The Tyranny of Tears Part 16

[Parbury slowly drinks a gla.s.s of wine. Gunning also drinks. Parbury re-fills the gla.s.ses.

Enter Colonel Armitage, R.

Armitage.

Am I an intruder?

Parbury.

Good-morning, Colonel. [He rises and shakes hands.] Not in the least.

Armitage.

[At back of table, C.] Good-morning, Mr. Gunning.

Gunning.

Good-morning, Colonel.

[They shake hands.

Parbury.

Have you breakfasted?

Armitage.

Thanks, yes, but poorly. I didn't get to bed till four.

Parbury.

Nor did I.

Gunning.

Nor I.

Armitage.

And then I had but little sleep.

Parbury.

The same with me.

Gunning.

And with me.

Armitage.

[With a touch of asperity.] Your troubles, Clement, you have, of course, brought upon yourself; but I think it's a little hard on your friends that they should be made to suffer with you.

Gunning.

Hear, hear!

Enter Evans with fruit. Gunning and Parbury each take an apple.

Armitage.

[Tapping the champagne bottle with his stick.] What's this! Some new kind of table water, I suppose.

Parbury.

Champagne.

Armitage.

Champagne at this hour! Well, I suppose you know best how to regulate your life. Have you an extra gla.s.s?

Parbury.

Another gla.s.s, Evans.

Evans.

Yes, sir.

[Exit Evans.

Armitage.

It's a thing I haven't done for many years.

Parbury.

I trust, Colonel, you won't accuse me of leading you from the path of morning abstinence.

Armitage.

Really, Clement, I think this display of ill-humour is scarcely in-er-give me a word.

Gunning.

Good taste.

Armitage.

Exactly! Good taste, considering that we are suffering from the effects of your domestic-er-er-- Gunning.

Maladministration.

Armitage.

Maladministration-exactly.

Gunning.

I quite agree with you, Colonel.

Armitage.

Look at your friend there. If he'll allow me to say so, he's put on ten years since yesterday. Look at me! Last evening, I suggest-I hope I'm not conceited-I suggest I didn't look a day over forty-seven.

Gunning.

Not an hour.

Armitage.

While to-day-what would you say, Mr Gunning?

Gunning.

[Looks at him critically, then falls back in his chair.] Fifty-two.

[Parbury looks savagely at Gunning, throws his apple on table, and turns away.

Armitage.

I feared so; but I like you for your frankness.

[He cuts a cigar.

Enter Evans, with tumbler on tray; he places tumbler on table, and collects the breakfast things. Pause. Armitage lights his cigar with a match Evans hands him.

Armitage.

You haven't asked me if I have a message for you.

Parbury.

Prenez-garde!

Gunning.

[Loudly.] You mean about Newmarket.

Armitage.

[After a glance at Evans.] Yes; Allerton doesn't run any of his horses. Death in the family, you know.

Parbury.

So I heard. That will do, Evans. You may leave the champagne.

[They all keep their gla.s.ses.

Evans.

Yes, sir.

[Exit Evans with breakfast tray, L.

Parbury.

[Watches Evans off; then to Armitage.] Of course, you know, I'm really most anxious about Mabel. How is she?

Armitage.

I think I told you that I was up practically all night with her.

Parbury.

Was she ill?

Armitage.

Bodily, no. We supped in the kitchen at two. It's amazing how emotion stimulates the appet.i.te. No, Clement, her indisposition is of the mind. She wept.

Parbury.

All the time?

Armitage.

All the time. [Slight pause. Then he adds with a sigh.] I had rather a trying night.

[They all drink champagne; Gunning rises, bends over a rose-bush, and hums the air of the music-hall song, "'E 'as my sympathy."

Armitage.

I'm not without experience. Poor dear Mabel's mother, for instance-one of the best women in the world-she would cry at times, and if she got well off the scratch, she was-er-hard to beat. Mind you, I'll be fair; I was much to blame-very much to blame. But as for Mabel, bless you, that dear child could have given her poor mother a stone and-er-what's the expression?

Gunning.

Romped home.