This is a modern-English version of Votes for Women: A Play in Three Acts, originally written by Robins, Elizabeth. It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling, and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.

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Transcriber's note.

Minor punctuation inconsistencies have been silently repaired. A list of other changes made, can be found at the end of the book.

Minor punctuation inconsistencies have been quietly fixed. A list of other changes made can be found at the end of the book.

VOTES FOR WOMEN

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS

ELIZABETH ROBINS

MILLS & BOON, LIMITED
49 WHITCOMB STREET
LONDON W. C.
1909

v COURT THEATRE PLAYBILL

VOTES FOR WOMEN!

A Dramatic Tract in Three Acts

A Dramatic Play in Three Acts

By ELIZABETH ROBINS

Lord John Wynnstay	Mr. ATHOL FORDE
The Hon. Geoffrey Stonor	Mr. AUBREY SMITH
Mr. St. John Greatorex	Mr. E. HOLMAN CLARK
Mr. Richard Farnborough	Mr. P. CLAYTON GREENE
Mr. Freddy Tunbridge	Mr. PERCY MARMONT
Mr. Allen Trent	Mr. LEWIS CASSON
[1]Mr. Walker	Mr. EDMUND GWENN
Lady John Wynnstay	Miss MAUD MILTON
Mrs. Heriot	Miss FRANCES IVOR
Miss Vida Levering	Miss WYNNE-MATTHISON
[1]Miss Beatrice Dunbarton	Miss JEAN MacKINLAY
Mrs. Freddy Tunbridge	Miss GERTRUDE BURNETT
Miss Ernestine Blunt	Miss DOROTHY MINTO
A Working Woman	Miss AGNES THOMAS

Act I. Wynnstay House in Hertfordshire.

Act II. Trafalgar Square, London.

Act III. Eaton Square, London.

The Entire Action of the Play takes place between Sunday noon and six o'clock in the evening of the same day.

The entire action of the play takes place between Sunday noon and six o'clock in the evening of the same day.

[1] In the text these characters have been altered to Mr. Pilcher and Miss Jean Dunbarton.

[1] In the text these characters have been changed to Mr. Pilcher and Miss Jean Dunbarton.

vii

CAST

Lord John Wynnstay
Lady John Wynnstay	His wife
Mrs. Heriot	Sister of Lady John
Miss Jean Dunbarton	Niece to Lady John and Mrs. Heriot
The Hon. Geoffrey Stonor	Unionist M.P. affianced to Jean Dunbarton
Mr. St. John Greatorex	Liberal M.P.
The Hon. Richard Farnborough
Mr. Freddy Tunbridge
Mrs. Freddy Tunbridge
Mr. Allen Trent
Miss Ernestine Blunt	A Suffragette
Mr. Pilcher	A working man
A Working Woman
and
Miss Vida Levering
Persons in the Crowd: Servants in the Two Houses.

ACT I

Wynnstay House in Hertfordshire

ACT II

Trafalgar Square, London

ACT III

Eaton Square

(Entire Action of Play takes place between Sunday noon and six o'clock in the evening of the same day.)
(The entire action of the play takes place between Sunday noon and six o'clock in the evening on the same day.)

ACT I.

The Hall of Wynnstay House.

Twelve o'clock Sunday morning at end of June.

12:00 AM on Sunday at the end of June.

Action takes place between twelve and six same day.

Action takes place between noon and six that same day.

VOTES FOR WOMEN

ACT I

Hall of Wynnstay House.

Twelve o'clock, Sunday morning, end of June. With the rising of the Curtain, enter the Butler. As he is going, with majestic port, to answer the door L., enter briskly from the garden, by lower French window, Lady John Wynnstay, flushed, and flapping a garden hat to fan herself. She is a pink-cheeked woman of fifty-four, who has plainly been a beauty, keeps her complexion, but is "gone to fat."
It's twelve o'clock on Sunday morning, at the end of June. As the curtain rises, the Butler. As he walks majestically to answer the door, L., Lady John Wynnstay enters briskly from the garden through the lower French window, Lady John Wynnstay, flushed and waving a garden hat to fan herself. She is a pink-cheeked woman in her fifty-fourth year who has clearly been a beauty, retains her complexion, but has "gone to fat."

Lady John. Has Miss Levering come down yet?

Lady John. Has Miss Levering come downstairs yet?

Butler (pausing C.). I haven't seen her, m'lady.

Butler (pausing C.). I haven't seen her, my lady.

Lady John (almost sharply as Butler turns L.). I won't have her disturbed if she's resting. (To herself as she goes to writing-table.) She certainly needs it.

Lady John (almost sharply as Butler turns L.). I won't let anyone disturb her if she's resting. (To herself as she goes to the writing desk.) She really needs it.

Butler. Yes, m'lady.

Lady John (sitting at writing-table, her back to front door). But I want her to know the moment she comes down that the new plans arrived by the morning post.

Lady John (sitting at the writing table, her back to the front door). But I want her to know as soon as she comes down that the new plans arrived with the morning mail.

Butler (pausing nearly at the door). Plans, m'la——

Butler (pausing nearly at the door). Plans, ma’am—

Lady John. She'll understand. There they are.2 (Glancing at the clock.) It's very important she should have them in time to look over before she goes——

Lady John. She'll get it. There they are.2 (Looking at the clock.) It’s really important she gets them with enough time to review before she leaves——

(Butler opens the door L.)
(Butler opens the door L.)

(Over her shoulder.) Is that Miss Levering?

Butler. No, m'lady. Mr. Farnborough.

[Exit Butler.
[Exit Butler.

(Enter the Hon. R. Farnborough. He is twenty-six; reddish hair, high-coloured, sanguine, self-important.)
(Enter the Hon. R. Farnborough. He is twenty-six; has reddish hair, is ruddy, confident, and has a strong sense of self-importance.)

Farnborough. I'm afraid I'm scandalously early. It didn't take me nearly as long to motor over as Lord John said.

Farnborough. I'm afraid I'm shockingly early. It didn't take me nearly as long to drive over as Lord John mentioned.

Lady John (shaking hands). I'm afraid my husband is no authority on motoring—and he's not home yet from church.

Lady John (shaking hands). I'm sorry, but my husband doesn't know much about driving—and he hasn't returned from church yet.

Farn. It's the greatest luck finding you. I thought Miss Levering was the only person under this roof who was ever allowed to observe Sunday as a real Day of Rest.

Farn. It's such a lucky find to see you. I thought Miss Levering was the only one here who ever got to treat Sunday as a real Day of Rest.

Lady John. If you've come to see Miss Levering——

Farn. Is she here? I give you my word I didn't know it.

Farn. Is she here? I promise I didn't know.

Lady John (unconvinced). Oh?

Farn. Does she come every week-end?

Lady John. Whenever we can get her to. But we've only known her a couple of months.

Lady John. Whenever we can get her to. But we've only known her for a couple of months.

Farn. And I have only known her three weeks! Lady John, I've come to ask you to help me.

Farn. And I’ve only known her for three weeks! Lady John, I’m here to ask for your help.

Lady John (quickly). With Miss Levering? I can't do it!

Lady John (quickly). With Miss Levering? I can't handle it!

Farn. No, no—all that's no good. She only laughs.

Farn. No, no—all of that is pointless. She just laughs.

Lady John (relieved). Ah!—she looks upon you as a boy.

Lady John (relieved). Ah!—she sees you as a young man.

Farn (firing up). Such rot! What do you think she said to me in London the other day?

Farn (firing up). What nonsense! Do you know what she said to me in London the other day?

Lady John. That she was four years older than you?

Farn. Oh, I knew that. No. She said she knew she was all the charming things I'd been saying, but there was only one way to prove it—and that was to marry some one young enough to be her son. She'd noticed that was what the most attractive women did—and she named names.

Farn. Oh, I knew that. No. She said she was aware that she was all the charming things I'd been mentioning, but there was only one way to prove it—and that was to marry someone young enough to be her son. She had noticed that’s what the most attractive women did—and she named names.

Lady John (laughing). You were too old!

Farn. (nods). Her future husband, she said, was probably just entering Eton.

Farn. (nods). She mentioned that her future husband was probably just starting at Eton.

Lady John. Just like her!

Farn. (waving the subject away). No. I wanted to see you about the Secretaryship.

Farn. (waving the subject away). No. I wanted to talk to you about the Secretary position.

Lady John. You didn't get it, then?

Lady John. So, you didn't understand it, then?

Farn. No. It's the grief of my life.

Farn. No. It's the sadness of my life.

Lady John. Oh, if you don't get one you'll get another.

Lady John. Oh, if you don't get one, you'll get another.

Farn. But there is only one.

Lady John. Only one vacancy?

Farn. Only one man I'd give my ears to work for.

Farn. There's only one guy I'd be willing to work for.

Lady John (smiling). I remember.

Farn. (quickly). Do I always talk about Stonor? Well, it's a habit people have got into.

Farn. (quickly). Do I always bring up Stonor? Well, it's a habit that people have developed.

Lady John. I forget, do you know Mr. Stonor personally, or (smiling) are you just dazzled from afar?

Lady John. I can't remember, do you know Mr. Stonor personally, or (smiling) are you just admiring him from a distance?

Farn. Oh, I know him. The trouble is he doesn't know me. If he did he'd realise he can't be sure of winning his election without my valuable services.

Farn. Oh, I know him. The problem is he doesn't know me. If he did, he'd understand he can't be certain of winning his election without my essential help.

Lady John. Geoffrey Stonor's re-election is always a foregone conclusion.

Lady John. Geoffrey Stonor's re-election is always a done deal.

Farn. That the great man shares that opinion is precisely his weak point. (Smiling.) His only one.

Farn. The fact that the great man has that opinion is exactly his downfall. (Smiling.) His only one.

Lady John. You think because the Liberals swept the country the last time——

Lady John. You think that just because the Liberals won big last time——

Farn. How can we be sure any Conservative seat is safe after——

Farn. How can we be sure any Conservative seat is secure after——

(As Lady John smiles and turns to her papers.)
(As Lady John smiles and turns to her documents.)

Forgive me, I know you're not interested in politics qua politics. But this concerns Geoffrey Stonor.

Forgive me, I know you're not interested in politics as such. But this is about Geoffrey Stonor.

Lady John. And you count on my being interested in him like all the rest of my sex.

Lady John. So you expect me to be interested in him like all the other women?

Farn. (leans forward). Lady John, I've heard the news.

Farn. (leans forward). Lady John, I’ve heard the news.

Lady John. What news?

Farn. That your little niece—the Scotch heiress—is going to become Mrs. Geoffrey Stonor.

Farn. Your little niece—the Scottish heiress—is about to become Mrs. Geoffrey Stonor.

Lady John. Who told you that?

Farn. Please don't mind my knowing.

Lady John (visibly perturbed). She had set her heart upon having a few days with just her family in the secret, before the flood of congratulations breaks loose.

Lady John (clearly upset). She was determined to spend a few days with just her family in private before all the congratulations came pouring in.

Farn. Oh, that's all right. I always hear things before other people.

Farn. Oh, that's fine. I always pick up on things before everyone else.

Lady John. Well, I must ask you to be good enough to be very circumspect. I wouldn't have my niece think that I——

Lady John. Well, I need you to be very careful. I wouldn’t want my niece to think that I——

Farn. Oh, of course not.

Lady John. She will be here in an hour.

Lady John. She'll be here in an hour.

Farn. (jumping up delighted). What? To-day? The future Mrs. Stonor!

Farn. (jumping up excited). What? Today? The future Mrs. Stonor!

Lady John (harassed). Yes. Unfortunately we had one or two people already asked for the week-end——

Lady John (harassed). Yes. Unfortunately, we already had one or two people ask for the weekend——

Farn. And I go and invite myself to luncheon! Lady John, you can buy me off. I'll promise to remove myself in five minutes if you'll——

Farn. And I just go ahead and invite myself to lunch! Lady John, you can bribe me. I’ll promise to leave in five minutes if you’ll——

Lady John. No, the penalty is you shall stay and keep the others amused between church and luncheon, and so leave me free. (Takes up the plan.) Only remember——

Lady John. No, your punishment is that you have to stay and entertain the others between church and lunch, leaving me free. (Takes up the plan.) Just remember——

Farn. Wild horses won't get a hint out of me! I only mentioned it to you because—since we've come back to live in this part of the world you've been so awfully kind—I thought, I hoped maybe you—you'd put in a word for me.

Farn. Wild horses couldn't drag it out of me! I only brought it up with you because—since we've moved back to this area, you've been so incredibly nice—I thought, maybe hoped, that you... might speak up for me.

Lady John. With——?

Farn. With your nephew that is to be. Though I'm not the slavish satellite people make out, you can't doubt——

Farn. With your nephew who is about to be. Even though I'm not the mindless follower that people think I am, you can't deny——

Lady John. Oh, I don't doubt. But you know Mr. Stonor inspires a similar enthusiasm in a good many young——

Lady John. Oh, I don't doubt it. But you know Mr. Stonor also inspires a similar enthusiasm in a lot of young people.

Farn. They haven't studied the situation as I have. They don't know what's at stake. They don't go to that hole Dutfield as I did just to hear his Friday speech.

Farn. They haven't looked into the situation like I have. They don't understand what's at risk. They don't visit that place Dutfield like I did just to listen to his Friday speech.

Lady John. Ah! But you were rewarded. Jean—my niece—wrote me it was "glorious."

Lady John. Oh! But you were rewarded. Jean—my niece—told me it was "amazing."

Farn. (judicially). Well, you know, I was disappointed. He's too content just to criticise, just to make his delicate pungent fun of the men who are grappling—very inadequately, of course—still grappling with the big questions. There's a carrying power (gets up and faces an imaginary audience)—some of Stonor's friends ought to point it out—there's a driving power in the poorest constructive policy that makes the most brilliant criticism look barren.

Farn. (judicially). Well, you know, I was let down. He’s too satisfied just to criticize, just to make his sharp, witty remarks about the guys who are—albeit inadequately—still struggling with the big questions. There’s a sense of purpose (gets up and faces an imaginary audience)—some of Stonor's friends should point this out—there’s a driving force in even the most basic constructive policy that makes the finest criticism seem pointless.

Lady John (with good-humoured malice). Who told you that?

Lady John (with playful malice). Who said that?

Farn. You think there's nothing in it because I say it. But now that he's coming into the family, Lord John or somebody really ought to point out—Stonor's overdoing his rôle of magnificent security!

Farn. You think it doesn’t matter just because I say it. But now that he’s becoming part of the family, Lord John or someone should really mention—Stonor is going way overboard with this whole impressive safety thing!

Lady John. I don't see even Lord John offering to instruct Mr. Stonor.

Lady John. I don't even see Lord John willing to teach Mr. Stonor.

Farn. Believe me, that's just Stonor's danger! Nobody saying a word, everybody hoping he's on the point of adopting some definite line, something strong and original that's going to fire the public imagination and bring the Tories back into power.

Farn. Believe me, that’s just Stonor’s risk! No one is saying anything, everyone is hoping he’s about to take a clear stand, something bold and unique that will capture the public’s imagination and bring the Tories back into power.

Lady John. So he will.

Farn. (hotly). Not if he disappoints meetings—goes calmly up to town—and leaves the field to the Liberals.

Farn. (angrily). Not if he skips meetings—heads casually into town—and lets the Liberals take over.

Lady John. When did he do anything like that?

Lady John. When did he ever do something like that?

Farn. Yesterday! (With a harassed air.) And now that he's got this other preoccupation——

Farn. Yesterday! (Looking stressed.) And now that he has this new distraction——

Lady John. You mean——

Farn. Yes, your niece—that spoilt child of Fortune. Of course! (Stopping suddenly.) She kept him from the meeting last night. Well! (sits down) if that's the effect she's going to have it's pretty serious!

Farn. Yeah, your niece—that pampered kid of luck. Of course! (Stopping suddenly.) She prevented him from the meeting last night. Well! (sits down) if that's the impact she's going to have, it's quite serious!

Lady John (smiling). You are!

Farn. I can assure you the election agent's more so. He's simply tearing his hair.

Farn. I can promise you the election agent is even more stressed. He's literally pulling his hair out.

Lady John (more gravely and coming nearer). How do you know?

Lady John (more seriously and stepping closer). How do you know?

Farn. He told me so himself—yesterday. I scraped acquaintance with the agent just to see if—if——

Farn. He told me that himself—yesterday. I got to know the agent just to see if—if——

Lady John. It's not only here that you manœuvre for that Secretaryship!

Lady John. You're not just scheming for that Secretary role here!

Farn. (confidentially). You can never tell when your chance might come! That election chap's promised to keep me posted.

Farn. (confidentially). You never know when your opportunity will show up! That guy from the election said he’d keep me informed.

(The door flies open and Jean Dunbarton rushes in.)
(The door swings open and Jean Dunbarton hurries in.)

Jean. Aunt Ellen—here I——

Lady John (astonished). My dear child!

(They embrace. Enter Lord John from the garden—a benevolent, silver-haired despot of sixty-two.)
(They embrace. Enter Lord John from the garden—a kind, silver-haired ruler of sixty-two.)

Lord John. I thought that was you running up the avenue.

Lord John. I thought that was you jogging up the street.

(Jean greets her uncle warmly, but all the time she and her aunt talk together. "How did you get here so early?" "I knew you'd be surprised—wasn't it clever of me to manage it? I don't deserve all the credit." "But there isn't any train between——" "Yes, wait till I tell you." "You walked in the broiling sun——" "No, no." "You must be dead. Why didn't you telegraph? I ordered the carriage to meet the 1.10. Didn't you say the 1.10? Yes, I'm sure you did—here's your letter.")
(Jean hugs her uncle warmly, while chatting with her aunt. "How did you get here so early?" "I knew you'd be surprised—wasn't it smart of me to pull it off? I don't take all the credit." "But there isn't any train between——" "Yes, just wait until I explain." "You walked in the blazing sun——" "No, no." "You must be exhausted. Why didn't you send a telegram? I arranged for the carriage to meet the 1.10. Didn't you say the 1.10? Yes, I'm pretty sure you did—here's your letter.")

Lord J. (has shaken hands with Farnborough and speaks through the torrent). Now they'll tell each other for ten minutes that she's an hour earlier than we expected.

Lord J. (has shaken hands with Farnborough and speaks through the noise). Now they'll spend ten minutes telling each other that she's an hour earlier than we thought.

(Lord John leads Farnborough towards the garden.)
(Lord John leads Farnborough towards the garden.)

Farn. The Freddy Tunbridges said they were coming to you this week.

Farn. The Freddy Tunbridges said they're coming to see you this week.

Lord J. Yes, they're dawdling through the park with the Church Brigade.

Lord J. Yes, they’re casually strolling through the park with the Church Brigade.

Farn. Oh! (With a glance back at Jean.) I'll go and meet them.

Farn. Oh! (Looking back at Jean.) I'll go and meet them.

[Exit Farnborough.
[Exit Farnborough.

Lord J. (as he turns back). That discreet young man will get on.

Lord J. (as he turns back). That reserved young man is going to succeed.

Lady John (to Jean). But how did you get here?

Lady John (to Jean). But how did you make it here?

Jean (breathless). "He" motored me down.

Lady John. Geoffrey Stonor? (Jean nods.) Why, where is he, then?

Lady John. Geoffrey Stonor? (Jean nods.) Well, where is he then?

Jean. He dropped me at the end of the avenue and went on to see a supporter about something.

Jean. He dropped me off at the end of the street and went to meet with a supporter about something.

Lord J. You let him go off like that without——

Lord J. You let him leave like that without——

Lady John (taking Jean's two hands). Just tell me, my child, is it all right?

Lady John (taking Jean's two hands). Just tell me, sweetie, is everything okay?

Jean. My engagement? (Radiantly.) Yes, absolutely.

Lady John. Geoffrey Stonor isn't going to be—a little too old for you?

Lady John. Geoffrey Stonor isn’t going to be—aren’t you a bit too old for him?

Jean (laughing). Bless me, am I such a chicken?

Jean (laughing). Wow, am I really that much of a coward?

Lady John. Twenty-four used not to be so young—but it's become so.

Lady John. Twenty-four didn't used to seem so young—but now it does.

Jean. Yes, we don't grow up so quick. (Gaily.) But on the other hand we stay up longer.

Jean. Yeah, we don’t grow up that fast. (Gaily.) But on the flip side, we stay up later.

Lord J. You've got what's vulgarly called "looks," my dear, and that will help to keep you up!

Lord J. You've got what people casually call "looks," my dear, and that will help to keep you going!

Jean (smiling). I know what Uncle John's thinking. But I'm not the only girl who's been left "what's vulgarly called" money.

Jean (smiling). I know what Uncle John is thinking. But I'm not the only girl who's been left what people awkwardly call money.

Lord J. You're the only one of our immediate circle who's been left so beautifully much.

Lord J. You're the only one in our close group who's been left with so much.

Jean. Ah, but remember Geoffrey could—everybody knows he could have married any one in England.

Jean. Oh, but remember, Geoffrey could—everyone knows he could have married anyone in England.

Lady John (faintly ironic). I'm afraid everybody does know it—not excepting Mr. Stonor.

Lady John (slightly sarcastic). I'm afraid everyone does know about it—not even Mr. Stonor excluded.

Lord J. Well, how spoilt is the great man?

Lord J. So, how spoiled is the big guy?

Jean. Not the least little bit in the world. You'll see! He so wants to know my best-beloved relations better. (Another embrace.) An orphan has so few belongings, she has to make the most of them.

Jean. Not at all. Trust me! He really wants to get to know my favorite family members better. (Another embrace.) An orphan has so few possessions, she has to cherish them all.

Lord J. (smiling). Let us hope he'll approve of us on more intimate acquaintance.

Lord J. (smiling). Let's hope he'll like us better when he gets to know us.

Jean (firmly). He will. He's an angel. Why, he gets on with my grandfather!

Jean (firmly). He will. He's a sweetheart. In fact, he gets along great with my grandfather!

Lady John. Does he? (Teasing.) You mean to say Mr. Geoffrey Stonor isn't just a tiny bit—"superior" about Dissenters.

Lady John. Does he? (Teasing.) Are you saying that Mr. Geoffrey Stonor isn't at all a little "superior" when it comes to Dissenters?

Jean (stoutly). Not half as much as Uncle John and all the rest of you! My grandfather's been ill again, you know, and rather difficult—bless him! (Radiantly.) But Geoffrey—— (Clasps her hands.)

Jean (confidently). Not as much as Uncle John and all of you! My grandfather's been sick again, you know, and quite challenging—bless him! (Brightly.) But Geoffrey—— (Clasping her hands.)

Lady John. He must have powers of persuasion!—to get that old Covenanter to let you come in an abhorred motor-car—on Sunday, too!

Lady John. He must have some serious charm!—to convince that old Covenanter to allow you to arrive in a hated car—on a Sunday, no less!

Jean (half whispering). Grandfather didn't know!

Lady John. Didn't know?

Jean. I honestly meant to come by train. Geoffrey met me on my way to the station. We had the most glorious run. Oh, Aunt Ellen, we're so happy! (Embracing her.) I've so looked forward to having you to myself the whole day just to talk to you about——

Jean. I really intended to take the train. Geoffrey met me on my way to the station. We had the best time running. Oh, Aunt Ellen, we’re so happy! (Embracing her.) I’ve been looking forward to having you all to myself for the entire day just to talk to you about——

Lord J. (turning away with affected displeasure). Oh, very well——

Lord J. (turning away with feigned annoyance). Oh, fine——

Jean (catches him affectionately by the arm). You'd find it dreffly dull to hear me talk about Geoffrey the whole blessed day!

Jean (catches him affectionately by the arm). You'd find it really boring to listen to me talk about Geoffrey all day long!

Lady John. Well, till luncheon, my dear, you10 mustn't mind if I—— (To Lord John, as she goes to writing-table.) Miss Levering wasn't only tired last night, she was ill.

Lady John. Well, until lunch, my dear, you10 shouldn't be surprised if I—— (To Lord John, as she goes to the writing table.) Miss Levering wasn't just tired last night, she was actually unwell.

Lord J. I thought she looked very white.

Lord J. I thought she looked really pale.

Jean. Who is Miss—— You don't mean to say there are other people?

Jean. Who is Miss—— You can't be saying there are other people?

Lady John. One or two. Your uncle's responsible for asking that old cynic, St. John Greatorex, and I——

Lady John. One or two. Your uncle is the one who invited that old cynic, St. John Greatorex, and I——

Jean (gravely). Mr. Greatorex—he's a Radical, isn't he?

Jean (seriously). Mr. Greatorex—he's a Radical, right?

Lord J. (laughing). Jean! Beginning to "think in parties"!

Lord J. (laughing). Jean! Starting to "think in groups"!

Lady John. It's very natural now that she should——

Lady John. It's completely normal now that she should——

Jean. I only meant it was odd he should be here. Naturally at my grandfather's——

Jean. I just thought it was strange that he was here. Of course, at my grandfather's——

Lord J. It's all right, my child. Of course we expect now that you'll begin to think like Geoffrey Stonor, and to feel like Geoffrey Stonor, and to talk like Geoffrey Stonor. And quite proper too.

Lord J. It's okay, my child. Naturally, we expect you to start thinking like Geoffrey Stonor, feeling like Geoffrey Stonor, and talking like Geoffrey Stonor. And that's absolutely right.

Jean (smiling). Well, if I do think with my husband and feel with him—as, of course, I shall—it will surprise me if I ever find myself talking a tenth as well——

Jean (smiling). Well, if I think alongside my husband and feel what he feels—as I definitely will—it would surprise me if I ever find myself talking even a fraction as well——

(Following her uncle to the French window.)
(Following her uncle to the French window.)

You should have heard him at Dutfield——(Stopping short, delighted.) Oh! The Freddy Tunbridges. What? Not Aunt Lydia! Oh-h!

(Looking back reproachfully at Lady John, who makes a discreet motion "I couldn't help it.")
(Looking back disapprovingly at Lady John, who makes a subtle gesture "I couldn't help it.")

(Enter the Tunbridges. Mr. Freddy, of no profession and of independent means. Well-groomed, pleasant-looking; of few11 words. A "nice man" who likes "nice women" and has married one of them. Mrs. Freddy is thirty. An attractive figure, delicate face, intelligent grey eyes, over-sensitive mouth, and naturally curling dust-coloured hair.)
(Enter the Tunbridges. Mr. Freddy, unemployed but financially secure. Well-groomed, good-looking; speaks little11 but is friendly. A "nice guy" who appreciates "nice women" and has married one. Mrs. Freddy is thirty. She has an attractive figure, a delicate face, intelligent gray eyes, a sensitive mouth, and naturally curly light brown hair.)

Mrs. Freddy. What a delightful surprise!

Jean (shaking hands warmly). I'm so glad. How d'ye do, Mr. Freddy?

Jean (shaking hands warmly). I'm really happy to see you. How's it going, Mr. Freddy?

(Enter Lady John's sister, Mrs. Heriot—smart, pompous, fifty—followed by Farnborough.)
(Enter Lady John's sister, Mrs. Heriot—stylish, arrogant, fifty—followed by Farnborough.)

Mrs. Heriot. My dear Jean! My darling child!

Mrs. Heriot. My dear Jean! My sweet child!

Jean. How do you do, aunt?

Mrs. H. (sotto voce). I wasn't surprised. I always prophesied——

Mrs. H. (quietly). I wasn't surprised. I always predicted——

Jean. Sh! Please!

Farn. We haven't met since you were in short skirts. I'm Dick Farnborough.

Farn. We haven't seen each other since you were wearing short skirts. I'm Dick Farnborough.

Jean. Oh, I remember.

(They shake hands.)
(They shake hands.)

Mrs. F. (looking round). Not down yet—the Elusive One?

Mrs. F. (looking around). Still not down—the Elusive One?

Jean. Who is the Elusive One?

Mrs. F. Lady John's new friend.

Lord J. (to Jean). Oh, I forgot you hadn't seen Miss Levering; such a nice creature! (To Mrs. Freddy.)—don't you think?

Lord J. (to Jean). Oh, I forgot you haven't met Miss Levering; she's such a lovely person! (To Mrs. Freddy.)—don’t you agree?

Mrs. F. Of course I do. You're lucky to get her to come so often. She won't go to other people.

Mrs. F. Of course I do. You're lucky she comes by so often. She won't visit anyone else.

Lady John. She knows she can rest here.

Lady John. She knows she can relax here.

Freddy (who has joined Lady John near the writing-table). What does she do to tire her?

Freddy (who has joined Lady John near the writing-table). What does she do to wear her out?

Lady John. She's been helping my sister and me with a scheme of ours.

Lady John. She's been assisting my sister and me with our plan.

Mrs. H. She certainly knows how to inveigle money out of the men.

Mrs. H. She definitely knows how to manipulate men into giving her money.

Lady John. It would sound less equivocal, Lydia, if you added that the money is to build baths in our Shelter for Homeless Women.

Lady John. It would be clearer, Lydia, if you mentioned that the money is for building baths in our Shelter for Homeless Women.

Mrs. F. Homeless women?

Lady John. Yes, in the most insanitary part of Soho.

Lady John. Yes, in the dirtiest part of Soho.

Freddy. Oh—a—really.

Farn. It doesn't sound quite in Miss Levering's line!

Farn. That doesn't really seem like Miss Levering's style!

Lady John. My dear boy, you know as little about what's in a woman's line as most men.

Lady John. My dear boy, you know just as little about what's in a woman's mind as most men do.

Freddy (laughing). Oh, I say!

Lord J. (indulgently to Mr. Freddy and Farnborough). Philanthropy in a woman like Miss Levering is a form of restlessness. But she's a nice creature; all she needs is to get some "nice" fella to marry her.

Lord J. (smilingly to Mr. Freddy and Farnborough). Charity in a woman like Miss Levering shows a kind of restlessness. But she's a great person; all she needs is to find a "great" guy to marry her.

Mrs. F. (laughing as she hangs on her husband's arm). Yes, a woman needs a balance wheel—if only to keep her from flying back to town on a hot day like this.

Mrs. F. (laughing as she hangs on her husband's arm). Yes, a woman needs a support system—just to stop her from rushing back to the city on a hot day like this.

Lord J. Who's proposing anything so——

Mrs. F. The Elusive One.

Lord J. Not Miss——

Mrs. F. Yes, before luncheon!

[Exit Farnborough to garden.

Lady John. She must be in London by this afternoon, she says.

Lady John. She says she has to be in London by this afternoon.

Lord J. What for in the name of——

Lord J. What in the world for—

Lady John. Well, that I didn't ask her. But (consults watch) I think I'll just go up and see if she's changed her plans.

Lady John. Well, that I didn't ask her. But (checks watch) I think I'll just go up and see if she's changed her plans.

[Exit Lady John.
[Exit Lady John.

Lord J. Oh, she must be made to. Such a nice creature! All she needs——

Lord J. Oh, she absolutely has to. What a lovely person! All she needs——

(Voices outside. Enter fussily, talking and gesticulating, St. John Greatorex, followed by Miss Levering and Farnborough. Greatorex is sixty, wealthy, a county magnate, and Liberal M.P. He is square, thick-set, square-bearded. His shining bald pate has two strands of coal-black hair trained across his crown from left ear to right and securely pasted there. He has small, twinkling eyes and a reputation for telling good stories after dinner when ladies have left the room. He is carrying a little book for Miss Levering. She (parasol over shoulder), an attractive, essentially feminine, and rather "smart" woman of thirty-two, with a somewhat foreign grace; the kind of whom men and women alike say, "What's her story? Why doesn't she marry?")
(Voices outside. Enter fussily, talking and gesturing, St. John Greatorex, followed by Miss Levering and Farnborough. Greatorex is sixty, wealthy, a county bigwig, and a Liberal MP. He is broad, stocky, and has a square beard. His shiny bald head has two strands of coal-black hair styled across the top from left ear to right and securely fixed in place. He has small, twinkling eyes and is known for telling great stories after dinner when the ladies have left the room. He is carrying a little book for Miss Levering. She (parasol over shoulder), an attractive, distinctly feminine, and somewhat "smart" woman of thirty-two, with a slightly foreign elegance; the kind of woman that makes men and women alike wonder, "What's her story? Why isn't she married?")

Greatorex. I protest! Good Lord! what are the women of this country coming to? I protest against Miss Levering being carried off to discuss anything so revolting. Bless my soul! what can a woman like you know about it?

Greatorex. I can't believe this! Good grief! What are the women in this country thinking? I object to Miss Levering being taken away to talk about something so disgusting. Goodness! What can a woman like you understand about it?

Miss Levering (smiling). Little enough. Good morning.

Miss Levering (smiling). Not much. Good morning.

Great. (relieved). I should think so indeed!

Great. (relieved). I definitely think so!

Lord J. (aside). You aren't serious about going——

Lord J. (aside). You can't be serious about leaving——

Great. (waggishly breaking in). We were so happy out there in the summer-house, weren't we?

Great. (playfully interrupting). We were so happy out there in the summer house, right?

Miss L. Ideally.

Great. And to be haled out to talk about Public Sanitation forsooth!

Great. And to be dragged out to talk about Public Sanitation, really!

(Hurries after Miss Levering as she advances to speak to the Freddys, &c.)
(Hurries after Miss Levering as she moves to talk to the Freddys, & etc.)

Why, God bless my soul, do you realise that's drains?

Why, bless my soul, do you realize that's drains?

