] A bad hat, that; if ever there was one. We'll be having him again before long.
He looks at FAITH. They all look at FAITH. But her face is so strange, so tremulous, that they all turn their eyes away.
FAITH. He—he said—he—!
On the verge of an emotional outbreak, she saves herself by an effort. A painful silence.
P. C. MAN. Well, sir—that's all. Good evening! He turns to the door, touching his forehead to MR MARCH, and goes.
As the door closes, FAITH sinks into a chair, and burying her face in her hands, sobs silently. MRS MARCH sits motionless with a faint smile. JOHNNY stands at the window biting his nails. MARY crosses to FAITH.
MARY. [Softly] Don't. You weren't really fond of him?
FAITH bends her head.
MARY. But how could you? He—
FAITH. I—I couldn't see inside him.
MARY. Yes; but he looked—couldn't you see he looked—?
FAITH. [Suddenly flinging up her head] If you'd been two years without a word, you'd believe anyone that said he liked you.
MARY. Perhaps I should.
FAITH. But I don't want him—he's a liar. I don't like liars.
MARY. I'm awfully sorry.
FAITH. [Looking at her] Yes—you keep off feeling—then you'll be happy!
[Rising] Good-bye!
MARY. Where are you going?
FAITH. To my father.
MARY. With him in that state?
FAITH. He won't hurt me.
MARY. You'd better stay. Mother, she can stay, can't she?
MRS MARCH nods.
FAITH. No!
MARY. Why not? We're all sorry. Do! You'd better.
FAITH. Father'll come over for my things tomorrow.
MARY. What are you going to do?
FAITH. [Proudly] I'll get on.
JOHNNY. [From the window] Stop!
All turn and look at him. He comes down. Will you come to me?
FAITH stares at him. MRS MARCH continues to smile faintly.
MARY. [With a horrified gesture] Johnny!
JOHNNY. Will you? I'll play cricket if you do.
MR MARCH. [Under his breath] Good God!
He stares in suspense at FAITH, whose face is a curious blend of fascination and live feeling.
JOHNNY. Well?
FAITH. [Softly] Don't be silly! I've got no call on you. You don't care for me, and I don't for you. No! You go and put your head in ice. [She turns to the door] Good-bye, Mr March! I'm sorry I've been so much trouble.
MR MARCH. Not at all, not at all!
FAITH. Oh! Yes, I have. There's nothing to be done with a girl like me. She goes out.
JOHNNY. [Taking up the decanter to pour himself out a glass of brandy] Empty!
COOK. [Who has entered with a tray] Yes, my dearie, I'm sure you are.
JOHNNY. [Staring at his father] A vision, Dad! Windows of Clubs—men sitting there; and that girl going by with rouge on her cheeks—
COOK. Oh! Master Johnny!
JOHNNY. A blue night—the moon over the Park. And she stops and looks at it.—What has she wanted—the beautiful—something better than she's got—something that she'll never get!
COOK. Oh! Master Johnny!
She goes up to JOHNNY and touches his forehead. He comes to himself and hurries to the door, but suddenly MRS MARCH utters a little feathery laugh. She stands up, swaying slightly. There is something unusual and charming in her appearance, as if formality had dropped from her.
MRS MARCH. [With a sort of delicate slow lack of perfect sobriety] I see—it—all. You—can't—help—unless—you—love!
JOHNNY stops and looks round at her.
MR MARCH. [Moving a little towards her] Joan!
MRS MARCH. She—wants—to—be—loved. It's the way of the world.
MARY. [Turning] Mother!
MRS MARCH. You thought she wanted—to be saved. Silly! She—just— wants—to—be—loved. Quite natural!
MR MARCH. Joan, what's happened to you?
MRS MARCH. [Smiling and nodding] See—people—as—they—are! Then you won't be—disappointed. Don't—have—ideals! Have—vision—just simple —vision!
MR MARCH. Your mother's not well.
MRS MARCH. [Passing her hand over her forehead] It's hot in here!
MR MARCH. Mary!
MARY throws open the French windows.
MRS MARCH. [Delightfully] The room's full of GAS. Open the windows! Open! And let's walk—out—into the air!
She turns and walks delicately out through the opened windows; JOHNNY and MARY follow her. The moonlight and the air flood in.
COOK. [Coming to the table and taking up the empty decanter] My Holy Ma!
MR MARCH. Is this the Millennium, Cook?
COOK. Oh! Master Geoffrey—there isn't a millehennium. There's too much human nature. We must look things in the face.
MR MARCH. Ah! Neither up—nor down—but straight in the face! Quite a thought, Cook! Quite a thought!