The Vortex

By Noël Coward.

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To
G. Calthrop
with a good deal of gratitude

Dramatis Personae

Preston
Helen Saville
Pauncefort Quentin
Clara Hibbert
Florence Lancaster
Tom Veryan
Nicky Lancaster
David Lancaster
Bunty Mainwaring
Bruce Fairlight

The Vortex

Act I

The scene is the drawing-room of Mrs. Lancaster’s flat in London. The colors and decoration are on the verge of being original. The furniture is simple but distinctly expensive.

Persons shown are Helen Saville and Pauncefort Quentin. Helen Saville and Pauncefort Quentin are shown in by Preston. Helen is a smartly dressed woman of about thirty. “Pawnie” is an elderly maiden gentleman.

Preston	I’m expecting Mrs. Lancaster in at any moment now, ma’am.
Helen	Thank you, Preston, we’ll wait a little.
Preston	Shall I get you some tea?
Helen	No, thanks, we’ve already had some⁠—give me a cigarette, Pawnie; they’re in that box on the table.
	Pawnie hands her cigarette box. Preston goes out.
Pawnie	It may be tiresome of me, but I think all this coloring is oppressive.
Helen	You make such a “fetish” of house decoration, Pawnie.
Pawnie	Wandering round the room. Not at all, but I do like things to be good and right.
Helen	Well, I don’t consider the new frieze in your bathroom either good or right.
Pawnie	How can you, Helen! It’s too marvelous for words. Parelli designed it specially for me.
Helen	Personally, it would make me self-conscious to sit in a bath surrounded by frisky gods and goddesses all with such better figures than mine.
Pawnie	I find it encouraging. This whole room is so typical of Florence.
Helen	In what way?
Pawnie	Every way. Look at the furniture.
Helen	A little artificial perhaps, but quite harmless.
Pawnie	Dear Helen, you’re such a loyal friend.
Helen	I’m very fond of Florence.
Pawnie	We all are. Oh, my God, look at that lampshade!
Helen	I gave it to her last Christmas.
Pawnie	Wasn’t that a little naughty of you?
Helen	I don’t see why; it’s extremely pretty.
Pawnie	Too unrestrained. Such a bad example for the servants. He takes up frame from desk. Who’s this boy?
Helen	Tom Veryan. You must have seen him.
Pawnie	Florence’s past, present, or future?
Helen	Present.
Pawnie	He has that innocent look that never fails to attract elderly women.
Helen	Don’t be a cat.
Pawnie	I wasn’t meaning Florence; she’s too divine to be in any marked category.
Helen	I wonder.
Pawnie	Oh, yes, Helen, deathless sort of magnetism, you know.
Helen	I often wonder what will happen to Florence eventually.
Pawnie	My dear, I’m far too occupied in wondering what’s going to happen to me to worry about other people.
Helen	I’ve always thought your course was quite clear, Pawnie.
Pawnie	However offensive that remark was intended to be, Helen, I shall take it in the most complimentary spirit.
Helen	I’m sure you will.
Pawnie	I expect Florence will just go on and on, then suddenly become quite beautifully old, and go on and on still more.
Helen	It’s too late now for her to become beautifully old, I’m afraid. She’ll have to be young indefinitely.
Pawnie	I don’t suppose she’ll mind that, but it’s trying for David.
Helen	And fiendish for Nicky.
Pawnie	Oh, no, my dear; you’re quite wrong there. I’m sure Nicky doesn’t care a damn.
Helen	It’s difficult to tell with Nicky.
Pawnie	He’s divinely selfish; all amusing people are.
Helen	Did you hear him play in Paris?
Pawnie	Yes.
Helen	Well?
Pawnie	Erratic⁠—one or two things perfect, but he’s slovenly.
Helen	He only takes things seriously in spurts, but still he’s very young.
Pawnie	Do you really think that’s a good excuse?
Helen	No, I’m afraid not, especially when so much depends on it.
Pawnie	What does depend on it?
Helen	Everything⁠—his life’s happiness.
Pawnie	Don’t be so terribly intense, dear.
Helen	It’s true.
Pawnie	I’m quite sure Nicky will be perfectly happy as long as he goes on attracting people; he loves being attractive.
Helen	Naturally, he’s Florence’s son.
Pawnie	Such an exciting thing to be.
Helen	You don’t believe Nicky’s got anything in him at all, do you?
Pawnie	Lightly. I don’t think it matters, anyway.
Helen	I do.
Pawnie	But you’ve got a loving nature, Helen. I always know it.
Helen	Nicky hasn’t had a chance.
Pawnie	Nonsense⁠—he’s had everything he wanted ever since the day he was born, and he’ll go on wasting his opportunities until he dies.
Helen	Quite possibly.
Pawnie	Well, there you are then.
Helen	He may have had everything he wanted, but he’s had none of the things he really needs.
Pawnie	Are you talking socially or spiritually?
Helen	You’re quite right, Pawnie, you wouldn’t be so beautifully preserved if you’d wasted any of your valuable time or sincerity.
Pawnie	I forgive you for that, Helen, freely.
Helen	Thank you so much.
Pawnie	You must realize one thing, everyone is sacrificed to Florence⁠—it’s as it should be⁠—of course, she’s a couple of hundred years too late⁠—she ought to have been a flaunting, intriguing King’s mistress, with black page boys and jade baths and things too divine⁠—
	Enter Preston.
Preston	Announcing. Miss Hibbert.
	Enter Clara Hibbert⁠—she is affected, but quite well-dressed. Preston* goes out.*
Clara	My dears. Isn’t Florence back yet?
Helen	No, we’re waiting for her.
Pawnie	You look harassed, Clara.
Clara	I am harassed.
Helen	Why?
Clara	I’m singing tonight for Laura Tennant⁠—she’s giving a dreadful reception at her dreadful house for some dreadful Ambassador⁠—
Pawnie	How dreadful!
Clara	No one will listen to me, of course⁠—they’ll all be far too busy avoiding the Cup and searching for the Champagne.
Helen	What are you singing?
Clara	One Gabriel Faure, two Reynaldo Hahn’s and an Aria.
Pawnie	Which Aria?
Clara	I can’t think, but my accompanist will know⁠—I’ve got a frightful headache.
Helen	Why don’t you take off your hat?
Clara	My dear, I daren’t⁠—I’ve just had my hair done⁠—I suppose you haven’t got a “Cachet Faivre,” either of you?
Helen	No, but Florence has, I expect⁠—Preston will know where they are⁠—ring the bell, Pawnie.