Miss L. I'm dreadfully afraid it is! (Holds out her hand for the small book Greatorex is carrying.)

Miss L. I'm really afraid it is! (Holds out her hand for the small book Greatorex is carrying.)

(Greatorex returns Miss Levering's book open; he has been keeping the place with his finger. She opens it and shuts her handkerchief in.)
(Greatorex hands back Miss Levering's book open; he has been holding the place with his finger. She opens it and tucks her handkerchief inside.)

Great. And we in the act of discussing Italian literature! Perhaps you'll tell me that isn't a more savoury topic for a lady.

Great. And here we are discussing Italian literature! Maybe you’ll say that's not a more appealing topic for a lady.

Miss L. But for the tramp population less conducive to savouriness, don't you think, than—baths?

Miss L. But for the homeless population that's not really appealing, don't you think, than—showers?

Great. No, I can't understand this morbid interest in vagrants. You're much too—leave it to the others.

Great. No, I can't get why people are so fascinated with homeless people. You're way too—let the others handle it.

Jean. What others?

Great. (with smiling impertinence). Oh, the sort of woman who smells of indiarubber. The typical English spinster. (To Miss Levering.) You know—Italy's full of her. She never goes anywhere without a mackintosh and a collapsible bath—rubber. When you look at her, it's borne in upon you that she doesn't only smell of rubber. She's rubber too.

Great. (with a smug grin). Oh, she's the kind of woman who smells like rubber. The typical British spinster. (To Miss Levering.) You know—Italy is full of her. She never goes anywhere without a raincoat and a foldable rubber bath. When you see her, it hits you that she doesn’t just smell like rubber. She’s rubber too.

Lord J. (laughing). This is my niece, Miss Jean Dunbarton, Miss Levering.

Jean. How do you do? (They shake hands.)

Jean. Nice to meet you! (They shake hands.)

Great. (to Jean). I'm sure you agree with me.

Jean. About Miss Levering being too——

Great. For that sort of thing—much too——

Miss L. What a pity you've exhausted the more eloquent adjectives.

Miss L. It's such a shame you've run out of more expressive adjectives.

Great. But I haven't!

Miss L. Well, you can't say to me as you did to Mrs. Freddy: "You're too young and too happily married—and too——"

Miss L. Well, you can't say to me like you did to Mrs. Freddy: "You're too young and too happily married—and too——"

(Glances round smiling at Mrs. Freddy, who, oblivious, is laughing and talking to her husband and Mrs. Heriot.)
(Looks around, smiling at Mrs. Freddy, who, unaware, is laughing and chatting with her husband and Mrs. Heriot.)

Jean. For what was Mrs. Freddy too happily married and all the rest?

Jean. Why was Mrs. Freddy so happily married and everyone else wasn't?

Miss L. (lightly). Mr. Greatorex was repudiating the horrid rumour that Mrs. Freddy had been speaking in public; about Women's Trade Unions—wasn't that what you said, Mrs. Heriot?

Miss L. (casually). Mr. Greatorex was denying the nasty rumor that Mrs. Freddy had been discussing Women's Trade Unions in public—wasn't that what you mentioned, Mrs. Heriot?

Lord J. (chuckling). Yes, it isn't made up as carefully as your aunt's parties usually are. Here we've got Greatorex (takes his arm) who hates political women, and we've got in that mild and inoffensive-looking little lady——

Lord J. (chuckling). Yeah, it’s not as meticulously planned as your aunt’s parties usually are. Here we have Greatorex (takes his arm) who can’t stand women in politics, and we have that mild and harmless-looking little lady——

(Motion over his shoulder towards Mrs. Freddy.)
(He gestures over his shoulder towards Mrs. Freddy.)

Great. (shrinking down stage in comic terror). You don't mean she's really——

Great. (shrinking down stage in comic terror). You don't mean she's actually——

Jean (simultaneously and gaily rising). Oh, and you've got me!

Jean (cheerfully getting up). Oh, and you've caught me!

Lord J. (with genial affection). My dear child, he doesn't hate the charming wives and sweethearts who help to win seats.

Lord J. (with warm affection). My dear child, he doesn't dislike the lovely wives and sweethearts who help secure votes.

(Jean makes her uncle a discreet little signal of warning.)
(Jean gives her uncle a subtle warning signal.)

Miss L. Mr. Greatorex objects only to the unsexed creatures who—a——

Miss L. Mr. Greatorex only has issues with the beings who—a——

Lord J. (hastily to cover up his slip). Yes, yes, who want to act independently of men.

Lord J. (quickly trying to fix his mistake). Yes, yes, who want to operate independently of men.

Miss L. Vote, and do silly things of that sort.

Miss L. Vote and do silly stuff like that.

Lord J. (with enthusiasm). Exactly.

Mrs. H. It will be a long time before we hear any more of that nonsense.

Mrs. H. It’s going to be a while before we hear any more of that nonsense.

Jean. You mean that rowdy scene in the House of Commons?

Jean. Are you talking about that wild scene in the House of Commons?

Mrs. H. Yes. No decent woman will be able to say "Suffrage" without blushing for another generation, thank Heaven!

Mrs. H. Yes. No respectable woman will be able to say "Suffrage" without feeling embarrassed for another generation, thank goodness!

Miss L. (smiling). Oh? I understood that so little I almost imagined people were more stirred up about it than they'd ever been before.

Miss L. (smiling). Oh? I understood that so little I almost thought people were more worked up about it than they had ever been before.

Great. (with a quizzical affectation of gallantry). Not people like you.

Great. (with a curious touch of chivalry). Not people like you.

Miss L. (teasingly). How do you know?

Miss L. (playfully). How do you know?

Great. (with a start). God bless my soul!

Lord J. She's saying that only to get a rise out of you.

Lord J. She's saying that just to provoke you.

Great. Ah, yes, your frocks aren't serious enough.

Great. Ah, yes, your dresses aren't formal enough.

Miss L. I'm told it's an exploded notion that the Suffrage women are all dowdy and dull.

Miss L. I've heard it’s a mistaken idea that all Suffrage women are plain and boring.

Great. Don't you believe it!

Miss L. Well, of course we know you've been an authority on the subject for—let's see, how many years is it you've kept the House in roars whenever Woman's Rights are mentioned?

Miss L. Well, of course we know you’ve been an expert on the topic for—let's see, how many years have you made the House laugh whenever Women’s Rights come up?

Great. (flattered but not entirely comfortable). Oh, as long as I've known anything about politics there have been a few discontented old maids and hungry widows——

Great. (flattered but not entirely comfortable). Oh, as long as I can remember anything about politics, there have been a few dissatisfied old maids and struggling widows——

Miss L. "A few!" That's really rather forbearing of you, Mr. Greatorex. I'm afraid the number of17 the discontented and the hungry was 96,000—among the mill operatives alone. (Hastily.) At least the papers said so, didn't they?

Miss L. "A few!" That's pretty generous of you, Mr. Greatorex. I'm afraid the number of 17 the unhappy and hungry people was 96,000—just among the factory workers. (Quickly.) At least that's what the papers reported, right?

Great. Oh, don't ask me; that kind of woman doesn't interest me, I'm afraid. Only I am able to point out to the people who lose their heads and seem inclined to treat the phenomenon seriously that there's absolutely nothing new in it. There have been women for the last forty years who haven't had anything more pressing to do than petition Parliament.

Great. Oh, don’t ask me; that type of woman doesn’t interest me, I’m afraid. All I can do is point out to the people who get all worked up and seem ready to take this seriously that there’s nothing new about it. For the past forty years, there have been women who haven’t had anything more important to do than petition Parliament.

Miss L. (reflectively). And that's as far as they've got.

Miss L. (thinking). And that's as far as they've come.

Lord J. (turning on his heel). It's as far as they'll ever get.

Lord J. (turning on his heel). That's as far as they'll ever go.

(Meets the group up R. coming down.)
(Meets the group up R. coming down.)

Miss L. (chaffing Greatorex). Let me see, wasn't a deputation sent to you not long ago? (Sits C.)

Miss L. (teasing Greatorex). Let me think, wasn't a group sent to talk to you not too long ago? (Sits C.)

Great. H'm! (Irritably.) Yes, yes.

Miss L. (as though she has just recalled the circumstances). Oh, yes, I remember. I thought at the time, in my modest way, it was nothing short of heroic of them to go asking audience of their arch opponent.

Miss L. (as if she has just remembered the situation). Oh, yes, I remember. I thought back then, in my humble way, it was quite heroic of them to go and request a meeting with their main opponent.

Great. (stoutly). It didn't come off.

Miss L. (innocently). Oh! I thought they insisted on bearding the lion in his den.

Miss L. (innocently). Oh! I thought they were insisting on confronting the lion in his den.

Great. Of course I wasn't going to be bothered with a lot of——

Miss L. You don't mean you refused to go out and face them!

Miss L. You can’t be serious; you didn’t actually refuse to go out and face them!

Great. (with a comic look of terror). I wouldn't have done it for worlds. But a friend of mine went and had a look at 'em.

Great. (with a comical look of terror). I wouldn’t have done it for anything. But a friend of mine went and checked them out.

Miss L. (smiling). Well, did he get back alive?

Miss L. (smiling). So, did he come back alive?

Great. Yes, but he advised me not to go. "You're quite right," he said. "Don't you think of bothering," he said. "I've looked over the lot," he said, "and there isn't a week-ender among 'em."

Great. Yes, but he told me not to go. "You're completely right," he said. "Don't even think about it," he said. "I've checked the whole place," he said, "and there isn't a single weekend visitor among them."

Jean (gaily precipitates herself into the conversation). You remember Mrs. Freddy's friend who came to tea here in the winter? (To Greatorex.) He was a member of Parliament too—quite a little young one—he said women would never be respected till they had the vote!

Jean (cheerfully jumps into the conversation). Do you remember Mrs. Freddy's friend who came over for tea here in the winter? (To Greatorex.) He was a member of Parliament as well—just a young guy—he said women wouldn’t be respected until they got the vote!

(Greatorex snorts, the other men smile and all the women except Mrs. Heriot.)
(Greatorex snorts, the other men smile and all the women except Mrs. Heriot.)

Mrs. H. (sniffing). I remember telling him that he was too young to know what he was talking about.

Mrs. H. (sniffing). I remember telling him he was too young to understand what he was saying.

Lord J. Yes, I'm afraid you all sat on the poor gentleman.

Lord J. Yes, I'm sorry to say you all sat on the poor guy.

Lady John (entering). Oh, there you are!

(Greets Miss Levering.)
(Greets Miss Levering.)

Jean. It was such fun. He was flat as a pancake when we'd done with him. Aunt Ellen told him with her most distinguished air she didn't want to be "respected."

Jean. It was such a blast. He was completely out of it when we were finished with him. Aunt Ellen told him with her most sophisticated attitude that she didn't want to be "respected."

Mrs. F. (with a little laugh of remonstrance). My dear Lady John!

Mrs. F. (with a slight laugh of protest). My dear Lady John!

Farn. Quite right! Awful idea to think you're respected!

Farn. Exactly! It's a terrible idea to think you're respected!

Miss L. (smiling). Simply revolting.

Lady John (at writing-table). Now, you frivolous people, go away. We've only got a few minutes to talk over the terms of the late Mr. Soper's munificence before the carriage comes for Miss Levering——

Lady John (at writing-table). Now, you silly people, leave us. We only have a few minutes to discuss the details of the late Mr. Soper's generosity before the carriage arrives for Miss Levering——

Mrs. F. (to Farnborough). Did you know she'd19 got that old horror to give Lady John £8,000 for her charity before he died?

Mrs. F. (to Farnborough). Did you know she got that old creep to give Lady John £8,000 for her charity before he passed away?

Mrs. F. Who got him to?

Lady John. Miss Levering. He wouldn't do it for me, but she brought him round.

Lady John. Miss Levering. He wouldn't listen to me, but she managed to convince him.

Freddy. Yes. Bah-ee Jove! I expect so.

Freddy. Yes. By George! I guess so.

Mrs. F. (turning enthusiastically to her husband). Isn't she wonderful?

Mrs. F. (turning enthusiastically to her husband). Isn't she amazing?

Lord J. (aside). Nice creature. All she needs is——

Lord J. (aside). Nice girl. All she needs is——

(Mr. and Mrs. Freddy and Farnborough stroll off to the garden. Lady John on far side of the writing-table. Mrs. Heriot at the top. Jean and Lord John, L.)
(Mr. and Mrs. Freddy and Farnborough walk to the garden. Lady John on the far side of the writing desk. Mrs. Heriot at the top. Jean and Lord John, L.)

Great. (on divan C., aside to Miss Levering). Too "wonderful" to waste your time on the wrong people.

Great. (on divan C., aside to Miss Levering). Too "wonderful" to spend your time with the wrong people.

Miss L. I shall waste less of my time after this.

Miss L. I won't waste as much of my time after this.

Great. I'm relieved to hear it. I can't see you wheedling money for shelters and rot of that sort out of retired grocers.

Great. I'm glad to hear it. I can't imagine you persuading retired grocery store owners to give money for shelters and stuff like that.

Miss L. You see, you call it rot. We couldn't have got £8,000 out of you.

Miss L. You see, you refer to it as nonsense. We wouldn't have been able to get £8,000 from you.

Great. (very low). I'm not sure.

(Miss Levering looks at him.)
(Miss Levering looks at him.)

Great. If I gave you that much—for your little projects—what would you give me?

Great. If I gave you that much for your little projects, what would you give me in return?

Miss L. (speaking quietly). Soper didn't ask that.

Miss L. (speaking quietly). Soper didn't ask for that.

Great. (horrified). Soper! I should think not!

Great. (horrified). No way! I definitely don't think so!

Lord J. (turning to Miss Levering). Soper? You two still talking Soper? How flattered the old beggar'd be!

Lord J. (turning to Miss Levering). Soper? You two are still talking about Soper? How flattered the old beggar would be!

Lord J. (lower). Did you hear what Mrs. Heriot said about him? "So kind; so munificent—so vulgar, poor soul, we couldn't know him in London—but we shall meet him in heaven."

Lord J. (lower). Did you catch what Mrs. Heriot said about him? "So kind; so generous—so tacky, poor thing, we couldn’t know him in London—but we’ll meet him in heaven."

(Greatorex and Lord John go off laughing.)
(Greatorex and Lord John go off laughing.)

Lady John (to Miss Levering). Sit over there, my dear. (Indicating chair in front of writing-table.) You needn't stay, Jean. This won't interest you.

Lady John (to Miss Levering). Sit over there, darling. (Indicating chair in front of writing-table.) You don't have to stay, Jean. This won't be interesting for you.

Miss L. (in the tone of one agreeing). It's only an effort to meet the greatest evil in the world?

Miss L. (in a tone of agreement). Is it just an attempt to confront the biggest evil in the world?

Jean (pausing as she's following the others). What do you call the greatest evil in the world? (Looks pass between Mrs. Heriot and Lady John.)

Jean (pausing as she's following the others). What do you call the worst evil in the world? (Looks pass between Mrs. Heriot and Lady John.)

Miss L. (without emphasis). The helplessness of women.

Miss L. (without emphasis). The powerlessness of women.

(Jean stands still.)
(Jean stands still.)

Lady John (rising and putting her arm about the girl's shoulder). Jean, darling, I know you can think of nothing but (aside) him—so just go and——

Lady John (rising and putting her arm around the girl's shoulder). Jean, sweetheart, I know you're only thinking about (aside) him—so just go and——

Jean (brightly). Indeed, indeed, I can think of everything better than I ever did before. He has lit up everything for me—made everything vivider, more—more significant.

Jean (brightly). Yes, definitely, I can see everything clearer than ever before. He has brightened everything for me—made everything more vivid, more—more meaningful.

Miss L. (turning round). Who has?

Jean. Oh, yes, I don't care about other things less but a thousand times more.

Jean. Oh, yes, I care way less about other things but a thousand times more about this.

Lady John. You are in love.

Miss L. Oh, that's it! (Smiling at Jean.) I congratulate you.

Lady John (returning to the outspread plan). Well—this, you see, obviates the difficulty you raised.

Lady John (returning to the outspread plan). Well—this, you see, solves the problem you mentioned.

Miss L. Yes, quite.

Mrs. H. But it's going to cost a great deal more.

Mrs. H. But it’s going to cost a lot more.

Miss L. It's worth it.

Mrs. H. We'll have nothing left for the organ at St. Pilgrim's.

Mrs. H. We won't have anything left for the organ at St. Pilgrim's.

Lady John. My dear Lydia, we're putting the organ aside.

Lady John. My dear Lydia, we're setting the organ aside.

Mrs. H. (with asperity). We can't afford to "put aside" the elevating effect of music.

Mrs. H. (sharply). We can't ignore the uplifting impact of music.

Lady John. What we must make for, first, is the cheap and humanely conducted lodging-house.

Lady John. What we need to focus on first is the affordable and compassionately managed guesthouse.

Mrs. H. There are several of those already, but poor St. Pilgrim's——

Mrs. H. There are already quite a few of those, but poor St. Pilgrim's——

Miss L. There are none for the poorest women.

Miss L. There aren’t any for the poorest women.

Lady John. No, even the excellent Soper was for multiplying Rowton Houses. You can never get men to realise—you can't always get women——

Lady John. No, even the great Soper wanted to create more Rowton Houses. You can never get men to understand—you can't always get women——

Miss L. It's the work least able to wait.

Miss L. It's the job that can't wait the longest.

Mrs. H. I don't agree with you, and I happen to have spent a great deal of my life in works of charity.

Mrs. H. I don't agree with you, and I've spent a lot of my life doing charitable work.

Miss L. Ah, then you'll be interested in the girl I saw dying in a Tramp Ward a little while ago. Glad her cough was worse—only she mustn't die before her father. Two reasons. Nobody but her to keep the old man out of the workhouse—and "father is so proud." If she died first, he would starve; worst of all he might hear what had happened up in London to his girl.

Miss L. Oh, then you'll want to hear about the girl I saw dying in a Tramp Ward not too long ago. I'm glad her cough got worse—she just can't die before her father. There are two reasons for that. She's the only one who can keep the old man out of the workhouse—and "father is so proud." If she dies first, he would starve; and worst of all, he might find out what happened to his girl up in London.

Mrs. H. She didn't say, I suppose, how she happened to fall so low.

Mrs. H. She didn't explain, I guess, how she ended up so low.

Miss L. Yes, she had been in service. She lost the train back one Sunday night and was too terrified of her employer to dare ring him up after hours. The wrong person found her crying on the platform.

Miss L. Yes, she had worked as a servant. She missed the last train home one Sunday night and was too scared of her employer to call him after hours. The wrong person discovered her crying on the platform.

Mrs. H. She should have gone to one of the Friendly Societies.

Mrs. H. She should have joined one of the Friendly Societies.

Miss L. At eleven at night?

Mrs. H. And there are the Rescue Leagues. I myself have been connected with one for twenty years——

Mrs. H. And then there are the Rescue Leagues. I've been involved with one for twenty years——

Miss L. (reflectively). "Twenty years!" Always arriving "after the train's gone"—after the girl and the Wrong Person have got to the journey's end.

Miss L. (reflectively). "Twenty years!" Always arriving "after the train's left"—after the girl and the Wrong Person have reached their destination.

(Mrs. Heriot's eyes flash.)
(Mrs. Heriot's eyes flash.)

Jean. Where is she now?

Lady John. Never mind.

Miss L. Two nights ago she was waiting at a street corner in the rain.

Miss L. Two nights ago, she was standing at a street corner in the rain.

Mrs. H. Near a public-house, I suppose.

Mrs. H. I guess it’s close to a bar.

Miss L. Yes, a sort of "public-house." She was plainly dying—she was told she shouldn't be out in the rain. "I mustn't go in yet," she said. "This is what he gave me," and she began to cry. In her hand were two pennies silvered over to look like half-crowns.

Miss L. Yeah, a kind of "bar." She was obviously on the verge of collapse—people told her she shouldn’t be outside in the rain. "I can’t go in yet," she said. "This is what he gave me," and she started to cry. In her hand were two shiny pennies made to look like half-crowns.

Mrs. H. I don't believe that story. It's just the sort of thing some sensation-monger trumps up—now, who tells you such——

Mrs. H. I don't buy that story. It's exactly the kind of thing some drama queen makes up—now, who tells you such——

Miss L. Several credible people. I didn't believe them till——

Miss L. Several trustworthy people. I didn't believe them until——

Jean. Till——?

Miss L. Till last week I saw for myself.

Miss L. Until last week, I saw it for myself.

Lady John. Saw? Where?

Miss L. In a low lodging-house not a hundred yards from the church you want a new organ for.

Miss L. In a small boarding house less than a hundred yards from the church where you want a new organ.

Mrs. H. How did you happen to be there?

Mrs. H. How did you end up there?

Miss L. I was on a pilgrimage.

Miss L. I was on a journey of spiritual significance.

Jean. A pilgrimage?

Miss L. Into the Underworld.

Lady John. You went?

Jean. How could you?

Miss L. I put on an old gown and a tawdry hat—— (Turns to Lady John.) You'll never know how many things are hidden from a woman in good clothes. The bold, free look of a man at a woman he believes to be destitute—you must feel that look on you before you can understand—a good half of history.

Miss L. I threw on an old dress and a cheap hat—— (Turns to Lady John.) You have no idea how many things are kept from a woman who’s well-dressed. The confident, uninhibited way a man looks at a woman he thinks is poor—you really have to experience that gaze to grasp a lot of history.

Mrs. H. (rises). Jean!——

Jean. But where did you go—dressed like that?

Jean. But where did you go dressed like that?

Miss L. Down among the homeless women—on a wet night looking for shelter.

Miss L. Among the homeless women—on a rainy night searching for a place to stay.

Lady John (hastily). No wonder you've been ill.

Lady John (quickly). It's no surprise you've been unwell.

Jean (under breath). And it's like that?

Jean (muttering). So, is it really like that?

Miss L. No.

Jean. No?

Miss L. It's so much worse I dare not tell about it—even if you weren't here I couldn't.

Miss L. It's so much worse that I can't even talk about it—even if you weren't here, I still couldn't.

Mrs. H. (to Jean). You needn't suppose, darling, that those wretched creatures feel it as we would.

Mrs. H. (to Jean). Don’t think, darling, that those miserable beings feel it the same way we do.

Miss L. The girls who need shelter and work aren't all serving-maids.

Miss L. The girls who need a place to stay and jobs aren't all housemaids.

Mrs. H. (with an involuntary flash). We know that all the women who—make mistakes aren't.

Miss L. (steadily). That is why every woman ought to take an interest in this—every girl too.

Miss L. (steadily). That's why every woman should care about this—every girl as well.

Jean Lady John } (simultaneously) { Yes—oh,yes! No. This is a matter for us older——

Jean Lady John } (at the same time) { Yes—oh, yes! No. This is something for us older——

Mrs. H. (with an air of sly challenge). Or for a person who has some special knowledge. (Significantly.) We can't pretend to have access to such sources of information as Miss Levering.

Mrs. H. (with a sly challenge). Or for someone who has some unique insight. (Significantly.) We can’t act like we have the same sources of information as Miss Levering.

Miss L. (meeting Mrs. Heriot's eye steadily). Yes, for I can give you access. As you seem to think, I have some first-hand knowledge about homeless girls.

Miss L. (meeting Mrs. Heriot's eye steadily). Yes, I can help you with that. As you believe, I have some direct experience with homeless girls.

Lady John (cheerfully turning it aside). Well, my dear, it will all come in convenient. (Tapping the plan.)

Lady John (cheerfully brushing it off). Well, my dear, it will all be handy. (Tapping the plan.)

Miss L. It once happened to me to take offence at an ugly thing that was going on under my father's roof. Oh, years ago! I was an impulsive girl. I turned my back on my father's house——

Miss L. There was a time when I got really upset about something unpleasant happening in my dad's house. Oh, that was years ago! I was an impulsive girl. I turned my back on my father's house——

Lady John (for Jean's benefit). That was ill-advised.

Mrs. H. Of course, if a girl does that——

Miss L. That was what all my relations said (with a glance at Jean), and I couldn't explain.

Miss L. That’s what all my relatives said (looking over at Jean), and I couldn’t find a way to explain.

Jean. Not to your mother?

Miss L. She was dead. I went to London to a small hotel and tried to find employment. I wandered about all day and every day from agency to agency. I was supposed to be educated. I'd been brought up partly in Paris; I could play several instruments, and sing little songs in four different tongues. (Slight pause.)

Miss L. She was gone. I went to London to a small hotel and tried to find a job. I spent my days wandering from one agency to another. I was meant to be educated. I had spent part of my childhood in Paris; I could play several instruments and sing a few songs in four different languages. (Slight pause.)

Jean. Did nobody want you to teach French or sing the little songs?

Jean. Did no one want you to teach French or sing the little songs?

Miss L. The heads of schools thought me too young. There were people ready to listen to my singing, but the terms—they were too hard. Soon my money was gone. I began to pawn my trinkets. They went.

Miss L. The school leaders thought I was too young. There were people who wanted to hear me sing, but the conditions were too tough. Soon, I ran out of money. I started to sell my jewelry. They were gone.

Jean. And still no work?

Miss L. No; but by that time I had some real education—an unpaid hotel bill, and not a shilling in the world. (Slight pause.) Some girls think it hardship to have to earn their living. The horror is not to be allowed to——

Miss L. No; but by then I had some real experience—an unpaid hotel bill and not a dime to my name. (Slight pause.) Some girls think it's tough to earn their living. The real nightmare is not being allowed to——

Jean. (bending forward). What happened?

Lady John (rises). My dear (to Miss Levering), have your things been sent down? Are you quite ready?

Lady John (rises). My dear (to Miss Levering), have your things been sent down? Are you all set?

Miss L. Yes, all but my hat.

Miss L. Yeah, everything except my hat.

Jean. Well?

Miss L. Well, by chance I met a friend of my family.

Miss L. Well, I ran into a family friend.

Jean. That was lucky.

Miss L. I thought so. He was nearly ten years older than I. He said he wanted to help me. (Pause.)

Miss L. I thought so. He was almost ten years older than me. He said he wanted to help me. (Pause.)

Jean. And didn't he?

(Lady John lays her hand on Miss Levering's shoulder.)
(Lady John places her hand on Miss Levering's shoulder.)

Miss L. Perhaps after all he did. (With sudden change of tone.) Why do I waste time over myself? I belonged to the little class of armed women. My body wasn't born weak, and my spirit wasn't broken by the habit of slavery. But, as Mrs. Heriot was kind enough to hint, I do know something about the possible fate of homeless girls. I found there were pleasant parks, museums, free libraries in our great rich London—and not one single place where destitute women can be sure of work that isn't killing or food that isn't worse than prison fare. That's why women ought not to sleep o' nights till this Shelter stands spreading out wide arms.

Miss L. Maybe he really did after all. (With a sudden change of tone.) Why am I wasting time on myself? I was part of a small group of strong women. My body wasn’t born weak, and my spirit wasn’t crushed by the habit of slavery. But, as Mrs. Heriot kindly pointed out, I do understand a bit about the potential fate of homeless girls. I discovered that there are nice parks, museums, and free libraries in our wealthy London—and not a single place where desperate women can be guaranteed work that isn’t dangerous or food that isn’t worse than prison meals. That’s why women shouldn’t be able to sleep at night until this Shelter is open and welcoming.

Jean. No, no——

Mrs. H. (gathering up her gloves, fan, prayer-book, &c.). Even when it's built—you'll see! Many of those creatures will prefer the life they lead. They like it.

Mrs. H. (gathering up her gloves, fan, prayer book, &c.). Even when it’s done—you’ll see! A lot of those people will choose the life they have. They enjoy it.

Miss L. A woman told me—one of the sort that26 knows—told me many of them "like it" so much that they are indifferent to the risk of being sent to prison. "It gives them a rest," she said.

Miss L. A woman told me—one of those who26 knows—told me many of them "like it" so much that they don’t care about the risk of going to prison. "It gives them a break," she said.

Lady John. A rest!

(Miss Levering glances at the clock as she rises to go upstairs.)
(Miss Levering looks at the clock as she stands up to head upstairs.)

(Lady John and Mrs. Heriot bend their heads over the plan, covertly talking.)
(Lady John and Mrs. Heriot lean in closer to the plan, quietly discussing it.)

Jean (intercepting Miss Levering). I want to begin to understand something of—I'm horribly ignorant.

Jean (intercepting Miss Levering). I want to start understanding something about—I'm really clueless.

Miss L. (Looks at her searchingly). I'm a rather busy person——

Miss L. (Looks at her intently). I'm pretty busy.

Jean. (interrupting). I have a quite special reason for wanting not to be ignorant. (Impulsively). I'll go to town to-morrow, if you'll come and lunch with me.

Jean. (interrupting). I have a really special reason for wanting to be informed. (Impulsively). I’ll go to town tomorrow if you'll come have lunch with me.

Miss L. Thank you—I (catches Mrs. Heriot's eye)—I must go and put my hat on.

Miss L. Thank you—I (catches Mrs. Heriot's eye)—I need to go put my hat on.

[Exit upstairs.
[Exit upstairs.

Mrs. H. (aside). How little she minds all these horrors!

Mrs. H. (aside). She really doesn't seem to care about any of these horrors!

Lady John. They turn me cold. Ugh! (Rising, harassed.) I wonder if she's signed the visitors' book!

Lady John. They give me the creeps. Ugh! (Rising, harassed.) I wonder if she’s signed the visitors' book!

Mrs. H. For all her Shelter schemes, she's a hard woman.

Mrs. H. For all her Shelter projects, she's a tough woman.

Jean. Miss Levering is?

Mrs. H. Oh, of course you won't think so. She has angled very adroitly for your sympathy.

Mrs. H. Oh, of course you won't see it that way. She's been really clever about getting your sympathy.

Jean. She doesn't look hard.

Lady John (glancing at Jean and taking alarm). I'm not sure but what she does. Her mouth—always27 like this ... as if she were holding back something by main force!

Lady John (glancing at Jean and looking worried). I can’t help but think she does. Her mouth—always27 like this ... as if she were struggling to hold something back!

Mrs. H. (half under her breath). Well, so she is.

Mrs. H. (half whispering). Well, she is.

[Exit Lady John into the lobby to look at the visitors' book.
[Exit Lady John into the lobby to check out the visitors' book.

Jean. Why haven't I seen her before?

Jean. Why haven't I seen her around before?

Mrs. H. Oh, she's lived abroad. (Debating with herself.) You don't know about her, I suppose?

Mrs. H. Oh, she's lived overseas. (Debating with herself.) I guess you don’t know anything about her, do you?

Jean. I don't know how Aunt Ellen came to know her.

Jean. I have no idea how Aunt Ellen found out about her.

Mrs. H. That was my doing. But I didn't bargain for her being introduced to you.

Mrs. H. That was my fault. But I didn't expect her to be introduced to you.

Jean. She seems to go everywhere. And why shouldn't she?

Jean. She appears to be everywhere. And why not?

Mrs. H. (quickly). You mustn't ask her to Eaton Square.

Mrs. H. (quickly). You can't ask her to Eaton Square.

Jean. I have.

Mrs. H. Then you'll have to get out of it.

Mrs. H. Then you'll need to find a way out of it.

Jean (with a stubborn look). I must have a reason. And a very good reason.

Jean (with a determined expression). I need to have a reason. And it has to be a really good one.

Mrs. H. Well, it's not a thing I should have preferred to tell you, but I know how difficult you are to guide ... so I suppose you'll have to know. (Lowering her voice.) It was ten or twelve years ago. I found her horribly ill in a lonely Welsh farmhouse. We had taken the Manor for that August. The farmer's wife was frightened, and begged me to go and see what I thought. I soon saw how it was—I thought she was dying.

Mrs. H. Well, it's not something I wanted to tell you, but I know how hard you are to guide... so I guess you’ll have to know. (Lowering her voice.) It was about ten or twelve years ago. I found her really sick in a remote farmhouse in Wales. We had rented the Manor for that August. The farmer's wife was scared and asked me to see what I thought. I quickly realized the situation—I thought she was dying.

Jean. Dying! What was the——

Mrs. H. I got no more out of her than the farmer's wife did. She had had no letters. There had been no one to see her except a man down from London, a28 shady-looking doctor—nameless, of course. And then this result. The farmer and his wife, highly respectable people, were incensed. They were for turning the girl out.

Mrs. H. I didn’t get any more out of her than the farmer's wife did. She hadn't received any letters. There hadn’t been anyone to see her except for a shady-looking doctor from London—of course, he didn’t have a name. And this is the outcome. The farmer and his wife, who are very respectable people, were furious. They wanted to kick the girl out.

Jean. Oh! but——

Mrs. H. Yes. Pitiless some of these people are! I insisted they should treat the girl humanely, and we became friends ... that is, "sort of." In spite of all I did for her——

Mrs. H. Yes. Some of these people are so ruthless! I insisted they treat the girl with kindness, and we ended up becoming friends... well, "kind of." Despite everything I did for her——

Jean. What did you do?

Mrs. H. I—I've told you, and I lent her money. No small sum either.

Mrs. H. I—I've already mentioned it, and I lent her money. Not a small amount, either.

Jean. Has she never paid it back?

Jean. Has she never returned it?

Mrs. H. Oh, yes, after a time. But I always kept her secret—as much as I knew of it.

Mrs. H. Oh, yes, after a while. But I always kept her secret—as much as I knew about it.

