Part 6

FARN. (_disappointed_). Oh, well, I only hope someone else won't jump into the breach before you--(_Watch in hand_) I tell you. (_To_ JEAN.) I'll find out what time the newspapers go to press on Sunday. Goodbye. (_To_ STONOR.) I'll be at the Club just _in case_ I can be of any use.

STONOR (_firmly_). No, don't do that. If I should have anything new to say----

FARN. (_feverishly_). B-b-but with our party, as your brother said--"heading straight for a vast electoral disaster----"

STONOR. If I decide on a counterblast I shall simply telegraph to headquarters. Goodbye.

FARN. Oh--a--g-goodbye. (_A gesture of "The country's going to the dogs."_)

(JEAN _rings the bell. Exit_ FARNBOROUGH.)

STONOR (_studying the carpet_). "Political dynamite," eh? (_Pause._) After all ... women are much more conservative than men--aren't they?

(JEAN _looks straight in front of her, making no attempt to reply._)

Especially the women the property qualification would bring in. (_He glances at_ JEAN _as though for the first time conscious of her silence._) You see now (_he throws himself into the chair by the table_) one reason why I've encouraged you to take an interest in public affairs. Because people like us don't go screaming about it, is no sign we don't (some of us) see what's on the way. However little they want to, women of our class will have to come into line. All the best things in the world--everything that civilisation has won will be in danger if--when this change comes--the only women who have practical political training are the women of the lower classes. Women of the lower classes, and (_his brows knit heavily_)--women inoculated by the Socialist virus.

JEAN. Geoffrey.

STONOR (_draws the telegraph form towards him_). Let us see, how we shall put it--when the time comes--shall we? (_He detaches a pencil from his watch chain and bends over the paper, writing._)

(JEAN _opens her lips to speak, moves a shade nearer the table and then falls back upon her silent, half-incredulous misery._)

STONOR (_holds the paper off, smiling_). Enough dynamite in that! Rather too much, isn't there, little girl?

JEAN. Geoffrey, I know her story.

STONOR. Whose story?

JEAN. Miss Levering's.

STONOR. _Whose?_

JEAN. Vida Levering's.

(STONOR _stares speechless. Slight pause._)

(_The words escaping from her in a miserable cry_) Why did you desert her?

STONOR (_staggered_). I? _I?_

JEAN. Oh, why did you do it?

STONOR (_bewildered_). What in the name of---- What has she been saying to you?

JEAN. Some one else told me part. Then the way you looked when you saw her at Aunt Ellen's--Miss Levering's saying you didn't know her--then your letting out that you knew even the curious name on the handkerchief---- Oh, I pieced it together----

STONOR (_with recovered self-possession_). Your ingenuity is undeniable!

JEAN.--and then, when she said that at the meeting about "the dark hour" and I looked at your face--it flashed over me---- Oh, _why_ did you desert her?

STONOR. I _didn't_ desert her.

JEAN. Ah-h! (_Puts her hands before her eyes._)

(STONOR _makes a passionate motion towards her, is checked by her muffled voice saying_)

I'm glad--I'm glad!

(_He stares bewildered._ JEAN _drops her hands in her lap and steadies her voice._)

She went away from you, then?

STONOR. You don't expect me to enter into----

JEAN. She went away from you?

STONOR (_with a look of almost uncontrollable anger_). Yes!

JEAN. Was that because you wouldn't marry her?

STONOR. I couldn't marry her--and she knew it.

JEAN. Did you want to?

STONOR (_an instant's angry scrutiny and then turning away his eyes_). I thought I did--_then_. It's a long time ago.

JEAN. And why "couldn't" you?

STONOR (_a movement of strong irritation cut short_). Why are you catechising me? It's a matter that concerns another woman.

JEAN. If you're saying that it doesn't concern me, you're saying--(_her lip trembles_)--that _you_ don't concern me.

STONOR (_commanding his temper with difficulty_). In those days I--I was absolutely dependent on my father.

JEAN. Why, you must have been thirty, Geoffrey.

STONOR (_slight pause_). What? Oh--thereabouts.

JEAN. And everybody says you're so clever.

STONOR. Well, everybody's mistaken.

JEAN (_drawing nearer_). It must have been terribly hard----

(STONOR _turns towards her._)

for you both--

(_He arrests his movement and stands stonily._)

that a man like you shouldn't have had the freedom that even the lowest seem to have.

STONOR. Freedom?

JEAN. To marry the woman they choose.

