Fanny’s First Play

girl. Margaret Rising indignantly. I’m not. You mustn’t pretend to think that I’m a clergyman’s daughter, Bobby. Bobby I wish you wouldn’t chaff about that. Don’t forget the row you got into for letting out that you admired Juggins she turns her back on him quickly⁠—a footman! And what about the Frenchman? Margaret Facing him again. I know nothing about the Frenchman except that he’s a very nice fellow and can swing his leg round like the hand of a clock and knock a policeman down with it. He was in Wormwood Scrubbs with you. I was in Holloway. Bobby It’s all very well to make light of it, Meg; but this is a bit thick, you know. Margaret Do you feel you couldn’t marry a woman who’s been in prison? Bobby Hastily. No. I never said that. It might even give a woman a greater claim on a man. Any girl, if she were thoughtless and a bit on, perhaps, might get into a scrape. Anyone who really understood her character could see there was no harm in it. But you’re not the larky sort. At least you usen’t to be. Margaret I’m not; and I never will be. She walks straight up to him. I didn’t do it for a lark, Bob: I did it out of the very depths of my nature. I did it because I’m that sort of person. I did it in one of my religious fits. I’m hardened at eighteen, as they say. So what about the match, now? Bobby Well, I don’t think you can fairly hold me to it, Meg. Of course it would be ridiculous for me to set up to be shocked, or anything of that sort. I can’t afford to throw stones at anybody; and I don’t pretend to. I can understand a lark; I can forgive a slip; as long as it is understood that it is only a lark or a slip. But to go on the loose on principle; to talk about religion in connection with it; to⁠—to⁠—well, Meg, I do find that a bit thick, I must say. I hope you’re not in earnest when you talk that way. Margaret Bobby: you’re no good. No good to me, anyhow. Bobby Huffed. I’m sorry, Miss Knox. Margaret Goodbye, Mr. Gilbey. She turns on her heel and goes to the other end of the table. I suppose you won’t introduce me to the clergyman’s daughter. Bobby I don’t think she’d like it. There are limits, after all. He sits down at the table, as if to to resume work at his books: a hint to her to go. Margaret On her way to the door. Ring the bell, Bobby; and tell Juggins to show me out. Bobby Reddening. I’m not a cad, Meg. Margaret Coming to the table. Then do something nice to prevent us feeling mean about this afterwards. You’d better kiss me. You needn’t ever do it again. Bobby If I’m no good, I don’t see what fun it would be for you. Margaret Oh, it’d be no fun. If I wanted what you call fun, I should ask the Frenchman to kiss me⁠—or Juggins. Bobby Rising and retreating to the hearth. Oh, don’t be disgusting, Meg. Don’t be low. Margaret Determinedly, preparing to use force. Now, I’ll make you kiss me, just to punish you. She seizes his wrist; pulls him off his balance; and gets her arm round his neck. Bobby No. Stop. Leave go, will you. Juggins appears at the door. Juggins Miss Delaney, Sir. Dora comes in. Juggins goes out. Margaret hastily releases Bobby, and goes to the other side of the room. Dora Through the door, to the departing Juggins. Well, you are a Juggins to show me up when there’s company. To Margaret and Bobby. It’s all right, dear: all right, old man: I’ll wait in Juggins’s pantry till you’re disengaged. Margaret Don’t you know me? Dora Coming to the middle of the room and looking at her very attentively. Why, it’s never No. 406! Margaret Yes it is. Dora Well, I should never have known you out of the uniform. How did you get out? You were doing a month, weren’t you? Margaret My bloke paid the fine the day he got out himself. Dora A real gentleman! Pointing to Bobby, who is staring open-mouthed. Look at him. He can’t take it in. Bobby I suppose you made her acquaintance in prison, Meg. But when it comes to talking about blokes and all that⁠—well! Margaret Oh, I’ve learnt the language; and I like it. It’s another barrier broken down. Bobby It’s not so much the language, Meg. But I think⁠—He looks at Dora and stops. Margaret Suddenly dangerous. What do you think, Bobby? Dora He thinks you oughtn’t to be so free with me, dearie. It does him credit: he always was a gentleman, you know. Margaret Does him credit! To insult you like that! Bobby: say that that wasn’t what you meant. Bobby I didn’t say it was. Margaret Well, deny that it was. Bobby No. I wouldn’t have said it in front of Dora; but I do think it’s not quite the same thing my knowing her and you knowing her. Dora Of course it isn’t, old man. To Margaret. I’ll just trot off and come back in half an hour. You two can make it up together. I’m really not fit company for you, dearie: I couldn’t live up to you. She turns to go. Margaret Stop. Do you believe he could live up to me? Dora Well, I’ll never say anything to stand between a girl and a respectable marriage, or to stop a decent lad from settling himself. I have a conscience; though I mayn’t be as particular as some. Margaret You seem to me to be a very decent sort; and Bobby’s behaving like a skunk. Bobby Much ruffled. Nice language that! Dora Well, dearie, men have to do some awfully mean things to keep up their respectability. But you