Jean. But you've been telling me!

Mrs. H. That was my duty—and I never had her full confidence.

Mrs. H. That was my responsibility—and I never had her complete trust.

Jean. Wasn't it natural she——

Mrs. H. Well, all things considered, she might have wanted to tell me who was responsible.

Mrs. H. Well, when you think about it, she probably wanted to let me know who was in charge.

Jean. Oh! Aunt Lydia!

Mrs. H. All she ever said was that she was ashamed—(losing her temper and her fine feeling for the innocence of her auditor)—ashamed that she "hadn't had the courage to resist"—not the original temptation but the pressure brought to bear on her "not to go through with it," as she said.

Mrs. H. All she ever said was that she was ashamed—(losing her temper and her sensitivity to the innocence of her listener)—ashamed that she "hadn't had the courage to resist"—not the initial temptation but the pressure she faced "not to go through with it," as she put it.

Jean (wrinkling her brows). You are being so delicate—I'm not sure I understand.

Jean (furrowing her brows). You're being so delicate—I’m not sure I get it.

Mrs. H. (irritably). The only thing you need understand is that she's not a desirable companion for a young girl.

Mrs. H. (irritably). The only thing you need to understand is that she’s not a good influence for a young girl.

(Pause.)
(Pause.)

Jean. When did you see her after—after——

Mrs. H. (with a slight grimace). I met her last winter at the Bishop's. (Hurriedly.) She's a connection of his wife's. They'd got her to help with some of their work. Then she took hold of ours. Your aunt and uncle are quite foolish about her, and I'm debarred from taking any steps, at least till the Shelter is out of hand.

Mrs. H. (with a slight grimace). I met her last winter at the Bishop's. (Hurriedly.) She's related to his wife. They got her to help with some of their work. Then she took over ours. Your aunt and uncle are being quite unreasonable about her, and I can't do anything about it, at least until the Shelter situation is under control.

Jean. I do rather wonder she can bring herself to talk about—the unfortunate women of the world.

Jean. I really do wonder how she can bring herself to talk about—the unfortunate women out there.

Mrs. H. The effrontery of it!

Jean. Or ... the courage! (Puts her hand up to her throat as if the sentence had caught there.)

Jean. Or ... the courage! (She puts her hand to her throat as if the words got stuck there.)

Mrs. H. Even presumes to set me right! Of course I don't mind in the least, poor soul ... but I feel I owe it to your dead mother to tell you about her, especially as you're old enough now to know something about life——

Mrs. H. Even assumes she can correct me! Of course, I don't mind at all, poor thing... but I feel like I owe it to your late mother to share things about her, especially since you’re old enough now to understand a bit about life——

Jean (slowly).—and since a girl needn't be very old to suffer for her ignorance. (Moves a little away.) I felt she was rather wonderful.

Jean (slowly).—and since a girl doesn't have to be very old to suffer because of her lack of knowledge. (Moves a little away.) I felt she was pretty amazing.

Mrs. H. Wonderful!

Jean (pausing). ... To have lived through that when she was ... how old?

Jean (pausing). ... To have experienced that when she was ... how old?

Mrs. H. (rising). Oh, nineteen or thereabouts.

Mrs. H. (standing up). Oh, around nineteen.

Jean. Five years younger than I. To be abandoned and to come out of it like this!

Jean. Five years younger than me. To be left behind and to come out of it like this!

Mrs. H. (laying her hand on the girl's shoulder). It was too bad to have to tell you such a sordid story to-day of all days.

Mrs. H. (laying her hand on the girl's shoulder). It's unfortunate that I have to share such a grim story today of all days.

Jean. It is a very terrible story, but this wasn't a bad time. I feel very sorry to-day for women who aren't happy.

Jean. It's a really awful story, but this wasn't a bad time. I feel really sorry today for women who aren't happy.

(Motor horn heard faintly.)
(Motor horn heard faintly.)

(Jumping up.) That's Geoffrey!

Mrs. H. Mr. Stonor! What makes you think...?

Jean. Yes, yes. I'm sure, I'm sure——

Jean. Yeah, yeah. I’m sure, I’m sure——

(Checks herself as she is flying off. Turns and sees Lord John entering from the garden.)
(She stops herself as she is about to fly off. Turns and sees Lord John coming in from the garden.)

(Motor horn louder.)
(Motor horn louder.)

Lord J. Who do you think is motoring up the drive?

Lord J. Who do you think is driving up the driveway?

Jean (catching hold of him). Oh, dear! how am I ever going to be able to behave like a girl who isn't engaged to the only man in the world worth marrying?

Jean (catching hold of him). Oh, no! How am I supposed to act like a girl who isn't engaged to the only guy in the world worth marrying?

Mrs. H. You were expecting Mr. Stonor all the time!

Mrs. H. You thought Mr. Stonor was coming the whole time!

Jean. He promised he'd come to luncheon if it was humanly possible; but I was afraid to tell you for fear he'd be prevented.

Jean. He said he would come to lunch if it was possible; but I was worried to mention it in case something came up.

Lord J. (laughing as he crosses to the lobby). You felt we couldn't have borne the disappointment.

Lord J. (laughing as he walks to the lobby). You thought we couldn't handle the letdown.

Jean. I felt I couldn't.

(The lobby door opens. Lady John appears radiant, followed by a tall figure in a dust-coat, &c., no goggles. He has straight, firm features, a little blunt; fair skin, high-coloured; fine, straight hair, very fair; grey eyes, set somewhat prominently and heavy when not interested; lips full, but firmly moulded. Geoffrey Stonor is heavier than a man of forty should be, but otherwise in the pink of physical condition. The Footman stands waiting to help him off with his motor coat.)
(The lobby door opens. Lady John walks in looking radiant, followed by a tall figure in a dust coat, &c., without goggles. He has a strong, slightly blunt face; fair skin, rosy cheeks; fine, straight, very light hair; gray eyes that seem a bit prominent and heavy when he’s not engaged; lips that are full but well-defined. Geoffrey Stonor is heavier than a man in his forties should be, but otherwise in great physical shape. The Footman is standing by to help him take off his motor coat.)

Lady John. Here's an agreeable surprise!

(Jean has gone forward only a step, and stands smiling at the approaching figure.)
(Jean has moved forward just a step and is standing there smiling at the figure that's coming toward them.)

Lord J. How do you do? (As he comes between them and briskly shakes hands with Stonor.)

Lord J. How's it going? (As he steps between them and gives Stonor a quick handshake.)

(Farnborough appears at the French window.)
(Farnborough appears at the French window.)

Farn. Yes, by Jove! (Turning to the others clustered round the window.) What gigantic luck!

Farn. Yes, for sure! (Turning to the others gathered by the window.) What amazing luck!

(Those outside crane and glance, and then elaborately turn their backs and pretend to be talking among themselves, but betray as far as manners permit the enormous sensation the arrival has created.)
(People outside look over and then deliberately turn their backs and pretend to chat among themselves, but they reveal as much as etiquette allows the huge excitement that the arrival has caused.)

Stonor. How do you do?

(Shakes hands with Mrs. Heriot, who has rushed up to him with both hers outstretched. He crosses to Jean, who meets him half way; they shake hands, smiling into each other's eyes.)
(Shakes hands with Mrs. Heriot, who has run up to him with both hands outstretched. He walks over to Jean, who meets him halfway; they shake hands, smiling into each other's eyes.)

Jean. Such a long time since we met!

Jean. It’s been a while since we last saw each other!

Lord J. (to Stonor). You're growing very enterprising. I could hardly believe my ears when I heard you'd motored all the way from town to see a supporter on Sunday.

Lord J. (to Stonor). You're becoming quite ambitious. I could barely believe it when I heard you drove all the way from town to visit a supporter on Sunday.

Stonor. I don't know how we covered the ground in the old days. (To Lady John.) It's no use to stand for your borough any more. The American, you know, he "runs" for Congress. By and by we shall all be flying after the thing we want.

Stonor. I don’t know how we managed to get everything done back in the day. (To Lady John.) There's no point in representing your borough anymore. The Americans, you know, they “run” for Congress. Soon, we’ll all be chasing after what we want.

(Smiles at Jean.)
(Smiles at Jean.)

Jean. Sh! (Smiles and then glances over her shoulder and speaks low.) All sorts of irrelevant people here.

Jean. Sh! (Smiles and then glances over her shoulder and speaks quietly.) All kinds of irrelevant people here.

Farn. (unable to resist the temptation, comes forward). How do you do, Mr. Stonor?

Farn. (unable to resist the temptation, comes forward). How's it going, Mr. Stonor?

Stonor. Oh—how d'you do.

Farn. Some of them were arguing in the smoking-room last night whether it didn't hurt a man's chances going about in a motor.

Farn. Some of them were arguing in the smoking room last night about whether driving around in a car hurt a man's chances.

Lord J. Yes, we've been hearing a lot of stories about the unpopularity of motor-cars—among the class that hasn't got 'em, of course. What do you say?

Lord J. Yeah, we've been hearing a lot of stories about how unpopular cars are—among the people who can't afford them, of course. What do you think?

Lady John. I'm sure you gain more votes by being able to reach so many more of your constituency than we used——

Lady John. I’m sure you get more votes because you can connect with so many more people in your constituency than we used to.

Stonor. Well, I don't know—I've sometimes wondered whether the charm of our presence wasn't counterbalanced by the way we tear about smothering our fellow-beings in dust and running down their pigs and chickens, not to speak of their children.

Stonor. Well, I don’t know—I've sometimes thought that the appeal of our presence might be overshadowed by how we rush around, covering everyone in dust and running over their pigs and chickens, not to mention their kids.

Lord J. (anxiously). What on the whole are the prospects?

Lord J. (anxiously). What are the overall prospects?

(Farnborough cranes forward.)
(Farnborough cranes forward.)

Stonor (gravely). We shall have to work harder than we realised.

Stonor (seriously). We’re going to have to work harder than we thought.

Farn. Ah!

(Retires towards group.)
(Retires towards group.)

Jean (in a half-aside as she slips her arm in her uncle's and smiles at Geoffrey). He says he believes I'll be able to make a real difference to his chances. Isn't it angelic of him?

Jean (in a half-whisper as she links her arm through her uncle's and smiles at Geoffrey). He thinks I can really impact his chances. Isn’t that sweet of him?

Stonor (in a jocular tone). Angelic? Macchiavelian. I pin all my hopes on your being able to counteract the pernicious influence of my opponent's glib wife.

Stonor (in a joking tone). Angelic? More like cunning. I’m counting on you to help neutralize the harmful charm of my opponent's smooth-talking wife.

Jean. You want me to have a real share in it all, don't you, Geoffrey?

Jean. You want me to be a real part of it all, don't you, Geoffrey?

Stonor (smiling into her eyes). Of course I do.

(Farnborough drops down again on pretence of talking to Mrs. Heriot.)
(Farnborough leans down again pretending to talk to Mrs. Heriot.)

Lord J. I don't gather you're altogether sanguine. Any complication?

Lord J. I sense you're not feeling very optimistic. Is there any issue?

(Jean and Lady John stand close together (C.), the girl radiant, following Stonor with her eyes and whispering to the sympathetic elder woman.)
(Jean and Lady John stand close together (C.), the girl glowing, watching Stonor with her eyes and chatting with the understanding older woman.)

Stonor. Well (taking Sunday paper out of pocket), there's this agitation about the Woman Question. Oddly enough, it seems likely to affect the issue.

Stonor. Well (taking Sunday paper out of pocket), there’s this buzz about the Women’s Issue. Strangely enough, it seems to be impacting the situation.

Lord J. Why should it? Can't you do what the other four hundred have done?

Lord J. Why not? Can't you do what the other four hundred have done?

Stonor (laughs). Easily. But, you see, the mere fact that four hundred and twenty members have been worried into promising support—and then once in the House have let the matter severely alone——

Stonor (laughs). It was easy. But, you know, the simple fact that four hundred and twenty members were pressured into promising support—and then once in the House, completely ignored the issue—

Lord J. (to Stonor). Let it alone! Bless my soul, I should think so indeed.

Lord J. (to Stonor). Just leave it! Goodness, I definitely think so.

Stonor. Of course. Only it's a device that's somewhat worn.

Stonor. Of course. It's just that it's a device that's a bit outdated.

(Enter Miss Levering, with hat on; gloves and veil in her hand.)
(Enter Miss Levering, wearing a hat; holding gloves and a veil.)

Lord J. Still if they think they're getting a future Cabinet Minister on their side——

Lord J. Still, if they believe they're gaining a future Cabinet Minister on their side——

Stonor. ... it will be sufficiently embarrassing for the Cabinet Minister.

Stonor. ... it will be quite embarrassing for the Cabinet Minister.

(Stonor turns to speak to Jean. Stops dead seeing Miss Levering.)
(Stonor turns to speak to Jean. Stops dead seeing Miss Levering.)

34 Jean (smiling). You know one another?

Miss L. (looking at Stonor with intentness but quite calmly). Everybody in this part of the world knows Mr. Stonor, but he doesn't know me.

Miss L. (looking at Stonor with focused attention but very calmly). Everyone in this area knows Mr. Stonor, but he doesn't know me.

Lord J. Miss Levering.

(They bow.)
(They bow.)

(Enter Greatorex, sidling in with an air of giving Mrs. Freddy a wide berth.)
(Enter Greatorex, moving in while keeping his distance from Mrs. Freddy .)

Jean (to Miss Levering with artless enthusiasm). Oh, have you been hearing him speak?

Jean (to Miss Levering with genuine excitement). Oh, have you heard him talk?

Miss L. Yes, I was visiting some relations near Dutfield. They took me to hear you.

Miss L. Yeah, I was visiting some relatives near Dutfield. They brought me to see you perform.

Stonor. Oh—the night the Suffragettes made their customary row.

Stonor. Oh—the night the Suffragettes made their usual ruckus.

Miss L. The night they asked you——

Stonor (flying at the first chance of distraction, shakes hands with Mrs. Freddy). Well, Mrs. Freddy, what do you think of your friends now?

Stonor (taking advantage of the first distraction, shakes hands with Mrs. Freddy). So, Mrs. Freddy, what do you think of your friends now?

Mrs. F. My friends?

Stonor (offering her the Sunday paper). Yes, the disorderly women.

Stonor (offering her the Sunday paper). Yes, the messy women.

Mrs. F. (with dignity). They are not my friends, but I don't think you must call them——

Mrs. F. (with dignity). They are not my friends, but I don't think you should call them——

Stonor. Why not? (Laughs.) I can forgive them for worrying the late Government. But they are disorderly.

Stonor. Why not? (Laughs.) I can understand why they were concerned about the previous Government. But they are chaotic.

Miss L. (quietly). Isn't the phrase consecrated to a different class?

Miss L. (quietly). Isn't that phrase meant for a different group?

Great. (who has got hold of the Sunday paper). He's perfectly right. How do you do? Disorderly women! That's what they are!

Great. (who has got hold of the Sunday paper). He's absolutely right. How are you? Disorderly women! That's exactly what they are!

Farn. (reading over his shoulder). Ought to be locked up! every one of 'em.

Farn. (reading over his shoulder). They should all be locked up!

35 Great. (assenting angrily). Public nuisances! Going about with dog whips and spitting in policemen's faces.

35 Great. (agreeing angrily). Public nuisances! Wandering around with dog whips and spitting in cops' faces.

Mrs. F. (with a harassed air). I wonder if they did spit?

Mrs. F. (looking frazzled). I wonder if they actually did spit?

Great. (exulting). Of course they did.

Mrs. F. (turns on him). You're no authority on what they do. You run away.

Mrs. F. (turns on him). You’re not the expert on what they do. You just run away.

Great. (trying to turn the laugh). Run away? Yes. (Backing a few paces.) And if ever I muster up courage to come back, it will be to vote for better manners in public life, not worse than we have already.

Great. (trying to turn the laugh). Run away? Yes. (Backing a few paces.) And if I ever find the courage to come back, it will be to support better manners in public life, not to settle for what we already have.

Mrs. F. (meekly). So should I. Don't think that I defend the Suffragette methods.

Mrs. F. (softly). I agree. Don't assume that I support the Suffragette methods.

Jean. (with cheerful curiosity). Still, you are an advocate of the Suffrage, aren't you?

Jean. (with cheerful curiosity). But you are an advocate for Suffrage, right?

Mrs. F. Here? (Shrugs.) I don't beat the air.

Mrs. F. Here? (Shrugs.) I don't waste my breath.

Great. (mocking). Only policemen.

Mrs. F. (plaintively). If you cared to know the attitude of the real workers in the reform, you might have noticed in any paper last week we lost no time in dissociating ourselves from the little group of hysterical—— (Catches her husband's eye, and instantly checks her flow of words.)

Mrs. F. (sadly). If you wanted to understand how the real advocates of reform feel, you might have seen in any newspaper last week that we quickly distanced ourselves from that small group of overly emotional—— (Catches her husband's eye, and instantly holds back her words.)

Mrs. H. They have lowered the whole sex in the eyes of the entire world.

Mrs. H. They have made the whole gender look bad in the eyes of the entire world.

Jean (joining Geoffrey Stonor). I can't quite see what they want—those Suffragettes.

Jean (joining Geoffrey Stonor). I don't really get what those Suffragettes want.

Great. Notoriety.

Farn. What they want? A good thrashin'—that's what I'd give 'em.

Farn. What do they want? A serious beatdown—that's what I'd give them.

Miss L. (murmurs). Spirited fellow!

Lord J. Well, there's one sure thing—they've dished their goose.

Lord J. Well, one thing's for sure—they've cooked their own goose.

(Greatorex chuckles, still reading the account.)
(Greatorex chuckles, still reading the account.)

I believe these silly scenes are a pure joy to you.

I think these silly scenes are a total joy for you.

Great. Final death-blow to the whole silly business!

Great. A final blow to all this ridiculous nonsense!

Jean (mystified, looking from one to the other). The Suffragettes don't seem to know they're dead.

Jean (confused, glancing between them). The Suffragettes don’t seem to realize they’re dead.

Great. They still keep up a sort of death-rattle. But they've done for themselves.

Great. They still have a kind of death rattle. But they've taken care of themselves.

Jean (clasping her hands with fervour). Oh, I hope they'll last till the election's over.

Jean (holding her hands together passionately). Oh, I hope they hold out until the election is over.

Farn. (stares). Why?

Jean. Oh, we want them to get the working man to—(stumbling and a little confused)—to vote for ... the Conservative candidate. Isn't that so?

Jean. Oh, we want them to get the working man to—(stumbling and a little confused)—to vote for ... the Conservative candidate. Isn't that right?

(Looking round for help. General laughter.)
(Looking around for help. General laughter.)

Lord J. Fancy, Jean——!

Great. The working man's a good deal of an ass, but even he won't listen to——

Great. The working guy can be quite the fool, but even he won't listen to——

Jean (again appealing to the silent Stonor). But he does listen like anything! I asked why there were so few at the Long Mitcham meeting, and I was told, "Oh, they've all gone to hear Miss——"

Jean (once more addressing the silent Stonor). But he is listening intently! I asked why so few people attended the Long Mitcham meeting, and I was told, "Oh, they've all gone to hear Miss——"

Stonor. Just for a lark, that was.

Stonor. That was just for fun.

Lord J. It has no real effect on the vote.

Lord J. It doesn't really impact the vote.

Great. Not the smallest.

Jean (wide-eyed, to Stonor). Why, I thought you said——

Jean (wide-eyed, to Stonor). Wait, I thought you said——

Stonor (hastily, rubbing his hand over the lower part of his face and speaking quickly). I've a notion a little soap and water wouldn't do me any harm.

Stonor (quickly, rubbing his hand over his chin and speaking fast). I think a little soap and water wouldn't hurt me.

Lord J. I'll take you up. You know Freddy Tunbridge.

Lord J. I'm on board. You know Freddy Tunbridge.

(Stonor pauses to shake hands. Exeunt all three.)
(Stonor pauses to shake hands. All three exit.)

Jean (perplexed, as Stonor turns away, says to Greatorex). Well, if women are of no importance in politics, it isn't for the reason you gave. There is now and then a week-ender among them.

Jean (confused, as Stonor turns away, says to Greatorex). Well, if women don’t matter in politics, it’s not for the reason you mentioned. Every now and then, there’s one who stands out.

Great. (shuffles about uneasily). Hm—Hm. (Finds himself near Mrs. Freddy.) Lord! The perils that beset the feet of man!

Great. (shuffles around nervously). Hm—Hm. (Ends up next to Mrs. Freddy.) Wow! The dangers that come with being human!

(With an air of comic caution, moves away, L.)
(With a humorous sense of caution, moves away, L.)

Jean (to Farnborough, aside, laughing). Why does he behave like that?

Jean (to Farnborough, aside, laughing). Why does he act like that?

Farn. His moral sense is shocked.

Jean. Why, I saw him and Mrs. Freddy together at the French Play the other night—as thick as thieves.

Jean. I saw him and Mrs. Freddy together at the French Play the other night—getting cozy like best friends.

Miss L. Ah, that was before he knew her revolting views.

Miss L. Oh, that was before he found out about her disgusting opinions.

Jean. What revolting views?

Great. Sh! Sunday.

(As Greatorex sidles cautiously further away.)
(As Greatorex sidles cautiously further away.)

Jean (laughing in spite of herself). I can't believe women are so helpless when I see men so afraid of them.

Jean (laughing despite herself). I can't believe women are so helpless when I see men so scared of them.

Great. The great mistake was in teaching them to read and write.

Great. The big mistake was teaching them to read and write.

Jean (over Miss Levering's shoulder, whispers). Say something.

Miss L. (to Greatorex, smiling). Oh no, that wasn't the worst mistake.

Miss L. (to Greatorex, smiling). Oh no, that wasn’t the biggest mistake.

Great. Yes, it was.

Miss L. No. Believe me. The mistake was in letting women learn to talk.

Miss L. No. Trust me. The mistake was allowing women to learn how to speak.

Great. Ah! (Wheels about with sudden rapture.) I see now what's to be the next great reform.

Awesome. Oh! (Turns around with sudden excitement.) I get it now—what the next major change is going to be.

Miss L. (holding up the little volume). When women are all dumb, no more discussions of the "Paradiso."

Miss L. (holding up the little book). When women are all silent, there will be no more conversations about the "Paradiso."

Great. (with a gesture of mock rapture). The thing itself! (Aside.) That's a great deal better than talking about it, as I'm sure you know.

Awesome. (with a gesture of fake excitement). The actual thing! (Aside.) That's way better than just discussing it, as I'm sure you get.

Miss L. Why do you think I know?

Miss L. Why do you think I have any idea?

Great. Only the plain women are in any doubt.

Great. Only the ordinary-looking women are uncertain.

(Jean joins Miss Levering.)
(Jean joins Miss Levering.)

Great. Wait for me, Farnborough. I cannot go about unprotected.

Great. Wait for me, Farnborough. I can't go out without protection.

[Exeunt Farnborough and Greatorex.
[Exeunt Farnborough and Greatorex.

Mrs. F. It's true what that old cynic says. The scene in the House has put back the reform a generation.

Mrs. F. It's true what that old cynic says. The situation in the House has delayed reform by a generation.

Jean. I wish 'd been there.

Mrs. F. I was.

Jean. Oh, was it like the papers said?

Jean. Oh, was it like the news said?

Mrs. F. Worse. I've never been so moved in public. No tragedy, no great opera ever gripped an audience as the situation in the House did that night. There we all sat breathless—with everything more favourable to us than it had been within the memory of women. Another five minutes and the Resolution would have passed. Then ... all in a moment——

Mrs. F. Worse. I've never felt so emotional in public. No tragedy or grand opera ever captivated an audience like what happened in the House that night. We all sat there, breathless—everything seemed more in our favor than it had been in a long time. Just five more minutes and the Resolution would have passed. Then ... all of a sudden——

Lady John (to Mrs. Heriot). Listen—they're talking about the female hooligans.

Lady John (to Mrs. Heriot). Listen—they're discussing the girl troublemakers.

Mrs. H. No, thank you! (Sits apart with the "Church Times.")

Mrs. H. No, thanks! (Sits down separately with the "Church Times.")

Mrs. F. (excitedly). All in a moment a horrible dingy little flag was poked through the grille of the Woman's Gallery—cries—insults—scuffling—the police—the ignominious turning out of the women—us as well as the—— Oh, I can't think of it without——

Mrs. F. (excitedly). Suddenly, a horrible, dirty little flag was shoved through the grille of the Woman's Gallery—there were shouts—insults—scuffling—the police—shamefully kicking the women out—us too, along with the—— Oh, I can't think about it without——

(Jumps up and walks to and fro.)
(Gets up and paces back and forth.)

(Pauses.) Then the next morning! The people gloating. Our friends antagonised—people who were wavering—nearly won over—all thrown back—heart breaking! Even my husband! Freddy's been an angel about letting me take my share when I felt I must—but of course I've always known he doesn't really like it. It makes him shy. I'm sure it gives him a horrid twist inside when he sees my name among the speakers on the placards. But he's always been an angel about it before this. After the disgraceful scene he said, "It just shows how unfit women are for any sort of coherent thinking or concerted action."

(Pauses.) Then the next morning! The people were gloating. Our friends were upset—people who were unsure—almost convinced—suddenly pushed back—it was heartbreaking! Even my husband! Freddy has been great about letting me take my share when I felt I needed to—but I’ve always known he doesn’t really like it. It makes him uncomfortable. I’m sure it twists his stomach when he sees my name among the speakers on the signs. But he’s always been supportive until now. After that disgraceful scene, he said, "It just shows how unfit women are for any kind of clear thinking or united action."

Jean. To think that it should be women who've given the Cause the worst blow it ever had!

Jean. It's hard to believe that it's women who have dealt the Cause its biggest blow ever!

Mrs. F. The work of forty years destroyed in five minutes!

Mrs. F. Forty years of hard work gone in just five minutes!

Jean. They must have felt pretty sick when they woke up the next morning—the Suffragettes.

Jean. They must have felt pretty terrible when they woke up the next morning—the Suffragettes.

Mrs. F. I don't waste any sympathy on them. I'm thinking of the penalty all women have to pay because a handful of hysterical——

Mrs. F. I don't waste any sympathy on them. I'm thinking about the price all women have to pay because of a few hysterical——

Jean. Still I think I'm sorry for them. It must be dreadful to find you've done such a lot of harm to the thing you care most about in the world.

Jean. I still feel sorry for them. It must be terrible to realize you've caused so much damage to the thing you care about most in the world.

Miss L. Do you picture the Suffragettes sitting in sackcloth?

Miss L. Do you imagine the Suffragettes sitting in rough fabric?

Mrs. F. Well, they can't help realising now what they've done.

Mrs. F. Well, they can't avoid realizing now what they've done.

Miss L. (quietly). Isn't it just possible they realise they've waked up interest in the Woman Question so that it's advertised in every paper and discussed in every house from Land's End to John o'Groats? Don't you think they know there's been more said and written about it in these ten days since the scene, than in the ten years before it?

Miss L. (quietly). Don't you think it's possible they realize they've sparked interest in the Woman Question, which is now covered in every newspaper and talked about in homes from Land's End to John o'Groats? Don’t you believe they know that more has been discussed and written about it in the ten days since that event than in the ten years before it?

Mrs. F. You aren't saying you think it was a good way to get what they wanted?

Mrs. F. Are you saying you think that was a good way to get what they wanted?

Miss L. (shrugs). I'm only pointing out that it seems not such a bad way to get it known they do want something—and (smiling) "want it bad."

Miss L. (shrugs). I'm just saying it doesn’t seem like a bad way to let people know they do want something—and (smiling) "really want it."

Jean (getting up). Didn't Mr. Greatorex say women had been politely petitioning Parliament for forty years?

Jean (getting up). Didn't Mr. Greatorex say women had been respectfully asking Parliament for forty years?

Miss L. And men have only laughed.

Miss L. And men have just laughed.

Jean. But they'd come round. (She looks from one to the other.) Mrs. Tunbridge says, before that horrid scene, everything was favourable at last.

Jean. But they'd come around. (She looks from one to the other.) Mrs. Tunbridge says that before that awful scene, everything was finally looking good.

Miss L. At last? Hadn't it been just as "favourable" before?

Miss L. Finally? Wasn't it just as "favorable" before?

Mrs. F. No. We'd never had so many members pledged to our side.

Mrs. F. No. We’ve never had so many members committed to our side.

Miss L. I thought I'd heard somebody say the Bill had got as far as that, time and time again.

Miss L. I thought I'd heard someone say the Bill had gotten as far as that, over and over again.

Jean. Oh no. Surely not——

Mrs. F. (reluctantly). Y-yes. This was only a Resolution. The Bill passed a second reading thirty-seven years ago.

Mrs. F. (reluctantly). Y-yes. This was just a Resolution. The Bill passed its second reading thirty-seven years ago.

Jean (with wide eyes). And what difference did it make?

Jean (with wide eyes). And what difference does it make?

Miss L. The men laughed rather louder.

Miss L. The guys laughed a bit louder.

Mrs. F. Oh, it's got as far as a second reading several times—but we never had so many friends in the House before——

Mrs. F. Oh, it’s gotten to a second reading several times—but we’ve never had this many friends in the House before——

Miss L. (with a faint smile). "Friends!"

Miss L. (with a slight smile). "Hey, friends!"

Jean. Why do you say it like that?

Jean. Why do you say it that way?

Miss L. Perhaps because I was thinking of a funny story—he said it was funny—a Liberal Whip told me the other day. A Radical Member went out of the House after his speech in favour of the Woman's Bill, and as he came back half an hour later, he heard some Members talking in the Lobby about the astonishing number who were going to vote for the measure. And the Friend of Woman dropped his jaw and clutched the man next him: "My God!" he said, "you don't mean to say they're going to give it to them!"

Miss L. Maybe it was because I was thinking about a funny story—he claimed it was funny—a Liberal Whip told me the other day. A Radical Member left the House after his speech in support of the Woman's Bill, and when he returned half an hour later, he overheard some Members in the Lobby discussing the surprising number who were going to vote for the measure. The Friend of Woman was taken aback and grabbed the guy next to him: "My God!" he exclaimed, "you don’t mean to say they're actually going to give it to them!"

Jean. Oh!

Mrs. F. You don't think all men in Parliament are like that!

Mrs. F. You don't believe all men in Parliament are like that!

Miss L. I don't think all men are burglars, but I lock my doors.

Miss L. I don’t believe all men are thieves, but I still lock my doors.

Jean (below her breath). You think that night of the scene—you think the men didn't mean to play fair?

Jean (under her breath). You think back to that night of the scene—you think the men didn't intend to play fair?

Miss L. (her coolness in contrast to the excitement of the others). Didn't the women sit quiet till ten minutes to closing time?

Miss L. (her calmness in contrast to the excitement of the others). Didn't the women stay quiet until ten minutes before closing time?

Jean. Ten minutes to settle a question like that!

Jean. Ten minutes to figure out a question like that!

Miss L. (quietly to Mrs. Freddy). Couldn't you see the men were at their old game?

Miss L. (quietly to Mrs. Freddy). Couldn't you see the guys were up to their usual tricks?

Lady John (coming forward). You think they were just putting off the issue till it was too late?

Lady John (coming forward). Do you think they were just delaying the issue until it was too late?

Miss L. (in a detached tone). I wasn't there, but I haven't heard anybody deny that the women waited till ten minutes to eleven. Then they discovered the42 policeman who'd been sent up at the psychological moment to the back of the gallery. Then, I'm told, when the women saw they were betrayed once more, they utilised the few minutes left, to impress on the country at large the fact of their demands—did it in the only way left them.

Miss L. (in a detached tone). I wasn't there, but I haven't heard anyone deny that the women waited until ten minutes to eleven. Then they noticed the 42 policeman who had been sent up at just the right moment to the back of the gallery. Then, I’m told, when the women saw they had been betrayed once again, they used the few minutes left to make sure the country was aware of their demands—did it in the only way they had left.

(Sits leaning forward reflectively smiling, chin in hand.)
(Sits leaning forward, smiling thoughtfully with chin in hand.)

It does rather look to the outsider as if the well-behaved women had worked for forty years and made less impression on the world then those fiery young women made in five minutes.

It really seems to an outsider that the well-behaved women worked for forty years and made less of an impact on the world than those fiery young women did in just five minutes.

Mrs. F. Oh, come, be fair!

Miss L. Well, you must admit that, next day, every newspaper reader in Europe and America knew there were women in England in such dead earnest about the Suffrage that the men had stopped laughing at last, and turned them out of the House. Men even advertised how little they appreciated the fun by sending the women to gaol in pretty sober earnest. And all the world was talking about it.

Miss L. Well, you have to admit that the next day, every newspaper reader in Europe and America knew that there were women in England who were so serious about Suffrage that the men finally stopped laughing and threw them out of the House. Men even showed how little they appreciated the joke by sending the women to jail in a very serious way. And everyone was talking about it.

(Mrs. Heriot lays down the "Church Times" and joins the others.)
(Mrs. Heriot puts down the "Church Times" and joins the others.)

Lady John. I have noticed, whenever the men aren't there, the women sit and discuss that scene.

Lady John. I've noticed that whenever the men aren't around, the women sit and talk about that scene.

Jean (cheerfully). I shan't have to wait till the men are gone. (Leans over Lady John's shoulder and says half aside) He's in sympathy.

