Second Plays Part 53

BOBBY. I say, it's a topping night, you know. We ought to be out.

D'you feel like a stroll, Sandy?

MELISANDE. No, thank you, Bobby, I don't think I'll go out.

BOBBY. Oh, I say, it's awfully warm.

MR. KNOWLE. Well, Jane, I shall take _you_ out. If we meet any of Sandy's fairy friends, you can introduce me.

MELISANDE (looking across warningly at her). Jane----

JANE (awkwardly). I'm afraid, Uncle Henry, that Melisande and I--I promised Sandy--we----

MR. KNOWLE (putting her arm firmly through his). Nonsense. I'm not going to have my niece taken away from me, when she is only staying with us for such a short time. Besides I insist upon being introduced to t.i.tania. I want to complain about the rings on the tennis-lawn.

They must dance somewhere else.

JANE (looking anxiously at MELISANDE). You see, Uncle Henry, I'm not feeling very----

MELISANDE (resigned) All right, Jane.

JANE (brightly). All right, Uncle Henry.

MR. KNOWLE (very brightly). It's all right, Bobby.

JANE. Come along! (They go to the open windows together.)

MR. KNOWLE (as they go). Any message for Oberon, if we meet him?

MELISANDE (gravely). No, thank you, Father.

MR. KNOWLE. It's his turn to write, I suppose.

(JANE laughs as they go out together.)

(Left alone, MELISANDE takes up a book and goes to the sofa with it, while BOBBY walks about the room unhappily, whistling to himself. He keeps looking across at her, and at last their eyes meet.)

MELISANDE (putting down her book). Well, Bobby?

BOBBY (awkwardly). Well, Sandy?

MELISANDE (angrily). Don't call me that; you know how I hate it.

BOBBY. Sorry. Melisande. But it's such a dashed mouthful. And your father was calling you Sandy just now, and you didn't say anything.

MELISANDE. One cannot always control one's parents. There comes a time when it is almost useless to say things to them.

BOBBY (eagerly). I never mind your saying things to _me_, Sandy--I mean, Melisande. I never shall mind, really I shan't. Of course, I know I'm not worthy of you, and all that, but--I say, Melisande, isn't there _any_ hope?

MELISANDE. Bobby, I asked you not to talk to me like that again.

BOBBY (coming to her). I know you did, but I must. I can't believe that you--

MELISANDE. I told you that, if you promised not to talk like that again, then I wouldn't tell anybody anything about it, so that it shouldn't be awkward for you. And I haven't told anybody, not even Jane, to whom I tell all my secrets. Most men, when they propose to a girl, and she refuses them, have to go right out of the country and shoot lions; it's the only thing left for them to do. But I did try and make it easy for _you_, Bobby. (Sadly) And now you're beginning all over again.

BOBBY (awkwardly). I though perhaps you might have changed your mind.

Lots of girls do.

MELISANDE (contemptuously). Lots of girls! Is that how you think of me?

BOBBY. Well, your mother said--(He breaks off hurriedly.)

MELISANDE (coldly). Have you been discussing me with my mother?

BOBBY. I say, Sandy, don't be angry. Sorry; I mean Melisande.

MELISANDE. Don't apologise. Go on.

BOBBY. Well, I didn't _discuss_ you with your mother. She just happened to say that girls never knew their own minds, and that they always said "No" the first time, and that I needn't be downhearted, because--

MELISANDE. That _you_ needn't? You mean you _told_ her?

BOBBY. Well, it sort of came out.

MELISANDE. After I had promised that I wouldn't say anything, you went and _told_ her! And then I suppose you went and told the cook, and _she_ said that her brother's young woman was just the same, and then you told the butcher, and _he_ said, "You stick to it, sir. All women are alike. My missis said 'No' to me the first time." And then you went and told the gardeners--I suppose you had all the gardeners together in the potting-shed, and gave them a lecture about it--and when you had told them, you said, "Excuse me a moment, I must now go and tell the postman," and then--

BOBBY. I say, steady; you know that isn't fair.

MELISANDE. Oh, what a world!

BOBBY. I say, you know that isn't fair.

MELISANDE (picking up her book). Father and Jane are outside, Bobby, if you have anything you wish to tell them. But I suppose they know already. (She pretends to read.)

BOBBY. I say, you know--(He doesn't quite know what to say. There is an awkward silence. Then he says humbly) I'm awfully sorry, Melisande.

Please forgive me.

MELISANDE (looking at him gravely). That's nice of you, Bobby. Please forgive _me_. I wasn't fair.

BOBBY. I swear I never said anything to anybody else, only your mother. And it sort of came out with _her_. She began talking about you--

MELISANDE. _I_ know.

BOBBY. But I never told anybody else.

MELISANDE. It wouldn't be necessary if you told Mother.

BOBBY. I'm awfully sorry, but I really don't see why you should mind so much. I mean, I know I'm not anybody very much, but I can't help falling in love with you, and--well, it _is_ a sort of a compliment to you, isn't it?--even if it's only me.

MELISANDE. Of course it is, Bobby, and I do thank you for the compliment. But mixing Mother up in it makes it all so--so unromantic.