STONOR. She didn't break off our relations because I couldn't marry her.

JEAN. Why was it, then?

STONOR. You're too young to discuss such a story. (_Half turns away._)

JEAN. I'm not so young as she was when----

STONOR (_wheeling upon her_). Very well, then, if you will have it! The truth is, it didn't seem to weigh upon her, as it seems to on you, that I wasn't able to marry her.

JEAN. Why are you so sure of that?

STONOR. Because she didn't so much as hint such a thing when she wrote that she meant to break off the--the----

JEAN. What made her write like that?

STONOR (_with suppressed rage_). Why _will_ you go on talking of what's so long over and ended?

JEAN. What reason did she give?

STONOR. If your curiosity has so got the upper hand--_ask her_.

JEAN (_her eyes upon him_). You're afraid to tell me.

STONOR (_putting pressure on himself to answer quietly_). I still hoped--at _that_ time--to win my father over. She blamed me because (_goes to window and looks blindly out and speaks in a low tone_) if the child had lived it wouldn't have been possible to get my father to--to overlook it.

JEAN (_faintly_). You wanted it _overlooked_? I don't underst----

STONOR (_turning passionately back to her_). Of course you don't. (_He seizes her hand and tries to draw her to him._) If you did, you wouldn't be the beautiful, tender, innocent child you are----

JEAN (_has withdrawn her hand and shrunk from him with an impulse--slight as is its expression--so tragically eloquent, that fear for the first time catches hold of him_). I am glad you didn't mean to desert her, Geoffrey. It wasn't your fault after all--only some misunderstanding that can be cleared up.

STONOR. _Cleared up?_

JEAN. Yes. Cleared up.

STONOR (_aghast_). You aren't thinking that this miserable old affair I'd as good as forgotten----

JEAN (_in a horror-struck whisper, with a glance at the door which he doesn't see_). _Forgotten!_

STONOR. No, no. I don't mean exactly forgotten. But you're torturing me so I don't know what I'm saying. (_He goes closer._) You aren't--Jean! you--you aren't going to let it come between you and me!

JEAN (_presses her handkerchief to her lips, and then, taking it away, answers steadily_). I can't make or unmake what's past. But I'm glad, at least, that you didn't _mean_ to desert her in her trouble. You'll remind her of that first of all, won't you? (_Moves to the door_, L.)

STONOR. Where are you going? (_Raising his voice._) Why should I remind anybody of what I want only to forget?

JEAN (_finger on lip_). Sh!

STONOR (_with eyes on the door_). You don't mean that _she's_----

JEAN. Yes. I left her to get a little rest.

(_He recoils in an access of uncontrollable rage. She follows him. Speechless, he goes down_ R. _to get his hat._)

Geoffrey, don't go before you hear me. I don't know if what I think matters to you now--but I hope it does. (_With tears._) You can still make me think of you without shrinking--if you will.

STONOR (_fixes her a moment with his eyes. Then sternly_). What is it you are asking of me?

JEAN. To make amends, Geoffrey.

STONOR (_with an outburst_). You poor little innocent!

JEAN. I'm poor enough. But (_locking her hands together_) I'm not so innocent but what I know you must right that old wrong now, if you're ever to right it.

STONOR. You aren't insane enough to think I would turn round in these few hours and go back to something that ten years ago was ended for ever! Why, it's stark, staring madness!

JEAN. No. (_Catching on his arm._) What you did ten years ago--_that_ was mad. This is paying a debt.

STONOR. Look here, Jean, you're dreadfully wrought up and excited--tired too----

JEAN. No, not tired--though I've travelled so far to-day. I know you smile at sudden conversions. You think they're hysterical--worse--vulgar. But people must get their revelation how they can. And, Geoffrey, if I can't make you see this one of mine--I shall know your love could never mean strength to me. Only weakness. And I shall be afraid. So afraid I'll never dare to give you the _chance_ of making me loathe myself. I shall never see you again.

STONOR. How right _I_ was to be afraid of that vein of fanaticism in you. (_Moves towards the door._)

JEAN. Certainly you couldn't make a greater mistake than to go away now and think it any good ever to come back. (_He turns._) Even if I came to feel different, I couldn't _do_ anything different. I should know all this couldn't be forgotten. I should know that it would poison my life in the end. Yours too.

STONOR (_with suppressed fury_). She has made good use of her time! (_With a sudden thought._) What has changed her? Has _she_ been seeing visions too?

JEAN. What do you mean?

