The Tyranny of Tears Part 14

Oh, quite. I like being here.

Miss Woodward.

But I'm sure you find it difficult getting down to one's level. I often think that the very wise must be very lonely.

Gunning.

[Rising.] What an extremely unpleasant remark!

Miss Woodward.

I'm sorry. [She sighs.] We don't seem to get on very well, do we?

Gunning.

[With sincerity and coming close to her.] I'd like to get on well with you.

[Pause. They look in each other's faces, both at table.

Gunning.

Will you give me a rose?

Miss Woodward.

No, Mr. Gunning.

Parbury.

[Outside.] Are you there, George?

[Miss Woodward gets letters from table.

Gunning.

Yes.

Parbury.

[Outside, to Evans.] Serve breakfast.

Enter Parbury, L.

Good-morning. I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Oh, you are here, Miss Woodward. Good-morning. [Looks at the table.] And you have managed to find us some roses. How very kind of you! [Miss Woodward gives him letters. He runs them over.] No, no, no, no! Will you kindly see what they're all about? [She is about to go.] Oh, not now-after breakfast will do.

Miss Woodward.

I have breakfasted, thank you.

Parbury.

Really! I suppose I'm horribly late. [Looks at his watch. Then, noticing the roses she carries in her hand.] How very beautiful they are! Look, George! [She selects one and hands it to him.] For me? Thank you. [He fastens it in his b.u.t.tonhole.]

[Exit Miss Woodward, L.

[To Gunning.] Lovely, isn't it?

Gunning.

[Gruffly.] Yes, it's all right.

Parbury.

What's the matter? Cross?

Gunning.

Not at all. But, really, you married men are very tiresome.

Parbury.

Oh, I see-wanted a rose yourself. Shall I call Miss Woodward back and ask for you?

Gunning.

Don't trouble. I've done that myself.

Parbury.

You have? Ha, ha! [Begins to laugh, but stops suddenly.] Oh! [Holding his head.] Dear, dear, what a head I have!

Gunning.

You haven't asked after my head.

Parbury.

[Sits at table.] Your pardon. How is it?

Gunning.

[Sits at table.] I'd like to sell it this morning. Do you know, Clement, I'm not quite certain about that whisky of yours.

Parbury.

I am. It's fifteen years old.

Enter Evans, L., with, breakfast-tray.

But you always had a way of mixing your drinks over-night and growling in the morning.

Gunning.

[Drawing up his chair.] Put it at that, if you like. I do know that I always had a way of disliking you particularly in the morning. I regret I don't appear to have grown out of it.

Parbury.

I'm so glad. I hate being too popular. [Evans offers bacon to Mr. Parbury. He pushes the dish away.] Take it away. Have some bacon, George?

[Takes a piece of toast, looks at it, then puts it down.

Gunning.

Thank you.

[Helps himself to bacon.

[Exit Evans, L., with bacon dish.

Parbury.

I must say I think your display of temper is in the worst possible taste under the circ.u.mstances.

Gunning.

[b.u.t.tering toast.] What do you mean by "under the circ.u.mstances"?

Parbury.

You know what I mean. How much sleep do you think I've had?

Gunning.

I'm sure I don't know. What concerns me is that you detained me in this outlandish place-what county is it?-till past three o'clock, and then insisted, with alcoholic tears in your eyes, on my returning to breakfast.

Parbury.

Tea or coffee?

Gunning.

Tea-no; coffee-no, neither.

Parbury.

Have some hot milk?

[Offers him the jug.

Gunning.

Ugh! Don't.

[Takes an egg. Sh.e.l.ls it.

Parbury.

[Lifts the lid of the tea-pot, then of the coffee-pot, and closes them gently with a look of distaste.] No, not this morning. Still, we must drink something. What shall it be?

Gunning.

I am your guest.

Parbury.

Perhaps we had better split a bottle.

Gunning.

Please be frank. Do you mean Ba.s.s or champagne?

Parbury.

Champagne, of course. [He calls loudly.] Evans! Evans!

Evans.

[Outside.] Yes, sir.

Enter Evans, L.

Parbury.

Bring a bottle of champagne.

Evans.

[Starting ever so slightly.] Cham-- Parbury.

[Irritably.] Champagne and gla.s.ses.

Evans.

[Recovering his composure.] Yes, sir.

[Exit Evans, L., wearing a discreet smile.

Parbury.