Jean (cheerfully). I won't have to wait until the men leave. (Leans over Lady John's shoulder and says softly) He's on our side.

Lady John. How do you know?

Jean. He told the interrupting women so.

Jean. He told the women who interrupted him that.

(Mrs. Freddy looks mystified. The others smile.)
(Mrs. Freddy looks confused. The others smile.)

Lady John. Oh!

(Mr. Freddy and Lord John appear by the door they went out of. They stop to talk.)
(Mr. Freddy and Lord John walk in through the door they just exited. They pause to chat.)

Mrs. F. Here's Freddy! (Lower, hastily to Miss Levering.) You're judging from the outside. Those of us who have been working for years ... we all realise it was a perfectly lunatic proceeding. Why, think! The only chance of our getting what we want is by winning over the men.

Mrs. F. Here’s Freddy! (Lower, quickly to Miss Levering.) You’re judging from the outside. Those of us who have been working for years... we all know it was a perfectly crazy move. Can you believe it? The only way we can get what we want is by winning over the men.

(Her watchful eye, leaving her husband for a moment, catches Miss Levering's little involuntary gesture.)
(Her watchful eye, momentarily leaving her husband, catches Miss Levering's small involuntary gesture.)

What's the matter?

Miss L. "Winning over the men" has been the woman's way for centuries. Do you think the result should make us proud of our policy? Yes? Then go and walk in Piccadilly at midnight.

Miss L. "Winning over the men" has been the way for women for centuries. Do you think the outcome should make us proud of our approach? Yes? Then go and stroll through Piccadilly at midnight.

(The older women glance at Jean.)
(The older women glance at Jean.)

No, I forgot——

Mrs. H. (with majesty). Yes, it's not the first time you've forgotten.

Mrs. H. (with authority). Yes, this isn't the first time you've forgotten.

Miss L. I forgot the magistrate's ruling. He said no decent woman had any business to be in London's main thoroughfare at night unless she has a man with her. I heard that in Nine Elms, too. "You're obliged to take up with a chap!" was what the woman said.

Miss L. I forgot what the magistrate said. He said no respectable woman should be out in London's main streets at night unless she has a man with her. I heard that in Nine Elms, too. "You're expected to be with a guy!" was what the woman said.

Mrs. H. (rising). Jean! Come!

(She takes Jean by her arm and draws her to the window, where she signals Greatorex and Farnborough. Mrs. Freddy joins her husband and Lord John.)
(She takes Jean by her arm and pulls her to the window, where she waves to Greatorex and Farnborough. Mrs. Freddy joins her husband and Lord John.)

Lady John (kindly, aside to Miss Levering). My dear, I think Lydia Heriot's right. We oughtn't to do anything or say anything to encourage this ferment of feminism, and I'll tell you why: it's likely to bring a very terrible thing in its train.

Lady John (kindly, aside to Miss Levering). My dear, I believe Lydia Heriot is right. We shouldn't do or say anything to support this wave of feminism, and I'll explain why: it could lead to a very horrible outcome.

Miss L. What terrible thing?

Lady John. Sex antagonism.

Miss L. (rising). It's here.

Lady John (very gravely). Don't say that.

Lady John (very seriously). Don't say that.

(Jean has quietly disengaged herself from Mrs. Heriot, and the group at the window returns and stands behind Lady John, looking up into Miss Leverings's face.)
(Jean has quietly pulled away from Mrs. Heriot, and the group at the window returns and stands behind Lady John, looking up at Miss Leverings's face.)

Miss L. (to Lady John). You're so conscious it's here, you're afraid to have it mentioned.

Miss L. (to Lady John). You're so aware it's here that you're scared to bring it up.

Lady John (turning and seeing Jean. Rising hastily). If it's here, it is the fault of those women agitators.

Lady John (turning and seeing Jean. Getting up quickly). If it's here, it's the fault of those women activists.

Miss L. (gently). No woman begins that way. (Leans forward with clasped hands looking into vacancy.) Every woman's in a state of natural subjection (smiles at Jean)—no, I'd rather say allegiance to her idea of romance and her hope of motherhood. They're embodied for her in man. They're the strongest things in life—till man kills them.

Miss L. (gently). No woman starts that way. (Leans forward with clasped hands looking into vacancy.) Every woman is naturally in a state of submission (smiles at Jean)—no, I’d rather say loyalty to her idea of romance and her hope of becoming a mother. They’re represented for her in man. They’re the strongest things in life—until man destroys them.

(Rousing herself and looking into Lady John's face.)
(Rousing herself and looking into Lady John's face.)

Let's be fair. Each woman knows why that allegiance died.

Let's be honest. Every woman understands why that loyalty ended.

(Lady John turns hastily, sees Lord John coming down with Mr. Freddy and meets them at the foot of the stairs. Miss Levering45 has turned to the table looking for her gloves, &c., among the papers; unconsciously drops the handkerchief she had in her little book.)
(Lady John quickly turns and sees Lord John coming down with Mr. Freddy and meets them at the bottom of the stairs. Miss Levering45 has turned to the table looking for her gloves and other things among the papers; she unintentionally drops the handkerchief she had with her little book.)

Jean (in a low voice to Miss Levering). All this talk against the wicked Suffragettes—it makes me want to go and hear what they've got to say for themselves.

Jean (in a low voice to Miss Levering). All this chatter about those evil Suffragettes—it makes me want to go and see what they have to say for themselves.

Miss L. (smiling with a non-committal air as she finds the veil she's been searching for). Well, they're holding a meeting in Trafalgar Square at three o'clock.

Miss L. (smiling casually as she finds the veil she's been looking for). Well, there's a meeting in Trafalgar Square at three o'clock.

Jean. This afternoon? But that's no use to people out of town—— Unless I could invent some excuse....

Jean. This afternoon? But that's not helpful for people from out of town—— Unless I could come up with some excuse....

Lord J. (benevolently). Still talking over the Shelter plans?

Lord J. (kindly). Still discussing the Shelter plans?

Miss L. No. We left the Shelter some time ago.

Miss L. No. We left the Shelter a while back.

Lord J. (to Jean). Then what's all the chatterment about?

Lord J. (to Jean). So what’s all the fuss about?

(Jean, a little confused, looks at Miss Levering.)
(Jean, slightly confused, glances at Miss Levering.)

Miss L. The latest thing in veils. (Ties hers round her hat.)

Miss L. The newest trend in veils. (Wraps hers around her hat.)

Great. The invincible frivolity of woman!

Lord J. (genially). Don't scold them. It's a very proper topic.

Lord J. (friendly). Don’t criticize them. It’s a completely valid topic.

Miss L. (whimsically). Oh, I was afraid you'd despise us for it.

Miss L. (playfully). Oh, I was worried you'd hate us for it.

Both Men (with condescension). Not at all—not at all.

Both Men (with a tone of superiority). Not at all—not at all.

Jean (to Miss Levering as Footman appears). Oh, they're coming for you. Don't forget your book.

Jean (to Miss Levering as Footman appears). Oh, they’re here for you. Don’t forget your book.

(Footman holds out a salver with a telegram on it for Jean.)
(Footman presents a tray with a telegram on it to Jean.)

Why, it's for me!

Miss L. But it's time I was——

(Crosses to table.)
(Crosses to table.)

Jean (opening the telegram). May I? (Reads, and glances over the paper at Miss Levering.) I've got your book. (Crosses to Miss Levering, and, looking at the back of the volume) Dante! Whereabouts are you? (Opening at the marker.) Oh, the "Inferno."

Jean (opening the telegram). Can I? (Reads, and looks over the paper at Miss Levering.) I've got your book. (Walks over to Miss Levering, and, checking the back of the volume) Dante! Where are you? (Opening to the bookmark.) Oh, the "Inferno."

Miss L. No; I'm in a worse place.

Miss L. No; I'm in a worse situation.

Jean. I didn't know there was a worse.

Jean. I didn't realize things could get any worse.

Miss L. Yes; it's worse with the Vigliacchi.

Miss L. Yes; it's even worse with the Cowards.

Jean. I forget. Were they Guelf or Ghibelline?

Jean. I can't remember. Were they Guelf or Ghibelline?

Miss L. (smiling). They weren't either, and that was why Dante couldn't stand them. (More gravely.) He said there was no place in Heaven nor in Purgatory—not even a corner in Hell—for the souls who had stood aloof from strife. (Looking steadily into the girl's eyes.) He called them "wretches who never lived," Dante did, because they'd never felt the pangs of partizanship. And so they wander homeless on the skirts of limbo among the abortions and off-scourings of Creation.

Miss L. (smiling). They weren't either, and that’s why Dante couldn’t stand them. (More gravely.) He said there was no place in Heaven or Purgatory—not even a spot in Hell—for the souls who stayed out of conflict. (Looking steadily into the girl's eyes.) He called them "wretches who never lived," Dante did, because they’d never experienced the struggles of taking sides. And so they wander aimlessly on the edges of limbo among the failures and rejects of Creation.

Jean (a long breath after a long look. When Miss Levering has turned away to make her leisurely adieux Jean's eyes fall on the open telegram). Aunt Ellen, I've got to go to London.

Jean (takes a deep breath after a long look. When Miss Levering turns away to say her long goodbyes Jean's gaze lands on the open telegram). Aunt Ellen, I need to go to London.

(Stonor, re-entering, hears this, but pretends to talk to Mr. Freddy, &c.)
(Stonor, coming back in, hears this, but acts like he's talking to Mr. Freddy, &c.)

Lady John. My dear child!

Mrs. H. Nonsense! Is your grandfather worse?

Mrs. H. Nonsense! Is your grandfather doing worse?

Jean (folding the telegram). No-o. I don't think so. But it's necessary I should go, all the same.

Jean (folding the telegram). No. I don't think so. But I still need to go.

Mrs. H. Go away when Mr. Stonor——

Go away when Mr. Stonor

Jean. He said he'd have to leave directly after luncheon.

Jean. He said he would need to leave right after lunch.

Lady John. I'll just see Miss Levering off, and then I'll come back and talk about it.

Lady John. I'll just see Miss Levering out, and then I'll come back and discuss it.

Lord J. (to Miss Levering). Why are you saying goodbye as if you were never coming back?

Lord J. (to Miss Levering). Why are you saying goodbye like you're never coming back?

Miss L. (smiling). One never knows. Maybe I shan't come back. (To Stonor.) Goodbye.

Miss L. (smiling). You never know. Maybe I won't come back. (To Stonor.) Bye.

(Stonor bows ceremoniously. The others go up laughing. Stonor comes down.)
(Stonor bows formally. The others head up laughing. Stonor comes down.)

Jean (impulsively). There mayn't be another train! Miss Levering——

Jean (impulsively). There might not be another train! Miss Levering——

Stonor (standing in front of her). What if there isn't? I'll take you back in the motor.

Stonor (standing in front of her). What if there isn't? I’ll drive you back in the car.

Jean (rapturously). Will you? (Inadvertently drops the telegram.) I must be there by three!

Jean (excitedly). Will you? (Accidentally drops the telegram.) I have to be there by three!

Stonor (picks up the telegram and a handkerchief lying near, glances at the message). Why, it's only an invitation to dine—Wednesday!

Stonor (picks up the telegram and a handkerchief lying nearby, glances at the message). Oh, it’s just an invitation to dinner—Wednesday!

Jean. Sh! (Takes the telegram and puts it in her pocket.)

Stonor. Oh, I see! (Lower, smiling.) It's rather dear of you to arrange our going off like that. You are a clever little girl!

Stonor. Oh, I get it! (Lower, smiling.) It's really sweet of you to set up our departure like that. You are a smart little girl!

Jean. It's not that I was arranging. I want to hear those women in Trafalgar Square—the Suffragettes.

Jean. It's not that I was organizing anything. I want to listen to those women in Trafalgar Square—the Suffragettes.

Stonor (incredulous, but smiling). How perfectly absurd! (Looking after Lady John.) Besides, I expect she wouldn't like my carrying you off like that.

Stonor (incredulous, but smiling). How completely ridiculous! (Looking after Lady John.) Plus, I doubt she'd appreciate me taking you away like that.

Jean. Then she'll have to make an excuse and come too.

Jean. Then she'll need to come up with an excuse and join us too.

Stonor. Ah, it wouldn't be quite the same——

Stonor. Ah, it wouldn't be exactly the same——

Jean (rapidly thinking it out). We could get back here in time for dinner.

Jean (thinking quickly). We can make it back here in time for dinner.

(Geoffrey Stonor glances down at the handkerchief still in his hand, and turns it half mechanically from corner to corner.)
(Geoffrey Stonor looks down at the handkerchief still in his hand and turns it almost reflexively from corner to corner.)

Jean (absent-mindedly). Mine?

Stonor (hastily, without reflection). No. (Hands it to Miss Levering as she passes.) Yours.

Stonor (quickly, without thinking). No. (Hands it to Miss Levering as she walks by.) Yours.

(Miss Levering, on her way to the lobby with Lord John seems not to notice.)
(Miss Levering, on her way to the lobby with Lord John doesn't seem to notice.)

Jean (takes the handkerchief to give to her, glancing down at the embroidered corner; stops). But that's not an L! It's Vi——!

(Geoffrey Stonor suddenly turns his back and takes up the newspaper.)
(Geoffrey Stonor suddenly turns away and grabs the newspaper.)

Lady John (from the lobby). Come, Vida, since you will go.

Lady John (from the lobby). Come on, Vida, since you're leaving.

Miss L. Yes; I'm coming.

[Exit Miss Levering.
[Exit Miss Levering.

Jean. I didn't know her name was Vida; how did you?

Jean. I didn’t know her name was Vida; how did you find out?

(Stonor stares silently over the top of his paper.)
(Stonor looks quietly over the top of his paper.)

Curtain.

ACT II

49 Scene: The north side of the Nelson Column in Trafalgar Square. The Curtain rises on an uproar. The crowd, which momentarily increases, is composed chiefly of weedy youths and wastrel old men. There are a few decent artisans; three or four "beery" out-o'-works; three or four young women of the domestic servant or Strand restaurant cashier class; one aged woman in rusty black peering with faded, wondering eyes, consulting the faces of the men and laughing nervously and apologetically from time to time; one or two quiet-looking, business-like women, thirty to forty; two middle-class men, who stare and whisper and smile. A quiet old man with a lot of unsold Sunday papers under one arm stands in an attitude of rapt attention, with the free hand round his deaf ear. A brisk-looking woman of forty-five or so, wearing pince-nez, goes round with a pile of propagandist literature on her arm. Many of the men smoking cigarettes—the old ones pipes. On the outskirts of this crowd, of several hundred, a couple of smart men in tall shining hats hover a few moments, single eyeglass up, and then saunter off. Against the middle of the Column, where it rises above the stone platform, is a great red banner, one supporting pole upheld by a grimy50 sandwichman, the other by a small, dirty boy of eight. If practicable only the lower portion of the banner need be seen, bearing the final words of the legend—
49 Scene: The north side of the Nelson Column in Trafalgar Square. The curtain rises on a commotion. The crowd, which grows momentarily, mainly consists of scruffy young guys and idle old men. There are a few decent workers; three or four "tipsy" out-of-work folks; three or four young women, likely domestic servants or cashiers from Strand restaurants; one elderly woman in tattered black peering with faded, curious eyes, checking the faces of the men and laughing nervously and apologetically from time to time; one or two business-like women, aged thirty to forty; two middle-class men who stare, whisper, and smile. A quiet old man with a bunch of unsold Sunday papers under one arm stands attentively, holding his free hand to his deaf ear. A brisk-looking woman around forty-five, wearing pince-nez glasses, walks around with a stack of pamphlets on her arm. Many of the men are smoking cigarettes; the older ones have pipes. On the edges of this crowd, which numbers in the hundreds, a couple of sharp-looking guys in tall, shiny hats linger for a moment, adjusting their monocles, before strolling off. At the center of the Column, which rises above the stone platform, is a large red banner, one pole held up by a grimy50 sandwich board man, the other by a small, dirty eight-year-old boy. Ideally, only the lower part of the banner should be visible, displaying the final words of the message.

"VOTES FOR WOMEN!"
"VOTES FOR WOMEN!"

in immense white letters. It will be well to get, to the full, the effect of the height above the crowd of the straggling group of speakers on the pedestal platform. These are, as the Curtain rises, a working-class woman who is waving her arms and talking very earnestly, her voice for the moment blurred in the uproar. She is dressed in brown serge and looks pinched and sallow. At her side is the Chairman urging that she be given a fair hearing. Allen Trent is a tall, slim, brown-haired man of twenty-eight, with a slight stoop, an agreeable aspect, well-bred voice, and the gleaming brown eye of the visionary. Behind these two, looking on or talking among themselves, are several other carelessly dressed women; one, better turned out than the rest, is quite young, very slight and gracefully built, with round, very pink cheeks, full, scarlet lips, naturally waving brown hair, and an air of childish gravity. She looks at the unruly mob with imperturbable calm. The Chairman's voice is drowned.
in huge white letters. It's important to fully grasp the effect of the height above the crowd of the disorganized group of speakers on the pedestal platform. As the Curtain rises, there’s a working-class woman waving her arms and speaking very passionately, her voice temporarily lost in the noise. She’s dressed in brown fabric and looks thin and unhealthy. Beside her is the Chairman urging that she be given a fair chance to speak. Allen Trent is a tall, slim, brown-haired man in his late twenties, slightly hunched, with a pleasant demeanor, an educated voice, and the shining brown eyes of a dreamer. Behind them, watching or chatting among themselves, are several other casually dressed women; one, better dressed than the others, is quite young, very petite, and elegantly built, with round, rosy cheeks, full, bright lips, naturally wavy brown hair, and a serious expression for her age. She looks at the chaotic crowd with unshakeable calm. The Chairman's voice is drowned out.

Working Woman (with lean, brown finger out and voice raised shriller now above the tumult). I've got boys o' me own and we laugh at all sorts o' things, but I should be ashymed and so would they if ever they was to be'yve as you're doin' to-d'y.

Working Woman (with a lean, brown finger pointed out and voice raised even higher above the noise). I've got my own boys, and we laugh at all kinds of things, but I would be ashamed, and so would they, if they ever behaved like you're doing today.

(In laughter the noise dies.)
(In laughter the noise dies.)

People 'ave been sayin' this is a middle-class woman's movement. It's a libel. I'm a workin' woman myself, the wife of a working man. (Voice: "Pore devil!") I'm a Poor Law Guardian and a——

People have been saying this is a movement for middle-class women. That’s a lie. I’m a working woman myself, the wife of a working man. (Voice: "Poor thing!") I'm a Poor Law Guardian and a——

Noisy Young Man. Think of that, now—gracious me!

Noisy Young Man. Just think about that—wow!

(Laughter and interruption.)
(Laughter and interruption.)

Old Newsvendor (to the noisy young man near him). Oh, shut up, cawn't yer?

Old Newsvendor (to the noisy young man near him). Oh, shut up, can't you?

Noisy Young Man. Not fur you!

Voice. Go'ome and darn yer old man's stockens!

Voice. Go home and mend your dad's socks!

Voice. Just clean yer own doorstep!

Working Woman. It's a pore sort of 'ousekeeper that leaves 'er doorstep till Sunday afternoon. Maybe that's when you would do your doorstep. I do mine in the mornin' before you men are awake.

Working Woman. It's a poor kind of housekeeper that leaves her doorstep until Sunday afternoon. Maybe that's when you would do your doorstep. I do mine in the morning before you men are awake.

Old Newsvendor. It's true, wot she says!—every word.

Old Newsvendor. It's true, what she says!—every word.

Working Woman. You say we women 'ave got no business servin' on boards and thinkin' about politics. Wot's politics?

Working Woman. You say we women have no place serving on boards and thinking about politics. What's politics?

(A derisive roar.)
(A derisive roar.)

It's just 'ousekeepin' on a big scyle. 'Oo among you workin' men 'as the most comfortable 'omes? Those of you that gives yer wives yer wyges.

It's just housekeeping on a big scale. Who among you working men has the most comfortable homes? Those of you who give your wives your wages.

(Loud laughter and jeers.)
(Loud laughter and jeers.)

Voices.	{	That's it!
		Wantin' our money.
		Lord 'Igh 'Ousekeeper of England.

Working Woman. If it wus only to use fur our comfort, d'ye think many o' you workin' men would be found turnin' over their wyges to their52 wives? No! Wot's the reason thousands do—and the best and the soberest? Because the workin' man knows that wot's a pound to 'im is twenty shillin's to 'is wife. And she'll myke every penny in every one o' them shillin's tell. She gets more fur 'im out of 'is wyges than wot 'e can! Some o' you know wot the 'omes is like w'ere the men don't let the women manage. Well, the Poor Laws and the 'ole Government is just in the syme muddle because the men 'ave tried to do the national 'ousekeepin' without the women.

Working Woman. If it were just for our comfort, do you think many of you working men would give your wages to your 52 wives? No! What's the reason thousands do—and the best and most responsible among them? Because the working man knows that a pound to him is twenty shillings to his wife. And she'll make every penny of those shillings count. She gets more for him out of his wages than he can! Some of you know what homes are like where the men don’t let the women manage things. Well, the Poor Laws and the whole government are just as mixed up because the men have tried to handle national housekeeping without the women.

(Roars.)
(Roars.)

But, like I told you before, it's a libel to say it's only the well-off women wot's wantin' the vote. Wot about the 96,000 textile workers? Wot about the Yorkshire tailoresses? I can tell you wot plenty o' the poor women think about it. I'm one of them, and I can tell you we see there's reforms needed. We ought to 'ave the vote (jeers), and we know 'ow to appreciate the other women 'oo go to prison fur tryin' to get it fur us!

But, like I told you before, it's a lie to say it's only wealthy women who want the vote. What about the 96,000 textile workers? What about the Yorkshire seamstresses? I can tell you what a lot of poor women think about it. I'm one of them, and I can tell you we see that reforms are needed. We should have the vote (jeers), and we know how to appreciate the other women who go to prison for trying to get it for us!

(With a little final bob of emphasis and a glance over shoulder at the old woman and the young one behind her, she seems about to retire, but pauses as the murmur in the crowd grows into distinct phrases. "They get their 'air cut free." "Naow they don't, that's only us!" "Silly Suffragettes!" "Stop at 'ome!" "'Inderin' policemen—mykin' rows in the streets!")
(With a final nod for emphasis and a look back at the old woman and the young one behind her, she appears ready to leave but hesitates as the chatter in the crowd turns into clear statements. "They get their hair cut for free." "No, they don't, that’s just us!" "Silly Suffragettes!" "Stay at home!" "Hiding policemen—causing trouble in the streets!")

Voice (louder than the others). They sees yer ain't fit t'ave——

Voice (louder than the others). They see you're not fit to have——

Other Voices. "Ha, ha!" "Shut up!" "Keep quiet, cawn't yer?" (General uproar.)

Other Voices. "Ha, ha!" "Be quiet!" "Can’t you keep it down?" (General uproar.)

Chairman. You evidently don't know what had to be done by men before the extension of the Suffrage in '67. If it hadn't been for demonstrations of violence——

Chairman. You clearly don't understand what had to happen with men before the voting rights were expanded in '67. If it hadn't been for acts of violence——

(His voice is drowned.)
(His voice is drowned.)

Working Woman (coming forward again, her shrill note rising clear). You s'y woman's plyce is 'ome! Don't you know there's a third of the women o' this country can't afford the luxury of stayin' in their 'omes? They got to go out and 'elp make money to p'y the rent and keep the 'ome from bein' sold up. Then there's all the women that 'aven't got even miseerable 'omes. They 'aven't got any 'omes at all.

Working Woman (coming forward again, her shrill note rising clear). You say a woman's place is at home! Don't you know that a third of the women in this country can’t afford the luxury of staying in their homes? They have to go out and help earn money to pay the rent and keep the home from being sold. Then there are all the women who don’t even have miserable homes. They don’t have any homes at all.

Noisy Young Man. You said you got one. W'y don't you stop in it?

Noisy Young Man. You said you got one. Why don’t you just stay in it?

Working Woman. Yes, that's like a man. If one o' you is all right, he thinks the rest don't matter. We women——

Working Woman. Yes, that's like a man. If one of you is okay, he thinks the rest don’t matter. We women——

Noisy Young Man. The lydies! God bless 'em!

Noisy Young Man. The ladies! God bless them!

(Voices drown her and the Chairman.)
(Voices drown her and the Chairman.)

Old Newsvendor (to Noisy Young Man). Oh, take that extra 'alf pint 'ome and sleep it off!

Old Newsvendor (to Noisy Young Man). Oh, take that extra half pint home and sleep it off!

Working Woman. P'r'aps your 'omes are all right. P'r'aps you aren't livin', old and young, married and single, in one room. I come from a plyce where many fam'lies 'ave to live like that if they're to go on livin' at all. If you don't believe me, come and let me show you! (She spreads out her lean arms.) Come with me to Canning Town!—come with me to Bromley—come to Poplar and to Bow! No. You won't even think about the overworked women and the underfed54 children and the 'ovels they live in. And you want that we shouldn't think neither——

Working Woman. Maybe your homes are fine. Maybe you’re not living, old and young, married and single, in one room. I come from a place where many families have to live like that if they want to survive at all. If you don’t believe me, come and let me show you! (She spreads out her lean arms.) Come with me to Canning Town!—come with me to Bromley—come to Poplar and to Bow! No. You won’t even think about the overworked women and the underfed54 children and the hovels they live in. And you want us not to think about it either——

A Vagrant. We'll do the thinkin'. You go 'ome and nuss the byby.

A Vagrant. We'll handle the thinking. You go home and take care of the baby.

Working Woman. I do nurse my byby! I've nursed seven. What 'ave you done for yours? P'r'aps your children never goes 'ungry, and maybe you're satisfied—though I must say I wouldn't a' thought it from the look o' you.

Working Woman. I do breastfeed my baby! I've breastfed seven. What have you done for yours? Maybe your children never go hungry, and maybe you're satisfied—even though I must say I wouldn't have guessed it from the look of you.

Voice. Oh, I s'y!

Working Woman. But we women are not satisfied. We don't only want better things for our own children. We want better things for all. Every child is our child. We know in our 'earts we oughtn't to rest till we've mothered 'em every one.

Working Woman. But we women are not satisfied. We don’t just want better things for our own kids. We want better things for everyone. Every child is our child. We know in our hearts we shouldn’t rest until we’ve supported every single one of them.

Voice. "Women"—"children"—wot about the men? Are they all 'appy?

(Derisive laughter and "No! no!" "Not precisely." "'Appy? Lord!")
(Mocking laughter and "No! no!" "Not exactly." "'Happy? My lord!")

Working Woman. No, there's lots o' you men I'm sorry for (Shrill Voice: "Thanks awfully!"), an' we'll 'elp you if you let us.

Working Woman. No, I feel sorry for a lot of you men (Shrill Voice: "Thanks a lot!"), and we'll help you if you let us.

Voice. 'Elp us? You tyke the bread out of our mouths. You women are black-leggin' the men!

Voice. Help us? You're taking the food right out of our mouths. You women are cutting the men out of the deal!

Working Woman. W'y does any woman tyke less wyges than a man for the same work? Only because we can't get anything better. That's part the reason w'y we're yere to-d'y. Do you reely think we tyke them there low wyges because we got a lykin' for low wyges? No. We're just like you. We want as much as ever we can get. ("'Ear! 'Ear!" and laughter.) We got a gryte deal to do with our wyges, we women has. We got the children to think about. And w'en we get55 our rights, a woman's flesh and blood won't be so much cheaper than a man's that employers can get rich on keepin' you out o' work, and sweatin' us. If you men only could see it, we got the syme cause, and if you 'elped us you'd be 'elpin yerselves.

Working Woman. Why do women earn less than men for the same work? Only because we can't get anything better. That's part of the reason we're here today. Do you really think we accept those low wages because we enjoy low wages? No. We're just like you. We want to earn as much as we can. ("Hear! Hear!" and laughter.) We have a lot to manage with our wages, we women do. We have the children to think about. And when we get55 our rights, a woman's contributions won't be so much cheaper than a man's that employers can profit by keeping you unemployed and exploiting us. If you men could only see it, we have the same cause, and if you helped us, you'd be helping yourselves.

Voices. "Rot!" "Drivel."

Old Newsvendor. True as gospel!

(She retires against the banner with the others. There is some applause.)
(She steps back against the banner with the others. There’s some applause.)

A Man (patronisingly). Well, now, that wusn't so bad—fur a woman.

A Man (patronizingly). Well, now, that wasn't so bad— for a woman.

Another. N-naw. Not fur a woman.

Chairman (speaking through this last). Miss Ernestine Blunt will now address you.

Chairman (speaking through this last). Miss Ernestine Blunt will now speak to you.

(Applause, chiefly ironic, laughter, a general moving closer and knitting up of attention. Ernestine Blunt is about twenty-four, but looks younger. She is very downright, not to say pugnacious—the something amusing and attractive about her is there, as it were, against her will, and the more fetching for that. She has no conventional gestures, and none of any sort at first. As she warms to her work she uses her slim hands to enforce her emphasis, but as though unconsciously. Her manner of speech is less monotonous than that of the average woman-speaker, but she, too, has a fashion of leaning all her weight on the end of the sentence. She brings out the final word or two with an effort of underscoring, and makes a forward motion of the slim body as if the better to drive the last nail in. She evidently means to be immensely practical—the kind who is pleased to think she hasn't a grain of sentimentality in her composition, and whose feeling, when it does all but master her, communicates itself magnetically to others. )
(Applause, mostly ironic, laughter, everyone shifting closer and focusing their attention. Ernestine Blunt is around twenty-four, but looks younger. She’s very straightforward, almost combative—the something funny and appealing about her seems to be there against her will, making it even more charming. She doesn’t have any conventional gestures, and at first, none at all. As she gets into it, she uses her slim hands to emphasize her points, but it feels almost unconscious. Her speech pattern is less monotonous than most women’s, but she also has a tendency to put all her weight on the final part of her sentences. She emphasizes the last word or two with a bit of effort, leaning forward slightly as if to drive that point home. She clearly wants to come off as very practical—the kind of person who likes to think she lacks any sentimentality and whose emotions, when they nearly take over, connect with others magnetically.)

Miss Ernestine Blunt. Perhaps I'd better begin by explaining a little about our "tactics."

Miss Ernestine Blunt. Maybe I should start by explaining a bit about our "tactics."

(Cries of "Tactics! We know!" "Mykin' trouble!" "Public scandal!")
(Cries of "Tactics! We get it!" "Mykin's in trouble!" "Public scandal!")

To make you understand what we've done, I must remind you of what others have done. Perhaps you don't know that women first petitioned Parliament for the Franchise as long ago as 1866.

To help you understand what we've accomplished, I need to remind you of what others have done. Maybe you don't know that women first asked Parliament for the right to vote way back in 1866.

Voice. How do you know?

(She pauses a moment, taken off her guard by the suddenness of the attack.)
(She pauses for a moment, caught off guard by the suddenness of the attack.)

Voice. You wasn't there!

Voice. That was the trouble. Haw! haw!

Voice. That was the problem. Ha! Ha!

Miss E. B. And the petition was presented——

Miss E. B. And the petition was submitted——

Voice. Give 'er a 'earin' now she 'as got out of 'er crydle.

Voice. Give her a listen now that she’s out of her crib.

Miss E. B.—presented to the House of Commons by that great Liberal, John Stuart Mill. (Voice: "Mill? Who is he when he's at home?") Bills or Resolutions have been before the House on and off for the last thirty-six years. That, roughly, is our history. We found ourselves, towards the close of the year 1905, with no assurance that if we went on in the same way any girl born into the world in this generation would live to exercise the rights of citizenship, though she lived to be a hundred. So we said all this has been in57 vain. We must try some other way. How did the working man get the Suffrage, we asked ourselves? Well, we turned up the records, and we saw——

Miss E. B.—introduced to the House of Commons by that prominent Liberal, John Stuart Mill. (Voice: "Mill? Who's he when he's at home?") Bills or resolutions have been debated in the House on and off for the past thirty-six years. That’s basically our history. By the end of 1905, we realized there was no guarantee that if we continued on the same path, any girl born in this generation would live to enjoy the rights of citizenship, even if she lived to be a hundred. So we concluded that all this has been in57 vain. We needed to find another approach. How did the working man obtain the Suffrage, we wondered? So we dug into the records and we saw——

Voices. "Not by scratching people's faces!" ... "Disraeli give it 'em!" "Dizzy? Get out!" "Cahnty Cahncil scholarships!" "Oh, Lord, this education!" "Chartist riots, she's thinkin' of!"

Voices. "Not by scratching people's faces!" ... "Disraeli, give it to them!" "Dizzy? Get lost!" "County Council scholarships!" "Oh, man, this education!" "Chartist riots, that's what she's thinking about!"

(Noise in the crowd.)
(Noise in the crowd.)

Miss E. B. But we don't want to follow such a violent example. We would much rather not—but if that's the only way we can make the country see we're in earnest, we are prepared to show them.

Miss E. B. But we don’t want to follow such a violent example. We would much rather not—but if that's the only way we can make the country see we're serious, we are ready to show them.

Voice. An' they'll show you!—Give you another month 'ard.

Voice. And they'll show you!—Give you another month, hard.

Miss E. B. Don't think that going to prison has any fears for us. We'd go for life if by doing that we could get freedom for the rest of the women.

