Short Plays

epub:type="z3998:stage-direction">Furious. I won’t be belittled. Mrs. Lunn To Mrs. Juno. I hope you’ll come and stay with us now that you and Gregory are such friends, Mrs. Juno. Juno This insane magnanimity⁠— Mrs. Lunn Don’t you think you’ve said enough, Mr. Juno? This is a matter for two women to settle. Won’t you take a stroll on the beach with my Gregory while we talk it over. Gregory is a splendid listener. Juno I don’t think any good can come of a conversation between Mr. Lunn and myself. We can hardly be expected to improve one another’s morals. He passes behind the chesterfield to Mrs. Lunn’s end; seizes a chair; deliberately pushes it between Gregory and Mrs. Lunn; and sits down with folded arms, resolved not to budge. Gregory Oh! Indeed! Oh, all right. If you come to that⁠—He crosses to Mrs. Juno; plants a chair by her side; and sits down with equal determination. Juno Now we are both equally guilty. Gregory Pardon me. I’m not guilty. Juno In intention. Don’t quibble. You were guilty in intention, as I was. Gregory No. I should rather describe myself guilty in fact, but not in intention. Rising and exclaiming simultaneously. Juno What! Mrs. Juno No, really⁠— Mrs. Lunn Gregory! Gregory Yes: I maintain that I am responsible for my intentions only, and not for reflex actions over which I have no control. Mrs. Juno sits down, ashamed. I promised my mother that I would never tell a lie, and that I would never make love to a married woman. I never have told a lie⁠— Mrs. Lunn Remonstrating. Gregory! She sits down again. Gregory I say never. On many occasions I have resorted to prevarication; but on great occasions I have always told the truth. I regard this as a great occasion; and I won’t be intimidated into breaking my promise. I solemnly declare that I did not know until this evening that Mrs. Juno was married. She will bear me out when I say that from that moment my intentions were strictly and resolutely honorable; though my conduct, which I could not control and am therefore not responsible for, was disgraceful⁠—or would have been had this gentleman not walked in and begun making love to my wife under my very nose. Juno Flinging himself back into his chair. Well, I like this! Mrs. Lunn Really, darling, there’s no use in the pot calling the kettle black. Gregory When you say darling, may I ask which of us you are addressing? Mrs. Lunn I really don’t know. I’m getting hopelessly confused. Juno Why don’t you let my wife say something? I don’t think she ought to be thrust into the background like this. Mrs. Lunn I’m sorry, I’m sure. Please excuse me, dear. Mrs. Juno Thoughtfully. I don’t know what to say. I must think over it. I have always been rather severe on this sort of thing; but when it came to the point I didn’t behave as I thought I should behave. I didn’t intend to be wicked; but somehow or other, Nature, or whatever you choose to call it, didn’t take much notice of my intentions. Gregory instinctively seeks her hand and presses it. And I really did think, Tops, that I was the only woman in the world for you. Juno Cheerfully. Oh, that’s all right, my precious. Mrs. Lunn thought she was the only woman in the world for him. Gregory Reflectively. So she is, in a sort of way. Juno Flaring up. And so is my wife. Don’t you set up to be a better husband than I am; for you’re not. I’ve owned I’m wrong. You haven’t. Mrs. Lunn Are you sorry, Gregory? Gregory Perplexed. Sorry? Mrs. Lunn Yes, sorry. I think it’s time for you to say you’re sorry, and to make friends with Mr. Juno before we all dine together. Gregory Seraphita: I promised my mother⁠— Mrs. Juno Involuntarily. Oh, bother your mother! Recovering herself. I beg your pardon. Gregory A promise is a promise. I can’t tell a deliberate lie. I know I ought to be sorry; but the flat fact is that I’m not sorry. I find that in this business, somehow or other, there is a disastrous separation between my moral principles and my conduct. Juno There’s nothing disastrous about it. It doesn’t matter about your conduct if your principles are all right. Gregory Bosh! It doesn’t matter about your principles if your conduct is all right. Juno But your conduct isn’t all right; and my principles are. Gregory What’s the good of your principles being right if they won’t work? Juno They will work, sir, if you exercise self-sacrifice. Gregory Oh yes: if, if, if. You know jolly well that self-sacrifice doesn’t work either when you really want a thing. How much have you sacrificed yourself, pray? Mrs. Lunn Oh, a great deal, Gregory. Don’t be rude. Mr. Juno is a very nice man: he has been most attentive to me on the voyage. Gregory And Mrs. Juno’s a very nice woman. She oughtn’t to be; but she is. Juno Why oughtn’t she to be a nice woman, pray? Gregory I mean she oughtn’t to be nice to me. And you oughtn’t to be nice to my wife. And your wife oughtn’t to like me. And my wife oughtn’t to like you. And if they do, they oughtn’t to go on liking us. And I oughtn’t to like your wife; and you oughtn’t to like mine; and if we do we oughtn’t to go on liking them. But we do, all of us. We oughtn’t; but we do. Juno But, my dear boy, if we admit we are in the wrong where’s the harm of it? We’re not perfect; but as long as we keep the ideal before us⁠— Gregory How? Juno By admitting we’re wrong. Mrs. Lunn Springing up, out of patience, and pacing round the lounge intolerantly. Well, really, I must have my dinner. These two men, with their morality, and their promises to their mothers, and their admissions that they were wrong, and their