Waste Part 7

_He leans towards her. She considers him quite calmly._

AMY O'CONNELL. No.

TREBELL. When will you, then?

AMY O'CONNELL. When I can't help myself ... if that time ever comes.

TREBELL. [_Accepting the postponement in a business-like spirit._] Well ...

I'm an impatient man.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Confessing engagingly._] I made up my mind to bring you within arms' length of me when we'd met at Lady Percival's. Do you remember?

[_His face shows no sign of it._] It was the day after your speech on the Budget.

TREBELL. Then I remember. But I haven't observed the process.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Subtly._] Your sister grew to like me very soon. That's all the cunning there has been.

TREBELL. The rest is just mutual attraction?

AMY O'CONNELL. And opportunities.

TREBELL. Such as this.

_At the drop of their voices they become conscious of the silent house._

AMY O'CONNELL. Do you really think everyone has gone to bed?

TREBELL. [_Disregardful._] And what is it makes my pressing attentions endurable ... if one may ask?

AMY O'CONNELL. Some spiritual need or other, I suppose, which makes me risk unhappiness ... in fact, welcome it.

TREBELL. [_With great briskness._] Your present need is a good shaking.... I seriously mean that. You get to attach importance to these shades of emotion. A slight physical shock would settle them all. That's why I asked you to kiss me just now.

AMY O'CONNELL. You haven't very nice ideas, have you?

TREBELL. There are three facts in life that call up emotion ... Birth, Death, and the Desire for Children. The niceties are shams.

AMY O'CONNELL. Then why do you want to kiss me?

TREBELL. I don't ... seriously. But I shall in a minute just to finish the argument. Too much diplomacy always ends in a fight.

AMY O'CONNELL. And if I don't fight ... it'd be no fun for you, I suppose?

TREBELL. You would get that much good out of me. For it's my point of honour ... to leave nothing I touch as I find it.

_He is very close to her._

AMY O'CONNELL. You're frightening me a little ...

TREBELL. Come and look at the stars again. Come along.

AMY O'CONNELL. Give me my wrap ... [_He takes it up, but holds it._] Well, put it on me. [_He puts it round her, but does not withdraw his arms._] Be careful, the stars are looking at you.

TREBELL. No, they can't see so far as we can. That's the proper creed.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Softly, almost shyly._] Henry.

TREBELL. [_Bending closer to her._] Yes, pretty thing.

AMY O'CONNELL. Is this what you call being in love?

_He looks up and listens._

TREBELL. Here's somebody coming.

AMY O'CONNELL. Oh!...

TREBELL. What does it matter?

AMY O'CONNELL. I'm untidy or something....

_She slips out, for they are close to the window. The_ FOOTMAN _enters, stops suddenly._

THE FOOTMAN. I beg your pardon, sir. I thought everyone had gone.

TREBELL. I've just been for a walk. I'll lock up if you like.

THE FOOTMAN. I can easily wait up, sir.

TREBELL. [_At the window._] I wouldn't. What do you do ... just slide the bolt?

THE FOOTMAN. That's all, sir.

TREBELL. I see. Good-night.

THE FOOTMAN. Good-night, sir.

_He goes._ TREBELL'S _demeanour suddenly changes, becomes alert, with the alertness of a man doing something in secret. He leans out of the window and whispers._

TREBELL. Amy!

_There is no answer, so he gently steps out. For a moment the room is empty and there is silence. Then_ AMY _has flown from him into the safety of lights. She is flushed, trembling, but rather ecstatic, and her voice has lost all affectation now._

AMY O'CONNELL. Oh ... oh ... you shouldn't have kissed me like that!

TREBELL _stands in the window-way; a light in his eyes, and speaks low but commandingly._

TREBELL. Come here.