Fanny’s First Play

it delicately. Juggins A mistake, sir, believe me, if you are not a born artist in that line.⁠—Beg pardon, sir, I think I heard the bell. He goes out. Bobby, much perplexed, shoves his hands into his pockets, and comes off the table, staring disconsolately straight before him; then goes reluctantly to his books, and sits down to write. Juggins returns. Juggins Announcing. Miss Knox. Margaret comes in. Juggins withdraws. Margaret Still grinding away for that Society of Arts examination, Bobby? You’ll never pass. Bobby Rising. No: I was just writing to you. Margaret What about? Bobby Oh, nothing. At least⁠—How are you? Margaret Passing round the other end of the table and putting down on it a copy of Lloyd’s Weekly and her purse-bag. Quite well, thank you. How did you enjoy Brighton? Bobby Brighton! I wasn’t at⁠—Oh yes, of course. Oh, pretty well. Is your aunt all right? Margaret My aunt! I suppose so. I haven’t seen her for a month. Bobby I thought you were down staying with her. Margaret Oh! was that what they told you? Bobby Yes. Why? Weren’t you really? Margaret No. I’ve something to tell you. Sit down and lets be comfortable. She sits on the edge of the table. He sits beside her, and puts his arm wearily round her waist. Margaret You needn’t do that if you don’t like, Bobby. Suppose we get off duty for the day, just to see what it’s like. Bobby Off duty? What do you mean? Margaret You know very well what I mean. Bobby: did you ever care one little scrap for me in that sort of way? Don’t funk answering: I don’t care a bit for you⁠—that way. Bobby Removing his arm rather huffily. I beg your pardon, I’m sure. I thought you did. Margaret Well, did you? Come! Don’t be mean. I’ve owned up. You can put it all on me if you like; but I don’t believe you care any more than I do. Bobby You mean we’ve been shoved into it rather by the pars and mars. Margaret Yes. Bobby Well, it’s not that I don’t care for you: in fact, no girl can ever be to me exactly what you are; but we’ve been brought up so much together that it feels more like brother and sister than⁠—well, than the other thing, doesn’t it? Margaret Just so. How did you find out the difference? Bobby Blushing. Oh, I say! Margaret I found out from a Frenchman. Bobby Oh, I say! He comes off the table in his consternation. Margaret Did you learn it from a Frenchwoman? You know you must have learnt it from somebody. Bobby Not a Frenchwoman. She’s quite a nice woman. But she’s been rather unfortunate. The daughter of a clergyman. Margaret Startled. Oh, Bobby! That sort of woman! Bobby What sort of woman? Margaret You don’t believe she’s really a clergyman’s daughter, do you, you silly boy? It’s a stock joke. Bobby Do you mean to say you don’t believe me? Margaret No: I mean to say I don’t believe her. Bobby Curious and interested, resuming his seat on the table beside her. What do you know about her? What do you know about all this sort of thing? Margaret What sort of thing, Bobby? Bobby Well, about life. Margaret I’ve lived a lot since I saw you last. I wasn’t at my aunt’s. All that time that you were in Brighton, I mean. Bobby I wasn’t at Brighton, Meg. I’d better tell you: you’re bound to find out sooner or later. He begins his confession humbly, avoiding her gaze. Meg: it’s rather awful: you’ll think me no end of a beast. I’ve been in prison. Margaret You! Bobby Yes, me. For being drunk and assaulting the police. Margaret Do you mean to say that you⁠—oh! this is a letdown for me. She comes off the table and drops, disconsolate, into a chair at the end of it furthest from the hearth. Bobby Of course I couldn’t hold you to our engagement after that. I was writing to you to break it off. He also descends from the table and makes slowly for the hearth. You must think me an utter rotter. Margaret Oh, has everybody been in prison for being drunk and assaulting the police? How long were you in? Bobby A fortnight. Margaret That’s what I was in for. Bobby What are you talking about? In where? Margaret In quod. Bobby But I’m serious: I’m not rotting. Really and truly⁠— Margaret What did you do to the copper? Bobby Nothing, absolutely nothing. He exaggerated grossly. I only laughed at him. Margaret Jumping up, triumphant. I’ve beaten you hollow. I knocked out two of his teeth. I’ve got one of them. He sold it to me for ten shillings. Bobby Now please do stop fooling, Meg. I tell you I’m not rotting. He sits down in the armchair, rather sulkily. Margaret Taking up the copy of Lloyd’s Weekly and going to him. And I tell you I’m not either. Look! Here’s a report of it. The daily papers are no good; but the Sunday papers are splendid. She sits on the arm of the chair. See! Reading: “Hardened at Eighteen. A quietly dressed, respectable-looking girl who refuses her name”⁠—that’s me. Bobby Pausing a moment in his perusal. Do you mean to say that you went on the loose out of pure devilment? Margaret I did no harm. I went to see a lovely dance. I picked up a nice man and went to have a dance myself. I can’t imagine anything more innocent and more happy. All the bad part was done by other people: they did it out of pure devilment if you like. Anyhow, here we are, two gaolbirds, Bobby, disgraced forever. Isn’t it a relief? Bobby Rising stiffly. But you know, it’s not the same for a girl. A man may do things a woman mayn’t. He stands on the hearthrug with his back to the fire. Margaret Are you scandalized, Bobby? Bobby Well, you can’t expect me to approve of it, can you, Meg? I never thought you were that sort of