Pawnie	Ringing bell. My poor Clara⁠—I do hope your singing tonight will justify the fuss you’re making this afternoon.
Clara	Don’t be so brutal, Pawnie.
Helen	Is Gregory going with you?
Clara	Of course⁠—I never sing unless he’s there⁠—he gives me such marvelous moral support.
Pawnie	“Moral” is hardly the word I should have chosen, dear.
	Enter Preston.
Helen	Do you know if Mrs. Lancaster has any “Cachet Faivre” anywhere?
Preston	Yes, ma’am⁠—I think so.
Clara	Do get me one, Preston, I’m suffering tortures.
Preston	Very well, miss.
	She goes out.
Pawnie	Preston has such wonderful poise, hasn’t she?
Helen	She needs it in this house.
Clara	I do wish Florence would hurry up. I want to borrow her green fan. I’ve got a new Patou frock that positively demands it.
Helen	She can’t be long now.
Clara	I suppose I daren’t ask Preston for the fan and creep away with it?
Helen	I shouldn’t, if I were you⁠—Florence is very touchy over that sort of thing.
Clara	She promised it to me ages ago.
Pawnie	Surely there isn’t such a desperate hurry? You won’t be singing until about half-past eleven.
Clara	Petulantly. My dear, I’ve got to rehearse⁠—I don’t know a word⁠—
	Reenter Preston* with a “Cachet Faivre” and a glass of water.*
Clara	You’re a saint, Preston⁠—thank you a thousand times⁠—
Pawnie	Soak it a little first, dear, or you’ll choke, and I should detest that.
	Clara soaks “Cachet” and then swallows it. Preston goes out.
Clara	Now I must lie down flat⁠—get out of the way, Helen.
Pawnie	Perhaps you’d like us both to go right out of the room and sit in the hall?
Clara	No, Pawnie, I should never expect the least consideration from you.
	She lies down flat on the divan, Helen* arranges cushions for her.*
Clara	Thank you, Helen darling⁠—I shall always come to you whenever I’m ill.
Helen	That will be nice.
	Enter Florence Lancaster followed by Tom Veryan. Florence is brilliantly dressed almost to the point of being “outré.” Her face still retains the remnants of great beauty. Tom is athletic and good-looking. One feels he is good at games and extremely bad at everything else.
Florence	Helen⁠—Pawnie, have you been here long?
Pawnie	No, only a few hours.
Florence	My dear. I’m so frightfully sorry⁠—we’ve been held up for ages in the traffic. Davis is a congenital idiot. Always manages to get to a turning just as the policeman puts out his hand. No initiative whatever. What’s happened to Clara? Has she been run over?
Clara	No, dear, I’ve got a frightful head.
Florence	Pawnie, you know Tom, don’t you?⁠—Tom Veryan, Mr. Quentin, I’m sure you’ll adore each other.
Tom	Shaking hands. How are you?
Pawnie	Very well, thank you⁠—how sweet of you to ask me?
Florence	Is there anything I can do, Clara?
Clara	Yes, dear, lend me your green fan for tonight.
Florence	All right⁠—but you won’t get too carried away with it, will you, dear? I should hate the feathers to come out. Does anyone want any tea?
Helen	No thanks, dear.
Florence	Cocktails, then?
Pawnie	It’s too early.
Florence	Ringing bell. It’s never too early for a cocktail.
Clara	I should like to go quite quietly into a convent and never see anybody again ever⁠—
Pawnie	Gregory would be bored stiff in a convent.
Florence	We’ve just been to a most frightful Charity matinée. Nothing but inaudible speeches from dreary old actors, and leading ladies nudging one another all over the stage. Preston enters. Cocktails, Preston, and ask Barker to wrap up my green fan for Miss Hibbert to take away with her.
Preston	Very good, ma’am.
	She goes out.
Clara	You’re an angel, Florence⁠—I think I’ll sit up now.
Florence	Do, dear, then Tom will be able to sit down.
Clara	Sitting up. I really do feel most peculiar.
Pawnie	You look far from normal, dear.
Clara	If Pawnie’s rude to me any more I shall burst into tears.
Florence	Tom, give me a cigarette.
Pawnie	Here are some.
Florence	No, Tom has a special rather hearty kind that I adore.
Clara	Lend me your lip stick, Helen; mine has sunk down into itself.
Helen	Here you are.
Clara	What a lovely color! I look far prettier than I feel.
Florence	To Tom. Thank you, angel.
Clara	I shan’t be able to get down to the house until Saturday evening, Florence⁠—I’m seeing Gregory off to Newcastle.
Pawnie	Why Newcastle?
Clara	His home’s just near there⁠—isn’t it too awful for him?
Florence	Well, wire me the time of your train, won’t you?
Clara	Of course, dear.
Helen	You’re smelling divinely, Florence. What is it?
Florence	Flicking her handkerchief. It is good, isn’t it?
Pawnie	“Narcisse Noir” of Caron. I use it.
Florence	Yes, you would, Pawnie.
	Reenter Preston* with parcel.*
Preston	Here is the fan, miss.
Clara	Taking it. Thank you so much⁠—you are sweet, Florence. A fan gives me such a feeling of security when I’m singing modern stuff. Preston goes out. I must rush now⁠—
Florence	Don’t you want a cocktail before you go?
Clara	No, darling⁠—I should only hiccup all the evening. Goodbye, you’ve been such a comfort⁠—goodbye, Helen⁠—Pawnie, you will be nicer to me over the weekend, won’t you? I shall be so depressed, what with Gregory going away and everything⁠—Goodbye, Tom⁠—I shall dine in bed and give way at every pore⁠—
	She goes out.
Pawnie	Poor Clara⁠—she eternally labors under the delusion that she really matters.
Helen	We all do that a little.
Florence	Laughing. You’re awfully cruel to her, Pawnie.
Pawnie	She upsets my vibrations.
Florence	Before glass. I’ve taken a sudden hatred to this hat. She takes it off. That’s better⁠—are you going to the New Elaine tonight, either of you?
Helen	I’m not⁠—but Pawnie is, of course.
Pawnie	It’s going to be amazing⁠—what a cast, my dear! Marvelous Selwyn Steele, Nora Dean, and that perfect woman, Lily Burfield⁠—
Helen	I can’t stand her, she always overacts.
Pawnie	Incensed. How can you, Helen! Did you see her in Simple Faith?
Helen	Yes, unfortunately.
Pawnie	Oh, you’re really too tiresome for words!
Helen	Her technique creaks like machinery.
Pawnie	It’s sacrilege⁠—she’s too, too marvelous.
	Enter Preston* with a tray of cocktails. All help themselves.*
Florence	What do you think about it, Tom?