Miss E. B. Don’t think that going to prison scares us. We’d go for life if it meant we could secure freedom for the other women.

Voices. "Hear, hear!" "Rot!" "W'y don't the men 'elp ye to get your rights?"

Voices. "Hear, hear!" "Nonsense!" "Why don't the men help you get what you deserve?"

Miss E. B. Here's some one asking why the men don't help. It's partly they don't understand yet—they will before we've done! (Laughter.) Partly they don't understand yet what's at stake——

Miss E. B. Someone is asking why the men aren’t helping. It’s partly because they don’t get it yet—they will by the time we’re finished! (Laughter.) It’s also partly that they don’t understand what's really at risk——

Respectable Old Man (chuckling). Lord, they're a 'educatin' of us!

Respectable Old Man (chuckling). Wow, they're really teaching us!

Voice. Wot next?

Miss E. B.—and partly that the bravest man is afraid of ridicule. Oh, yes; we've heard a great deal all our lives about the timidity and the sensitiveness of women. And it's true. We are sensitive. But I tell you, ridicule crumples a man up. It steels a woman. We've come to know the value of ridicule. We've educated ourselves so that we welcome ridicule. We owe our sincerest thanks to the comic writers.58 The cartoonist is our unconscious friend. Who cartoons people who are of no importance? What advertisement is so sure of being remembered?

Miss E. B.—and partly because the bravest man fears being mocked. Oh, yes; we’ve heard a lot throughout our lives about how timid and sensitive women are. And it's true. We are sensitive. But I tell you, mockery crushes a man. It strengthens a woman. We’ve learned to appreciate the power of ridicule. We’ve trained ourselves to embrace it. We owe our deepest gratitude to the comic writers.58 The cartoonist is our unintentional ally. Who draws cartoons of people who don’t matter? What ad is more likely to be remembered?

Poetic Young Man. I admit that.

Miss E. B. If we didn't know it by any other sign, the comic papers would tell us we've arrived! But our greatest debt of gratitude we owe, to the man who called us female hooligans.

Miss E. B. If we didn't recognize it by any other clue, the comic papers would confirm that we've made it! But our biggest thanks go to the guy who labeled us female hooligans.

(The crowd bursts into laughter.)
(The crowd bursts into laughter.)

We aren't hooligans, but we hope the fact will be overlooked. If everybody said we were nice, well-behaved women, who'd come to hear us? Not the men.

We’re not troublemakers, but we hope people will ignore that fact. If everyone called us nice, well-mannered women, who would actually want to listen to us? Not the men.

(Roars.)
(Roars.)

Men tell us it isn't womanly for us to care about politics. How do they know what's womanly? It's for women to decide that. Let the men attend to being manly. It will take them all their time.

Men say it's not feminine for us to be interested in politics. How do they define what's feminine? That's for women to determine. Let the men focus on being masculine. That will keep them busy enough.

Voice. Are we down-'earted? Oh no!

Miss E. B. And they say it would be dreadful if we got the vote, because then we'd be pitted against men in the economic struggle. But that's come about already. Do you know that out of every hundred women in this country eighty-two are wage-earning women? It used to be thought unfeminine for women to be students and to aspire to the arts—that bring fame and fortune. But nobody has ever said it was unfeminine for women to do the heavy drudgery that's badly paid. That kind of work had to be done by somebody—and the men didn't hanker after it. Oh, no.

Miss E. B. They say it would be terrible if we got the vote because then we’d be going up against men in the economic struggle. But that’s already happening. Did you know that out of every hundred women in this country, eighty-two are earning a paycheck? It used to be seen as unfeminine for women to be students and pursue the arts that lead to fame and fortune. But no one ever claimed it was unfeminine for women to do the hard, low-paying jobs. Someone had to do that work—and the men didn’t want it. Oh, no.

(Laughter and interruption.)
(Laughter and interruption.)

A Man on the Outer Fringe. She can talk—the little one can.

Another. Oh, they can all "talk."

A Beery, Dirty Fellow of Fifty. I wouldn't like to be 'er 'usban'. Think o' comin' 'ome to that!

A Beery, Dirty Fellow of Fifty. I wouldn't want to be her husband. Just think of coming home to that!

His Pal. I'd soon learn 'er!

Miss E. B. (speaking through the noise). Oh, no! Let the women scrub and cook and wash. That's all right! But if they want to try their hand at the better paid work of the liberal professions—oh, very unfeminine indeed! Then there's another thing. Now I want you to listen to this, because it's very important. Men say if we persist in competing with them for the bigger prizes, they're dreadfully afraid we'd lose the beautiful protecting chivalry that—— Yes, I don't wonder you laugh. We laugh. (Bending forward with lit eyes.) But the women I found at the Ferry Tin Works working for five shillings a week—I didn't see them laughing. The beautiful chivalry of the employers of women doesn't prevent them from paying women tenpence a day for sorting coal and loading and unloading carts—doesn't prevent them from forcing women to earn bread in ways worse still. So we won't talk about chivalry. It's being over-sarcastic. We'll just let this poor ghost of chivalry go—in exchange for a little plain justice.

Miss E. B. (speaking through the noise). Oh, no! Let the women scrub, cook, and clean. That's fine! But if they want to pursue better-paying jobs in the professional fields—oh, that's just very unfeminine! Now, listen closely, because this is really important. Men say if we keep competing with them for the bigger rewards, they're really worried we’d lose the lovely protective chivalry that—— Yes, I understand why you laugh. We laugh too. (Bending forward with lit eyes.) But the women I saw at the Ferry Tin Works working for five shillings a week—I didn't see them laughing. The beautiful chivalry of those who employ women doesn’t stop them from paying women tenpence a day for sorting coal and loading and unloading carts—doesn't stop them from forcing women to earn a living in even worse ways. So let’s not even discuss chivalry. It’s just too sarcastic. We will let this poor ghost of chivalry go—in exchange for some straightforward justice.

Voice. If the House of Commons won't give you justice, why don't you go to the House of Lords?

Voice. If the House of Commons won't give you justice, why not go to the House of Lords?

Miss E. B. What?

Voice. Better 'urry up. Case of early closin'.

Voice. You better hurry up. They're closing early.

(Laughter. A man at the back asks the speaker something.)
(Laughter. A guy in the back asks the speaker a question.)

Miss E. B. (unable to hear). You'll be allowed to ask any question you like at the end of the meeting.

Miss E. B. (unable to hear). You can ask any question you want at the end of the meeting.

New-comer (boy of eighteen). Oh, is it question time? I s'y, Miss, 'oo killed cock robin?

New-comer (boy of eighteen). Oh, is it question time? I say, Miss, who killed Cock Robin?

(She is about to resume, but above the general noise the voice of a man at the back reaches her indistinct but insistent. She leans forward trying to catch what he says. While the indistinguishable murmur has been going on Geoffrey Stonor has appeared on the edge of the crowd, followed by Jean and Lady John in motor veils.)
(She is about to continue, but above the general noise, a man's voice from the back reaches her—faint but persistent. She leans forward, trying to catch what he’s saying. While the indistinct murmur has been ongoing, Geoffrey Stonor has appeared at the edge of the crowd, followed by Jean and Lady John in motor veils.)

Jean (pressing forward eagerly and raising her veil). Is she one of them? That little thing!

Jean (moving forward excitedly and lifting her veil). Is she one of them? That little thing!

Stonor (doubtfully). I—I suppose so.

Jean. Oh, ask some one, Geoffrey. I'm so disappointed. I did so hope we'd hear one of the—the worst.

Jean. Oh, ask someone, Geoffrey. I'm so disappointed. I really hoped we'd hear one of the—the worst.

Miss E. B. (to the interrupter—on the other side). What? What do you say? (She screws up her eyes with the effort to hear, and puts a hand up to her ear. A few indistinguishable words between her and the man.)

Miss E. B. (to the person who interrupted—on the other side). What? What did you say? (She squints, trying to hear, and raises a hand to her ear. A few unclear words are exchanged between her and the man.)

Lady John (who has been studying the figures on the platform through her lorgnon, turns to a working man beside her). Can you tell me, my man, which are the ones that—a—that make the disturbances?

Lady John (who has been studying the figures on the platform through her lorgnon, turns to a working man beside her). Can you tell me, sir, which ones are causing the disturbances?

Working Man. The one that's doing the talking—she's the disturbingest o' the lot.

Working Man. The one who's talking—she's the most unsettling of the bunch.

Jean (craning to listen). Not that nice little——

Jean (straining to hear). Not that nice little——

Working Man. Don't you be took in, Miss.

Working Man. Don’t let yourself be fooled, Miss.

Miss E. B. Oh, yes—I see. There's a man over here asking——

Miss E. B. Oh, yeah—I get it. There's a guy over here asking——

A Young Man. I've got a question, too. Are—you—married?

A Young Man. I've got a question, too. Are you married?

Another (sniggering). Quick! There's yer chawnce. 'E's a bachelor.

Another (snickering). Quick! There's your chance. He's a bachelor.

(Laughter.)
(Laughter.)

Miss E. B. (goes straight on as if she had not heard)—man asking: if the women get full citizenship, and a war is declared, will the women fight?

Miss E. B. (continues on as if she hasn’t heard)—man asking: if women receive full citizenship, and a war is declared, will women fight?

Poetic Young Man. No, really—no, really, now!

Poetic Young Man. No, seriously—no, seriously, now!

(The Crowd: "Haw! Haw!" "Yes!" "Yes, how about that?")
(The Crowd: "Haw! Haw!" "Yes!" "Yes, how about that?")

Miss E. B. (smiling). Well, you know, some people say the whole trouble about us is that we do fight. But it is only hard necessity makes us do that. We don't want to fight—as men seem to—just for fighting's sake. Women are for peace.

Miss E. B. (smiling). You know, some people say the real issue between us is that we do fight. But we only do that out of necessity. We don’t want to fight—like men seem to—just for the sake of fighting. Women are meant for peace.

Voice. Hear, hear.

Miss E. B. And when we have a share in public affairs there'll be less likelihood of war. But that's not to say women can't fight. The Boer women did. The Russian women face conflicts worse than any battlefield can show. (Her voice shakes a little, and the eyes fill, but she controls her emotion gallantly, and dashes on.) But we women know all that is evil, and we're for peace. Our part—we're proud to remember it—our part has been to go about after you men in war-time, and—pick up the pieces!

Miss E. B. And when we have a role in public affairs, there will be a lower chance of war. But that doesn’t mean women can’t fight. The Boer women did. The Russian women face challenges worse than anything on a battlefield. (Her voice shakes a little, and her eyes fill, but she controls her emotion bravely and continues.) But we women understand all that is wrong, and we’re for peace. Our contribution—we’re proud to acknowledge it—our contribution has been to go after you men during wartime and—pick up the pieces!

(A great shout.)
(A great shout.)

Yes—seems funny, doesn't it? You men blow them to bits, and then we come along and put them together again. If you know anything about military nursing, you know a good deal of our work has been done in the face of danger—but it's always been done.

Yes—it seems funny, doesn't it? You men blow them to bits, and then we come along and put them together again. If you know anything about military nursing, you know a good deal of our work has been done in the face of danger—but it's always been done.

Old Newsvendor. That's so. That's so.

Miss E. B. You complain that more and more we're taking away from you men the work that's always been yours. You can't any longer keep women out of the industries. The only question is upon what terms shall she continue to be in? As long as she's in on bad terms, she's not only hurting herself—she's hurting you. But if you're feeling discouraged about our competing with you, we're willing to leave you your trade in war. Let the men take life! We give life! (Her voice is once more moved and proud.) No one will pretend ours isn't one of the dangerous trades either. I won't say any more to you now, because we've got others to speak to you, and a new woman-helper that I want you to hear.

Miss E. B. You say that we're increasingly taking away the jobs that have always belonged to men. You can no longer keep women out of the workforce. The real question is: under what conditions will she continue to be a part of it? As long as she's involved under unfavorable conditions, it's not just hurting her—it's hurting you too. But if you're feeling discouraged about competing with us, we're willing to let you keep your jobs in war. Let the men take life! We give life! (Her voice is once more moved and proud.) No one can deny that ours is also a dangerous profession. I won't say anything more right now, because we have others who want to speak with you, and there's a new woman-helper that I want you to hear.

(She retires to the sound of clapping. There's a hurried consultation between her and the Chairman. Voices in the Crowd: "The little 'un's all right" "Ernestine's a corker," &c.)
(She leaves to the sound of applause. There's a quick discussion between her and the Chairman. Voices in the Crowd: "The little one is fine" "Ernestine's amazing," &c.)

Jean (looking at Stonor to see how he's taken it). Well?

Jean (looking at Stonor to see how he's reacting). So?

Stonor (smiling down at her). Well——

Jean. Nothing reprehensible in what she said, was there?

Jean. There was nothing wrong with what she said, right?

Stonor (shrugs). Oh, reprehensible!

Jean. It makes me rather miserable all the same.

Jean. It still makes me pretty unhappy.

Stonor (draws her hand protectingly through his arm). You mustn't take it as much to heart as all that.

Stonor (wraps her arm around his protectively). You shouldn't take it so personally.

Jean. I can't help it—I can't indeed, Geoffrey. I shall never be able to make a speech like that!

Jean. I can't help it—I really can't, Geoffrey. I will never be able to give a speech like that!

Stonor (taken aback). I hope not, indeed.

Stonor (surprised). I really hope not.

Jean. Why, I thought you said you wanted me——?

Jean. Wait, I thought you said you wanted me——?

Stonor (smiling). To make nice little speeches with composure—so I did! So I—— (Seems to lose his thread as he looks at her.)

Stonor (smiling). To give smooth little speeches with confidence—so I did! So I—— (Seems to lose his train of thought as he looks at her.)

Jean (with a little frown). You said——

Stonor. That you have very pink cheeks? Well, I stick to that.

Stonor. So, you have really rosy cheeks? Well, I stand by that.

Jean (smiling). Sh! Don't tell everybody.

Stonor. And you're the only female creature I ever saw who didn't look a fright in motor things.

Stonor. And you're the only woman I've ever seen who actually looks good in cars.

Jean (melted and smiling). I'm glad you don't think me a fright.

Jean (melted and smiling). I'm happy you don't see me as scary.

Chairman. I will now ask (name indistinguishable) to address the meeting.

Chairman. I will now ask (name unclear) to speak at the meeting.

Jean (as she sees Lady John moving to one side). Oh, don't go yet, Aunt Ellen!

Jean (as she sees Lady John moving to one side). Oh, please don’t leave yet, Aunt Ellen!

Lady John. Go? Certainly not. I want to hear another. (Craning her neck.) I can't believe, you know, she was really one of the worst.

Lady John. Go? Definitely not. I want to hear another one. (Craning her neck.) I can't believe, you know, she was genuinely one of the worst.

(A big, sallow Cockney has come forward. His scanty hair grows in wisps on a great bony skull.)
(A large, pale Cockney has stepped up. His thin hair grows in little tufts on a big, bony head.)

Voice. That's Pilcher.

Another. 'Oo's Pilcher?

Another. If you can't afford a bottle of Tatcho, w'y don't you get yer 'air cut.

Another. If you can't afford a bottle of Tatcho, why don't you get your hair cut?

Mr. P. (not in the least discomposed). I've been addressin' a big meetin' at 'Ammersmith this morning, and w'en I told 'em I wus comin' 'ere this awfternoon to speak fur the women—well—then the usual thing began!

Mr. P. (not at all upset). I was giving a big talk at Hammersmith this morning, and when I told them I was coming here this afternoon to speak for the women—well—then the usual thing started!

(An appreciative roar from the crowd.)
(A grateful cheer from the audience.)

64 In these times if you want peace and quiet at a public meetin'——

64 In today's world, if you want peace and quiet at a public meeting—

(The crowd fills in the hiatus with laughter.)
(The crowd fills the pause with laughter.)

There was a man at 'Ammersmith, too, talkin' about women's sphere bein' 'ome. 'Ome do you call it? You've got a kennel w'ere you can munch your tommy. You've got a corner w'ere you can curl up fur a few hours till you go out to work again. No, my man, there's too many of you ain't able to give the women 'omes—fit to live in, too many of you in that fix fur you to go on jawin' at those o' the women 'oo want to myke the 'omes a little decenter.

There was a guy in 'Ammersmith, too, talking about women’s place being at home. Home, you call it? You’ve got a place where you can grab a bite to eat. You’ve got a corner where you can relax for a few hours before heading out to work again. No, my dude, there are too many of you who can’t provide women with homes—proper ones to live in. Too many of you are in that situation to keep complaining about those women who want to make homes a bit nicer.

Voice. If the vote ain't done us any good, 'ow'll it do the women any good?

Voice. If the vote hasn't helped us at all, how will it help the women?

Mr. P. Look 'ere! Any men here belongin' to the Labour Party?

Mr. P. Look here! Are there any men here from the Labour Party?

(Shouts and applause.)
(Shouts and applause.)

Well, I don't need to tell these men the vote 'as done us some good. They know it. And it'll do us a lot more good w'en you know 'ow to use the power you got in your 'and.

Well, I don't need to tell these guys that voting has done us some good. They know it. And it'll do us a lot more good when you know how to use the power you have in your hands.

Voice. Power! It's those fellers at the bottom o' the street that's got the power.

Voice. Power! It's those guys at the end of the street who have the power.

Mr. P. It's you, and men like you, that gave it to 'em. You carried the Liberals into Parliament Street on your own shoulders.

Mr. P. It's you, and guys like you, that handed it to them. You brought the Liberals into Parliament Street all by yourself.

(Complacent applause.)
(Complacent applause.)

You believed all their fine words. You never asked yourselves, "Wot's a Liberal, anyw'y?"

You believed all their nice talk. You never asked yourselves, "What's a Liberal, anyway?"

A Voice. He's a jolly good fellow.

A Voice. He's a really great guy.

(Cheers and booing.)
(Cheers and booing.)

65 Mr. P. No, 'e ain't, or if 'e is jolly, it's only because 'e thinks you're such silly codfish you'll go swellin' his majority again. (Laughter, in which Stonor joins.) It's enough to make any Liberal jolly to see sheep like you lookin' on, proud and 'appy, while you see Liberal leaders desertin' Liberal principles.

65 Mr. P. No, he isn’t, and if he is happy, it’s only because he thinks you’re such foolish people that you’ll boost his support again. (Laughter, in which Stonor joins.) It’s enough to make any Liberal happy to see people like you looking on, proud and cheerful, while you watch Liberal leaders abandon Liberal values.

(Voices in agreement and protest.)
(Voices in agreement and protest.)

You show me a Liberal, and I'll show you a Mr. Fycing-both-W'ys. Yuss.

You show me a Liberal, and I’ll show you a Mr. Fycing-both-W'ys. Yuss.

(Stonor moves closer with an amused look.)
(Stonor comes closer with a playful expression.)

'E sheds the light of 'is warm and 'andsome smile on the working man, and round on the other side 'e's tippin' a wink to the great land-owners. That's to let 'em know 'e's standin' between them and the Socialists. Huh! Socialists. Yuss, Socialists!

'E shines his warm and handsome smile on the working man, and on the other side he's giving a wink to the big landowners. That's to let them know he's standing between them and the Socialists. Huh! Socialists. Yeah, Socialists!

(General laughter, in which Stonor joins.)
(General laughter, in which Stonor joins.)

The Liberal, e's the judicial sort o' chap that sits in the middle——

The Liberal is the kind of guy who sits in the middle.

Voice. On the fence!

Mr. P. Tories one side—Socialists the other. Well it ain't always so comfortable in the middle. You're like to get squeezed. Now, I s'y to the women, the Conservatives don't promise you much but what they promise they do!

Mr. P. Tories on one side—Socialists on the other. Well, it’s not always so easy in the middle. You might get squeezed. Now, I tell the women, the Conservatives don’t promise you much, but what they promise, they deliver!

Stonor (to Jean). This fellow isn't half bad.

Stonor (to Jean). This guy isn't too bad.

Mr. P. The Liberals—they'll promise you the earth, and give yer ... the whole o' nothing.

Mr. P. The Liberals—they'll promise you everything, and deliver you ... absolutely nothing.

(Roars of approval.)
(Roars of approval.)

Jean. Isn't it fun? Now, aren't you glad I brought you?

Jean. Isn't it fun? Now, aren't you happy I brought you?

Stonor (laughing). This chap's rather amusing!

66 Mr. P. We men 'ave seen it 'appen over and over. But the women can tyke a 'int quicker'n what we can. They won't stand the nonsense men do. Only they 'aven't got a fair chawnce even to agitate fur their rights. As I wus comin' up 'ere I 'eard a man sayin', "Look at this big crowd. W'y, we're all men! If the women want the vote w'y ain't they 'ere to s'y so?" Well, I'll tell you w'y. It's because they've 'ad to get the dinner fur you and me, and now they're washin' up the dishes.

66 Mr. P. We men have seen this happen again and again. But women can pick up on things faster than we can. They won't put up with the nonsense men do. It's just that they don't get a fair chance to fight for their rights. As I was coming up here, I heard a man saying, "Look at this big crowd. Why, we're all men! If women want the vote, why aren't they here to say so?" Well, I'll tell you why. It's because they've had to make dinner for you and me, and now they're cleaning up the dishes.

A Voice. D'you think we ought to st'y 'ome and wash the dishes?

A Voice. Do you think we should stay home and wash the dishes?

Mr. P. (laughs good-naturedly). If they'd leave it to us once or twice per'aps we'd understand a little more about the Woman Question. I know w'y my wife isn't here. It's because she knows I ain't much use round the 'ouse, and she's 'opin' I can talk to some purpose. Maybe she's mistaken. Any'ow, here I am to vote for her and all the other women.

Mr. P. (laughs good-naturedly). If they gave us a chance once or twice, maybe we'd understand the Women's Issue a bit better. I know why my wife isn't here. It's because she knows I'm not much help around the house, and she's hoping I can talk about something meaningful. Maybe she's wrong. Anyway, here I am to vote for her and all the other women.

("Hear! hear!" "Oh-h!")
("Hear! hear!" "Oh-h!")

And to tell you men what improvements you can expect to see when women 'as the share in public affairs they ought to 'ave!

And let me tell you guys what changes you can expect to see when women get the share in public affairs they really should have!

Voice. What do you know about it? You can't even talk grammar.

Voice. What do you know about it? You can't even handle grammar.

Mr. P. (is dashed a fraction of a moment, for the first and only time). I'm not 'ere to talk grammar but to talk Reform. I ain't defendin' my grammar—but I'll say in pawssing that if my mother 'ad 'ad 'er rights, maybe my grammar would have been better.

Mr. P. (is stunned for a brief moment, for the first and only time). I'm not here to discuss grammar but to talk about Reform. I'm not defending my grammar—but I'll just mention that if my mother had gotten her rights, maybe my grammar would’ve been better.

(Stonor and Jean exchange smiles. He takes her arm again and bends his head to whisper something in her ear. She listens 67with lowered eyes and happy face. The discreet love-making goes on during the next few sentences. Interruption. One voice insistent but not clear. The speaker waits only a second and then resumes. "Yes, if the women" but he cannot instantly make himself heard. The boyish Chairman looks harassed and anxious. Miss Ernestine Blunt alert, watchful.)
(Stonor and Jean smile at each other. He takes her arm again and leans in to whisper something in her ear. She listens, 67 with her eyes down and a happy expression. Their discreet flirting continues over the next few sentences. Then there's an interruption. One voice is persistent but unclear. The speaker pauses for just a moment and then continues. "Yes, if the women," but he can’t get himself heard right away. The boyish Chairman looks flustered and worried. Miss Ernestine Blunt is alert, watchful.)

Mr. P. Wait a bit—'arf a minute, my man!

Mr. P. Hang on a second—just a minute, my friend!

Voice. 'Oo yer talkin' to? I ain't your man.

Voice. "Who are you talking to? I'm not your guy."

Mr. P. Lucky for me! There seems to be a gentleman 'ere who doesn't think women ought to 'ave the vote.

Mr. P. Lucky for me! There seems to be a gentleman here who doesn't believe women should have the vote.

Voice. One? Oh-h!

(Laughter.)
(Laughter.)

Mr. P. Per'aps 'e doesn't know much about women?

Mr. P. Maybe he doesn't know much about women?

(Indistinguishable repartee.)
(Indistinguishable repartee.)

Oh, the gentleman says 'e's married. Well, then, fur the syke of 'is wife we musn't be too sorry 'e's 'ere. No doubt she's s'ying: "'Eaven by prysed those women are mykin' a Demonstrytion in Trafalgar Square, and I'll 'ave a little peace and quiet at 'ome for one Sunday in my life."

Oh, the guy says he’s married. Well, for the sake of his wife, we shouldn't feel too sorry he's here. No doubt she's saying, "Heaven help us, those women are staging a demonstration in Trafalgar Square, and I’ll finally have a little peace and quiet at home for one Sunday in my life."

(The crowd laughs and there are jeers for the interrupter—and at the speaker.)
(The crowd laughs and throws insults at the interrupter—and at the speaker.)

(Pointing.) Why, you're like the man at 'Ammersmith this morning. 'E was awskin' me: "'Ow would you like men to st'y at 'ome and do the fam'ly washin'?"

(Pointing.) Why, you're like the guy in Hammersmith this morning. He was asking me: "How would you like guys to stay home and do the family laundry?"

(Laughter.)
(Laughter.)

68 I told 'im I wouldn't advise it. I 'ave too much respect fur—me clo'es.

68 I told him I wouldn't recommend it. I have too much respect for my clothes.

Vagrant. It's their place—the women ought to do the washin'.

Vagrant. It's their house—the women should handle the laundry.

Mr. P. I'm not sure you ain't right. For a good many o' you fellas, from the look o' you—you cawn't even wash yerselves.

Mr. P. I'm not sure you're wrong. From the looks of you guys—you can't even wash yourselves.

(Laughter.)
(Laughter.)

Voice (threatening). 'Oo are you talkin' to?

Voice (threatening). 'Who are you talking to?

(Chairman more anxious than before—movement in the crowd.)
(Chairman more anxious than ever—stirring in the crowd.)

Threatening Voice. Which of us d'you mean?

Threatening Voice. Which one of us are you talking about?

Mr. P. (coolly looking down). Well, it takes about ten of your sort to myke a man, so you may take it I mean the lot of you.

Mr. P. (coolly looking down). Well, it takes about ten people like you to make a man, so you can assume I’m referring to all of you.

(Angry indistinguishable retorts and the crowd sways. Miss Ernestine Blunt, who has been watching the fray with serious face, turns suddenly, catching sight of some one just arrived at the end of the platform. Miss Blunt goes R. with alacrity, saying audibly to Pilcher as she passes, "Here she is," and proceeds to offer her hand helping some one to get up the improvised steps. Laughter and interruption in the crowd.)
(Angry and indistinct replies fill the air as the crowd sways. Miss Ernestine Blunt, who has been observing the chaos with a serious expression, suddenly turns, noticing someone who has just arrived at the end of the platform. Miss Blunt hastens R. with enthusiasm, saying aloud to Pilcher as she walks by, "Here she is," and then extends her hand to help someone up the makeshift steps. Laughter and interruptions fill the crowd.)

Lady John. Now, there's another woman going to speak.

Lady John. Now, there’s another woman about to speak.

Jean. Oh, is she? Who? Which? I do hope she'll be one of the wild ones.

Jean. Oh, really? Who? Which one? I really hope she'll be one of the wild ones.

Mr. P. (speaking through this last. Glancing at the new arrival whose hat appears above the platform69 R.). That's all right, then. (Turns to the left.) When I've attended to this microbe that's vitiating the air on my right——

Mr. P. (speaking through this last. Glancing at the new arrival whose hat appears above the platform69 R.). That's fine, then. (Turns to the left.) When I've dealt with this annoying presence that's ruining the air on my right——

(Laughter and interruptions from the crowd.)
(Laughter and interruptions from the crowd.)

Stonor (staring R., one dazed instant, at the face of the new arrival, his own changes).

Stonor (staring R., for a moment, dazed, at the face of the newcomer, noticing his own changes).

(Jean withdraws her arm from his and quite suddenly presses a shade nearer the platform. Stonor moves forward and takes her by the arm.)
(Jean pulls her arm away from him and suddenly steps a little closer to the platform. Stonor moves forward and takes her by the arm.)

We're going now.

Jean. Not yet—oh, please not yet. (Breathless, looking back.) Why I—I do believe——

Jean. Not yet—oh, please not yet. (Breathless, looking back.) I really do believe——

Stonor (to Lady John, with decision). I'm going to take Jean out of this mob. Will you come?

Stonor (to Lady John, with determination). I'm going to get Jean out of this crowd. Will you join me?

Lady John. What? Oh yes, if you think—— (Another look through her glasses.) But isn't that—surely its——!!!

Lady John. What? Oh yes, if you think—— (Another look through her glasses.) But isn't that—definitelyits——!!!

(Vida Levering comes forward R. She wears a long, plain, dark green dust-cloak. Stands talking to Ernestine Blunt and glancing a little apprehensively at the crowd.)
(Vida Levering steps forward R. She’s wearing a long, simple, dark green dust coat. She stands talking to Ernestine Blunt while glancing a bit nervously at the crowd.)

Jean. Geoffrey!

Stonor (trying to draw Jean away). Lady John's tired——

Stonor (trying to pull Jean away). Lady John's exhausted——

Jean. But you don't see who it is, Geoffrey——!

(Looks into his face, and is arrested by the look she finds there.)
(She looks into his face and is captivated by the expression she sees there.)

(Lady John has pushed in front of them amazed, transfixed, with glass up. Geoffrey Stonor restrains a gesture of annoyance,70 and withdraws behind two big policemen. Jean from time to time turns to look at him with a face of perplexity.)
(Lady John has stepped in front of them, amazed and frozen, holding up a glass. Geoffrey Stonor holds back a gesture of annoyance,70 and steps back behind two large policemen. Jean glances at him from time to time, looking confused.)

Mr. P. (resuming through a fire of indistinct interruption). I'll come down and attend to that microbe while a lady will say a few words to you (raises his voice)—if she can myke 'erself 'eard.

Mr. P. (continuing despite a jumble of distractions). I'll come down and deal with that microbe while a lady will say a few words to you (raises his voice)—if she can make herself heard.

(Pilcher retires in the midst of booing and cheers.)
(Pilcher steps down to a mix of boos and cheers.)

Chairman (harassed and trying to create a diversion). Some one suggests—and it's such a good idea I'd like you to listen to it—

Chairman (stressed and attempting to shift the focus). Someone suggests—and it's such a great idea I want you to hear it—

(Noise dies down.)
(Noise dies down.)

that a clause shall be inserted in the next Suffrage Bill that shall expressly reserve to each Cabinet Minister, and to any respectable man, the power to prevent the Franchise being given to the female members of his family on his public declaration of their lack of sufficient intelligence to entitle them to vote.

that a clause will be added to the next Suffrage Bill that will clearly allow each Cabinet Minister, and any respectable man, the authority to block the Franchise from being granted to the female members of his family based on his public statement that they do not have enough intelligence to qualify for voting.

Voices. Oh! oh!

Chairman. Now, I ask you to listen, as quietly as you can, to a lady who is not accustomed to speaking—a—in Trafalgar Square—or a ... as a matter of fact, at all.

Chairman. Now, I ask you to listen as quietly as you can to a lady who isn’t used to speaking—well, in Trafalgar Square—or really... at all.

Voices. "A dumb lady." "Hooray!" "Three cheers for the dumb lady!"

Voices. "A clueless lady." "Hooray!" "Three cheers for the clueless lady!"

Chairman. A lady who, as I've said, will tell you, if you'll behave yourselves, her impressions of the administration of police-court justice in this country.

Chairman. A woman who, as I've mentioned, will share with you her thoughts on the system of police-court justice in this country, if you'll act respectfully.

(Jean looks wondering at Stonor's sphinx-like face as Vida Levering comes to the edge of the platform.)
(Jean looks curiously at Stonor's sphinx-like face as Vida Levering approaches the edge of the platform.)

Miss L. Mr. Chairman, men and women——

Miss L. Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen——

Voices (off). Speak up.

(She flushes, comes quite to the edge of the platform and raises her voice a little.)
(She blushes, walks right up to the edge of the platform, and raises her voice slightly.)

Miss L. I just wanted to tell you that I was—I was—present in the police-court when the women were charged for creating a disturbance.

Miss L. I just wanted to let you know that I was—I was—there in the police court when the women were charged with causing a disturbance.

Voice. Y' oughtn't t' get mixed up in wot didn't concern you.

Voice. You shouldn't get involved in what doesn't concern you.

Miss L. I—I—— (Stumbles and stops.)

(Talking and laughing increases. "Wot's 'er name?" "Mrs. or Miss?" "Ain't seen this one before.")
(The chatter and laughter grow. "What's her name?" "Is she married or single?" "Haven't seen her around before.")

Chairman (anxiously). Now, see here, men; don't interrupt——

Chairman (anxiously). Now, listen up, guys; don't interrupt——

A Girl (shrilly). I like this one's 'at. Ye can see she ain't one of 'em.

A Girl (shrilly). I like this one's 'hat. You can see she isn't one of them.

Miss L. (trying to recommence). I——

Voice. They're a disgrace—them women be'ind yer.

Voice. They're a disgrace—those women behind you.

A Man with a Fatherly Air. It's the w'y they goes on as mykes the Government keep ye from gettin' yer rights.

