Mrs. Warren’s Profession

a secret of it? Mrs. Warren Because I choose. Crofts Well, I’m not fifty yet; and my property is as good as it ever was⁠— Mrs. Warren Interrupting him. Yes; because you’re as stingy as you’re vicious. Crofts Continuing. And a baronet isn’t to be picked up every day. No other man in my position would put up with you for a mother-in-law. Why shouldn’t she marry me? Mrs. Warren You! Crofts We three could live together quite comfortably. I’d die before her and leave her a bouncing widow with plenty of money. Why not? It’s been growing in my mind all the time I’ve been walking with that fool inside there. Mrs. Warren Revolted. Yes; it’s the sort of thing that would grow in your mind. He halts in his prowling; and the two look at one another, she steadfastly, with a sort of awe behind her contemptuous disgust: he stealthily, with a carnal gleam in his eye and a loose grin, tempting her. Crofts Suddenly becoming anxious and urgent as he sees no sign of sympathy in her. Look here, Kitty: you’re a sensible woman: you needn’t put on any moral airs. I’ll ask no more questions; and you need answer none. I’ll settle the whole property on her; and if you want a cheque for yourself on the wedding day, you can name any figure you like⁠—in reason. Mrs. Warren Faugh! So it’s come to that with you, George, like all the other worn-out old creatures. Crofts Savagely. Damn you! She rises and turns fiercely on him; but the door of the inner room is opened just then; and the voices of the others are heard returning. Crofts, unable to recover his presence of mind, hurries out of the cottage. The clergyman comes back. Rev. S. Looking round. Where is Sir George? Mrs. Warren Gone out to have a pipe. She goes to the fireplace, turning her back on him to compose herself. The clergyman goes to the table for his hat. Meanwhile, Vivie comes in, followed by Frank, who collapses into the nearest chair with an air of extreme exhaustion. Mrs. Warren looks round at Vivie and says, with her affectation of maternal patronage even more forced than usual: Well, dearie: have you had a good supper? Vivie You know what Mrs. Alison’s suppers are. She turns to Frank and pets him. Poor Frank! was all the beef gone? did it get nothing but bread and cheese and ginger beer? Seriously, as if she had done quite enough trifling for one evening. Her butter is really awful. I must get some down from the stores. Frank Do, in Heaven’s name! Vivie goes to the writing-table and makes a memorandum to order the butter. Praed comes in from the inner room, putting up his handkerchief, which he has been using as a napkin. Rev. S. Frank, my boy: it is time for us to be thinking of home. Your mother does not know yet that we have visitors. Praed I’m afraid we’re giving trouble. Frank Rising. Not the least in the world, Praed: my mother will be delighted to see you. She’s a genuinely intellectual, artistic woman; and she sees nobody here from one year’s end to another except the gov’nor; so you can imagine how jolly dull it pans out for her. To the Rev. S. You’re not intellectual or artistic, are you, pater? So take Praed home at once; and I’ll stay here and entertain Mrs. Warren. You’ll pick up Crofts in the garden. He’ll be excellent company for the bull-pup. Praed Taking his hat from the dresser, and coming close to Frank. Come with us, Frank. Mrs. Warren has not seen Miss Vivie for a long time; and we have prevented them from having a moment together yet. Frank Quite softened, and looking at Praed with romantic admiration. Of course: I forgot. Ever so thanks for reminding me. Perfect gentleman, Praddy. Always were⁠—my ideal through life. He rises to go, but pauses a moment between the two older men, and puts his hand on Praed’s shoulder. Ah, if you had only been my father instead of this unworthy old man! He puts his other hand on his father’s shoulder. Rev. S. Blustering. Silence, sir, silence: you are profane. Mrs. Warren Laughing heartily. You should keep him in better order, Sam. Good night. Here: take George his hat and stick with my compliments. Rev. S. Taking them. Good night. They shake hands. As he passes Vivie he shakes hands with her also and bids her good night. Then, in booming command, to Frank. Come along, sir, at once. He goes out. Meanwhile Frank has taken his cap from the dresser and his rifle from the rack. Praed shakes hands with Mrs. Warren and Vivie and goes out, Mrs. Warren accompanying him idly to the door, and looking out after him as he goes across the garden. Frank silently begs a kiss from Vivie; but she, dismissing him with a stern glance, takes a couple of books and some paper from the writing-table, and sits down with them at the middle table, so as to have the benefit of the lamp. Frank At the door, taking Mrs. Warren’s hand. Good night, dear Mrs. Warren. He squeezes her hand. She snatches it away, her lips tightening, and looks more than half disposed to box his ears. He laughs mischievously and runs off, clapping-to the door behind him. Mrs. Warren Coming back to her place at the table, opposite Vivie, resigning herself to an evening of boredom now that the men are gone. Did you ever in your life hear anyone rattle on so? Isn’t he a tease? She sits down. Now that I think of it, dearie, don’t you go encouraging him. I’m sure he’s a regular