STONOR. Why is she intriguing to get hold of a man that, ten years ago, she flatly refused to see, or hold any communication with?

JEAN. "Intriguing to get hold of?" She hasn't mentioned you!

STONOR. _What!_ Then how in the name of Heaven do you know--that she wants--what you ask?

JEAN (_firmly_). There can't be any doubt about that.

STONOR (_with immense relief_). You absurd, ridiculous child! Then all this is just your own unaided invention. Well--I could thank God! (_Falls into the nearest chair and passes his handkerchief over his face._)

JEAN (_perplexed, uneasy_). For what are you thanking God?

STONOR (_trying to think out his plan of action_). Suppose--(I'm not going to risk it)--but suppose--(_He looks up and at the sight of_ JEAN'S _face a new tenderness comes into his own. He rises suddenly._) Whether I deserve to suffer or not--it's quite certain _you_ don't. Don't cry, dear one. It never was the real thing. I had to wait till I knew you before I understood.

JEAN (_lifts her eyes brimming_). Oh, is that true? (_Checks her movement towards him._) Loving you has made things clear to me I didn't dream of before. If I could think that because of me you were able to do this----

STONOR (_seizes her by the shoulders and says hoarsely_). Look here! Do you seriously ask me to give up the girl I love--to go and offer to marry a woman that even to think of----

JEAN. You cared for her once. You'll care about her again. She is beautiful and brilliant--everything. I've heard she could win any man she set herself to----

STONOR (_pushing_ JEAN _from him_). She's bewitched you!

JEAN. Geoffrey, Geoffrey, you aren't going away like that. This isn't _the end_!

STONOR (_darkly--hesitating_). I suppose even if she refused me, you'd----

JEAN. She won't refuse you.

STONOR. She did once.

JEAN. She didn't refuse to _marry_ you----

(JEAN _is going to the door_ L.)

STONOR (_catches her by the arm_). Wait!--a---- (_Hunting for some means of gaining time._) Lady John is waiting all this while for the car to go back with a message.

JEAN. _That's_ not a matter of life and death----

STONOR. All the same--I'll go down and give the order.

JEAN (_stopping quite still on a sudden_). Very well. (_Sits_ C.) You'll come back if you're the man I pray you are. (_Breaks into a flood of silent tears, her elbows on the table_ (C.) _her face in her hands._)

STONOR (_returns, bends over her, about to take her in his arms_). Dearest of all the world----

(_Door_ L. _opens softly and_ VIDA LEVERING _appears. She is arrested at sight of_ STONOR, _and is in the act of drawing back when, upon the slight noise_, STONOR _looks round. His face darkens, he stands staring at her and then with a look of speechless anger goes silently out_ C. JEAN, _hearing him shut the door, drops her head on the table with a sob._ VIDA LEVERING _crosses slowly to her and stands a moment silent at the girl's side._)

MISS L. What is the matter?

JEAN (_lifting her head and drying her eyes_). I--I've been seeing Geoffrey.

MISS L. (_with an attempt at lightness_). Is this the effect seeing Geoffrey has?

JEAN. You see, I know now (_as_ MISS LEVERING _looks quite uncomprehending_)--how he (_drops her eyes_)--how he spoiled some one else's life.

MISS L. (_quickly_). Who tells you that?

JEAN. Several people have told me.

MISS L. Well, you should be very careful how you believe what you hear.

JEAN (_passionately_). You _know_ it's true.

MISS L. I know that it's possible to be mistaken.

JEAN. I see! You're trying to shield him----

MISS L. Why should I--what is it to me?

JEAN (_with tears_). Oh--h, how you must love him!

MISS L. Listen to me----

JEAN (_rising_). What's the use of your going on denying it?

(MISS LEVERING, _about to break in, is silenced._)

_Geoffrey doesn't._

(JEAN, _struggling to command her feelings, goes to window._ VIDA LEVERING _relinquishes an impulse to follow, and sits left centre._ JEAN _comes slowly back with her eyes bent on the floor, does not lift them till she is quite near_ VIDA. _Then the girl's self-absorbed face changes._)

Oh, don't look like that! I shall bring him back to you! (_Drops on her knees beside the other's chair._)

MISS L. You would be impertinent (_softening_) if you weren't a romantic child. You can't bring him back.

JEAN. Yes, he----

MISS L. But there's something you _can_ do----

JEAN. What?

MISS L. Bring him to the point where he recognises that he's in our debt.

JEAN. In _our_ debt?

MISS L. In debt to women. He can't repay the one he robbed----

JEAN (_wincing and rising from her knees_). Yes, yes.

