Mrs. Warren’s Profession

Italy and wants to say goodbye. I asked him to call this afternoon. Go and let him in. Frank We can continue our conversation after his departure for Italy. I’ll stay him out. He goes to the door and opens it. How are you, Praddy? Delighted to see you. Come in. Praed, dressed for travelling, comes in, in high spirits. Praed How do you do, Miss Warren. She presses his hand cordially, though a certain sentimentality in his high spirits jars upon her. I start in an hour from Holborn Viaduct. I wish I could persuade you to try Italy. Vivie What for? Praed Why, to saturate yourself with beauty and romance, of course. Vivie, with a shudder, turns her chair to the table, as if the work waiting for her there were a consolation and support to her. Praed sits opposite to her. Frank places a chair just behind Vivie, and drops lazily and carelessly into it, talking at her over his shoulder. Frank No use, Praddy. Viv is a little Philistine. She is indifferent to my romance, and insensible to my beauty. Vivie Mr. Praed: once for all, there is no beauty and no romance in life for me. Life is what it is; and I am prepared to take it as it is. Praed Enthusiastically. You will not say that if you come to Verona and on to Venice. You will cry with delight at living in such a beautiful world. Frank This is most eloquent, Praddy. Keep it up. Praed Oh, I assure you I have cried⁠—I shall cry again, I hope⁠—at fifty! At your age, Miss Warren, you would not need to go so far as Verona. Your spirits would absolutely fly up at the mere sight of Ostend. You would be charmed with the gaiety, the vivacity, the happy air of Brussels. Vivie recoils. Whats the matter? Frank Hallo, Viv! Vivie To Praed with deep reproach. Can you find no better example of your beauty and romance than Brussels to talk to me about? Praed Puzzled. Of course it’s very different from Verona. I don’t suggest for a moment that⁠— Vivie Bitterly. Probably the beauty and romance come to much the same in both places. Praed Completely sobered and much concerned. My dear Miss Warren: I⁠—Looking enquiringly at Frank. Is anything the matter? Frank She thinks your enthusiasm frivolous, Praddy. She’s had ever such a serious call. Vivie Sharply. Hold your tongue, Frank. Don’t be silly. Frank Calmly. Do you call this good manners, Praed? Praed Anxious and considerate. Shall I take him away, Miss Warren? I feel sure we have disturbed you at your work. He is about to rise. Vivie Sit down: I’m not ready to go back to work yet. You both think I have an attack of nerves. Not a bit of it. But there are two subjects I want dropped, if you don’t mind. One of them to Frank is love’s young dream in any shape or form: the other to Praed is the romance and beauty of life, especially as exemplified by the gaiety of Brussels. You are welcome to any illusions you may have left on these subjects: I have none. If we three are to remain friends, I must be treated as a woman of business, permanently single to Frank and permanently unromantic to Praed. Frank I also shall remain permanently single until you change your mind. Praddy: change the subject. Be eloquent about something else. Praed Diffidently. I’m afraid there’s nothing else in the world that I can talk about. The Gospel of Art is the only one I can preach. I know Miss Warren is a great devotee of the Gospel of Getting On; but we can’t discuss that without hurting your feelings, Frank, since you are determined not to get on. Frank Oh, don’t mind my feelings. Give me some improving advice by all means: it does me ever so much good. Have another try to make a successful man of me, Viv. Come: lets have it all: energy, thrift, foresight, self-respect, character. Don’t you hate people who have no character, Viv? Vivie Wincing. Oh, stop: stop: let us have no more of that horrible cant. Mr. Praed: if there are really only those two gospels in the world, we had better all kill ourselves; for the same taint is in both, through and through. Frank Looking critically at her. There is a touch of poetry about you today, Viv, which has hitherto been lacking. Praed Remonstrating. My dear Frank: aren’t you a little unsympathetic? Vivie Merciless to herself. No: it’s good for me. It keeps me from being sentimental. Frank Bantering her. Checks your strong natural propensity that way, don’t it? Vivie Almost hysterically. Oh yes: go on: don’t spare me. I was sentimental for one moment in my life⁠—beautifully sentimental⁠—by moonlight; and now⁠— Frank Quickly. I say, Viv: take care. Don’t give yourself away. Vivie Oh, do you think Mr. Praed does not know all about my mother? Turning on Praed. You had better have told me that morning, Mr. Praed. You are very old fashioned in your delicacies, after all. Praed Surely it is you who are a little old fashioned in your prejudices, Miss Warren. I feel bound to tell you, speaking as an artist, and believing that the most intimate human relationships are far beyond and above the scope of the law, that though I know that your mother is an unmarried woman, I do not respect her the less on that account. I respect her more. Frank Airily. Hear, hear! Vivie Staring at him. Is that all you know? Praed Certainly that is all. Vivie Then you neither of you know anything. Your guesses are innocence itself compared with the truth. Praed Startled and indignant, preserving his politeness with an effort. I hope not. More emphatically. I hope not, Miss Warren. Frank’s face shows that he