A Man with a Fatherly Air. It’s the way they act that keeps the Government from giving you your rights.

Chairman (losing his temper). It's the way you go on that——

Chairman (losing his temper). It's how you keep going on that——

(Noise increases. Chairman drowned, waves his arms and moves his lips. Miss Levering discouraged, turns and looks at Ernestine Blunt and pantomimes "It's no good. I can't go on." Ernestine Blunt comes forward, says a word to the Chairman, who ceases gyrating, and nods.)
(The noise gets louder. Chairman shouts, waves his arms, and moves his lips. Miss Levering feeling defeated, turns and looks at Ernestine Blunt and gestures "It's no use. I can't keep going." Ernestine Blunt steps forward, says something to the Chairman, who stops moving around, and nods.)

Miss E. B. (facing the crowd). Look here. If the Government withhold the vote because they don't like the way some of us ask for it—let them give it to the Quiet Ones. Does the Government want to punish all women because they don't like the manners of a handful? Perhaps that's you men's notion of justice. It isn't women's.

Miss E. B. (facing the crowd). Listen up. If the Government is going to hold back the vote just because they don't like how some of us ask for it—then they can hand it over to the Quiet Ones. Does the Government really think it's fair to punish all women just because they don't like the way a few behave? Maybe that's how you men see justice. It’s not how women see it.

Voices. Haw! haw!

Miss L. Yes. Th-this is the first time I've ever "gone on," as you call it, but they never gave me a vote.

Miss L. Yes. Th-this is the first time I've ever "gone on," as you say, but they never let me have a vote.

Miss E. B. (with energy). No! And there are one—two—three—four women on this platform. Now, we all want the vote, as you know. Well, we'd agree to be disfranchised all our lives, if they'd give the vote to all the other women.

Miss E. B. (with energy). No! And there are one—two—three—four women on this platform. Now, we all want the vote, as you know. Well, we’d be fine with being denied the vote our whole lives, if they would give it to all the other women.

Voice. Look here, you made one speech, give the lady a chawnce.

Voice. Listen, you gave one speech, let the lady have a turn.

Miss E. B. (retires smiling). That's just what I wanted you to do!

Miss E. B. (retires smiling). That's exactly what I wanted you to do!

Miss L. Perhaps you—you don't know—you don't know——

Miss L. Maybe you—you don't realize—you don't realize——

Voice (sarcastic). 'Ow 're we goin' to know if you can't tell us?

Voice (sarcastic). 'How are we supposed to know if you can't tell us?

Miss L. (flushing and smiling). Thank you for that. We couldn't have a better motto. How are you to know if we can't somehow manage to tell you? (With a visible effort she goes on.) Well, I certainly didn't know before that the sergeants and policemen are instructed to deceive the people as to the time such cases are heard. You ask, and you're sent to Marlborough Police Court instead of to Marylebone.

Miss L. (blushing and smiling). Thanks for that. We couldn't have a better motto. How are you supposed to know if we can't find a way to let you know? (With a visible effort she continues.) Well, I definitely didn't know before that the sergeants and police officers are told to mislead people about when those cases are heard. You ask, and they send you to Marlborough Police Court instead of Marylebone.

Voice. They ought ter sent yer to 'Olloway—do y' good.

Voice. They should have sent you to Holloway—it would do you good.

Old Newsvendor. You go on, Miss, don't mind 'im.

Old Newsvendor. Just keep going, Miss, don’t pay any attention to him.

Voice. Wot d'you expect from a pig but a grunt?

Voice. What do you expect from a pig but a grunt?

Miss L. You're told the case will be at two o'clock, and it's really called for eleven. Well, I took a great deal of trouble, and I didn't believe what I was told—

Miss L. You're told the case will be at two o'clock, and it's actually scheduled for eleven. Well, I put in a lot of effort, and I didn't trust what I was told—

(Warming a little to her task.)
(Getting a bit more comfortable with her task.)

Yes, that's almost the first thing we have to learn—to get over our touching faith that, because a man tells us something, it's true. I got to the right court, and I was so anxious not to be late, I was too early. The case before the Women's was just coming on. I heard a noise. At the door I saw the helmets of two policemen, and I said to myself: "What sort of crime shall I have to sit and hear about? Is this a burglar coming along between the two big policemen, or will it be a murderer? What sort of felon is to stand in the dock before the women whose crime is they ask for the vote?" But, try as I would, I couldn't see the prisoner. My heart misgave me. Is it a woman, I wondered? Then the policemen got nearer, and I saw—(she waits an instant)—a little, thin, half-starved boy. What do you think he was charged with? Stealing. What had he been stealing—that small criminal? Milk. It seemed to me as I sat there looking on, that the men who had the affairs of the world in their hands from the beginning, and who've made so poor a business of it——

Yes, that's almost the first thing we need to learn—to overcome our naive belief that just because a man tells us something, it’s true. I arrived at the right court, and in my eagerness not to be late, I ended up being too early. The case before the Women's court was just about to start. I heard noise. At the door, I saw the helmets of two policemen, and I thought to myself: "What kind of crime am I going to have to sit and listen to? Is this a burglar being led in by the two big policemen, or are we talking about a murderer? What kind of criminal is going to stand in front of the women who are asking for the right to vote?" But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't see the prisoner. My heart sank. Is it a woman, I wondered? Then the policemen got closer, and I saw—(she waits an instant)—a small, thin, half-starved boy. What do you think he was charged with? Stealing. What had that little criminal been stealing? Milk. As I sat there watching, it seemed to me that the men who’ve held the fate of the world in their hands since the beginning, and who’ve made such a mess of it—

Voices. Oh! oh! Pore benighted man! Are we down-'earted? Oh, no!

Voices. Oh! oh! Poor unfortunate man! Are we feeling down? Oh, no!

Miss L.—so poor a business of it as to have the poor and the unemployed in the condition they're in to-day—when your only remedy for a starving child74 is to hale him off to the police-court—because he had managed to get a little milk—well, I did wonder that the men refuse to be helped with a problem they've so notoriously failed at. I began to say to myself: "Isn't it time the women lent a hand?"

Miss L.—it's such a poor situation that the impoverished and unemployed are in today—when your only solution for a starving child74 is to drag him off to the police court—just because he managed to get a little milk—well, I did wonder why the men refuse to tackle a problem they've failed at so famously. I started to think: "Isn't it time for the women to step in?"

A Voice. Would you have women magistrates?

A Voice. Would you want women judges?

(She is stumped by the suddenness of the demand.)
(She is puzzled by the suddenness of the demand.)

Voices. Haw! Haw! Magistrates!

Another. Women! Let 'em prove first they deserve——

Another. Women! Let them prove first they deserve——

A Shabby Art Student (his hair longish, soft hat, and flowing tie). They study music by thousands; where's their Beethoven? Where's their Plato? Where's the woman Shakespeare?

A Shabby Art Student (his hair a bit long, soft hat, and a flowing tie). They study music by the thousands; where's their Beethoven? Where's their Plato? Where's the female Shakespeare?

Another. Yes—what 'a' they ever done?

(The speaker clenches her hands, and is recovering her presence of mind, so that by the time the Chairman can make himself heard with, "Now men, give this lady a fair hearing—don't interrupt"—she, with the slightest of gestures, waves him aside with a low "It's all right.")
(The speaker clenches her hands, and she is regaining her composure, so that by the time the Chairman can make himself heard with, "Now guys, let's give this lady a fair chance to speak—don’t interrupt"—she, with the slightest of gestures, waves him aside with a low "It's all good.")

Miss L. (steadying and raising her voice). These questions are quite proper! They are often asked elsewhere; and I would like to ask in return: Since when was human society held to exist for its handful of geniuses? How many Platos are there here in this crowd?

Miss L. (steadying and raising her voice). These questions are totally valid! People often ask them elsewhere, and I want to ask in return: Since when does human society exist for just a select few geniuses? How many Platos are there in this crowd?

A Voice (very loud and shrill). Divil a wan!

A Voice (very loud and shrill). Not a single one!

(Laughter.)
(Laughter.)

Miss L. Not one. Yet that doesn't keep you men off the register. How many Shakespeares are75 there in all England to-day? Not one. Yet the State doesn't tumble to pieces. Railroads and ships are built—homes are kept going, and babies are born. The world goes on! (bending over the crowd) It goes on by virtue of its common people.

Miss L. Not a single one. Yet that doesn't stop you guys from joining the register. How many Shakespeares are there in all of England today? Not one. Yet the State doesn't fall apart. Railroads and ships are built—homes are maintained, and babies are born. The world keeps turning! (leaning over the crowd) It keeps going thanks to its ordinary people.

Voices (subdued). Hear! hear!

Miss L. I am not concerned that you should think we women can paint great pictures, or compose immortal music, or write good books. I am content that we should be classed with the common people—who keep the world going. But (straightening up and taking a fresh start), I'd like the world to go a great deal better. We were talking about justice. I have been inquiring into the kind of lodging the poorest class of homeless women can get in this town of London. I find that only the men of that class are provided for. Some measure to establish Rowton Houses for women has been before the London County Council. They looked into the question "very carefully," so their apologists say. And what did they decide? They decided that they could do nothing.

Miss L. I'm not worried if you believe we women can create great art, compose timeless music, or write excellent books. I'm fine with being seen as part of the common people—who keep the world running. But (straightening up and taking a fresh start), I want the world to improve a lot. We were discussing justice. I've been looking into the kind of housing available for the poorest homeless women in London. I've discovered that only the men in that situation are being taken care of. A proposal for Rowton Houses for women has been presented to the London County Council. They examined the issue "very carefully," according to their supporters. And what was their conclusion? They decided that they could do nothing.

Lady John (having forced her way to Stonor's side). Is that true?

Lady John (after making her way to Stonor's side). Is that true?

Stonor (speaking through Miss Levering's next words). I don't know.

Stonor (speaking through Miss Levering's next words). I have no idea.

Miss L. Why could that great, all-powerful body do nothing? Because, if these cheap and decent houses were opened, they said, the homeless women in the streets would make use of them! You'll think I'm not in earnest. But that was actually the decision and the reason given for it. Women that the bitter struggle for existence has forced into a life of horror——

Miss L. Why could that big, powerful organization do nothing? Because, if these affordable and decent houses were opened, they claimed, the homeless women in the streets would take advantage of them! You might think I’m joking. But that was genuinely the decision and the reason behind it. Women whom the harsh struggle for survival has pushed into a life of horror——

Stonor (sternly to Lady John). You think this is the kind of thing—— (A motion of the head towards Jean.)

Stonor (sternly to Lady John). Do you really think this is acceptable—— (A motion of the head towards Jean.)

Miss L.—the outcast women might take advantage of the shelter these decent, cheap places offered. But the men, I said! Are all who avail themselves of Lord Rowton's hostels, are they all angels? Or does wrong-doing in a man not matter? Yet women are recommended to depend on the chivalry of men.

Miss L.—the marginalized women could benefit from the refuge these respectable, affordable places provided. But the men, I asked! Are all the ones who use Lord Rowton's hostels really angels? Or does it not matter if a man does wrong? Yet women are advised to rely on the kindness of men.

(The two policemen, who at first had been strolling about, have stood during this scene in front of Geoffrey Stonor. They turn now and walk away, leaving Stonor exposed. He, embarrassed, moves uneasily, and Vida Levering's eye falls upon his big figure. He still has the collar of his motor coat turned up to his ears. A change passes over her face, and her nerve fails her an instant.)
(The two policemen, who had been casually walking around at first, are now standing in front of Geoffrey Stonor. They turn and walk away, leaving Stonor exposed. He, feeling embarrassed, shifts uncomfortably, and Vida Levering's gaze lands on his large figure. He still has the collar of his motor coat turned up to his ears. A change comes over her face, and for a moment, her confidence wavers.)

Miss L. Justice and chivalry!! (she steadies her voice and hurries on)—they both remind me of what those of you who read the police-court news—(I have begun only lately to do that)—but you've seen the accounts of the girl who's been tried in Manchester lately for the murder of her child. Not pleasant reading. Even if we'd noticed it, we wouldn't speak of it in my world. A few months ago I should have turned away my eyes and forgotten even the headline as quickly as I could. But since that morning in the police-court, I read these things. This, as you'll remember, was about a little working girl—an orphan of eighteen—who crawled with the dead77 body of her new-born child to her master's back-door, and left the baby there. She dragged herself a little way off and fainted. A few days later she found herself in court, being tried for the murder of her child. Her master—a married man—had of course reported the "find" at his back-door to the police, and he had been summoned to give evidence. The girl cried out to him in the open court, "You are the father!" He couldn't deny it. The Coroner at the jury's request censured the man, and regretted that the law didn't make him responsible. But he went scot-free. And that girl is now serving her sentence in Strangeways Gaol.

Miss L. Justice and chivalry!! (she steadies her voice and hurries on)—they both remind me of what those of you who read the police-court news—(I have only recently started doing that)—but you've seen the reports about the girl who was tried in Manchester recently for murdering her child. It’s not pleasant reading. Even if we had noticed it, we wouldn’t talk about it in my world. A few months ago, I would have quickly turned away and forgotten even the headline. But since that morning in the police court, I read this stuff. This, as you’ll recall, was about a young girl—an orphan of eighteen—who crawled with the dead77 body of her newborn baby to her employer's back door and left the baby there. She dragged herself a little way off and fainted. A few days later, she found herself in court, being tried for the murder of her child. Her employer—a married man—had, of course, reported the "find" at his back door to the police, and he was called to give evidence. The girl shouted at him in open court, "You are the father!" He couldn’t deny it. The Coroner, at the jury's request, criticized the man and expressed regret that the law didn't hold him responsible. But he went free. And that girl is now serving her sentence in Strangeways Gaol.

(Murmuring and scraps of indistinguishable comment in the crowd, through which only Jean's voice is clear.)
(Murmurs and bits of unclear comments in the crowd, through which only Jean's voice comes through clearly.)

Jean (who has wormed her way to Stonor's side). Why do you dislike her so?

Jean (who has worked her way to Stonor's side). Why do you dislike her so much?

Stonor. I? Why should you think——

Jean (with a vaguely frightened air). I never saw you look as you did—as you do.

Jean (looking somewhat scared). I've never seen you look like this—like you do now.

Chairman. Order, please—give the lady a fair——

Miss L. (signing to him "It's all right"). Men make boast that an English citizen is tried by his peers. What woman is tried by hers?

Miss L. (signing to him "It's all good"). Men brag that an English citizen is judged by their peers. What woman is judged by hers?

(A sombre passion strengthens her voice and hurries her on.)
(A deep passion amplifies her voice and pushes her forward.)

A woman is arrested by a man, brought before a man judge, tried by a jury of men, condemned by men, taken to prison by a man, and by a man she's hanged! Where in all this were her "peers"? Why did men so long ago insist on trial by "a jury of their peers"? So that justice shouldn't miscarry—wasn't it? A78 man's peers would best understand his circumstances, his temptation, the degree of his guilt. Yet there's no such unlikeness between different classes of men as exists between man and woman. What man has the knowledge that makes him a fit judge of woman's deeds at that time of anguish—that hour—(lowers her voice and bends over the crowd)—that hour that some woman struggled through to put each man here into the world. I noticed when a previous speaker quoted the Labour Party you applauded. Some of you here—I gather—call yourselves Labour men. Every woman who has borne a child is a Labour woman. No man among you can judge what she goes through in her hour of darkness——

A woman is arrested by a man, brought before a male judge, tried by a jury of men, condemned by men, taken to prison by a man, and then hanged by a man! Where were her "peers" in all this? Why did men insist so long ago on being tried by "a jury of their peers"? It was supposed to ensure that justice wouldn’t be misapplied, right? A78 man’s peers would understand his situation, his temptations, the extent of his guilt. Yet, there’s no difference between classes of men that compares to the difference between man and woman. What man has the insight needed to judge a woman’s actions during that moment of distress—that hour—(lowers her voice and bends over the crowd)—that hour that some woman endured to bring each man here into this world. I noticed that when a previous speaker mentioned the Labour Party, you applauded. Some of you here—I gather—call yourselves Labour men. Every woman who has given birth is a Labour woman. No man among you can understand what she goes through in her darkest hour——

Jean (with frightened eyes on her lover's set, white face, whispers). Geoffrey——

Jean (with scared eyes on her lover's stiff, pale face, whispers). Geoffrey——

Miss L. (catching her fluttering breath, goes on very low.)—in that great agony when, even under the best conditions that money and devotion can buy, many a woman falls into temporary mania, and not a few go down to death. In the case of this poor little abandoned working girl, what man can be the fit judge of her deeds in that awful moment of half-crazed temptation? Women know of these things as those know burning who have walked through fire.

Miss L. (catching her fluttering breath, continues very low.)—in that tremendous pain when, even with all the money and care in the world, many women suffer from temporary madness, and some even die. In the case of this poor little abandoned working girl, what man is fit to judge her actions in that terrible moment of overwhelming temptation? Women understand these experiences like those who have felt fire know what it's like to walk through it.

(Stonor makes a motion towards Jean and she turns away fronting the audience. Her hands go up to her throat as though she suffered a choking sensation. It is in her face that she "knows." Miss Levering leans over the platform and speaks with a low and thrilling earnestness.)
(Stonor gestures towards Jean and she turns away to face the audience. Her hands go to her throat as if she's experiencing a choking sensation. It's clear from her expression that she "understands." Miss Levering leans over the platform and speaks with a soft yet intense urgency.)

I would say in conclusion to the women here, it's not79 enough to be sorry for these our unfortunate sisters. We must get the conditions of life made fairer. We women must organise. We must learn to work together. We have all (rich and poor, happy and unhappy) worked so long and so exclusively for men, we hardly know how to work for one another. But we must learn. Those who can, may give money——

I want to say to the women here that it’s not enough to just feel sorry for our unfortunate sisters. We need to make life fairer for everyone. We women must come together and learn to collaborate. We’ve all been working so hard for men—whether we’re rich or poor, happy or unhappy—that we barely know how to support each other. But we have to change that. Those who can, may contribute money—

Voices (grumbling). Oh, yes—Money! Money!

Miss L. Those who haven't pennies to give—even those people aren't so poor they can't give some part of their labour—some share of their sympathy and support.

Miss L. Even those who don’t have spare change to give aren’t so poor that they can’t contribute something—whether it’s a part of their work, some kindness, or their support.

(Turns to hear something the Chairman is whispering to her.)
(Turns to hear something the Chairman is whispering to her.)

Jean (low to Lady John). Oh, I'm glad I've got power!

Jean (leaning towards Lady John). Oh, I’m so glad I have power!

Lady John (bewildered). Power!—you?

Jean. Yes, all that money——

(Lady John tries to make her way to Stonor.)
(Lady John makes her way to Stonor.)

Miss L. (suddenly turning from the Chairman to the crowd). Oh, yes, I hope you'll all join the Union. Come up after the meeting and give your names.

Miss L. (suddenly turning from the Chairman to the crowd). Oh, yes, I really hope you all join the Union. Please come up after the meeting and sign up with your names.

Loud Voice. You won't get many men.

Loud Voice. You won't attract a lot of guys.

Miss L. (with fire). Then it's to the women I appeal!

Miss L. ( passionately). So, I'm appealing to the women!

(She is about to retire when, with a sudden gleam in her lit eyes, she turns for the last time to the crowd, silencing the general murmur and holding the people by the sudden concentration of passion in her face.)
(She is about to retire when, with a sudden sparkle in her bright eyes, she turns to the crowd one last time, quieting the general murmur and captivating the people with the sudden intensity of emotion on her face.)

I don't mean to say it wouldn't be better if men and women did this work together—shoulder to shoulder.80 But the mass of men won't have it so. I only hope they'll realise in time the good they've renounced and the spirit they've aroused. For I know as well as any man could tell me, it would be a bad day for England if all women felt about all men as I do.

I don't mean to say it wouldn't be better if men and women did this work together—shoulder to shoulder.80 But the majority of men aren't going to accept that. I just hope they'll realize in time what they've given up and the resentment they've created. Because I know just as well as anyone could tell me, it would be a bad day for England if all women felt about all men the way I do.

(She retires in a tumult. The others on the platform close about her. The Chairman tries in vain to get a hearing from the excited crowd.)
(She leaves in chaos. The others on the platform gather around her. The Chairman struggles unsuccessfully to get the attention of the excited crowd.)

(Jean tries to make her way through the knot of people surging round her.)
(Jean tries to navigate through the crowd of people pushing around her.)

Stonor (calls). Here!—Follow me!

Jean. No—no—I——

Stonor. You're going the wrong way.

Jean. This is the way I must go.

Jean. This is the path I need to take.

Stonor. You can get out quicker on this side.

Stonor. You can get out faster on this side.

Jean. I don't want to get out.

Stonor. What! Where are you going?

Jean. To ask that woman to let me have the honour of working with her.

Jean. To ask that woman to give me the privilege of working alongside her.

(She disappears in the crowd.)
(She disappears in the crowd.)

Curtain.

ACT III

81 Scene: The drawing-room at old Mr. Dunbarton's house in Eaton Square. Six o'clock the same evening. As the Curtain rises the door (L.) opens and Jean appears on the threshold. She looks back into her own sitting-room, then crosses the drawing-room, treading softly on the parquet spaces between the rugs. She goes to the window and is in the act of parting the lace curtains when the folding doors (C.) are opened by the Butler.
81 Scene: The drawing-room at Mr. Dunbarton's house in Eaton Square. Six o'clock the same evening. As the curtain rises, the door (L.) opens and Jean appears in the doorway. She glances back into her own sitting room, then crosses the drawing room, walking softly on the wooden floor between the rugs. She goes to the window and is about to pull apart the lace curtains when the folding doors (C.) are opened by the Butler.

Jean (to the Servant). Sh!

(She goes softly back to the door she has left open and closes it carefully. When she turns, the Butler has stepped aside to admit Geoffrey Stonor, and departed, shutting the folding doors. Stonor comes rapidly forward.)
(She quietly walks back to the open door and shuts it gently. When she turns, the Butler has moved aside to let in Geoffrey Stonor, and left, closing the folding doors behind him. Stonor quickly steps forward.)

(Before he gets a word out.) Speak low, please.

(Before he gets a word out.) Speak quietly, please.

Stonor (angrily). I waited about a whole hour for you to come back.

Stonor (angrily). I waited for almost an entire hour for you to come back.

(Jean turns away as though vaguely looking for the nearest chair.)
(Jean turns away as if she's casually searching for the closest chair.)

If you didn't mind leaving me like that, you might have considered Lady John.

If you didn't mind leaving me like that, you might have thought about Lady John.

Jean (pausing). Is she here with you?

Jean (pausing). Is she with you?

Stonor. No. My place was nearer than this, and she was very tired. I left her to get some tea. We couldn't tell whether you'd be here, or what had become of you.

Stonor. No. My place was closer than this, and she was really tired. I left her to make some tea. We couldn't figure out if you’d be here, or what happened to you.

Jean. Mr. Trent got us a hansom.

Jean. Mr. Trent got us a cab.

Stonor. Trent?

Jean. The Chairman of the meeting.

Stonor. "Got us——"?

Jean. Miss Levering and me.

Stonor (incensed). Miss L——

Butler (opens the door and announces). Mr. Farnborough.

(Enter Mr. Richard Farnborough—more flurried than ever.)
(Enter Mr. Richard Farnborough—more flustered than ever.)

Farn. (seeing Stonor). At last! You'll forgive this incursion, Miss Dunbarton, when you hear—— (Turns abruptly back to Stonor.) They've been telegraphing you all over London. In despair they set me on your track.

Farn. (noticing Stonor). Finally! You’ll understand why I’m here, Miss Dunbarton, once you hear—— (Suddenly turns back to Stonor.) They’ve been trying to reach you all over London. In frustration, they sent me to find you.

Stonor. Who did? What's up?

Farn. (lays down his hat and fumbles agitatedly in his breast-pocket). There was the devil to pay at Dutfield last night. The Liberal chap tore down from London and took over your meeting!

Farn. (takes off his hat and searches frantically in his jacket pocket). There was big trouble at Dutfield last night. The Liberal guy rushed down from London and hijacked your meeting!

Stonor. Oh?—Nothing about it in the Sunday paper I saw.

Farn. Wait till you see the Press to-morrow morning! There was a great rally and the beggar made a rousing speech.

Farn. Wait until you see the news tomorrow morning! There was a big turnout and the beggar gave an inspiring speech.

Stonor. What about?

Farn. Abolition of the Upper House——

Stonor. They were at that when I was at Eton!

Stonor. They were doing that when I was at Eton!

Farn. Yes. But this new man has got a way of putting things!—the people went mad. (Pompously.) The Liberal platform as defined at Dutfield is going to make a big difference.

Farn. Yeah. But this new guy has a way of expressing things!—the people went wild. (Pompously.) The Liberal platform as outlined at Dutfield is really going to change things.

Stonor (drily). You think so.

Farn. Well, your agent says as much. (Opens telegram.)

Farn. Well, your agent says the same. (Opens telegram.)

Stonor. My—— (Taking telegram.) "Try find Stonor"—Hm! Hm!

Stonor. My—— (Taking telegram.) "Try to find Stonor"—Hmm! Hmm!

Farn. (pointing).—"tremendous effect of last night's Liberal manifesto ought to be counteracted in to-morrow's papers." (Very earnestly.) You see, Mr. Stonor, it's a battle-cry we want.

Farn. (pointing).—"The huge impact of last night's Liberal manifesto needs to be addressed in tomorrow's papers." (Very earnestly.) You see, Mr. Stonor, we need a rallying cry.

Stonor (turns on his heel). Claptrap!

Farn. (a little dashed). Well, they've been saying we have nothing to offer but personal popularity. No practical reform. No——

Farn. (a little annoyed). Well, they're saying we only have personal popularity to offer. No real changes. No——

Stonor. No truckling to the masses, I suppose. (Walks impatiently away.)

Stonor. No catering to the crowd, I guess. (Walks impatiently away.)

Farn. (snubbed). Well, in these democratic days—— (Turns to Jean for countenance.) I hope you'll forgive my bursting in like this. (Struck by her face.) But I can see you realise the gravity—— (Lowering his voice with an air of speaking for her ear alone.) It isn't as if he were going to be a mere private member. Everybody knows he'll be in the Cabinet.

Farn. (snubbed) Well, in these democratic times—— (Turns to Jean for support.) I hope you can forgive me for barging in like this. (Noticing her expression.) But I can see you understand the seriousness—— (Lowering his voice as if speaking just for her.) It’s not like he’s going to be just a regular member. Everyone knows he’ll be in the Cabinet.

Stonor (drily). It may be a Liberal Cabinet.

Stonor (dryly). It might be a Liberal Cabinet.

Farn. Nobody thought so up to last night. Why, even your brother—but I am afraid I'm seeming officious. (Takes up his hat.)

Farn. No one believed that until last night. Even your brother—but I hope I'm not overstepping. (Picks up his hat.)

Stonor (coldly). What about my brother?

Farn. I met Lord Windlesham as I rushed out of the Carlton.

Farn. I ran into Lord Windlesham as I hurried out of the Carlton.

Stonor. Did he say anything?

Farn. I told him the Dutfield news.

Farn. I filled him in on the Dutfield news.

Stonor (impatiently). Well?

Farn. He said it only confirmed his fears.

Farn. He said it just confirmed his fears.

Stonor (half under his breath). Said that, did he?

Stonor (half whispering). He really said that, did he?

Farn. Yes. Defeat is inevitable, he thinks, unless—— (Pause.)

Farn. Yeah. He thinks defeat is unavoidable, unless—— (Pause.)

(Geoffrey Stonor, who has been pacing the floor, stops but doesn't raise his eyes.)
(Geoffrey Stonor, who has been walking back and forth, stops but keeps his eyes down.)

unless you can "manufacture some political dynamite within the next few hours." Those were his words.

unless you can "create some political chaos within the next few hours." Those were his words.

Stonor (resumes his walking to and fro, raises his head and catches sight of Jean's white, drawn face. Stops short). You are very tired.

Stonor (starts pacing again, lifts his head and notices Jean's pale, exhausted face. Halts abruptly). You look really tired.

Jean. No. No.

Stonor (to Farnborough). I'm obliged to you for taking so much trouble. (Shakes hands by way of dismissing Farnborough.) I'll see what can be done.

Stonor (to Farnborough). Thanks for going through all that effort. (Shakes hands to signal the end of the conversation with Farnborough.) I'll find out what I can do.

Farn. (offering the reply-paid form). If you'd like to wire I'll take it.

Farn. (offering the reply-paid form). If you want to send it through wire transfer, I'll take it.

Stonor (faintly amused). You don't understand, my young friend. Moves of this kind are not rushed at by responsible politicians. I must have time for consideration.

Stonor (slightly amused). You don’t get it, my young friend. Responsible politicians don’t make these kinds of moves without careful thought. I need time to think it over.

Farn. (disappointed). Oh, well, I only hope someone else won't jump into the breach before you—(Watch in hand) I tell you. (To Jean.) I'll find out what time the newspapers go to press on Sunday. Goodbye. (To Stonor.) I'll be at the Club just in case I can be of any use.

Farn. (disappointed). Oh, well, I just hope someone else doesn’t step in before you—(Watch in hand) I’m telling you. (To Jean.) I'll find out what time the newspapers go to press on Sunday. Bye. (To Stonor.) I’ll be at the Club just in case I can help out.

Stonor (firmly). No, don't do that. If I should have anything new to say——

Stonor (firmly). No, don't do that. If I have anything new to say——

Farn. (feverishly). B-b-but with our party, as your brother said—"heading straight for a vast electoral disaster——"

Farn. (feverishly) B-but with our group, like your brother said—"heading straight for a huge electoral disaster——"

Stonor. If I decide on a counterblast I shall simply telegraph to headquarters. Goodbye.

Stonor. If I decide to go against it, I'll just send a message to headquarters. Goodbye.

Farn. Oh—a—g-goodbye. (A gesture of "The country's going to the dogs.")

Farn. Oh—a—g-goodbye. (A gesture of "The country's falling apart.")

(Jean rings the bell. Exit Farnborough.)
(Jean rings the bell. Exit Farnborough.)

Stonor (studying the carpet). "Political dynamite," eh? (Pause.) After all ... women are much more conservative than men—aren't they?

Stonor (looking at the carpet). "Political dynamite," huh? (Pause.) After all ... women are way more conservative than men—right?

(Jean looks straight in front of her, making no attempt to reply.)
(Jean stares ahead, not trying to respond.)

Especially the women the property qualification would bring in. (He glances at Jean as though for the first time conscious of her silence.) You see now (he throws himself into the chair by the table) one reason why I've encouraged you to take an interest in public affairs. Because people like us don't go screaming about it, is no sign we don't (some of us) see what's on the way. However little they want to, women of our class will have to come into line. All the best things in the world—everything that civilisation has won will be in danger if—when this change comes—the only women who have practical political training are the women of the lower classes. Women of the lower classes, and (his brows knit heavily)—women inoculated by the Socialist virus.

Especially the women that the property requirement would bring in. (He glances at Jean as if he’s just now realizing her silence.) You see now (he throws himself into the chair by the table) one reason why I’ve encouraged you to get involved in public affairs. Just because people like us don't shout about it doesn’t mean we aren’t (some of us) aware of what's coming. No matter how much they resist, women of our class will have to step up. All the best things in the world—everything civilization has achieved will be at risk if—when this change happens—the only women with practical political training are from the lower classes. Women from the lower classes, and (his brows knit heavily)—women influenced by the Socialist ideology.

Jean. Geoffrey.

Stonor (draws the telegraph form towards him). Let86 us see, how we shall put it—when the time comes—shall we? (He detaches a pencil from his watch chain and bends over the paper, writing.)

Stonor (pulls the telegraph form closer). Let's see how we should phrase it—when the time comes—okay? (He takes a pencil from his watch chain and leans over the paper, writing.)

(Jean opens her lips to speak, moves a shade nearer the table and then falls back upon her silent, half-incredulous misery.)
(Jean opens her mouth to say something, leans a bit closer to the table, and then falls back into her silent, half-disbelieving despair.)

Stonor (holds the paper off, smiling). Enough dynamite in that! Rather too much, isn't there, little girl?

Stonor (holds the paper away, smiling). That’s a lot of dynamite! A bit too much, don't you think, little girl?

Jean. Geoffrey, I know her story.

Stonor. Whose story?

Jean. Miss Levering's.

Stonor. Whose?

Jean. Vida Levering's.

(Stonor stares speechless. Slight pause.)
(Stonor stares speechless. Slight pause.)

(The words escaping from her in a miserable cry) Why did you desert her?

(The words escaping from her in a miserable cry) Why did you abandon her?

Stonor (staggered). I? I?

Jean. Oh, why did you do it?

Jean. Oh, why did you have to do that?

Stonor (bewildered). What in the name of—— What has she been saying to you?

Stonor (bewildered). What on earth—— What has she been saying to you?

Jean. Some one else told me part. Then the way you looked when you saw her at Aunt Ellen's—Miss Levering's saying you didn't know her—then your letting out that you knew even the curious name on the handkerchief—— Oh, I pieced it together——

Jean. Someone else filled me in on part of it. Then the way you looked when you saw her at Aunt Ellen's—Miss Levering saying you didn’t know her—then you accidentally revealing that you even recognized the unusual name on the handkerchief—— Oh, I put it all together——

Stonor (with recovered self-possession). Your ingenuity is undeniable!

