Five Little Plays.
by Alfred Sutro.
THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY
HECTOR ALLEN ELIZABETH ALLEN (BETTY) WALTER COZENS
_This play was produced at the Palace Theatre on October 6, 1911_
THE MAN IN THE STALLS
_The sitting-room of a little flat in Shaftesbury Avenue. At back is a door leading to the dining-room--it is open, and the dinner-table is in full view of the audience. To the extreme right is another door, leading to the hall._
_The place is pleasantly and prettily, though quite inexpensively, furnished. To the left, at angles with the distempered wall, is a baby-grand piano; the fireplace, in which a fire is burning merrily, is on the same side, full centre. To the right of the door leading to the dining-room is a small side-table, on which there is a tray with decanter and gla.s.ses; in front of this, a card-table, open, with two packs of cards on it, and chairs on each side. Another table, a round one, is in the centre of the room--to right and to left of it are comfortable armchairs. Against the right wall is a long sofa; above it hang a few good, water-colours and engravings; on the piano and the table there are flowers. A general appearance of refinement and comfort pervades the room; no luxury, but evidence everywhere of good taste, and the countless feminine touches that make a room homelike and pleasant._
_When the curtain rises,_ HECTOR ALLEN, _a youngish man of forty, with an attractive intellectual face, is seen standing by the dining-table in the inner room, draining his liqueur-gla.s.s, with_ WALTER COZENS _to the right of him, lighting a cigarette._ WALTER _is a few years younger than his friend, moderately good-looking, with fine, curly brown hair and a splendid silky moustache. His morning-clothes are conspicuously well-cut--he is evidently something of a dandy;_ HECTOR _wears a rather shabby dress-suit, his boots are awkward, and his tie ready-made._ BETTY, _a handsome woman of thirty, wearing a very pretty tea-gown, is talking to the maid at the back of the dining-room._
HECTOR _puts down his gla.s.s and comes into the sitting-room, followed by_ WALTER. HECTOR _is puffing at a short, stumpy little black cigar._
HECTOR [_Talking as he comes through, continuing the conversation--he walks to the fireplace and stands with his back to it._] I tell you, if I"d known what it meant, I"d never have taken the job! Sounded so fine, to be reader of plays for the Duke"s Theatre--adviser to the great Mr.
Honeyswill! And then--when the old man said I was to go to all the first nights--why, I just chortled! "It"s the first nights that show you the grip of the thing--that teach you most"--he said. Teach you! As though there were anything to learn! Oh my stars! I tell you, it"s a dog"s life!
WALTER. [_Sitting to left of the round table._] I"d change places with you, sonny.
HECTOR. You would, eh? That"s what they all say! Four new plays this week, my lad--one yesterday, one to-day--another to-morrow, and the night after!
All day long I"m _reading_ plays--and I spend my nights seeing "em! D"you know I read about two thousand a year? Divide two thousand by three hundred and sixty five. A dog"s life--that"s what it is!
WALTER. Better than being a stockbroker"s clerk--you believe _me!_
HECTOR. Is it? I wish _you_ could have a turn at it, my bonny boy! _Your_ hair"d go grey, like mine! And look here--what are the plays to-day?
They"re either so chock-full of intellect that they send you to sleep--or they reek of sentiment till you yearn for the smell of a cabbage!
WALTER. Well, you"ve the change, at any rate.
HECTOR. [_Snorting._] Change? By Jove, give me a Punch and Judy show on the sands--or performing dogs! Plays--I"m sick of "em! And look here--the one I"m off to to-night. It"s adapted from the French--well, we know what _that_ means. Husband, wife and mistress. Or wife, husband, lover. That"s what a French play means. And you make it English, and pa.s.s the Censor, by putting the lady in a mackintosh, and dumping in a curate!
BETTY. [_Coming in, and closing the door leading to the dining-room._] You ought to be going, Hector.
[_She, stands listening for a moment, then goes through the other door into the hall._
HECTOR. [_Disregarding her, too intent on his theme._] And I tell you, of the two, I prefer the home-made stodge. I"m sick of the eternal triangle.
They always do the same thing. Husband strikes att.i.tudes--sometimes he strikes the lover. The lover never stands up to him--why shouldn"t he? He would--in real life. [BETTY _comes back, with his overcoat and m.u.f.fler--she proceeds affectionately to wrap this round his neck, and helps him on with his coat, he talking all the time._] He"d say, look here, you go to h.e.l.l. _That"s_ what he"d say--well, there you"d have a situation. But not one of the playwriting chaps dares do it. Why not, I ask you? There you"d have truth, something big. But no--they"re afraid--think the public won"t like it. The husband"s got to down the lover--like a big tom-cat with a mouse--or the author"d have to sell one of his motor-cars! That"s just the fact of it!
BETTY. [_Looking at the clock on the mantelpiece._] Twenty-five past, Hector.
HECTOR. [_Cheerily._] All right, my la.s.s, I"m off. By-bye, Walter--keep the old woman company for a bit. Good-bye, sweetheart. [_He kisses her._]
Don"t wait up. Now for the drama. Oh, the dog"s life!
[_He goes._ BETTY _waits till the hall door has banged, then she sits on the elbow of_ WALTER"S _chair, and rests her head on his shoulder._
BETTY. [_Softly._] Poor Hector!
WALTER. [_Uncomfortably._] ... Yes ...
BETTY. Doesn"t it make you feel dreadful when he talks like that? [_She kisses him; then puts her arms round his neck, draws his face to her, and kisses him again, on the cheek._] Doesn"t it?
[_She nestles contentedly closer to him._
WALTER. [_Trying to edge away._] Well, it does. Yes.
BETTY. [_Dreamily._] I--like it.
WALTER. Betty!
BETTY. Yes, I like it. I don"t know why. I suppose I"m frightfully wicked.
Or the danger perhaps--I don"t know.
WALTER. [_Making a futile effort to get up._] Betty--
BETTY. [_Tightening her arms around him._] Stop there, and don"t move. How smooth your chin is--_his_ sc.r.a.pes. Why don"t husbands shave better? Or is it that the forbidden chin is always smoother? Poor old Hector! If he could see us! He hasn"t a suspicion. I think it"s lovely--really, I do. He leaves us here together, night after night, and imagines you"re teaching me bridge.
WALTER. [_Restlessly._] So I am. Where are the cards?
BETTY. [_Caressing him._] Silly, have you forgotten that this is Tuesday--Maggie"s night out? She"s gone--I told her she needn"t wait to clear away. We"ve arranged master"s supper. Master! _You"re_ my master, aren"t you?
WALTER. ... I don"t know what I am ...
BETTY. Oh yes you do--you"re my boy. Whom I love. There. [_She kisses him again, full on the lips._] That was a nice one, wasn"t it? Poor old Hector, sitting in his stall--thinks he"s so wonderful, knows such a lot!
Yes, Maggie"s out--with _her_ young man, I suppose. The world"s full of women, with their young men--and husbands sitting in the stalls.... And I suppose that"s how it always has been, and always will be.
WALTER. [_Shifting uneasily._] Don"t, Betty--I don"t like it. I mean, he has such confidence in us.
BETTY. Of course he has. And quite rightly. Aren"t you his oldest friend?
WALTER. [_With something of a groan._] I"ve known him since I was seven.
BETTY. The first man he introduced me to--his best man at the wedding--do you remember coming to see us during the honeymoon? I liked you _then._
WALTER. [_Really shocked._] Betty!
BETTY. I did. You had a way of squeezing my hand.... And then when we came back here. You know it didn"t take me long to discover--
WALTER. [_Protesting._] I scarcely saw you the first two or three years!