Tom	I’ve never seen her.
Florence	Yes, you have. About three months ago, at the Comedy.
Tom	Oh.⁠ ⁠… I don’t remember.
Pawnie	Don’t remember! An artist like that! Good God, it’s agony!
Helen	You’ll look awfully tired at dinnertime, Pawnie, if you don’t calm down a little.
Florence	This is special⁠—my own invention.
Helen	Absolutely delicious.
Tom	A bit too sweet.
Florence	Tom, darling, don’t be so taciturn⁠—he’s always taciturn after a matinée.
Pawnie	When’s Nicky coming back?
Florence	Tomorrow. Isn’t it too divine? He’s been away for a whole year, but I saw him for a moment on my way through Paris last month.
Pawnie	Has he been working hard?
Florence	I suppose so, but you know what Nicky is⁠—bless his heart!
Pawnie	I heard him play at Yvonne Mirabeau’s.
Florence	She’s a loathsome woman, isn’t she?
Helen	Not as bad as that.
Pawnie	She’s a half-wit. I can’t bear half-wits.
Florence	She goes on so dreadfully about things⁠—devastating.
Pawnie	Funny Nicky liking her so much.
Florence	Only because she keeps on saying how wonderful he is⁠—that always appeals to Nicky.
Pawnie	How old is he now?
Florence	Twenty-four. Isn’t it absurd to think I have such a grown-up son⁠—old General Fenwick said last Thursday that⁠—The telephone rings; she goes to it. Hallo⁠—hallo! Yes, my dear. How are you?⁠ ⁠… Yes, so am I, simply worn out.⁠ ⁠… No. When? How perfectly marvelous!⁠ ⁠… No, dear, it’s a prescription; but I can let you have a little in a jar.⁠ ⁠… Quite easy. All you do is just rub it on at night.⁠ ⁠… Don’t be so silly.⁠ ⁠… Not in the least; if you send the car round that will be all right.⁠ ⁠… Very well.⁠ ⁠… Goodbye, darling. She hangs up receiver. I give Clara Hibbert ten for stupidity. Don’t you, Helen?
Helen	A hundred and ten.
Pawnie	Ten’s the limit.
Tom	I say, Florence⁠—I think I’d better be getting along if I’ve got to be dressed and back here by half-past seven⁠—
Florence	You’ve got half an hour.
Tom	That’s not very much.
Florence	The car’s outside⁠ ⁠… take it and send it straight back.
Pawnie	Can it drop me, Florence dear? I always feel so much richer in your car than anyone else’s.
Florence	Of course, Pawnie.
	The telephone rings again.
Florence	At telephone. Hallo!⁠ ⁠… Yes⁠ ⁠… speaking.⁠ ⁠… How do you do⁠—?
Pawnie	Goodbye, Helen. It’s been divine⁠—
Helen	Ring me up at teatime tomorrow.
Florence	How perfectly sweet of you!⁠ ⁠… Now, now, really.⁠ ⁠… Well, naturally, if you persist in saying such charming things⁠ ⁠… laughing gayly⁠ ⁠… What nonsense!⁠ ⁠…
Pawnie	Goodbye, Florence⁠—
Florence	She puts her hand over mouthpiece. It’s that awful General Fenwick.⁠ ⁠… Goodbye, Pawnie dear. You’re coming down to the house on Friday?
Pawnie	Yes; too lovely⁠—
Florence	Helen’s coming by the five-o’clock⁠—you’d better travel together.
Pawnie	Perfect. To Tom. Are you ready?
Tom	Quite.
Pawnie	As they go out. You can drop me first, can’t you? I’m not as young as I was⁠—
Florence	At telephone. Please forgive me. People rushing in and out, this house grows more like a railway station every day.⁠ ⁠… Now, General, that was a deliberate compliment. She laughs. Ridiculous man.⁠ ⁠… Very well.⁠ ⁠… Goodbye. She hangs up receiver. My God! ten for dreariness!
Helen	He’s not a bad old thing.
Florence	No, but he tries to be, and that’s what’s so frightful. Arranging her hair before glass. I look like Death.⁠ ⁠… Isn’t Tom a darling?
Helen	Yes, dear, without being aggressively brilliant.
Florence	I’m afraid, Helen, you’re getting rather bitter.
Helen	Nonsense.
Florence	It’s silly to be sarcastic about Tom.
Helen	It’s better than being maudlin about him.
Florence	I don’t know what you mean, dear. I’m not in the least maudlin, and never have been about anybody. I sometimes wish I could be⁠—I’m too hard.
Helen	Taking a cigarette. Tom will let you down.
Florence	Let me down? Why⁠ ⁠… how⁠ ⁠… I don’t understand⁠—
Helen	You’re more in love with him than he is with you.
Florence	Don’t be so absurd, Helen.
Helen	It’s true.
Florence	Complacently. He adores me⁠—worships me⁠—he’s never seen anyone like me before in his life. I’m something strange⁠ ⁠… exotic⁠—
Helen	You’re more in love with him than he is with you.
Florence	You’re getting on my nerves today, Helen.
Helen	You do see that I’m right, don’t you?
Florence	If you knew some of the things he’s said to me.
Helen	I can guess them.
Florence	That boy was utterly unawakened until he met me.
Helen	He’s very young.
Florence	I’ve taught him⁠—everything.
Helen	Or nothing.
Florence	Helen, I believe you’re jealous.
Helen	Don’t be a fool.
Florence	I wish I hadn’t this fatal knack of seeing through people.
Helen	How’s David?
Florence	I don’t know. He ought to be home soon.
Helen	Doesn’t he ever suspect anything?
Florence	Of course not⁠—he adores me.
Helen	It seems so strange not to see⁠—
Florence	I’m devoted to David⁠—I’d do anything for him, anything in the world⁠—but he’s grown old and I’ve kept young; it does muddle things up so. I can’t help having a temperament, can I?
Helen	Temperament.⁠ ⁠… No.
Florence	David’s always loved me and never understood me⁠—you see, I’m such an extraordinary mixture. I have so many sides to my character. I adore being at home and running the house and looking after David and Nicky⁠—
Helen	You don’t exactly overdo it.
Florence	Well, Nicky’s been away for such ages. Also, one must be in London for the season. You can’t expect me to bury myself in the country indefinitely. I shall be there practically all through the spring and summer.
Helen	Lovely tennis parties and cricket weeks and things⁠—
Florence	Certainly.
Helen	Kissing her. You’re a divine creature, Florence.
