BEA. I thought you hated all women.
NOR. On the contrary, I am never so happy as in the society of ladies.
BEA. You, who are always raving against marriage.
NOR. That"s the reason. To marry is to devote oneself to an individual; whilst a bachelor can devote himself to the s.e.x. Besides, I have to study economy--and it comes cheaper on taking a quant.i.ty.
BEA. Perhaps, you are right. Marriage is a terrible lottery.
NOR. You should be thankful you have drawn a prize.
BEA. Don"t mock me.
NOR. I"m sure you couldn"t have a better husband than Philip. He"s one of the best fellows in the world.
BEA. Ah! there"s only one prize--to a woman.
NOR. (_aside_) She means me. (_two steps away_)
BEA. All the rest are blanks. And sometimes worse than blanks.
NOR. (_aside_) This is d.a.m.n"d awkward! (_a further movement R.C._)
BEA. (_rises_) Lord Normantower, I owe you an explanation which I have had no opportunity of giving you. Your time is so much occupied, and we are so seldom alone.
NOR. (_aside, R.C._) I wish somebody"d come!
BEA. (C.) When you first came to Ravenhurst, I made what must have seemed a very strange avowal.
NOR. Mrs. Selwyn, I have tried to forget it, and I hope you will a.s.sist me. And the best way to forget it, is not to say anything about it.
BEA. I have tried to be silent--but in justice to myself, I must speak. You know my marriage was not my own wish; but having married, do me the justice to believe I would have been a true and loyal wife, if Philip had been all you think he is.
NOR. Philip?
BEA. I have accepted my lot without a murmur. Even now, my only wish is that you should not think too harshly of my indiscretion; but at the sight of you, the old times came back so vividly, that words sprang to my lips which I should not have spoken, even under such provocation as mine.
NOR. I have known Philip nearly all my life, and this is the first breath I ever heard against him. I can"t help thinking you must be mistaken.
BEA. Think so--by all means think so! I do not ask for pity or for sympathy. I only said so much in self-defence. Now I have done. (_goes to L._)
NOR. (_aside_) Thank goodness!
BEA. But you are quite right to remain a bachelor. Marriage is a mistake. (_sitting in easy chair L._)
NOR. (_goes to L.C._) There are two ways of looking at it; and, after all, one ought to see both sides. I"ve looked at one for so long, I"m seriously thinking of taking a turn at the other. (_sits on sofa_)
BEA. You contemplate being married?
NOR. Well, I have had some thoughts of it. (_toying with BEATRICE"S fan which she has left on sofa_)
BEA. Whom shall I have the pleasure of congratulating?
NOR. Oh, I don"t know. I haven"t asked her yet--at least, not properly. I"m sort of--feeling my way.
BEA. I don"t think you need fear.
NOR. D"you think she"ll have me--really!
BEA. Of course, I don"t know who the lady is.
NOR. Oh, yes you do, Miss Derwent.
BEA. (_rises suddenly_) Miss Derwent?
NOR. Yes, of course. You must have seen I"m awfully gone on her.
BEA. And you propose to marry her.
NOR. Well I should like to.
BEA. (_drops back into seat_) What am I to say?
NOR. What do you mean?
BEA. Nothing. I only meant--rather a mesalliance, isn"t it?
NOR. I don"t see that at all. I"m no great catch. I"m as poor as a church mouse.
BEA. A coronet is something.
NOR. Pooh! What"s a coronet? A thing they stick about on hansom cabs.
Sixpence a mile.
BEA. And don"t you owe a duty to your family?
NOR. My family owe a great deal more to me, but there"s precious little chance of their stumping up.
BEA. (_rises_) Let me see. How long have you known Miss Derwent?
(_front of table_)
NOR. About a week. (_R. end of sofa, facing her_)
BEA. And don"t you think it"s dangerous, to marry on so short an acquaintance?
NOR. To marry anybody else, it would be. Not to marry _her._
BEA. Have you told Philip?