The Third Series Plays | Page 9

then stands still. No
longer hearing sounds, CLARE looks up.
MRS. MILER. I wouldn't interrupt yer with my workin,' but 'e likes
things clean. [At a sound from the inner room] That's 'im; 'e's cut 'isself!
I'll just take 'im the tobaccer!

She lifts a green paper screw of tobacco from the debris round the
armchair and taps on the door. It opens. CLARE moves restlessly
across the room.
MRS. MILER. [Speaking into the room] The tobaccer. The lady's
waitin'.
CLARE has stopped before a reproduction of Titian's picture "Sacred
and Profane Love." MRS. MILER stands regarding her with a Chinese
smile. MALISE enters, a thread of tobacco still hanging to his cheek.
MALISE. [Taking MRS. MILER's hat off the table and handing it to
her] Do the other room.
[Enigmatically she goes.]
MALISE. Jolly of you to come. Can I do anything?
CLARE. I want advice-badly.
MALISE. What! Spreading your wings?
CLARE. Yes.
MALISE. Ah! Proud to have given you that advice. When?
CLARE. The morning after you gave it me . . .
MALISE. Well?
CLARE. I went down to my people. I knew it would hurt my Dad
frightfully, but somehow I thought I could make him see. No good. He
was awfully sweet, only--he couldn't.
MALISE. [Softly] We English love liberty in those who don't belong to
us. Yes.
CLARE. It was horrible. There were the children--and my old nurse. I
could never live at home now. They'd think I was----. Impossible
--utterly! I'd made up my mind to go back to my owner--And then-- he
came down himself. I couldn't d it. To be hauled back and begin all
over again; I simply couldn't. I watched for a chance; and ran to the
station, and came up to an hotel.
MALISE. Bravo!
CLARE. I don't know--no pluck this morning! You see, I've got to earn
my living--no money; only a few things I can sell. All yesterday I was
walking about, looking at the women. How does anyone ever get a
chance?
MALISE. Sooner than you should hurt his dignity by working, your
husband would pension you off.
CLARE. If I don't go back to him I couldn't take it.

MALISE. Good!
CLARE. I've thought of nursing, but it's a long training, and I do so
hate watching pain. The fact is, I'm pretty hopeless; can't even do art
work. I came to ask you about the stage.
MALISE. Have you ever acted? [CLARE shakes her head] You
mightn't think so, but I've heard there's a prejudice in favour of training.
There's Chorus--I don't recommend it. How about your brother?
CLARE. My brother's got nothing to spare, and he wants to get married;
and he's going back to India in September. The only friend I should
care to bother is Mrs. Fullarton, and she's--got a husband.
MALISE. I remember the gentleman.
CLARE. Besides, I should be besieged day and night to go back. I must
lie doggo somehow.
MALISE. It makes my blood boil to think of women like you. God
help all ladies without money.
CLARE. I expect I shall have to go back.
MALISE. No, no! We shall find something. Keep your soul alive at all
costs. What! let him hang on to you till you're nothing but-- emptiness
and ache, till you lose even the power to ache. Sit in his drawing-room,
pay calls, play Bridge, go out with him to dinners, return to--duty; and
feel less and less, and be less and less, and so grow old and--die!
[The bell rings.]
MALISE. [Looking at the door in doubt] By the wayhe'd no means of
tracing you?
[She shakes her head.]
[The bell rings again.]
MALISE. Was there a man on the stairs as you came up?
CLARE. Yes. Why?
MALISE. He's begun to haunt them, I'm told.
CLARE. Oh! But that would mean they thought I--oh! no!
MALISE. Confidence in me is not excessive.
CLARE. Spying!
MALISE. Will you go in there for a minute? Or shall we let them
ring--or--what? It may not be anything, of course.
CLARE. I'm not going to hide.
[The bell rings a third time.]
MALISE. [Opening the door of the inner room] Mrs. Miler, just see

who it is; and then go, for the present.
MRS. MILER comes out with her hat on, passes enigmatically to the
door, and opens it. A man's voice says: "Mr. Malise? Would you give
him these cards?"
MRS. MILER. [Re-entering] The cards.
MALISE. Mr. Robert Twisden. Sir Charles and Lady Dedmond. [He
looks at CLARE.]
CLARE. [Her face scornful and unmoved] Let them come.
MALISE. [TO MRS. MILER] Show them in!
TWISDEN enters-a clean-shaved, shrewd-looking man, with a fighting
underlip, followed by SIR CHARLES and LADY DEDMOND. MRS.
MILER goes. There are no greetings.
TWISDEN. Mr. Malise? How do you do, Mrs.