Florence	Basking. Am I? The telephone rings. Hallo!⁠ ⁠… Yes⁠—speaking. To Helen* in a whisper.* It’s Inez Zulieta. I never went to her recital.⁠ ⁠… Inez darling, I never recognized your voice.⁠ ⁠… Didn’t you get my note?⁠ ⁠… It was absolutely true, I was in agony.⁠ ⁠… Inez, don’t be angry. If you only knew how I longed for the sound of your wonderful, wonderful voice.⁠ ⁠… Darling.⁠ ⁠… Inez, don’t be so cruel.⁠ ⁠… Tomorrow, then. She hangs up receiver. I do wish Inez wasn’t so persistent.
Helen	You never stop encouraging her.
Florence	Oh, Helen, I’m so tired of everyone.
Helen	Except Tom?
Florence	Yes, except Tom; he’s such a darling.
Helen	How do you think he and Nicky will get on?
Florence	Marvelously⁠—Tom loves music.
Helen	He says he does.
Florence	My dear, I took him to that Russian thing the other day and he sat entranced from beginning to end.
Helen	Poor Nicky!
Florence	Why do you say that?
Helen	Because I sometimes feel it.
Florence	Suddenly furious. Oh, I wonder why we’re such friends⁠—we’re so opposite⁠—you don’t understand me a bit. I used to think you did, but you’ve been different lately⁠—unsympathetic.
Helen	No, I haven’t.
Florence	Yes, you have⁠—over Tom⁠—I believe you’re in love with him yourself.
Helen	Smiling. No⁠—it isn’t that.
Florence	Anyhow, you can’t bear him being in love with me.
Helen	I don’t think he is⁠—really. I quite realize that he was very violently infatuated, but that is wearing off a bit now. I’m beginning to see him as he is.⁠ ⁠…
Florence	No, no, it’s not true⁠—you don’t understand⁠—
Helen	We are friends, Florence, though we’re so “opposite.” Do you really know the truth⁠—inside you? Or is all this shrill vanity real?
Florence	What’s the matter with you?
Helen	You’re ten years older than I am, but when I’m your age I shall be twenty years older than you.
Florence	Darling, how deliciously involved⁠—what can you mean by that?
Helen	I mean, I think it’s silly not to grow old when the time comes.
	She rises and goes towards door.
Florence	Outraged. Helen! There is suddenly heard a violent knocking at the front door. What on earth is that?
	There is a noise outside, then the door bursts open and Nicky* enters. He is extremely well-dressed in traveling clothes. He is tall and pale, with thin, nervous hands.*
Florence	Nicky!
Nicky	Mother!
	He embraces her.
Florence	But I’d no idea⁠—I thought you were coming tomorrow.
Nicky	No, today⁠—I wrote to you.
Florence	I’m terribly, terribly excited.
Nicky	Helen, dear, how are you?
	He kisses her.
Helen	Splendid, Nicky.
Florence	I can’t get over you arriving like this.⁠ ⁠… I never realized⁠—
Nicky	Silly⁠ ⁠… you’re looking awfully well.
Florence	Am I?
Nicky	Wonderful, as usual.
Florence	I was talking to George Morrison only last Thursday⁠—
Nicky	The man who wrote that fearful book?
Florence	It isn’t a fearful book, it’s brilliant⁠—anyhow, he absolutely refused to believe that I had a grown-up son.
Helen	My dears, I must fly.
Nicky	Don’t go yet.
Helen	I must⁠—I’m hours late as it is.
Nicky	Be a little later, then.
Florence	Remember, five-o’clock train on Friday.
Nicky	Oh, is she coming down to the house? Divine!
Helen	Yes, if Florence is still speaking to me. Goodbye.
	She goes out.
Nicky	Have you been having a scene?
Florence	No, dear.
Nicky	She’s a darling⁠—Helen⁠—
Florence	Extremely stupid and tactless sometimes.
Nicky	It doesn’t feel as though I’d been away at all.
Florence	I’ve missed you appallingly⁠—we had such a short time together in Paris. Did you enjoy all my letters?
Nicky	I adored them⁠—so did John Bagot. I used to read most of them aloud to him. He’s mad on you⁠—saw your pictures in the Tatler, or something, and fell in love with it.
Florence	Is he nice?
Nicky	He’s grand.
Florence	We must all dine at the Embassy. When is he coming to England?
Nicky	Not until after Christmas.
Florence	You must see my new photographs; they’re wonderful.
	She takes large packet from desk.
Nicky	It’s heavenly⁠—being back.
Florence	Look.
Nicky	I don’t like that one.
Florence	How can you, Nicky! Tom likes that one best of all.
Nicky	Who’s Tom?
Florence	Tom Veryan⁠—he’s a dear; you’ll like him frightfully⁠—you know⁠—the very nicest type of Englishman.
Nicky	I hate the very nicest type of Englishman.
Florence	Don’t be tiresome, Nicky; he’s only twenty-four, and they all think so well of him⁠—
Nicky	All who?
Florence	All his officers and people; he’s in the Brigade.
Nicky	Holding photograph away from him and scrutinizing it through half-closed eyes. Now that one really is enchanting⁠—they’ve got your hair beautifully. Oh, yes, my dear, it’s perfect⁠—
Florence	Complacently. It is good. She’s sweet⁠—Madame Henderson, she simply won’t hear of my paying for these⁠—she says it’s quite sufficient to be allowed to exhibit them in the window.
Nicky	Is anyone dining this evening?
Florence	No. Oh, dear! I’d forgotten⁠—I’m dining out with Tom.
Nicky	Oh⁠—I see.
Florence	Your first night home, too⁠—how perfectly fiendish. What a fool I am to have muddled it up.
Nicky	It doesn’t matter, darling.
Florence	Oh, but it does. I wonder if we could get another seat⁠—
Nicky	Seat? What for?
Florence	We’re going to the first night of The New Elaine. It’s going to be marvelous.
Nicky	Who’s in it?
Florence	Nora Dean and Selwyn Steele⁠—
Nicky	Oh, God!
Florence	It’s silly of you always to jeer at Selwyn Steele. He’ s a brilliant actor, if only he could get away from his wife.⁠ ⁠…
Nicky	I couldn’t bear him tonight, anyway; I’m tired. Is father home yet?
Florence	No, I don’t think so. Oh, I do feel such a beast⁠—
Nicky	Don’t be silly⁠—honestly, I don’t mind a bit.
Florence	I know⁠—you have a nice quiet dinner here and join us at the Embassy afterwards.
Nicky	Is it a late night?
Florence	Yes, they play the most heavenly tune there now⁠—Tom always makes them do it over and over again⁠—I’ll put it on⁠—
	She goes to the gramophone.
