The Tyranny of Tears Part 7

Parbury.

[Suppressing a groan.] What is it you do want?

Mrs. Parbury.

[Quickly.] You! I want to be with you! It's very simple-it's not asking very much. If you don't like my being with you, why did you marry me?

[Taking out her handkerchief.

Parbury.

Now, dear, please don't cry! [Aside.] If she does, I'm done for! [Aloud.] It's only common sense that you can't go knocking about with a couple of men in a tub of a boat.

Mrs. Parbury.

Of course I quite know now that you don't love me.

[Bursts into tears. Sits on sofa.

Parbury.

[With real irritation.] Oh, d.a.m.n it! [Goes up, but turns quickly and comes down to her.] 'Pon my soul, you make me almost hate-- Mrs. Parbury.

Of course you hate me. Your old friend has done that for me. You are breaking my heart!

Parbury.

[Who has recovered control of his temper and resumed his natural bantering tone.] Not at all, dear. [Sits at his desk and affects to be busy.] I was only going to say that I hated-now, what the deuce was it I hated?-oh, I know-to see a woman cry. I do think a woman is wise who does her crying in private, and yet-I wonder-they know best-millions to one they know best. I must write something about it.

Mrs. Parbury.

[Rises, goes to top of table, R. She is wiping her eyes, her back to him.] Of course, you're going all the same?

Parbury.

[Affecting great pre-occupation.] Going? Going where?

Mrs. Parbury.

With Mr. Gunning.

[Pause. She continues to cry gently.

Parbury.

Gunning-Gunning!-who's Gunning? Oh-George-yachting, you mean! Not I! I'm staying here.

Mrs. Parbury.

[Comes towards him gladly, her arms extended.] Clement!

Parbury.

Eh? Oh, forgive me for a few minutes.

[Writes.

Mrs. Parbury.

[Reproachfully.] I was only going to kiss you.

Parbury.

[Writing.] All right, dear-presently-presently, there's a dear girl! [Mrs. Parbury has a slow silent exit, looking back at him.] [He doesn't look up, but goes on writing. When the door closes, he puts down his pen.] Oh, the tyranny of it! The tyranny of it!

[Slow Curtain.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

Scene.-The same as Act I. Evening after dinner the same day. The room is lighted with lamps, but as it is a still warm evening, the curtains are not drawn over the gla.s.s door which leads into the garden and is open.

[Enter Evans, L. He places cigars and cigarettes on occasional table, and lights a small spirit cigar-lamp. [Exit.] Voices of ladies and a ripple of laughter heard from the drawing-room, and for a moment the sound made by fingers running lightly and irresponsibly over the keys of the piano. Enter Colonel Armitage, followed by Gunning and Parbury. Armitage goes to mantelpiece. Gunning selects the easiest chair in the room. Parbury goes to occasional table. Armitage is a well-preserved man of sixty-five, very carefully dressed-something of an elderly dandy.

Parbury.

Cigarette or cigar, George?

Gunning.

Thanks, I have a cigarette.

[Takes one from his case and lights it.

Parbury.

Colonel?

Colonel.

Thank you, I'll take a cigar. I think, however, I'll-er-smoke it in the garden. Mabel's limited appreciation of tobacco-- Parbury.

Oh, Mabel won't mind-she's quite educated.

Colonel.

Not beyond the cigarette, I fancy.

[He strolls to the gla.s.s door, lights his cigar, and steps out. For a few moments he is still seen, then he wanders away.

Gunning.

Nice old chap, your father-in-law.

Parbury.

Isn't he? I'm quite fond of him. [Pause. They smoke in silence, Parbury standing at mantelpiece.] What are you thinking of?

Gunning.

I'm not thinking. I'm digesting. I had an excellent dinner.

Enter Evans with coffee, &c. Gunning takes coffee.

Evans.

Cognac, sir, or green chartreuse?

Gunning.

Cognac. [He takes gla.s.s.] Thank you.

Parbury.

Colonel, here's your coffee.

Colonel.

[Outside.] I'll have it out here, if I may.

[Parbury takes his coffee and liqueur.

Parbury.

Serve Colonel Armitage's coffee in the garden.

Evans.

Yes, sir.

[Exit Evans, L.

Gunning.

I've wired for the champagne.

Parbury.

[Uneasily.] Oh, yes!

[Slight pause.

Gunning.

I notice the gla.s.s keeps up well.

Parbury.

Really? Good!

[Slight pause.

Gunning.

Yes, we ought to have capital weather.

Parbury.

Capital! [He is very embarra.s.sed.] If it doesn't rain it'll be pretty-er-fine.

[Drinks. Puts his cup on mantelpiece.

Gunning.

[Favours him with a slow stare.] What's the matter, old man?

Parbury.

Nothing in the world. Why?

Gunning.

Oh, it doesn't matter. But I think the change will do you good. [Slight pause.] By the way, would to-morrow afternoon suit you for a start?

Parbury.

[Standing with his back to the fireplace, looking up at the ceiling.] I'm not going, old man.

Gunning.