Stonor (with regained composure). Your creativity is impressive!

Jean.—and then, when she said that at the meeting about "the dark hour" and I looked at your face—it flashed over me—— Oh, why did you desert her?

Jean.—and then, when she mentioned "the dark hour" at the meeting and I saw your face—it hit me—— Oh, why did you leave her?

Stonor. I didn't desert her.

Jean. Ah-h! (Puts her hands before her eyes.)

Jean. Ah! (Covers her eyes with her hands.)

(Stonor makes a passionate motion towards her, is checked by her muffled voice saying)
(Stonor gestures passionately towards her, but is stopped by her quiet voice saying)

I'm glad—I'm glad!

(He stares bewildered. Jean drops her hands in her lap and steadies her voice.)
(He looks confused. Jean puts her hands in her lap and speaks calmly.)

She went away from you, then?

She left you, then?

Stonor. You don't expect me to enter into——

Stonor. You can't seriously think I'm going to get involved in——

Jean. She went away from you?

Stonor (with a look of almost uncontrollable anger). Yes!

Stonor (with a look of nearly unbridled rage). Yeah!

Jean. Was that because you wouldn't marry her?

Jean. Is that because you didn't want to marry her?

Stonor. I couldn't marry her—and she knew it.

Stonor. I couldn't marry her—and she was aware of it.

Jean. Did you want to?

Stonor (an instant's angry scrutiny and then turning away his eyes). I thought I did—then. It's a long time ago.

Stonor (an instant's angry glance and then turning away his eyes). I thought I did—back then. It's been a while.

Jean. And why "couldn't" you?

Stonor (a movement of strong irritation cut short). Why are you catechising me? It's a matter that concerns another woman.

Stonor (a movement of strong irritation cut short). Why are you questioning me? This is about another woman.

Jean. If you're saying that it doesn't concern me, you're saying—(her lip trembles)—that you don't concern me.

Jean. If you're saying that this doesn't involve me, you're saying—(her lip trembles)—that you don't matter to me.

Stonor (commanding his temper with difficulty). In those days I—I was absolutely dependent on my father.

Stonor (struggling to keep his temper in check). Back then, I—I was completely reliant on my father.

Jean. Why, you must have been thirty, Geoffrey.

Jean. Wow, you must have been thirty, Geoffrey.

Stonor (slight pause). What? Oh—thereabouts.

Jean. And everybody says you're so clever.

Jean. And everyone says you're really smart.

Stonor. Well, everybody's mistaken.

Jean (drawing nearer). It must have been terribly hard——

Jean (getting closer). It must have been really hard——

(Stonor turns towards her.)
(Stonor turns towards her.)

for you both—

(He arrests his movement and stands stonily.)
(He stops moving and stands still.)

that a man like you shouldn't have had the freedom that even the lowest seem to have.

that a guy like you shouldn't have had the freedom that even the least of us seem to have.

Stonor. Freedom?

Jean. To marry the woman they choose.

Jean. To marry the woman they want.

Stonor. She didn't break off our relations because I couldn't marry her.

Stonor. She didn't end our relationship because I couldn't marry her.

Jean. Why was it, then?

Stonor. You're too young to discuss such a story. (Half turns away.)

Stonor. You're too young to talk about this story. (Half turns away.)

Jean. I'm not so young as she was when——

Jean. I'm not as young as she was when——

Stonor (wheeling upon her). Very well, then, if you will have it! The truth is, it didn't seem to weigh upon her, as it seems to on you, that I wasn't able to marry her.

Stonor (turning to her). Alright, if that's how you want it! The truth is, it didn't seem to bother her like it does you that I couldn't marry her.

Jean. Why are you so sure of that?

Jean. Why do you feel so certain about that?

Stonor. Because she didn't so much as hint such a thing when she wrote that she meant to break off the—the——

Stonor. Because she didn't even hint at that when she wrote that she intended to break off the—the——

Jean. What made her write like that?

Jean. What inspired her to write like that?

Stonor (with suppressed rage). Why will you go on talking of what's so long over and ended?

Stonor (holding back anger). Why do you keep talking about something that’s been over and done with for so long?

Jean. What reason did she give?

Stonor. If your curiosity has so got the upper hand—ask her.

Stonor. If your curiosity has taken over—ask her.

Jean (her eyes upon him). You're afraid to tell me.

Jean (looking at him). You're scared to tell me.

Stonor (putting pressure on himself to answer quietly). I still hoped—at that time—to win my father over. She blamed me because (goes to window89 and looks blindly out and speaks in a low tone) if the child had lived it wouldn't have been possible to get my father to—to overlook it.

Stonor (putting pressure on himself to answer quietly). I still hoped—at that time—to win my father over. She blamed me because (goes to window89 and looks blindly out and speaks in a low tone) if the child had lived, it wouldn't have been possible to get my father to—to overlook it.

Jean (faintly). You wanted it overlooked? I don't underst——

Jean (softly). You wanted it ignored? I don't get it——

Stonor (turning passionately back to her). Of course you don't. (He seizes her hand and tries to draw her to him.) If you did, you wouldn't be the beautiful, tender, innocent child you are——

Stonor (turning eagerly back to her). Of course you don't. (He takes her hand and tries to pull her closer.) If you did, you wouldn't be the beautiful, tender, innocent person you are——

Jean (has withdrawn her hand and shrunk from him with an impulse—slight as is its expression—so tragically eloquent, that fear for the first time catches hold of him). I am glad you didn't mean to desert her, Geoffrey. It wasn't your fault after all—only some misunderstanding that can be cleared up.

Jean (pulls her hand away and recoils from him with an impulse—small as it may be—so heartbreakingly expressive that for the first time he feels a sense of fear). I'm glad you didn't intend to abandon her, Geoffrey. It wasn’t really your fault—just a misunderstanding that can be sorted out.

Stonor. Cleared up?

Jean. Yes. Cleared up.

Stonor (aghast). You aren't thinking that this miserable old affair I'd as good as forgotten——

Stonor (shocked). You can't be thinking that this awful old situation I’d pretty much forgotten——

Jean (in a horror-struck whisper, with a glance at the door which he doesn't see). Forgotten!

Jean (in a terrified whisper, glancing at the door that he doesn't notice). Forgotten!

Stonor. No, no. I don't mean exactly forgotten. But you're torturing me so I don't know what I'm saying. (He goes closer.) You aren't—Jean! you—you aren't going to let it come between you and me!

Stonor. No, no. I don't mean completely forgotten. But you’re making me so confused that I don’t know what I’m saying. (He moves closer.) You aren’t—Jean! you—you aren’t going to let this come between us!

Jean (presses her handkerchief to her lips, and then, taking it away, answers steadily). I can't make or unmake what's past. But I'm glad, at least, that you didn't mean to desert her in her trouble. You'll remind her of that first of all, won't you? (Moves to the door, L.)

Jean (presses her handkerchief to her lips, and then, taking it away, answers steadily). I can’t change what’s already happened. But I’m glad, at least, that you didn't intend to abandon her during her tough times. You’ll make sure to remind her of that first, right? (Moves to the door, L.)

Stonor. Where are you going? (Raising his voice.) Why should I remind anybody of what I want only to forget?

Stonor. Where are you headed? (Raising his voice.) Why should I remind anyone of what I just want to forget?

Jean (finger on lip). Sh!

Stonor (with eyes on the door). You don't mean that she's——

Stonor (watching the door). You can’t be saying that she's——

Jean. Yes. I left her to get a little rest.

Jean. Yeah. I left her to take a little break.

(He recoils in an access of uncontrollable rage. She follows him. Speechless, he goes down R. to get his hat.)
(He pulls back in a wave of unstoppable anger. She trails after him. Silent, he heads down R. to grab his hat.)

Geoffrey, don't go before you hear me. I don't know if what I think matters to you now—but I hope it does. (With tears.) You can still make me think of you without shrinking—if you will.

Geoffrey, please don't leave before you listen to me. I’m not sure if what I think is important to you right now—but I hope it is. (With tears.) You can still make me think of you without pulling away—if you want to.

Stonor (fixes her a moment with his eyes. Then sternly). What is it you are asking of me?

Stonor (gives her a serious look. Then firmly). What are you asking of me?

Jean. To make amends, Geoffrey.

Stonor (with an outburst). You poor little innocent!

Stonor (with an outburst). You poor thing!

Jean. I'm poor enough. But (locking her hands together) I'm not so innocent but what I know you must right that old wrong now, if you're ever to right it.

Jean. I'm broke enough. But (locking her hands together) I'm not so naive that I don't realize you have to fix that old wrong now, if you're ever going to fix it.

Stonor. You aren't insane enough to think I would turn round in these few hours and go back to something that ten years ago was ended for ever! Why, it's stark, staring madness!

Stonor. You can’t seriously believe I would suddenly change my mind after all these years and return to something that was finished once and for all a decade ago! That’s just plain crazy!

Jean. No. (Catching on his arm.) What you did ten years ago—that was mad. This is paying a debt.

Jean. No. (Catching on his arm.) What you did ten years ago—that was crazy. This is settling a debt.

Stonor. Look here, Jean, you're dreadfully wrought up and excited—tired too——

Stonor. Listen, Jean, you’re really worked up and excited—also tired too——

Jean. No, not tired—though I've travelled so far to-day. I know you smile at sudden conversions. You think they're hysterical—worse—vulgar. But people must get their revelation how they can. And, Geoffrey, if I can't make you see this one of mine—I91 shall know your love could never mean strength to me. Only weakness. And I shall be afraid. So afraid I'll never dare to give you the chance of making me loathe myself. I shall never see you again.

Jean. No, I'm not tired—even though I've traveled so far today. I know you find sudden changes of heart amusing. You think they're hysterical—maybe even tacky. But people have to get their revelations however they can. And, Geoffrey, if I can't make you understand this one of mine—I91 will know your love could never be a source of strength for me. Only weakness. And I will be so afraid. So afraid that I'll never risk giving you the chance to make me hate myself. I will never see you again.

Stonor. How right I was to be afraid of that vein of fanaticism in you. (Moves towards the door.)

Stonor. I was completely right to be worried about that streak of fanaticism in you. (Moves towards the door.)

Jean. Certainly you couldn't make a greater mistake than to go away now and think it any good ever to come back. (He turns.) Even if I came to feel different, I couldn't do anything different. I should know all this couldn't be forgotten. I should know that it would poison my life in the end. Yours too.

Jean. You really can't make a bigger mistake than leaving now and thinking it would be good to come back. (He turns.) Even if I started to feel differently, I wouldn't be able to act differently. I should realize that none of this could be forgotten. I should understand that it would ultimately ruin my life. Yours too.

Stonor (with suppressed fury). She has made good use of her time! (With a sudden thought.) What has changed her? Has she been seeing visions too?

Stonor (holding back anger). She has really used her time well! (With a sudden realization.) What has gotten into her? Has she been having visions too?

Jean. What do you mean?

Stonor. Why is she intriguing to get hold of a man that, ten years ago, she flatly refused to see, or hold any communication with?

Stonor. Why is she interested in connecting with a man she completely refused to see or talk to ten years ago?

Jean. "Intriguing to get hold of?" She hasn't mentioned you!

Jean. "Interesting to get a hold of?" She hasn't mentioned you!

Stonor. What! Then how in the name of Heaven do you know—that she wants—what you ask?

Stonor. What! Then how on Earth do you know—that she wants—what you're asking?

Jean (firmly). There can't be any doubt about that.

Jean (firmly). There’s no doubt about that.

Stonor (with immense relief). You absurd, ridiculous child! Then all this is just your own unaided invention. Well—I could thank God! (Falls into the nearest chair and passes his handkerchief over his face.)

Stonor (with immense relief). You silly, ridiculous child! So all of this is just your own wild imagination. Well—I could thank God! (Falls into the nearest chair and wipes his face with his handkerchief.)

Jean (perplexed, uneasy). For what are you thanking God?

Jean (confused, anxious). What are you thanking God for?

Stonor (trying to think out his plan of action). Suppose—(I'm not going to risk it)—but suppose—(He looks up and at the sight of Jean's face a new tenderness comes into his own. He rises suddenly.) Whether I deserve to suffer or not—it's quite certain you don't. Don't cry, dear one. It never was the real thing. I had to wait till I knew you before I understood.

Stonor (trying to figure out his next move). What if—(I’m not going to take that chance)—but what if—(He looks up and seeing Jean's face, a new softness fills his own. He stands up suddenly.) Whether I deserve to be in pain or not—it's clear you don’t. Don’t cry, sweetheart. It was never really genuine. I had to wait until I got to know you before I understood.

Jean (lifts her eyes brimming). Oh, is that true? (Checks her movement towards him.) Loving you has made things clear to me I didn't dream of before. If I could think that because of me you were able to do this——

Jean (lifts her eyes filled with emotion). Oh, is that really true? (Checks her movement towards him.) Loving you has opened my eyes to things I never imagined before. If I could believe that because of me you were able to do this——

Stonor (seizes her by the shoulders and says hoarsely). Look here! Do you seriously ask me to give up the girl I love—to go and offer to marry a woman that even to think of——

Stonor (seizes her by the shoulders and says hoarsely). Listen! Are you really asking me to give up the girl I love—to go and propose to a woman that even to think of——

Jean. You cared for her once. You'll care about her again. She is beautiful and brilliant—everything. I've heard she could win any man she set herself to——

Jean. You used to care for her. You'll care about her again. She’s beautiful and smart—everything. I’ve heard she could catch any man she wanted.

Stonor (pushing Jean from him). She's bewitched you!

Jean. Geoffrey, Geoffrey, you aren't going away like that. This isn't the end!

Jean. Geoffrey, Geoffrey, you can't just leave like that. This isn't the end!

Stonor (darkly—hesitating). I suppose even if she refused me, you'd——

Stonor (darkly—hesitating). I guess even if she turned me down, you'd——

Jean. She won't refuse you.

Stonor. She did once.

Jean. She didn't refuse to marry you——

(Jean is going to the door L.)
(Jean is going to the door L.)

Stonor (catches her by the arm). Wait!—a—— (Hunting for some means of gaining time.) Lady John93 is waiting all this while for the car to go back with a message.

Stonor (grabs her arm). Wait!—a—— (Looking for a way to stall.) Lady John93 has been waiting for the car to return with a message this whole time.

Jean. That's not a matter of life and death——

Jean. That's not a matter of life or death——

Stonor. All the same—I'll go down and give the order.

Stonor. Still, I’ll head down and give the order.

Jean (stopping quite still on a sudden). Very well. (Sits C.) You'll come back if you're the man I pray you are. (Breaks into a flood of silent tears, her elbows on the table (C.) her face in her hands.)

Jean (suddenly stopping still). Alright. (Sits C.) I hope you'll return if you’re the person I believe you are. (Breaks into a flood of silent tears, her elbows on the table (C.) her face in her hands.)

Stonor (returns, bends over her, about to take her in his arms). Dearest of all the world——

Stonor (returns, bends over her, about to take her in his arms). The most beloved in the whole world——

(Door L. opens softly and Vida Levering appears. She is arrested at sight of Stonor, and is in the act of drawing back when, upon the slight noise, Stonor looks round. His face darkens, he stands staring at her and then with a look of speechless anger goes silently out C. Jean, hearing him shut the door, drops her head on the table with a sob. Vida Levering crosses slowly to her and stands a moment silent at the girl's side.)
(Door L. opens quietly and Vida Levering shows up. She freezes at the sight of Stonor, and is about to pull back when, at the faint sound, Stonor turns around. His expression darkens, he stares at her, and then, with a look of wordless anger, he walks out C. Jean, hearing him close the door, hangs her head on the table with a sob. Vida Levering slowly walks over to her and stands in silence for a moment at the girl's side.)

Miss L. What is the matter?

Jean (lifting her head and drying her eyes). I—I've been seeing Geoffrey.

Jean (lifting her head and drying her eyes). I—I've been hanging out with Geoffrey.

Miss L. (with an attempt at lightness). Is this the effect seeing Geoffrey has?

Miss L. (trying to sound casual). Is this what happens when you see Geoffrey?

Jean. You see, I know now (as Miss Levering looks quite uncomprehending)—how he (drops her eyes)—how he spoiled some one else's life.

Jean. You see, I realize now (as Miss Levering looks completely confused)—how he (looks down)—how he messed up someone else's life.

Miss L. (quickly). Who tells you that?

Miss L. (quickly). Who says that?

Jean. Several people have told me.

Miss L. Well, you should be very careful how you believe what you hear.

Miss L. Well, you should be really careful about believing what you hear.

Jean (passionately). You know it's true.

Miss L. I know that it's possible to be mistaken.

Miss L. I know it's possible to be wrong.

Jean. I see! You're trying to shield him——

Jean. I get it! You're trying to protect him——

Miss L. Why should I—what is it to me?

Miss L. Why should I care—what does it matter to me?

Jean (with tears). Oh—h, how you must love him!

Jean (with tears). Oh—h, how much you must love him!

Miss L. Listen to me——

Jean (rising). What's the use of your going on denying it?

Jean (standing up). What’s the point of you continuing to deny it?

(Miss Levering, about to break in, is silenced.)
(Miss Levering, about to interrupt, is silenced.)

Geoffrey doesn't.

(Jean, struggling to command her feelings, goes to window. Vida Levering relinquishes an impulse to follow, and sits left centre. Jean comes slowly back with her eyes bent on the floor, does not lift them till she is quite near Vida. Then the girl's self-absorbed face changes.)
(Jean, trying to control her emotions, walks to the window. Vida Levering gives up the urge to follow her and sits down in the center left. Jean slowly returns, her eyes fixed on the floor, not looking up until she’s almost next to Vida. Then the girl's introspective expression changes.)

Oh, don't look like that! I shall bring him back to you! (Drops on her knees beside the other's chair.)

Oh, don’t make that face! I’ll bring him back to you! (Drops to her knees beside the other's chair.)

Miss L. You would be impertinent (softening) if you weren't a romantic child. You can't bring him back.

Miss L. You would be rude (softening) if you weren't a dreamy kid. You can't get him back.

Jean. Yes, he——

Miss L. But there's something you can do——

Jean. What?

Miss L. Bring him to the point where he recognises that he's in our debt.

Miss L. Make him realize that he owes us.

Jean. In our debt?

Miss L. In debt to women. He can't repay the one he robbed——

Miss L. In debt to women. He can't repay the one he stole from——

Jean (wincing and rising from her knees). Yes, yes.

Jean (grimacing and getting up from her knees). Yeah, yeah.

Miss L. (sternly). No, he can't repay the dead. But there are the living. There are the thousands with hope still in their hearts and youth in their blood. Let him help them. Let him be a Friend to Women.

Miss L. (sternly). No, he can't repay those who have died. But there are the living. There are thousands who still have hope in their hearts and youth in their veins. Let him help them. Let him be a Friend to Women.

Jean (rising on a wave of enthusiasm). Yes, yes—I understand. That too!

Jean (excitedly standing up). Yes, yes—I get it. That as well!

(The door opens. As Stonor enters with Lady John, he makes a slight gesture towards the two as much as to say, "You see.")
(The door opens. As Stonor walks in with Lady John, he gives a small motion towards the two, almost as if to say, "You get it.")

Jean (catching sight of him). Thank you!

Jean (noticing him). Thanks!

Lady John (in a clear, commonplace tone to Jean). Well, you rather gave us the slip. Vida, I believe Mr. Stonor wants to see you for a few minutes (glances at watch)—but I'd like a word with you first, as I must get back. (To Stonor.) Do you think the car—your man said something about re-charging.

Lady John (in a clear, casual tone to Jean). Well, you kind of left us hanging. Vida, I think Mr. Stonor wants to see you for a few minutes (glances at watch)—but I’d like to chat with you first since I need to head back. (To Stonor.) Do you think the car—your guy mentioned something about recharging?

Stonor (hastily). Oh, did he?—I'll see about it.

Stonor (quickly). Oh, did he?—I'll check on that.

(As Stonor is going out he encounters the Butler. Exit Stonor.)
(As Stonor is leaving, he runs into the Butler. Exit Stonor.)

Butler. Mr. Trent has called, Miss, to take Miss Levering to the meeting.

Jean. Bring Mr. Trent into my sitting-room. I'll tell him—you can't go to-night.

Jean. Please bring Mr. Trent into my living room. I need to tell him—you can't go tonight.

[Exeunt Butler c., Jean l.
[Exeunt Butler c., Jean l.

Lady John (hurriedly). I know, my dear, you're not aware of what that impulsive girl wants to insist on.

Lady John (hurriedly). I know, my dear, you aren't aware of what that impulsive girl is determined to insist on.

Miss L. Yes, I am aware of it.

Miss L. Yes, I know about it.

Lady John. But it isn't with your sanction, surely, that she goes on making this extraordinary demand.

Lady John. But you can’t possibly be okay with her making this outrageous demand.

Miss L. (slowly). I didn't sanction it at first, but I've been thinking it over.

Miss L. (slowly). I didn’t approve of it at first, but I’ve been giving it some thought.

Lady John. Then all I can say is I am greatly disappointed in you. You threw this man over years ago for reasons—whatever they were—that seemed to you good and sufficient. And now you come between him and a younger woman—just to play Nemesis, so far as I can make out!

Lady John. All I can say is that I'm really disappointed in you. You walked away from this guy years ago for reasons—whatever they were—that you thought were good enough. And now you're coming between him and a younger woman—just to act like some kind of avenger, as far as I can see!

Miss L. Is that what he says?

Miss L. Is that what he really says?

Lady John. He says nothing that isn't fair and considerate.

Lady John. He speaks nothing but fairness and thoughtfulness.

Miss L. I can see he's changed.

Miss L. I can tell he's different now.

Lady John. And you're unchanged—is that it?

Lady John. So you're still the same, is that it?

Miss L. I've changed even more than he.

Miss L. I've changed even more than he has.

Lady John. But (pity and annoyance blended in her tone)—you care about him still, Vida?

Lady John. But (pity and annoyance mixed in her tone)—you still care about him, Vida?

Miss L. No.

Lady John. I see. It's just that you wish to marry somebody——

Lady John. I get it. It's just that you want to marry someone——

Miss L. Oh, Lady John, there are no men listening.

Miss L. Oh, Lady John, there are no guys listening.

Lady John (surprised). No, I didn't suppose there were.

Lady John (surprised). No, I didn't think there were.

Miss L. Then why keep up that old pretence?

Miss L. So why keep up that old act?

Lady John. What pre——

Miss L. That to marry at all costs is every woman's dearest ambition till the grave closes over her. You and I know it isn't true.

Miss L. The idea that marrying at any cost is every woman's greatest dream until the end of her life is a common belief. You and I know that's not true.

Lady John. Well, but—— Oh! it was just the unexpected sight of him bringing it back—— That was what fired you this afternoon! (With an honest attempt at sympathetic understanding.) Of course. The memory of a thing like that can never die—can never even be dimmed—for the woman.

Lady John. Well, but—— Oh! it was just the surprising sight of him bringing it back—— That's what got to you this afternoon! (With a sincere attempt at sympathetic understanding.) Of course. The memory of something like that can never fade—can never even be dull—for the woman.

Miss L. I mean her to think so.

Miss L. I want her to believe that.

Lady John (bewildered). Jean!

(Miss Levering nods.)
(Miss Levering nods.)

Lady John. And it isn't so?

Miss L. You don't seriously believe a woman with anything else to think about, comes to the end of ten years still absorbed in a memory of that sort?

Miss L. You can’t honestly think a woman with other things on her mind can be stuck on a memory like that after ten years?

Lady John (astonished). You've got over it, then!

Lady John (astonished). So you've moved on from it, then!

Miss L. If the newspapers didn't remind me I shouldn't remember once a twelvemonth that there was ever such a person as Geoffrey Stonor in the world.

Miss L. If the newspapers didn't remind me, I wouldn't even remember once a year that there was ever such a person as Geoffrey Stonor in the world.

Lady John (with unconscious rapture). Oh, I'm so glad!

Lady John (with unconscious joy). Oh, I'm so happy!

Miss L. (smiles grimly). Yes, I'm glad too.

Miss L. (smirks). Yeah, I’m glad too.

Lady John. And if Geoffrey Stonor offered you—what's called "reparation"—you'd refuse it?

Lady John. And if Geoffrey Stonor offered you what they call "reparation," you would turn it down?

Miss L. (smiles a little contemptuously). Geoffrey Stonor! For me he's simply one of the far-back links in a chain of evidence. It's certain I think a hundred times of other women's present unhappiness, to once that I remember that old unhappiness of mine that's past. I think of the nail and chain makers of Cradley Heath. The sweated girls of the slums. I think of the army of ill-used women whose very existence I mustn't mention——

Miss L. (smiles slightly with disdain). Geoffrey Stonor! To me, he's just another distant link in a chain of evidence. I’m aware of other women’s current unhappiness a hundred times more often than I recall the old unhappiness I’ve experienced. I think about the nail and chain makers in Cradley Heath. The overworked girls from the slums. I think of the countless mistreated women whose existence I can’t even bring up——

Lady John (interrupting hurriedly). Then why in Heaven's name do you let poor Jean imagine——

Lady John (interrupting hurriedly). Then why in the world do you let poor Jean think——

Miss L. (bending forward). Look—I'll trust you, Lady John. I don't suffer from that old wrong as Jean thinks I do, but I shall coin her sympathy into gold for a greater cause than mine.

Miss L. (bending forward). Look—I'm going to trust you, Lady John. I don't feel that old hurt like Jean believes I do, but I'll turn her sympathy into something valuable for a cause that's bigger than my own.

Lady John. I don't understand you.

Miss L. Jean isn't old enough to be able to care as much about a principle as about a person. But if my half-forgotten pain can turn her generosity into the common treasury——

Miss L. Jean isn't old enough to care as much about a principle as she does about a person. But if my half-forgotten pain can turn her generosity into the common treasury——

Lady John. What do you propose she shall do, poor child?

Lady John. What do you suggest she should do, poor thing?

Miss L. Use her hold over Geoffrey Stonor to make him help us!

Miss L. Use her influence over Geoffrey Stonor to get him to help us!

Lady John. Help you?

Miss L. The man who served one woman—God knows how many more—very ill, shall serve hundreds of thousands well. Geoffrey Stonor shall make it harder for his son, harder still for his grandson, to treat any woman as he treated me.

Miss L. The man who treated one woman—God knows how many others—very poorly, will end up treating hundreds of thousands well. Geoffrey Stonor will make it tougher for his son, and even tougher for his grandson, to treat any woman the way he treated me.

Lady John. How will he do that?

Lady John. How will he manage that?

Miss L. By putting an end to the helplessness of women.

Lady John (ironically). You must think he has a great deal of power——

Lady John (ironically). You must think he has a lot of power——

Miss L. Power? Yes, men have too much over penniless and frightened women.

Miss L. Power? Yeah, men have way too much control over broke and scared women.

Lady John (impatiently). What nonsense! You talk as though the women hadn't their share of human nature. We aren't made of ice any more than the men.

Lady John (impatiently). What nonsense! You speak as if women don't have their share of human nature. We're not made of ice any more than men are.

Miss L. No, but all the same we have more self-control.

Miss L. No, but still, we have more self-control.

Lady John. Than men?

Miss L. You know we have.

Lady John (shrewdly). I know we mustn't admit it.

Lady John (shrewdly). I know we can't admit it.

Miss L. For fear they'd call us fishes!

Miss L. Because we were worried they'd call us fish!

Lady John (evasively). They talk of our lack of99 self-control—but it's the last thing they want women to have.

Lady John (evasively). They talk about how we lack99 self-control—but that's the very thing they want women to avoid.

Miss L. Oh, we know what they want us to have. So we make shift to have it. If we don't, we go without hope—sometimes we go without bread.

Miss L. Oh, we know what they expect us to have. So we adjust to make it happen. If we don't, we lose hope—sometimes we even go without food.

Lady John (shocked). Vida—do you mean to say that you——

Lady John (shocked). Vida—are you saying that you——

Miss L. I mean to say that men's vanity won't let them see it, but the thing's largely a question of economics.

Miss L. What I'm trying to say is that men's pride won’t allow them to notice it, but it mostly comes down to economics.

Lady John (shocked). You never loved him, then!

Miss L. Oh, yes, I loved him—once. It was my helplessness turned the best thing life can bring, into a curse for both of us.

Miss L. Oh, yes, I loved him—once. My weakness turned the best thing life can offer into a curse for both of us.

Lady John. I don't understand you——

Miss L. Oh, being "understood!"—that's too much to expect. When people come to know I've joined the Union——

Miss L. Oh, being "understood!"—that's a lot to ask. When people find out I've joined the Union——

Lady John. But you won't——

Miss L.—who is there who will resist the temptation to say, "Poor Vida Levering! What a pity she hasn't got a husband and a baby to keep her quiet"? The few who know about me, they'll be equally sure that it's not the larger view of life I've gained—my own poor little story is responsible for my new departure. (Leans forward and looks into Lady John's face.) My best friend, she will be surest of all, that it's a private sense of loss, or, lower yet, a grudge——! But I tell you the only difference between me and thousands of women with husbands and babies is that I'm free to say what I think. They aren't.

Miss L.—who can resist saying, "Poor Vida Levering! What a shame she doesn't have a husband and a baby to keep her settled"? The few who know about me will definitely think that it's not the broader perspective on life I've gained—my own little story is what sparked my new direction. (Leans forward and looks into Lady John's face.) My best friend will surely believe it's a personal sense of loss or, even worse, a grudge——! But I tell you, the only difference between me and thousands of women with husbands and babies is that I'm free to express my thoughts. They aren't.

Lady John (rising and looking at her watch). I must get back—my poor ill-used guests.

Lady John (getting up and checking her watch). I need to head back—my unfortunate guests.

100

Miss L. (rising). I won't ring. I think you'll find Mr. Stonor downstairs waiting for you.

Miss L. (rising). I’m not going to ring the bell. I believe Mr. Stonor is downstairs waiting for you.

Lady John (embarrassed). Oh—a—he will have left word about the car in any case.

Lady John (embarrassed). Oh—uh—he will have mentioned something about the car anyway.

(Miss Levering has opened the door (C.). Allen Trent is in the act of saying goodbye to Jean in the hall.)
(Miss Levering has opened the door (C.). Allen Trent is saying goodbye to Jean in the hall.)

Miss L. Well, Mr. Trent, I didn't expect to see you this evening.

Miss L. Well, Mr. Trent, I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.

Trent (comes and stands in the doorway). Why not? Have I ever failed?

Trent (comes and stands in the doorway). Why not? Have I ever let anyone down?

Miss L. Lady John, this is one of our allies. He is good enough to squire me through the rabble from time to time.

Miss L. Lady John, this is one of our friends. He kindly helps me navigate through the crowd now and then.

Lady John. Well, I think it's very handsome of you, after what she said to-day about men. (Shakes hands.)

Lady John. I think it's really great of you, considering what she said today about men. (Shakes hands.)

Trent. I've no great opinion of most men myself. I might add—or of most women.

Trent. I don't think much of most men myself. I could also say—or of most women.

Lady John. Oh! Well, at any rate I shall go away relieved to think that Miss Levering's plain speaking hasn't alienated all masculine regard.

Lady John. Oh! Well, at least I’ll leave feeling relieved that Miss Levering's straightforwardness hasn't driven away all male attention.

Trent. Why should it?

Lady John. That's right, Mr. Trent! Don't believe all she says in the heat of propaganda.

Lady John. Exactly, Mr. Trent! Don’t take everything she says seriously in the heat of persuasion.

Trent. I do believe all she says. But I'm not cast down.

Trent. I really believe everything she says. But I'm not upset.

Lady John (smiling). Not when she says——

Trent (interrupting). Was there never a mysogynist of my sex who ended by deciding to make an exception?

Trent (interrupting). Has there never been a misogynist of my gender who ultimately chose to make an exception?

Lady John (smiling significantly). Oh, if that's what you build on!

Lady John (smiling significantly). Oh, if that's what you're relying on!

101

Trent. Well, why shouldn't a man-hater on your side prove equally open to reason?

Trent. Well, why can't a man-hater on your side be just as reasonable?

Miss L. That part of the question doesn't concern me. I've come to a place where I realise that the first battles of this new campaign must be fought by women alone. The only effective help men could give—amendment of the law—they refuse. The rest is nothing.

Miss L. That part of the question doesn't affect me. I've reached a point where I understand that the initial struggles of this new campaign have to be fought by women on their own. The only real support men could provide—changing the law—they refuse to give. Everything else is pointless.

Lady John. Don't be ungrateful, Vida. Here's Mr. Trent ready to face criticism in publicly championing you.

Lady John. Don’t be ungrateful, Vida. Here’s Mr. Trent ready to face criticism for publicly supporting you.

Miss L. It's an illusion that I as an individual need Mr. Trent. I am quite safe in the crowd. Please don't wait for me, and don't come for me again.

Miss L. It's just a misconception that I need Mr. Trent as an individual. I'm perfectly fine in a crowd. Please don't wait for me, and don't come looking for me again.

Trent (flushes). Of course if you'd rather——

Trent (flushes). Of course if you'd prefer——

Miss L. And that reminds me. I was asked to thank you and to tell you, too, that they—the women of the Union—they won't need your chairmanship any more—though that, I beg you to believe, has nothing to do with any feeling of mine.

Miss L. And that reminds me. I was asked to thank you and let you know that they—the women of the Union—they won’t need your chairmanship anymore—though I assure you, that has nothing to do with my feelings.

