The Performing Rights of this play are fully protected, and permission to perform it, whether by Amateurs or Professionals, must be obtained in advance from the author’s Sole Agent, R. Golding Bright, 20 Green Street, Leicester Square, London, W.C., from whom all particulars can be obtained.

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Table of Contents

THE FIRST ACT

Table of Contents

Scene: A drawing-room in O’Farrell’s house in John Street. It is very prettily but not extravagantly furnished. The O’Farrells are a young married couple of modest income.

It is between six and seven in the evening.

Peyton, a neat parlour-maid, opens the door and shows in Mr. Davenport Barlow.

Barlow is a short, self-important person of middle age. He is very bald, red in the face, and wears a small, neatly curled moustache; he is dressed in the height of fashion. His manner is fussy and pompous. He comes forward as though he expected to find some one in the room. Seeing that it is empty, he stops and looks at Peyton. He cannot make out why there is no one to receive him.

Barlow.

[In a tone of surprise.] Is Mrs. O’Farrell not here?

Peyton.

No, sir.

Barlow.

H’m. … Will you let her know I’ve come?

Peyton.

Mrs. O’Farrell is not at home, sir.

Barlow.

Not at home? … But. …

Peyton.

Mrs. O’Farrell said, would you kindly sit down and make yourself comfortable? And I was to give you the Morning Post.

Barlow.

[Pompously.] I can’t imagine why Mrs. O’Farrell should think I haven’t read the Morning Post at six o’clock in the evening.

Peyton.

[Imperturbably.] And Mrs. O’Farrell said, will you have a whisky and soda, sir?

Barlow.

But when is Mrs. O’Farrell coming in?

Peyton.

I don’t know at all, sir.

Barlow.

But she telegraphed to me this afternoon, asking me to come and see her at once.

Peyton.

Yes, sir; I took the telegram to the post office myself.

Barlow.

It seems very extraordinary that she should have gone out. The matter was of considerable importance.

Peyton.

[Politely.] Yes, sir.

Barlow.

Very well, I’ll sit down and wait. But I can’t stay long. I’m dining at … no matter.

Peyton.

Very good, sir.

[Peyton goes out. Barlow goes to a looking-glass, takes a little brush out of his pocket, and brushes his moustache. Peyton comes in again with a small tray on which are a decanter, a syphon, and a glass.

Barlow.

Oh, thank you. Did you say you had the Morning Post?

Peyton.

Yes, sir. [She hands it to him.

Barlow.

Ah, thank you.

[Peyton goes out. Barlow helps himself to a whisky and soda, turns to the fashionable intelligence in the paper, and begins to read it with a little smile of self-satisfaction.

Barlow.

[Half to himself.] The Duchess of St. Erth returned to Wales yesterday. The Marchioness of Mereston has arrived at 89 Grosvenor Square. The Marchioness of Serlo and Lady Eleanor King leave for Paris this morning.

[Peyton comes in, followed by Mrs. Golightly. Mrs. Golightly is an extremely stout, good-natured lady of middle age. She is very active, but short of breath. She gives one a continual impression of having just run up a steep hill. She is Davenport Barlow’s sister.

Peyton.

Mrs. Golightly.

Barlow.

Isabel!

Mrs. Golightly.

Are you here, Davenport? Where’s Penelope?

Barlow.

[As if it were the most extraordinary thing in the world.] She’s out!

Mrs. Golightly.

[Astonished.] Out?

[She turns to Peyton with a look of inquiry.

Peyton.

Mrs. O’Farrell said, would you kindly sit down and make yourself comfortable, ma’am? And I was to bring you the Church Times.

Barlow.

But. …

Peyton.

[Calmly.] And Mrs. O’Farrell said, will you have a

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