Nicky	How’s Iris?
Florence	My dear, don’t speak of her.
Nicky	Why⁠—what’s she done?
Florence	She’s been absolutely foul.
Nicky	In what way?
Florence	Every way⁠—I never trusted her, luckily⁠—Thank God I’ve got instincts about people⁠—listen, isn’t this marvelous⁠—She said the most filthy things to Gloria Craig about me⁠—I always knew she was insanely jealous, but there are limits. I loathe being at people’s beck and call.⁠ ⁠… Come and dance.
Nicky	As they dance. I’m sorry you’ve rowed⁠—I rather liked her⁠—
Florence	Only because she kept on saying how wonderful you were.⁠ ⁠… She doesn’t know a thing about music really.
Nicky	Oh yes, she does.
Florence	It’s merely bluff⁠—all that appreciation. Darling, how oddly you’re dancing.
Nicky	It’s probably because we haven’t danced together for so long.⁠ ⁠…
Florence	Anyhow, now she’s gone off to Monte Carlo with Violet Fenchurch⁠—silly fool⁠—
	Enter David Lancaster. He is an elderly gray-haired pleasant man.
David	Delighted. Nicky⁠—my boy⁠—
Nicky	Kissing him. Hallo, father⁠—
David	I thought⁠—Florence said⁠—tomorrow⁠—
Nicky	Mother muddled it up.
David	You look rather tired.
Nicky	I’m splendid. How’s everything?
David	The same as usual. I’ve made lots of improvements down at the house.
Florence	David thinks and talks of nothing but the farm⁠—
David	It’s beginning to pay a bit⁠—Peterson’s an awfully good man.
Nicky	We’ll make a grand tour of it on Sunday.
David	Have you enjoyed yourself in Paris?
Nicky	Oh yes, rather⁠—it’s a splendid place to work.
David	It never struck me that way quite, but still⁠—
Florence	Sophie de Molignac said Nicky’s playing had improved wonderfully.
David	I’m so glad, Nicky.
Nicky	I’ve been doing some Spanish stuff lately.
David	I wish I knew more about it.
Nicky	Never mind, father.
David	Come to my room and talk. I can’t bear that thing⁠—
Florence	Father’s such a beast; he never will dance with me.
David	Is the Evening News anywhere about?
Nicky	Yes, here.
	He gives it to him.
David	I’m so glad you’re home again, Nicky⁠—don’t forget⁠—come and talk.⁠ ⁠…
	He goes out.
Florence	David’s so much happier in the country.
Nicky	Why on earth doesn’t he retire and live at the house for good?
Florence	Work has become such a habit with him⁠—he’s always hated giving up habits.
Nicky	Mother⁠—I’ve got something rather important to tell you.
Florence	Darling, how thrilling! What is it?
Nicky	I am engaged to be married.
Florence	What!
Nicky	Practically⁠—as much as one can be these days.
Florence	Nicky!
Nicky	Don’t look so stricken.
Florence	But, Nicky⁠—I never sort of visualized you being engaged, or married, or anything.
Nicky	Why not?
Florence	You’re not old enough.
Nicky	I’m twenty-four.
Florence	You don’t look it.⁠ ⁠… Thank God!
Nicky	What do you really feel about it, mother?
Florence	Darling⁠—I hardly know what to say⁠—you’ve sprung it on me so suddenly. Who is she?
Nicky	A girl called Bunty Mainwaring.
Florence	What a silly name!
Nicky	It isn’t at all⁠—it’s very attractive.
Florence	Is she an actress, or a student, or what?
Nicky	Neither⁠—she is what is technically termed a “lady.”
Florence	Do you think she’ll like me?
Nicky	She went mad over your photograph.
Florence	Which one?
Nicky	The “looking out of the window” one.
Florence	That really is one of the best I’ve ever had done.
Nicky	She said you had the face of an heroic little boy.
Florence	What a divine thing to say!
	She glances at herself in the glass.
Nicky	She does say divine things⁠—she’s supremely intelligent.
Florence	Is she in Paris?
Nicky	No, she came over with me today.
Florence	Where does she live?
Nicky	Just round the corner in Carbury Square.
Florence	Near the Churchingtons.
Nicky	It’s her mother’s house, but her mother’s away just now, so I asked her to change quickly and come on here.
Florence	Nicky!
Nicky	Why not? I wanted you to see her as soon as possible.
Florence	Realizing parental responsibility. It’s an awful shock, you know.
Nicky	Nonsense, mother⁠—you’re quite excited about it, really.
Florence	With determination. I shall be charming to her.
Nicky	Then she’ll adore you at once⁠—probably too much, and I shall be jealous.
Florence	You’d better both dine here together and come on to the Embassy. How old is she?
Nicky	Twenty-three.
Florence	What does she do?
Nicky	Nothing much⁠—she writes things occasionally.
Florence	Where did you meet her?
Nicky	First of all at a party at Olive Lloyd-Kennedy’s.
Florence	I can’t bear Olive Lloyd-Kennedy⁠—she’s a cat.
Nicky	Then I met her again at Marion Fawcett’s⁠—a frightful sort of reception affair⁠—she was staying with her.
Florence	She seems to move exclusively with my worst enemies. Is she pretty?
Nicky	I don’t know⁠—I haven’t really noticed.
Florence	With a touch of real feeling. Nicky darling, I do feel so extraordinary about it.
Nicky	Why extraordinary?
Florence	It’s a milestone, isn’t it⁠—you being engaged? A definite milestone? She catches sight of herself. Look at my nose. She powders it. I do hope she’ll like me⁠—I must go and dress now; Tom is fetching me half-past seven. Bring her to my room when she comes.
Nicky	Don’t go for a minute.
Florence	I must, really⁠—Tom will be furious.
Nicky	Oh, damn Tom!
Florence	Oh, Nicky, don’t go and take one of your tiresome prejudices against him.
Nicky	Smiling. All right, I’ll try not to.
Florence	He’s frightfully good-looking.
Nicky	Oh!
Florence	And he adores music.
Nicky	Now, then, mother⁠—
Florence	He does, honestly.
Nicky	Good.
Florence	And he dances beautifully.
Nicky	I shall never stop dancing with him.
Florence	And he’s so good at games.
Nicky	He sounds adorable.
Florence	Of course, he needs knowing.
Nicky	So do I.
Florence	You will make an effort, though, darling, won’t you? For my sake!
Nicky	Yes, mother.
Florence	And we’ll all have a divine time together, Tom and me and you and what’s her name⁠—
Nicky	Bunty.
Florence	Oh yes, of course, Bunty.