Trent (hurt). Of course, I know there must be other men ready—better known men——

Trent (hurt). Of course, I know there must be other guys out there—better-known guys——

Miss L. It isn't that. It's simply that they find a man can't keep a rowdy meeting in order as well as a woman.

Miss L. It's not that at all. They just believe that a man can't control a chaotic meeting as effectively as a woman can.

(He stares.)
(He stares.)

Lady John. You aren't serious?

Miss L. (to Trent). Haven't you noticed that all their worst disturbances come when men are in charge?

Miss L. (to Trent). Haven't you noticed that all their biggest problems happen when men are in charge?

Trent. Well—a—(laughs a little ruefully as he moves to the door) I hadn't connected the two ideas. Goodbye.

Trent. Well—uh—(laughs a bit sadly as he moves to the door) I didn’t put the two ideas together. Bye.

102

Miss L. Goodbye.

(Jean takes him downstairs, right centre.)
(Jean takes him downstairs, right centre.)

Lady John (as Trent disappears). That nice boy's in love with you.

Lady John (as Trent disappears). That sweet guy has feelings for you.

(Miss Levering simply looks at her.)
(Miss Levering simply looks at her.)

Lady John. Goodbye. (They shake hands.) I wish you hadn't been so unkind to that nice boy!

Lady John. Goodbye. (They shake hands.) I wish you hadn't been so mean to that nice guy!

Miss L. Do you?

Lady John. Yes, for then I would be more certain of your telling Geoffrey Stonor that intelligent women don't nurse their wrongs and lie in wait to punish them.

Lady John. Yes, because then I would be more confident that you’d tell Geoffrey Stonor that smart women don’t dwell on their grievances and bide their time to take revenge.

Miss L. You are not certain?

Lady John (goes close up to Vida). Are you?

Lady John (steps closer to Vida). Are you?

(Vida stands with her eyes on the ground, silent, motionless. Lady John, with a nervous glance at her watch and a gesture of extreme perturbation, goes hurriedly out. Vida shuts the door. She comes slowly back, sits down and covers her face with her hands. She rises and begins to walk up and down, obviously trying to master her agitation. Enter Geoffrey Stonor.)
(Vida stands staring at the floor, quiet and still. Lady John, glancing nervously at her watch and showing clear signs of distress, rushes out. Vida closes the door. She slowly returns, sits down, and covers her face with her hands. She gets up and starts pacing, clearly trying to control her anxiety. Enter Geoffrey Stonor.)

Miss L. Well, have they primed you? Have you got your lesson (with a little broken laugh) by heart at last?

Miss L. So, have they prepared you? Do you finally have your lesson (with a little broken laugh) memorized?

Stonor (looking at her from immeasurable distance). I am not sure I understand you. (Pause.) However unpropitious your mood may be—I shall discharge my errand. (Pause. Her silence irritates103 him.) I have promised to offer you what I believe is called "amends."

Stonor (looking at her from an immeasurable distance). I'm not sure I get what you're saying. (Pause.) No matter how unfriendly your mood might be—I will complete my task. (Pause. Her silence annoys103 him.) I promised to give you what I think is referred to as "amends."

Miss L. (quickly). You've come to realise, then—after all these years—that you owed me something?

Miss L. (quickly). So, after all this time, you've finally figured out that you owe me something?

Stonor (on the brink of protest, checks himself). I am not here to deny it.

Stonor (about to object, holds back). I'm not here to deny it.

Miss L. (fiercely). Pay, then—pay.

Stonor (a moment's dread as he looks at her, his lips set. Then stonily). I have promised that, if you exact it, I will.

Stonor (a brief moment of fear as he looks at her, his lips tight. Then, stone-faced). I promised that, if you demand it, I will.

Miss L. Ah! If I insist you'll "make it all good"! (Quite low.) Then don't you know you must pay me in kind?

Miss L. Ah! If I push, you'll "make it all better"! (Pretty quietly.) Then don't you realize you have to repay me in kind?

Stonor. What do you mean?

Miss L. Give me back what you took from me: my old faith. Give me that.

Stonor. Oh, if you mean to make phrases—— (A gesture of scant patience.)

Stonor. Oh, if you’re trying to come up with phrases—— (A gesture of little patience.)

Miss L. (going closer). Or give me back mere kindness—or even tolerance. Oh, I don't mean your tolerance! Give me back the power to think fairly of my brothers—not as mockers—thieves.

Miss L. (walking closer). Just give me back basic kindness—or even some tolerance. Oh, I don’t mean your kind of tolerance! Just give me back the ability to see my brothers fairly—not as mockers or thieves.

Stonor. I have not mocked you. And I have asked you——

Stonor. I haven't made fun of you. And I have asked you——

Miss L. Something you knew I should refuse! Or (her eyes blaze) did you dare to be afraid I wouldn't?

Miss L. Something you knew I should say no to! Or (her eyes blaze) were you actually worried I wouldn't?

Stonor. I suppose, if we set our teeth, we could——

Stonor. I guess, if we really push ourselves, we could——

Miss L. I couldn't—not even if I set my teeth. And you wouldn't dream of asking me, if you thought there was the smallest chance.

Miss L. I couldn't do it—not even if I tried really hard. And you wouldn't even think about asking me if you believed there was the slightest chance.

Stonor. I can do no more than make you an offer of such reparation as is in my power. If you104 don't accept it—— (He turns with an air of "That's done.")

Stonor. I can only offer you the best compensation I can. If you104 don't accept it—— (He turns with a sense of "That's settled.")

Miss L. Accept it? No!... Go away and live in debt! Pay and pay and pay—and find yourself still in debt!—for a thing you'll never be able to give me back. (Lower.) And when you come to die, say to yourself, "I paid all creditors but one."

Miss L. Accept it? No! Just go away and stay in debt! Pay and pay and pay—and still be in debt!—for something you’ll never be able to return to me. (Lower.) And when you’re on your deathbed, tell yourself, "I settled all my debts except for one."

Stonor. I'm rather tired, you know, of this talk of debt. If I hear that you persist in it I shall have to——

Stonor. I'm pretty tired, you know, of all this talk about debt. If I hear you keep bringing it up, I’ll have to——

Miss L. What? (She faces him.)

Stonor. No. I'll keep to my resolution. (Turning to the door.)

Stonor. No. I'm sticking to my decision. (Turning to the door.)

Miss L. (intercepting him). What resolution?

Stonor. I came here, under considerable pressure, to speak of the future—not to re-open the past.

Stonor. I came here, under a lot of pressure, to talk about the future—not to revisit the past.

Miss L. The Future and the Past are one.

Miss L. The Future and the Past are the same.

Stonor. You talk as if that old madness was mine alone. It is the woman's way.

Stonor. You speak as if that crazy behavior was only mine. It's just how women are.

Miss L. I know. And it's not fair. Men suffer as well as we by the woman's starting wrong. We are taught to think the man a sort of demigod. If he tells her: "go down into Hell"—down into Hell she goes.

Miss L. I know. And it's not fair. Men suffer just as much as we do when a woman makes a mistake. We're taught to see men as almost like gods. If he says to her, "go down into Hell"—down into Hell she goes.

Stonor. Make no mistake. Not the woman alone. They go down together.

Stonor. Make no mistake. It's not just the woman. They go down together.

Miss L. Yes, they go down together, but the man comes up alone. As a rule. It is more convenient so—for him. And for the Other Woman.

Miss L. Yeah, they go down together, but the guy comes up by himself. Usually. It’s easier that way—for him. And for the Other Woman.

(The eyes of both go to Jean's door.)
(Both their eyes turn towards Jean's door.)

Stonor (angrily). My conscience is clear. I know—and so do you—that most men in my position wouldn't have troubled themselves. I gave myself endless trouble.

Stonor (angrily). My conscience is clear. I know—and you do too—that most guys in my situation wouldn't have bothered. I put myself through endless trouble.

105

Miss L. (with wondering eyes). So you've gone about all these years feeling that you'd discharged every obligation.

Miss L. (with curious eyes). So, you've spent all these years thinking you’ve fulfilled every responsibility.

Stonor. Not only that. I stood by you with a fidelity that was nothing short of Quixotic. If, woman like, you must recall the Past—I insist on your recalling it correctly.

Stonor. Not only that. I stood by you with a loyalty that was downright idealistic. If, like a woman, you have to remember the Past—I insist that you remember it accurately.

Miss L. (very low). You think I don't recall it correctly?

Miss L. (very low). You think I don't remember it accurately?

Stonor. Not when you make—other people believe that I deserted you. (With gathering wrath.) It's a curious enough charge when you stop to consider—— (Checks himself, and with a gesture of impatience sweeps the whole thing out of his way.)

Stonor. Not when you make—other people think that I abandoned you. (With growing anger.) It's a strange accusation when you think about it—— (Pauses, then with an impatient gesture pushes the whole matter aside.)

Miss L. Well, when we do—just for five minutes out of ten years—when we do stop to consider——

Miss L. Well, when we do—just for five minutes out of ten years—when we finally take a moment to think——

Stonor. We remember it was you who did the deserting! Since you had to rake the story up, you might have had the fairness to tell the facts.

Stonor. We remember it was you who left! Since you had to bring up the story, you could have been fair and shared the truth.

Miss L. You think "the facts" would have excused you! (She sits.)

Miss L. You think "the facts" would have made it okay for you! (She sits.)

Stonor. No doubt you've forgotten them, since Lady John tells me you wouldn't remember my existence once a year if the newspapers didn't——

Stonor. I'm sure you've forgotten them, since Lady John tells me you wouldn't recall my existence even once a year if it weren't for the newspapers.——

Miss L. Ah, you minded that!

Stonor (with manly spirit). I minded your giving false impressions. (She is about to speak, he advances on her.) Do you deny that you returned my letters unopened?

Stonor (with confidence). I was concerned about the misleading impressions you created. (She is about to speak, he steps closer to her.) Do you deny that you sent my letters back without even opening them?

Miss L. (quietly). No.

Stonor. Do you deny that you refused to see me—and that, when I persisted, you vanished?

Stonor. Do you deny that you wouldn't see me—and that, when I kept pushing, you disappeared?

Miss L. I don't deny any of those things.

Stonor. Why, I had no trace of you for years!

Stonor. Wow, I hadn't heard from you in years!

106

Miss L. I suppose not.

Stonor. Very well, then. What could I do?

Miss L. Nothing. It was too late to do anything.

Stonor. It wasn't too late! You knew—since you "read the papers"—that my father died that same year. There was no longer any barrier between us.

Stonor. It wasn't too late! You knew—since you "read the news"—that my dad passed away that same year. There was no longer any barrier between us.

Miss L. Oh yes, there was a barrier.

Stonor. Of your own making, then.

Miss L. I had my guilty share in it—but the barrier (her voice trembles)—the barrier was your invention.

Miss L. I played my part in it—but the barrier (her voice trembles)—that barrier was your creation.

Stonor. It was no "invention." If you had ever known my father——

Miss L. Oh, the echoes! The echoes! How often you used to say, if I "knew your father!" But you said, too (lower)—you called the greatest barrier by another name.

Miss L. Oh, the echoes! The echoes! How often you used to say, if I "knew your father!" But you also said (lower)—you referred to the biggest obstacle by a different name.

Stonor. What name?

Miss L. (very low). The child that was to come.

Miss L. (very quiet). The child who was about to arrive.

Stonor (hastily). That was before my father died. While I still hoped to get his consent.

Stonor (hastily). That was before my dad passed away. I still hoped to get his approval.

Miss L. (nods). How the thought of that all-powerful personage used to terrorise me! What chance had a little unborn child against "the last of the great feudal lords," as you called him.

Miss L. (nods). How the idea of that all-powerful figure used to scare me! What chance did a tiny unborn baby have against "the last of the great feudal lords," as you put it?

Stonor. You know the child would have stood between you and me!

Stonor. You know the kid would have been in the way between you and me!

Miss L. I know the child did stand between you and me!

Miss L. I know the kid did get in the way between you and me!

Stonor (with vague uneasiness). It did stand——

Miss L. Happy mothers teach their children. Mine had to teach me.

Miss L. Happy moms teach their kids. My mom had to teach me.

Stonor. You talk as if——

107

Miss L.—teach me that a woman may do a thing for love's sake that shall kill love.

Miss L.—teach me that a woman can do something for love that will end up destroying that love.

(A silence.)
(A silence.)

Stonor (fearing and putting from him fuller comprehension, rises with an air of finality). You certainly made it plain you had no love left for me.

Stonor (fearing and avoiding a deeper understanding, rises with a sense of closure). You clearly made it obvious that you have no love left for me.

Miss L. I had need of it all for the child.

Miss L. I needed it all for the kid.

Stonor (stares—comes closer, speaks hurriedly and very low). Do you mean then that, after all—it lived?

Stonor (stares—comes closer, speaks hurriedly and very softly). So, are you saying that it actually lived after all?

Miss L. No; I mean that it was sacrificed. But it showed me no barrier is so impassable as the one a little child can raise.

Miss L. No; I mean that it was given up. But it showed me that no barrier is as impossible to cross as the one a little child can create.

Stonor (a light dawning). Was that why you ... was that why?

Stonor (a light dawning). Was that the reason you ... was that the reason?

Miss L. (nods, speechless a moment). Day and night there it was!—between my thought of you and me. (He sits again, staring at her.) When I was most unhappy I would wake, thinking I heard it cry. It was my own crying I heard, but I seemed to have it in my arms. I suppose I was mad. I used to lie there in that lonely farmhouse pretending to hush it. It was so I hushed myself.

Miss L. (nods, silent for a moment). It was there day and night!—between my thoughts of you and me. (He sits down again, staring at her.) When I was at my most miserable, I would wake up thinking I heard it cry. It was my own crying I heard, but it felt like I had it in my arms. I guess I was crazy. I used to lie there in that isolated farmhouse pretending to soothe it. That’s how I calmed myself.

Stonor. I never knew——

Miss L. I didn't blame you. You couldn't risk being with me.

Miss L. I didn't hold it against you. You couldn't afford to be with me.

Stonor. You agreed that for both our sakes——

Stonor. You agreed that for both our benefit——

Miss L. Yes, you had to be very circumspect. You were so well known. Your autocratic father—your brilliant political future——

Miss L. Yes, you had to be very careful. You were so well known. Your controlling father—your promising political future——

Stonor. Be fair. Our future—as I saw it then.

Stonor. Be fair. Our future—as I understood it back then.

Miss L. Yes, it all hung on concealment. It must have looked quite simple to you. You didn't108 know that the ghost of a child that had never seen the light, the frail thing you meant to sweep aside and forget—have swept aside and forgotten—you didn't know it was strong enough to push you out of my life. (Lower with an added intensity.) It can do more. (Leans over him and whispers.) It can push that girl out. (Stonor's face changes.) It can do more still.

Miss L. Yes, it all depended on keeping things hidden. It must have seemed really simple to you. You didn't108 know that the ghost of a child who had never experienced the world, the fragile thing you intended to brush off and forget—have brushed off and forgotten—you didn't realize it was strong enough to push you out of my life. (Lower with an added intensity.) It can do even more. (Leans over him and whispers.) It can push that girl out. (Stonor's face changes.) It can do even more than that.

Stonor. Are you threatening me?

Miss L. No, I am preparing you.

Miss L. No, I'm getting you ready.

Stonor. For what?

Miss L. For the work that must be done. Either with your help—or that girl's.

Miss L. For the work that has to be done. Either with your help—or that girl's.

(Stonor lifts his eyes a moment.)
(Stonor lifts his eyes a moment.)

Miss L. One of two things. Either her life, and all she has, given to this new service—or a Ransom, if I give her up to you.

Miss L. It's one of two options. Either her entire life and everything she has is devoted to this new service—or a price, if I hand her over to you.

Stonor. I see. A price. Well——?

Miss L. (looks searchingly in his face, hesitates and shakes her head). Even if I could trust you to pay—no, it would be a poor bargain to give her up for anything you could do.

Miss L. (looks deeply into his face, hesitates and shakes her head). Even if I could trust you to pay—no, it wouldn't be worth it to give her up for anything you could offer.

Stonor (rising). In spite of your assumption—she may not be your tool.

Stonor (rising). Despite what you think, she might not be your pawn.

Miss L. You are horribly afraid she is! But you are wrong. Don't think it's merely I that have got hold of Jean Dunbarton.

Miss L. You’re really worried about her, aren’t you? But you’re mistaken. Don’t assume that it’s just me who has caught Jean Dunbarton’s attention.

Stonor (angrily). Who else?

Miss L. The New Spirit that's abroad.

Miss L. The new vibe that's out there.

(Stonor turns away with an exclamation and begins to pace, sentinel-like, up and down before Jean's door.)
(Stonor turns away with a shout and starts to pace, like a guard, back and forth in front of Jean's door.)

109

Miss L. How else should that inexperienced girl have felt the new loyalty and responded as she did?

Miss L. How else could that inexperienced girl have felt the new loyalty and reacted the way she did?

Stonor (under his breath). "New" indeed—however little loyal.

Stonor (muttering). "New" for sure—though not very loyal.

Miss L. Loyal above all. But no newer than electricity was when it first lit up the world. It had been there since the world began—waiting to do away with the dark. So has the thing you're fighting.

Miss L. Loyal above everything. But not newer than electricity was when it first brightened the world. It has been around since the beginning of time—ready to chase away the darkness. So is the thing you're fighting.

Stonor (his voice held down to its lowest register). The thing I'm fighting is nothing more than one person's hold on a highly sensitive imagination. I consented to this interview with the hope—— (A gesture of impotence.) It only remains for me to show her your true motive is revenge.

Stonor (his voice kept at a low tone). What I'm battling is simply one person's grip on a very sensitive imagination. I agreed to this interview hoping—— (A gesture of helplessness.) All that's left is for me to reveal that your true motive is revenge.

Miss L. Once say that to her and you are lost!

Miss L. Say that to her once and you're done for!

(Stonor motionless; his look is the look of a man who sees happiness slipping away.)
(Stonor frozen; his expression is that of a man watching his happiness fade away.)

Miss L. I know what it is that men fear. It even seems as if it must be through fear that your enlightenment will come. That is why I see a value in Jean Dunbarton far beyond her fortune.

Miss L. I understand what men are afraid of. It almost feels like your understanding will come from fear. That’s why I value Jean Dunbarton so much more than just her wealth.

(Stonor lifts his eyes dully and fixes them on Vida's face.)
(Stonor lifts his eyes slowly and focuses on Vida's face.)

Miss L. More than any girl I know—if I keep her from you—that gentle, inflexible creature could rouse in men the old half-superstitious fear——

Miss L. More than any girl I know—if I keep her from you—that gentle, unyielding person could stir in men the old half-superstitious fear——

Stonor. "Fear?" I believe you are mad.

Stonor. "Fear?" I think you must be crazy.

Miss L. "Mad." "Unsexed." These are the words to-day. In the Middle Ages men cried out "Witch!" and burnt her—the woman who served no man's bed or board.

Miss L. "Crazy." "Genderless." These are the terms today. In the Middle Ages, men shouted "Witch!" and burned her—the woman who didn't serve any man’s bed or board.

110

Stonor. You want to make that poor child believe——

Stonor. You want to convince that poor child believe——

Miss L. She sees for herself we've come to a place where we find there's a value in women apart from the value men see in them. You teach us not to look to you for some of the things we need most. If women must be freed by women, we have need of such as—(her eyes go to Jean's door)—who knows? She may be the new Joan of Arc.

Miss L. She realizes that we've reached a point where we can see the value of women beyond what men perceive. You teach us not to depend on you for some of the things we need most. If women need to liberate themselves, we may need someone like—(her eyes go to Jean's door)—who knows? She could be the new Joan of Arc.

Stonor (aghast). That she should be the sacrifice!

Miss L. You have taught us to look very calmly on the sacrifice of women. Men tell us in every tongue it's "a necessary evil."

Miss L. You’ve shown us how to view the sacrifice of women with a sense of calm. Men keep telling us in every language that it’s "a necessary evil."

(Stonor stands rooted, staring at the ground.)
(Stonor stands frozen, looking down at the ground.)

Miss L. One girl's happiness—against a thing nobler than happiness for thousands—who can hesitate?—Not Jean.

Miss L. One girl's happiness—compared to something more meaningful than happiness for thousands—who can doubt?—Not Jean.

Stonor. Good God! Can't you see that this crazed campaign you'd start her on—even if it's successful, it can only be so through the help of men? What excuse shall you make your own soul for not going straight to the goal?

Stonor. Good grief! Can't you see that this wild campaign you want to put her on—even if it succeeds, it can only do so with the help of men? What will you tell yourself for not going directly to the goal?

Miss L. You think we wouldn't be glad to go straight to the goal?

Miss L. Do you think we wouldn't be happy to go right to the goal?

Stonor. I do. I see you'd much rather punish me and see her revel in a morbid self-sacrifice.

Stonor. I do. I see you'd prefer to punish me and watch her take pleasure in a twisted form of self-sacrifice.

Miss L. You say I want to punish you only because, like most men, you won't take the trouble to understand what we do want—or how determined we are to have it. You can't kill this new spirit among women. (Going nearer.) And you couldn't make a greater mistake than to think it finds a home only in the exceptional, or the unhappy. It's so strange,111 Geoffrey, to see a man like you as much deluded as the Hyde Park loafers who say to Ernestine Blunt, "Who's hurt your feelings?" Why not realise (going quite close to him) this is a thing that goes deeper than personal experience? And yet (lowering her voice and glancing at the door), if you take only the narrowest personal view, a good deal depends on what you and I agree upon in the next five minutes.

Miss L. You say I want to punish you just because, like most men, you won't put in the effort to understand what we actually want—or how determined we are to get it. You can't destroy this new spirit among women. (Going nearer.) And you couldn't be more mistaken than to think it only exists in exceptional or unhappy women. It's so strange, 111 Geoffrey, to see a man like you as misguided as the Hyde Park loafers who ask Ernestine Blunt, "Who's hurt your feelings?" Why not see (going quite close to him) that this is something that runs deeper than personal experience? And yet (lowering her voice and glancing at the door), if you only look at it from the narrowest personal perspective, a lot depends on what you and I agree upon in the next five minutes.

Stonor (bringing her farther away from the door). You recommend my realising the larger issues. But in your ambition to attach that girl to the chariot wheels of "Progress," you quite ignore the fact that people fitter for such work—the men you look to enlist in the end—are ready waiting to give the thing a chance.

Stonor (pulling her further away from the door). You suggest that I focus on the bigger picture. But in your eagerness to tie that girl to the chariot wheels of "Progress," you completely overlook the fact that the right people for this work—the men you hope to enlist in the end—are already ready to give it a shot.

Miss L. Men are ready! What men?

Miss L. The guys are all set! What guys?

Stonor (avoiding her eyes, picking his words). Women have themselves to blame that the question has grown so delicate that responsible people shrink—for the moment—from being implicated in it.

Stonor (avoiding her gaze, choosing his words carefully). Women can blame themselves for the fact that the question has become so sensitive that responsible people hesitate—for the time being—from getting involved in it.

Miss L. We have seen the "shrinking."

Miss L. We've noticed the "shrinking."

Stonor. Without quoting any one else, I might point out that the New Antagonism seems to have blinded you to the small fact that I, for one, am not an opponent.

Stonor. Without referring to anyone else, I just want to say that the New Antagonism seems to have made you overlook the simple fact that I, for one, am not an adversary.

Miss L. The phrase has a familiar ring. We have heard it from four hundred and twenty others.

Miss L. That phrase sounds familiar. We've heard it from four hundred and twenty other people.

Stonor. I spoke, if I may say so, of some one who would count. Some one who can carry his party along with him—or risk a seat in the Cabinet.

Stonor. I spoke, if I can be honest, about someone who matters. Someone who can lead his party or jeopardize a position in the Cabinet.

Miss L. (quickly). Did you mean you are ready to do that?

Miss L. (quickly). Did you mean you’re ready to do that?

Stonor. An hour ago I was.

Miss L. Ah!... an hour ago.

112

Stonor. Exactly. You don't understand men. They can be led. They can't be driven. Ten minutes before you came into the room I was ready to say I would throw in my political lot with this Reform.

Stonor. Exactly. You don't get men. They can be guided, but they can't be forced. Ten minutes before you walked into the room, I was about to say I would back this Reform.

Miss L. And now...?

Stonor. Now you block my way by an attempt at coercion. By forcing my hand you give my adherence an air of bargain-driving for a personal end. Exactly the mistake of the ignorant agitators of your "Union," as you call it. You have a great deal to learn. This movement will go forward, not because of the agitation, but in spite of it. There are men in Parliament who would have been actively serving the Reform to-day ... as actively as so vast a constitutional change——

Stonor. Now you’re blocking my way with your attempt to pressure me. By pushing me, you make my agreement seem like a deal for personal gain. That’s exactly the mistake of the clueless agitators in your so-called "Union." You have a lot to learn. This movement will progress, not because of your agitation, but in spite of it. There are politicians in Parliament who would have been actively working for Reform today... just as energetically as such a significant constitutional change.

Miss L. (smiles faintly). And they haven't done it because——

Stonor. Because it would have put a premium on breaches of decent behaviour. (He takes a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket.) Look here!

Stonor. Because it would have put a premium on breaches of decent behavior. (He takes a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket.) Look at this!

Miss L. (flushes with excitement as she reads the telegram). This is very good. I see only one objection.

Miss L. (blushes with excitement as she reads the telegram). This is great. I only have one concern.

Stonor. Objection!

Miss L. You haven't sent it.

Stonor. That is your fault.

Miss L. When did you write this?

Stonor. Just before you came in—when——(He glances at the door.)

Stonor. Right before you walked in—when——(He glances at the door.)

Miss L. Ah! It must have pleased Jean—that message. (Offers him back the paper.)

Miss L. Ah! That message must have made Jean happy. (Hands the paper back to him.)

(Stonor astonished at her yielding it up so lightly, and remembering Jean had not so much as read it. He throws himself heavily into a chair and drops his head in his hands.)
(Stonor amazed that she gave it up so easily, and recalling Jean hadn't even read it. He flops down into a chair and buries his face in his hands.)

113

Miss L. I could drive a hard-and-fast bargain with you, but I think I won't. If both love and ambition urge you on, perhaps——(She gazes at the slack, hopeless figure with its sudden look of age—goes over silently and stands by his side.) After all, life hasn't been quite fair to you——

Miss L. I could negotiate pretty tough with you, but I think I won’t. If both love and ambition are pushing you forward, maybe——(She looks at the droopy, defeated figure that suddenly seems older—walks over quietly and stands beside him.) After all, life hasn’t treated you quite fairly——

(He raises his heavy eyes.)
(He raises his heavy eyes.)

You fall out of one ardent woman's dreams into another's.

You slip out of one passionate woman's dreams into another's.

Stonor. You may as well tell me—do you mean to——?

Stonor. You might as well tell me—are you planning to——?

Miss L. To keep you and her apart? No.

Miss L. To separate you and her? No.

Stonor (for the first time tears come into his eyes. After a moment he holds out his hand). What can I do for you?

Stonor (tears well up in his eyes for the first time. After a moment, he extends his hand). How can I help you?

(Miss Levering shakes her head—speechless.)
(Miss Levering shakes her head—speechless.)

Stonor. For the real you. Not the Reformer, or the would-be politician—for the woman I so unwillingly hurt. (As she turns away, struggling with her feeling, he lays a detaining hand on her arm.) You may not believe it, but now that I understand, there is almost nothing I wouldn't do to right that old wrong.

Stonor. For the real you. Not the Reformer or the aspiring politician—for the woman I so reluctantly harmed. (As she turns away, grappling with her emotions, he gently touches her arm to stop her.) You might not believe it, but now that I get it, there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do to fix that past mistake.

Miss L. There's nothing to be done. You can never give me back my child.

Miss L. There’s nothing that can be done. You can never bring my child back to me.

Stonor (at the anguish in Vida's face his own has changed). Will that ghost give you no rest?

Stonor (seeing the pain in Vida's face, his own shifts). Will that ghost never let you be?

Miss L. Yes, oh, yes. I see life is nobler than I knew. There is work to do.

Miss L. Yes, definitely. I realize now that life is more meaningful than I understood. There's important work to be done.

Stonor (stopping her as she goes towards the folding doors). Why should you think that it's only you, these ten years have taught something to? Why not114 give even a man credit for a willingness to learn something of life, and for being sorry—profoundly sorry—for the pain his instruction has cost others? You seem to think I've taken it all quite lightly. That's not fair. All my life, ever since you disappeared, the thought of you has hurt. I would give anything I possess to know you—were happy again.

Stonor (stopping her as she heads toward the folding doors). Why do you think it’s only you who has learned something in these ten years? Why not114 give a guy some credit for wanting to understand life better and feeling truly sorry for the pain his lessons have caused others? You act like I've just brushed it all off. That’s not fair. My whole life, ever since you went away, the thought of you has hurt. I would give anything I own to know you—were happy again.

Miss L. Oh, happiness!

Stonor (significantly). Why shouldn't you find it still.

Stonor (significantly). Why shouldn’t you find it still?

Miss L. (stares an instant). I see! She couldn't help telling about Allen Trent—Lady John couldn't.

Miss L. (stares for a moment). I get it! She just had to talk about Allen Trent—Lady John just couldn’t help it.

Stonor. You're one of the people the years have not taken from, but given more to. You are more than ever.... You haven't lost your beauty.

Stonor. You're one of the few people who has been enriched by the passing years. You are more than ever... You haven’t lost your beauty.

Miss L. The gods saw it was so little effectual, it wasn't worth taking away. (She stands looking out into the void.) One woman's mishap?—what is that? A thing as trivial to the great world as it's sordid in most eyes. But the time has come when a woman may look about her, and say, "What general significance has my secret pain? Does it 'join on' to anything?" And I find it does. I'm no longer merely a woman who has stumbled on the way. I'm one (she controls with difficulty the shake in her voice) who has got up bruised and bleeding, wiped the dust from her hands and the tears from her face, and said to herself not merely, "Here's one luckless woman! but—here is a stone of stumbling to many. Let's see if it can't be moved out of other women's way." And she calls people to come and help. No mortal man, let alone a woman, by herself, can move that rock of offence. But (with a sudden sombre flame of enthusiasm) if many help, Geoffrey, the thing can be done.

Miss L. The gods realized it had such little impact that it wasn't worth taking away. (She stands looking out into the void.) One woman's misfortune?—what does that mean? It's as insignificant to the world at large as it is grimy in most people's eyes. But the time has come when a woman can look around and ask, "What does my hidden pain really mean? Does it connect to anything?" And I've discovered that it does. I'm no longer just a woman who has tripped along the way. I'm someone (she controls with difficulty the shake in her voice) who has gotten back up, bruised and bleeding, cleaned the dust off her hands and the tears from her face, and told herself not just, "Here's one unfortunate woman!" but—here is a stumbling block for many. Let’s see if we can move it out of other women’s paths. And she asks others to come and help. No one, let alone a woman, can move that rock of offense by herself. But (with a sudden sombre flame of enthusiasm) if many join in, Geoffrey, it can be done.

115

Stonor (looks at her with wondering pity). Lord! how you care!

Stonor (looks at her with amazed sympathy). Wow! You really care!

Miss L. (touched by his moved face). Don't be so sad. Shall I tell you a secret? Jean's ardent dreams needn't frighten you, if she has a child. That—from the beginning, it was not the strong arm—it was the weakest—the little, little arms that subdued the fiercest of us.

Miss L. (moved by his emotional expression). Don’t be so sad. Want me to share a secret? Jean's passionate dreams shouldn't scare you, even if she has a child. That—from the start, it wasn’t the strong arm—it was the weakest—the tiny, tiny arms that conquered the fiercest among us.

(Stonor puts out a pitying hand uncertainly towards her. She does not take it, but speaks with great gentleness.)
(Stonor reaches out a sympathetic hand hesitantly towards her. She doesn’t take it, but speaks with a lot of tenderness.)

You will have other children, Geoffrey—for me there was to be only one. Well, well—(she brushes her tears away)—since men alone have tried and failed to make a decent world for the little children to live in—it's as well some of us are childless. (Quietly taking up her hat and cloak.) Yes, we are the ones who have no excuse for standing aloof from the fight.

You’ll have other kids, Geoffrey—there was only ever going to be one for me. Well, well—(she brushes her tears away)—since men have only tried and failed to create a decent world for little kids to grow up in—it’s probably better that some of us don’t have kids. (Quietly taking up her hat and cloak.) Yes, we are the ones who have no reason to stay out of the fight.

Stonor. Vida!

Miss L. What?

Stonor. You've forgotten something. (As she looks back he is signing the message.) This.

Stonor. You forgot something. (As she looks back, he is signing the message.) This.

(She goes out silently with the "political dynamite" in her hand.)
(She quietly exits with the "political dynamite" in her hand.)

Curtain.

The Gresham Press,

UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED,
WOKING AND LONDON.

Corrections.

The first line indicates the original, the second the correction.

The first line shows the original text, and the second line shows the correction.

p. 43:

we all realise it was a perfectiy lunatic proceeding
we all realise it was a perfectly lunatic proceeding

p. 73:

the unemployed in the condition they' e
the unemployed in the condition they're

p. 92:

you aren't going away lik that.
you aren't going away like that.

Cover created by Transcriber and placed into the Public Domain.

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