MISS L. (_sternly_). No, he can't repay the dead. But there are the living. There are the thousands with hope still in their hearts and youth in their blood. Let him help _them_. Let him be a Friend to Women.

JEAN (_rising on a wave of enthusiasm_). Yes, yes--I understand. That too!

(_The door opens. As_ STONOR _enters with_ LADY JOHN, _he makes a slight gesture towards the two as much as to say, "You see."_)

JEAN (_catching sight of him_). Thank you!

LADY JOHN (_in a clear, commonplace tone to_ JEAN). Well, you rather gave us the slip. Vida, I believe Mr. Stonor wants to see you for a few minutes (_glances at watch_)--but I'd like a word with you first, as I must get back. (_To_ STONOR.) Do you think the car--your man said something about re-charging.

STONOR (_hastily_). Oh, did he?--I'll see about it.

(_As_ STONOR _is going out he encounters the_ BUTLER. _Exit_ STONOR.)

BUTLER. Mr. Trent has called, Miss, to take Miss Levering to the meeting.

JEAN. Bring Mr. Trent into my sitting-room. I'll tell him--you can't go to-night.

[_Exeunt_ BUTLER C., JEAN L.

LADY JOHN (_hurriedly_). I know, my dear, _you're_ not aware of what that impulsive girl wants to insist on.

MISS L. Yes, I am aware of it.

LADY JOHN. But it isn't with your sanction, surely, that she goes on making this extraordinary demand.

MISS L. (_slowly_). I didn't sanction it at first, but I've been thinking it over.

LADY JOHN. Then all I can say is I am greatly disappointed in you. You threw this man over years ago for reasons--whatever they were--that seemed to you good and sufficient. And now you come between him and a younger woman--just to play Nemesis, so far as I can make out!

MISS L. Is that what he says?

LADY JOHN. He says nothing that isn't fair and considerate.

MISS L. I can see he's changed.

LADY JOHN. And you're unchanged--is that it?

MISS L. I've changed even more than he.

LADY JOHN. But (_pity and annoyance blended in her tone_)--you care about him still, Vida?

MISS L. No.

LADY JOHN. I see. It's just that you wish to marry somebody----

MISS L. Oh, Lady John, there are no men listening.

LADY JOHN (_surprised_). No, I didn't suppose there were.

MISS L. Then why keep up that old pretence?

LADY JOHN. What pre----

MISS L. That to marry _at all costs_ is every woman's dearest ambition till the grave closes over her. You and I _know_ it isn't true.

LADY JOHN. Well, but---- Oh! it was just the unexpected sight of him bringing it back---- _That_ was what fired you this afternoon! (_With an honest attempt at sympathetic understanding._) Of course. The memory of a thing like that can never die--can never even be dimmed--_for the woman_.

MISS L. I mean her to think so.

LADY JOHN (_bewildered_). Jean!

(MISS LEVERING _nods._)

LADY JOHN. And it _isn't_ so?

MISS L. You don't seriously believe a woman with anything else to think about, comes to the end of ten years still _absorbed_ in a memory of that sort?

LADY JOHN (_astonished_). You've got over it, then!

MISS L. If the newspapers didn't remind me I shouldn't remember once a twelvemonth that there was ever such a person as Geoffrey Stonor in the world.

LADY JOHN (_with unconscious rapture_). Oh, I'm _so_ glad!

MISS L. (_smiles grimly_). Yes, I'm glad too.

LADY JOHN. And if Geoffrey Stonor offered you--what's called "reparation"--you'd refuse it?

MISS L. (_smiles a little contemptuously_). Geoffrey Stonor! For me he's simply one of the far-back links in a chain of evidence. It's certain I think a hundred times of other women's present unhappiness, to once that I remember that old unhappiness of mine that's past. I think of the nail and chain makers of Cradley Heath. The sweated girls of the slums. I think of the army of ill-used women whose very existence I mustn't mention----

LADY JOHN (_interrupting hurriedly_). Then why in Heaven's name do you let poor Jean imagine----

MISS L. (_bending forward_). Look--I'll trust you, Lady John. I don't suffer from that old wrong as Jean thinks I do, but I shall coin her sympathy into gold for a greater cause than mine.

LADY JOHN. I don't understand you.

MISS L. Jean isn't old enough to be able to care as much about a principle as about a person. But if my half-forgotten pain can turn her generosity into the common treasury----

LADY JOHN. What do you propose she shall do, poor child?