	Front door bell rings.
Nicky	This is her, I expect.
Florence	Do you feel wonderful about her?
Nicky	Yes.
Florence	It is thrilling, isn’t it⁠—being in love?
Nicky	Frowning a little. Yes.
Florence	Your father was right⁠—you look awfully tired, Nicky.
Nicky	What nonsense! I feel grand.
	Enter Preston.
Preston	Announcing. Miss Mainwaring.
	Bunty comes in, very self-assured and well-dressed. She is more attractive than pretty in a boyish sort of way. Preston goes out.
Nicky	Bunty. You have been quick.
Bunty	I’ve simply flown.
Nicky	Bunty⁠ ⁠… here is mother.⁠ ⁠…
Bunty	Oh!
Florence	Taking both her hands. This is frightfully exciting, isn’t it?
	She kisses her.
Nicky	I’ve told her.
Bunty	Are you furious?
Florence	Of course not. Why should I be? ’Specially now.
Bunty	It’s absolutely incredible, you being Nicky’s mother.
Florence	Am I anything like you thought I’d be?
Bunty	Yes, exactly⁠—but I couldn’t believe it until I saw you.
Florence	Take off that perfectly divine cloak and have a cigarette. I’ve got to rush and dress now, because I’m terribly late, but you’re dining here with Nicky and joining Tom Veryan and me at the Embassy afterwards.
Bunty	Tom Veryan?⁠ ⁠…
Florence	Yes. Do you know him?
Bunty	I did when I was a child⁠—if it’s the same one.
	She takes off her cloak.
Florence	Effusively. Nicky⁠—I don’t feel extraordinary about it any more⁠—I’m delighted.
Nicky	Angel.
Florence	Perhaps Bunty would like to come down to the house on Friday for the weekend?
Nicky	Oh yes! Marvelous.
Bunty	It’s awfully sweet of you, Mrs. Lancaster.
Florence	You must call me Florence; I can’t bear Mrs. Lancaster. I must fly; Tom will be here at any moment⁠—that’s him on the desk.
Bunty	Going over to photograph. Yes⁠—it is the same one.
Florence	How too divine!⁠ ⁠… Telephone rings. Hallo!⁠ ⁠… Yes, speaking!⁠ ⁠… Elsa darling, how are you?⁠ ⁠… What?⁠ ⁠… Tonight?⁠ ⁠… How perfectly heavenly! Of course, I’d adore it.⁠ ⁠… Listen. Nicky’s just back from Paris. Can he come, too, with Bunty Mainwaring?⁠ ⁠… Yes, he’s here.⁠ ⁠… See you tonight, dear.⁠ ⁠… Here, Nicky, talk to Elsa.⁠ ⁠… She snatches up her handbag and fur coat and kisses Bunty* effusively.* I’m so glad about you and Nicky⁠—It’s too wonderful.
	She rushes out.
Nicky	At telephone. Hallo, Elsa.⁠ ⁠… I’d no idea you were in London. I’m terribly thrilled. My dear, you haven’t.⁠ ⁠… All those lovely tunes you played to me in Paris?⁠ ⁠… How amazing! I am glad.⁠ ⁠… Have you done anything with that Tango?⁠ ⁠… You must play it tonight; I want Bunty to hear it.⁠ ⁠… It is perfect, isn’t it?⁠ ⁠… Goodbye, dear. He hangs up the receiver. Bunty.
Bunty	What?
Nicky	I’m terribly happy.
Bunty	So am I.
Nicky	Do you remember how we planned all this⁠—coming home together⁠—and breaking it to mother⁠—and everything?
Bunty	Rather.
Nicky	Do you really like her?
Bunty	I adore her⁠—she’s a perfect angel.
Nicky	I told her your “heroic little boy” line; she loved it.
Bunty	It’s true, you know⁠—rather defiant too⁠—laughing at Fate.
Nicky	Doesn’t Paris seem ages away now?
Bunty	A different life altogether.
Nicky	That nasty little bit of Channel is such an enormous gulf, really. Did you put that dress on on purpose?
Bunty	Smiling. Perhaps.
Nicky	You are a devil.
Bunty	It’s such fun being reminded of things.
Nicky	And such agony, too.
Bunty	Nicky darling⁠—why agony?
Nicky	It’s always agony being in love, and I started loving you in that dress.
Bunty	Did you?
Nicky	Don’t pretend you didn’t know.
Bunty	I suppose one always knows⁠—really.
Nicky	From the very first moment.
Bunty	Yes.
Nicky	A sort of spark.
Bunty	Your playing helped a lot.
Nicky	I meant it to.
Bunty	Calculating pig.
Nicky	Have a cigarette?
Bunty	All right.
	He hands her box, and she takes one.
Nicky	Lighting her cigarette. I wish we weren’t so free.
Bunty	Why? What do you mean?
Nicky	I feel I should like to elope, or something violently romantic like that.
Bunty	Laughing. There wouldn’t be much point in it now, would there?
Nicky	Perhaps not. How much do you love me?
Bunty	I don’t know.
Nicky	It’s fun analyzing one’s emotions.
Bunty	Marvelous fun.
Nicky	And a comfort, too, when things go wrong⁠—but it kills sentiment stone dead.
Bunty	A good job, too.
Nicky	You’re frightfully hard, Bunty.
Bunty	Am I?
Nicky	Much harder than me⁠—really.
Bunty	You’ve got so much hysteria.
Nicky	I can’t help it.
Bunty	Of course not; it’s your temperament. You burst out suddenly.
Nicky	Not so badly as I used to.
Bunty	You’re growing older.
Nicky	God, yes! Isn’t it foul?
Bunty	Hell, my dear.
Nicky	It’s funny how mother’s generation always longed to be old when they were young, and we strain every nerve to keep young.
Bunty	That’s because we see what’s coming so much more clearly.
Nicky	Wouldn’t it be terrible to know exactly?⁠—I feel frightened sometimes.
Bunty	Why?
Nicky	We’re all so hectic and nervy.⁠ ⁠…
Bunty	It doesn’t matter⁠—it probably only means we shan’t live so long.⁠ ⁠…
Nicky	Suddenly. Shut up⁠—shut up.⁠ ⁠…
	Enter Preston.
Preston	Announcing. Mr. Veryan.
	Enter Tom. Nicky* greets him and shakes hands. Exit Preston.*
Nicky	How are you? I’m Nicky⁠—I came over today instead of tomorrow.⁠ ⁠…
Tom	Oh!
Nicky	Do you know Bunty Mainwaring?
Tom	Bunty⁠—I say⁠—I am glad.
