Heartbreak House

deeper darkness. Money is not made in the light.

Act II

The same room, with the lights turned up and the curtains drawn. Ellie comes in, followed by Mangan. Both are dressed for dinner. She strolls to the drawing table. He comes between the table and the wicker chair.

Mangan	What a dinner! I don’t call it a dinner: I call it a meal.
Ellie	I am accustomed to meals, Mr. Mangan, and very lucky to get them. Besides, the captain cooked some macaroni for me.
Mangan	Shuddering liverishly. Too rich: I can’t eat such things. I suppose it’s because I have to work so much with my brain. That’s the worst of being a man of business: you are always thinking, thinking, thinking. By the way, now that we are alone, may I take the opportunity to come to a little understanding with you?
Ellie	Settling into the draughtsman’s seat. Certainly. I should like to.
Mangan	Taken aback. Should you? That surprises me; for I thought I noticed this afternoon that you avoided me all you could. Not for the first time either.
Ellie	I was very tired and upset. I wasn’t used to the ways of this extraordinary house. Please forgive me.
Mangan	Oh, that’s all right: I don’t mind. But Captain Shotover has been talking to me about you. You and me, you know.
Ellie	Interested. The captain! What did he say?
Mangan	Well, he noticed the difference between our ages.
Ellie	He notices everything.
Mangan	You don’t mind, then?
Ellie	Of course I know quite well that our engagement⁠—
Mangan	Oh! you call it an engagement.
Ellie	Well, isn’t it?
Mangan	Oh, yes, yes: no doubt it is if you hold to it. This is the first time you’ve used the word; and I didn’t quite know where we stood: that’s all. He sits down in the wicker chair; and resigns himself to allow her to lead the conversation. You were saying⁠—?
Ellie	Was I? I forget. Tell me. Do you like this part of the country? I heard you ask Mr. Hushabye at dinner whether there are any nice houses to let down here.
Mangan	I like the place. The air suits me. I shouldn’t be surprised if I settled down here.
Ellie	Nothing would please me better. The air suits me too. And I want to be near Hesione.
Mangan	With growing uneasiness. The air may suit us; but the question is, should we suit one another? Have you thought about that?
Ellie	Mr. Mangan, we must be sensible, mustn’t we? It’s no use pretending that we are Romeo and Juliet. But we can get on very well together if we choose to make the best of it. Your kindness of heart will make it easy for me.
Mangan	Leaning forward, with the beginning of something like deliberate unpleasantness in his voice. Kindness of heart, eh? I ruined your father, didn’t I?
Ellie	Oh, not intentionally.
Mangan	Yes I did. Ruined him on purpose.
Ellie	On purpose!
Mangan	Not out of ill-nature, you know. And you’ll admit that I kept a job for him when I had finished with him. But business is business; and I ruined him as a matter of business.
Ellie	I don’t understand how that can be. Are you trying to make me feel that I need not be grateful to you, so that I may choose freely?
Mangan	Rising aggressively. No. I mean what I say.
Ellie	But how could it possibly do you any good to ruin my father? The money he lost was yours.
Mangan	With a sour laugh. Was mine! It is mine, Miss Ellie, and all the money the other fellows lost too. He shoves his hands into his pockets and shows his teeth. I just smoked them out like a hive of bees. What do you say to that? A bit of shock, eh?
Ellie	It would have been, this morning. Now! you can’t think how little it matters. But it’s quite interesting. Only, you must explain it to me. I don’t understand it. Propping her elbows on the drawing board and her chin on her hands, she composes herself to listen with a combination of conscious curiosity with unconscious contempt which provokes him to more and more unpleasantness, and an attempt at patronage of her ignorance.
Mangan	Of course you don’t understand: what do you know about business? You just listen and learn. Your father’s business was a new business; and I don’t start new businesses: I let other fellows start them. They put all their money and their friends’ money into starting them. They wear out their souls and bodies trying to make a success of them. They’re what you call enthusiasts. But the first dead lift of the thing is too much for them; and they haven’t enough financial experience. In a year or so they have either to let the whole show go bust, or sell out to a new lot of fellows for a few deferred ordinary shares: that is, if they’re lucky enough to get anything at all. As likely as not the very same thing happens to the new lot. They put in more money and a couple of years’ more work; and then perhaps they have to sell out to a third lot. If it’s really a big thing the third lot will have to sell out too, and leave their work and their money behind them. And that’s where the real business man comes in: where I come in. But I’m cleverer than some: I don’t mind dropping a little money to start the process. I took your father’s measure. I saw that he had a sound idea, and that he would work himself silly for it if he got the chance. I saw that he was a child in business, and was dead certain to outrun his expenses and be in too great a hurry to wait for his market. I knew that the surest way to ruin a man who doesn’t know how to handle