MISS L. Use her hold over Geoffrey Stonor to make him help us!

LADY JOHN. Help you?

MISS L. The man who served one woman--God knows how many more--very ill, shall serve hundreds of thousands well. Geoffrey Stonor shall make it harder for his son, harder still for his grandson, to treat any woman as he treated me.

LADY JOHN. How will he do that?

MISS L. By putting an end to the helplessness of women.

LADY JOHN (_ironically_). You must think he has a great deal of power----

MISS L. Power? Yes, men have too much over penniless and frightened women.

LADY JOHN (_impatiently_). What nonsense! You talk as though the women hadn't their share of human nature. _We_ aren't made of ice any more than the men.

MISS L. No, but all the same we have more self-control.

LADY JOHN. Than men?

MISS L. You know we have.

LADY JOHN (_shrewdly_). I know we mustn't admit it.

MISS L. For fear they'd call us fishes!

LADY JOHN (_evasively_). They talk of our lack of self-control--but it's the last thing they _want_ women to have.

MISS L. Oh, we know what they want us to have. So we make shift to have it. If we don't, we go without hope--sometimes we go without bread.

LADY JOHN (_shocked_). Vida--do you mean to say that you----

MISS L. I mean to say that men's vanity won't let them see it, but the thing's largely a question of economics.

LADY JOHN (_shocked_). You _never_ loved him, then!

MISS L. Oh, yes, I loved him--_once_. It was my helplessness turned the best thing life can bring, into a curse for both of us.

LADY JOHN. I don't understand you----

MISS L. Oh, being "understood!"--that's too much to expect. When people come to know I've joined the Union----

LADY JOHN. But you won't----

MISS L.--who is there who will resist the temptation to say, "Poor Vida Levering! What a pity she hasn't got a husband and a baby to keep her quiet"? The few who know about me, they'll be equally sure that it's not the larger view of life I've gained--my own poor little story is responsible for my new departure. (_Leans forward and looks into_ LADY JOHN'S _face._) My best friend, she will be surest of all, that it's a private sense of loss, or, lower yet, a grudge----! But I tell you the only difference between me and thousands of women with husbands and babies is that I'm free to say what I think. _They aren't._

LADY JOHN (_rising and looking at her watch_). I must get back--my poor ill-used guests.

MISS L. (_rising_). I won't ring. I think you'll find Mr. Stonor downstairs waiting for you.

LADY JOHN (_embarrassed_). Oh--a--he will have left word about the car in any case.

(MISS LEVERING _has opened the door_ (C.). ALLEN TRENT _is in the act of saying goodbye to_ JEAN _in the hall._)

MISS L. Well, Mr. Trent, I didn't expect to see you this evening.

TRENT (_comes and stands in the doorway_). Why not? Have I ever failed?

MISS L. Lady John, this is one of our allies. He is good enough to squire me through the rabble from time to time.

LADY JOHN. Well, I think it's very handsome of you, after what she said to-day about men. (_Shakes hands._)

TRENT. I've no great opinion of most men myself. I might add--or of most women.

LADY JOHN. Oh! Well, at any rate I shall go away relieved to think that Miss Levering's plain speaking hasn't alienated _all_ masculine regard.

TRENT. Why should it?

LADY JOHN. That's right, Mr. Trent! Don't believe all she says in the heat of propaganda.

TRENT. I do believe all she says. But I'm not cast down.

LADY JOHN (_smiling_). Not when she says----

TRENT (_interrupting_). Was there never a mysogynist of my sex who ended by deciding to make an exception?

LADY JOHN (_smiling significantly_). Oh, if _that's_ what you build on!

TRENT. Well, why shouldn't a man-hater on your side prove equally open to reason?

MISS L. That part of the question doesn't concern me. I've come to a place where I realise that the first battles of this new campaign must be fought by women alone. The only effective help men could give--amendment of the law--they refuse. The rest is nothing.

LADY JOHN. Don't be ungrateful, Vida. Here's Mr. Trent ready to face criticism in publicly championing you.

MISS L. It's an illusion that I as an individual need Mr. Trent. I am quite safe in the crowd. Please don't wait for me, and don't come for me again.

TRENT (_flushes_). Of course if you'd rather----

MISS L. And that reminds me. I was asked to thank you and to tell you, too, that they--the women of the Union--they won't need your chairmanship any more--though that, I beg you to believe, has nothing to do with any feeling of mine.

TRENT (_hurt_). Of course, I know there must be other men ready--better known men----