	They shake hands warmly.
Nicky	We’d better have some cocktails. He goes to the door and shouts. Preston⁠ ⁠… bring us some cocktails.⁠ ⁠…
Tom	This is jolly. I didn’t know what had become of you.
Bunty	I’ve been living in Paris a good deal.
Tom	How many years ago is it since we?⁠ ⁠…
Bunty	During the War. The last time I saw you you were at Sandhurst.
Nicky	Such a pretty place.
Tom	You’ve hardly altered a bit⁠—more grown up, of course.
Nicky	All this is most affecting.
Tom	Bunty and I used to know each other awfully well.
Nicky	What fun!
Bunty	Warningly. Nicky.⁠ ⁠…
Nicky	But it is⁠—it’s thrilling⁠—there’s nothing so charming as a reunion.
Bunty	Nicky and I have been traveling all day.⁠ ⁠… Boats and trains get on his nerves.⁠ ⁠…
Nicky	When the cocktails come, tell Preston to bring mine to me in father’s room.
Bunty	Nicky, don’t be so silly.
Nicky	Surely it’s not silly to want to talk to my aged father after a year’s debauch in Paris? I fail to see why you should have the monopoly of reunions.
Bunty	Well, don’t be long.
Tom	Cheerio!
Nicky	Crossly. Oh, God!
	He goes out.
Tom	What’s up?
Bunty	These temperamental musicians.
Tom	Silly ass.
Bunty	He isn’t really⁠—he’s only jealous.
Tom	Why⁠ ⁠… is he?⁠ ⁠…
Bunty	We’re by way of being engaged.
Tom	What?
Bunty	Why not?
Tom	Are you⁠ ⁠… are you in love with him?
Bunty	Lightly. Yes⁠—isn’t it damnable?
Tom	Good Lord!
	He laughs.
Bunty	What are you laughing at?
Tom	It seems so funny you being in love with that sort of chap.
Bunty	What do you mean by “that sort of chap”?
Tom	Oh⁠—I don’t know, that type seems so unlike you.
Bunty	Type?
Tom	Yes, you know⁠—up in the air⁠—effeminate.
Bunty	You’re more bucolic than you used to be, Tom.
Tom	Here, I say.⁠ ⁠…
	Enter Preston* with cocktails.*
Bunty	Will you please take Mr. Nicky’s in to him in his father’s room?
Preston	Yes, miss.
Tom	Is Mrs. Lancaster nearly ready?
Preston	I think so, sir.
Tom	Ask her to hurry. We shall be late.
Preston	Yes, sir.
	He goes out.
Bunty	I can laugh now.
	She does so.
Tom	Why?
Bunty	I’ve just realized something.
Tom	What?
Bunty	We shall meet again⁠—over the weekend.
Tom	Are you coming down to the house?
Bunty	Yes.
Tom	That’s splendid. Come for a tramp Sunday morning and we’ll talk.
Bunty	What about?
Tom	Oh, lots of things⁠—old times.
Bunty	Lifting her cocktail. Old times, Tom.
Tom	Doing the same. Cheerio!
	Curtain.

Act II

The scene is the hall of Mrs. Lancaster’s house, about forty miles from London.

When the curtain rises it is just after dinner on the Sunday of the weekend party⁠—the gramophone is going and there is a continual buzz of conversation. Clara Hibbert, an emaciated soprano, is dancing with Tom Veryan, Helen with Pawnie, and Nicky with Bunty. Florence is seated on the club fender, talking intellectually with Bruce Fairlight, an earnest dramatist, the squalor of whose plays is much appreciated by those who live in comparative luxury.

There must be a feeling of hectic amusement and noise, and the air black with cigarette smoke and superlatives. During the first part of the scene everyone must appear to be talking at once, but the actual lines spoken while dancing must be timed to reach the audience as the speakers pass near the footlights. This scene will probably be exceedingly difficult to produce, but is absolutely indispensable.

Helen	It’s much too fast, Nicky.
Tom	Do slow down a bit.
Nicky	It’s the pace that’s marked on the record.
Pawnie	I’ve never danced well since the War, I don’t know why.
Florence	But your last act was so strong, when she came in half mad with fright and described everything minutely.
Bruce	I try to write as honestly as possible.
Clara	I gave her three for manners, but seven for charm, because I had to be a little nice!
Tom	I thought she was rather a decent sort.
Bunty	No, but really, Nicky, his technique completely annihilated his inspiration.
Nicky	Not with Debussy and Ravel, with the older masters, yes; but he’s probably tired of them.
Bunty	That’s so stupid, I think.
Helen	My dear, it was the most “chic” thing you’ve ever seen, but unfortunately the wrong color.
Pawnie	Marion Ferris had that Poiret model copied in the most frightful blue!
Clara	I believe my shoe’s coming off.
Tom	Shall we stop?
Clara	No, it’s all right.
Florence	I wonder if you could gouge this cigarette-end out of the holder for me?
Bruce	I’ll try. He does so. I always smoke a pipe when I’m working.
Florence	How soothing!
Bunty	I suppose one can never really judge properly from a recital.
Nicky	Not with him, because he’s not dramatic enough.
Bunty	Dramatic pianists make me uncomfortable.
Helen	Pawnie, your tongue grows more venomous every day.
Pawnie	Giggling. Well, I had to say something⁠—anyhow, it was true.
Helen	Especially about her ankles.
Pawnie	My dear, yes!
	They both laugh. The record comes to an end, and Nicky* begins to change it. Everyone talks and laughs.*
Clara	You must come next Sunday week.
Tom	Thanks awfully, I’d love to.
Clara	I’m only singing ballads, but you know what Sunday concerts are.
Tom	Oh yes, rather.
Clara	To Nicky. What’s on the other side?
Nicky	“You’ve got the cutest ears and eyes and nose.”
Pawnie	Do put on “Spoony Moon in Upper Carolina.”
Helen	No, don’t put it on, Nicky; play it yourself; you always make the gramophone go too quickly.
Bunty	Yes, go on, Nicky.
Florence	Refusing Bruce’s* offer of a cigarette.* No, thanks, not another⁠—I’m dancing with Tom.
Bunty	Gayly. Missing one, Tom.
Tom	Righto!
	Nicky commences to play a foxtrot.
Bunty	Dragging Bruce* to his feet.* Come on, Mr. Fairlight, don’t overdo the serious dramatist stunt!
Bruce	I warn you I’m no good.
	He dances with her, and confirms the truth of his warning. Clara Hibbert squashes down on the piano-seat next to Nicky and endeavors with one finger in the treble to follow the tune he is playing. Helen and Pawnie stand right down close to the footlights, smoking and talking; their backs are half turned to the audience, but their remarks must be perfectly audible.
Helen	Tom Veryan doesn’t dance as well as he thinks he does.
Pawnie	With that figure he ought to be marvelous.
Helen	He’s too athletic.
Pawnie	Anyhow, I’m sure he’s a success at the Bath Club.
Helen	Doesn’t Florence look astounding?
Pawnie	Absolutely. She knows exactly what suits her.
Helen	Where’s David?
Pawnie	He went off to his study to smoke.
Helen	I do wish Florence wouldn’t be irritable with him in front of everybody. I felt acutely uncomfortable at dinner.
Pawnie	It makes Nicky furious as a rule, but tonight he was too occupied with that stupid little fool Bunty Mainwaring to take any notice.
Helen	She’s an excellent type.
Pawnie	Very average; I only hope nothing will come of Nicky’s mania for her.
Helen	I don’t think we need worry.
Pawnie	Why?
Helen	Wait and see, my dear.
Clara	Leaving Nicky* at the piano and advancing on Pawnie.* Come and dance, Pawnie, and tell me how divinely I sang on Tuesday.
Pawnie	Agreeably. You didn’t.
Clara	Ten for cruelty.
	They start to dance. Helen* moves over to the mantelpiece for a cigarette.*
Helen	Have you a match, Nicky?
Nicky	Isn’t this a marvelous tune?
Helen	Fascinating! She goes over and sits next to him. Gently slipping her hand into his coat pocket. Darling, I do want a match. She brings out a little box. What a divine little box!
	Nicky stops playing and jumps up.
Nicky	Violently. Helen, give that to me!⁠—
	Everyone stops dancing.
Clara	Nicky dear, don’t be tiresome.
Nicky	Recovering himself. I’m sick of playing. Let’s have the gramophone again. To Helen. Here’s a light, dearie.
	He takes matchbox out of another pocket and lights Helen’s cigarette. She looks at him queerly for a moment, then he restarts the gramophone and everyone begins to dance again except Helen and Bruce Fairlight. Helen goes over to the fireplace and takes a coffee-cup from the mantelpiece.
Helen	Whose coffee is this? Someone drank mine, and I’d hardly touched it.
Bruce	If it had no sugar in it, it’s mine.
Helen	Draining it. It had no sugar in it.
Florence	You’re dancing abominably, Tom.
Tom	Oh, am I?
Florence	What’s the matter with you?
Tom	I don’t know. I suppose I’m tired.
Florence	You’re not usually tired when you’re dancing with me.
Tom	Oh, Florence, don’t nag!
Florence	How dare you speak to me like that?
	She stops dancing and goes over to the fireplace.
Tom	Following her. I say, Florence⁠—I’m sorry⁠—
Pawnie	Let’s stop the music for a moment and think of something really marvelous to do.
Bunty	No, let’s go on dancing.
Clara	I’m exhausted.
Pawnie	Stopping the gramophone. What was that divine game we played coming back from Paris, Helen?
Helen	Just ordinary “Clumps,” wasn’t it?
Bunty	I loathe “Clumps.”
Nicky	What about the History game?
Bruce	What’s that?
Bunty	Oh no, Nicky; it’s too intellectual.
Florence	There’s a mahjong set in the drawing-room.
Pawnie	How divine! Let’s make up a table immediately.
Clara	I won’t be happy until someone gives me a set made entirely of jade.
Nicky	Come on, Bunty.
Bunty	Looking at Tom. I can’t play it.
Nicky	You can; you used to play in Paris with Yvonne.
Bunty	I’ve forgotten it.
Nicky	You’ll soon remember again.
	He drags her off.
Pawnie	Come along, Clara.
Clara	I insist on Mr. Fairlight learning.
Bruce	I’m afraid I’m no good at that sort of thing.
Clara	You’ll be able to put it in one of your plays.
Pawnie	Come and watch; it’s too thrilling for words.
	Clara, Bruce and Pawnie go off.
Helen	Have you only one set, Florence?
Florence	Yes. Isn’t it maddening? Clara promised to bring hers down, but forgot.
Helen	Does Bruce Fairlight play Bridge?
Florence	No, I don’t think so.
Helen	Dramatists are such a comfort in a house party, aren’t they?
	She goes off.
Tom	Are you coming, Florence?
Florence	No.
Tom	Nonplussed. Oh!
Florence	But please don’t let me stop you going. I’m sure you’re dying to be with the others.
Tom	I say, Florence, I wish you wouldn’t go on like that.
Florence	I don’t know what’s the matter with you; you’ve never behaved like this before.
Tom	I haven’t behaved like anything.
Florence	You’ve been exceedingly rude to me, both at dinner and afterwards.
Tom	I wasn’t at dinner.
Florence	Yes, you were; you snapped me up when I said I didn’t like Elsie Saunders.
Tom	You know perfectly well she’s a friend of mine.
Florence	Well, she oughtn’t to be, after the things she’s said about me.
Tom	You will go on imagining.
Florence	Nothing of the sort⁠—I know! If you weren’t so dense you’d see, too⁠—the jealousy I have to put up with. I get so tired of it all, so desperately tired.
	She becomes a little pathetic.
Tom	Talk about being different, you’re different too⁠—
Florence	I’m unhappy.
Tom	Why?
Florence	Because I hate to see you being put against me.
Tom	Florence!
Florence	You’ll understand one day. They’re all very subtle, but I can see.
Tom	Nobody’s said a word to me about you; they’d better not try.
Florence	Why, what would you do?
Tom	I’d⁠—I’d be furious.
Florence	Oh!
Tom	And I’d let them see it, too.
Florence	Holding out her hands. Tom⁠—
Tom	Yes?
Florence	I forgive you.
Tom	I can’t bear you being angry with me.
Florence	Can’t you, really?
Tom	It makes me feel beastly.
Florence	Come and sit here.
Tom	Sitting next to her on the club fender. That’s a lovely dress.
Florence	It is sweet, isn’t it?
Tom	You always wear wonderful clothes.
Florence	Do I, Tom?
Tom	You know you do.
Florence	Do you remember the very first time we met?
Tom	Rather.
Florence	Oxford’s so full of romance, isn’t it?
Tom	It was when you came down.
Florence	Thank you, Tom dear.
Tom	We did have fun.
Florence	You used to come up to matinées, and I’d motor you back afterwards.
Tom	Ripping!
Florence	That reminds me, I’ve got seats for Rolling Stones on Tuesday. Don’t forget.
Tom	You never said you were going to get them.
Florence	It doesn’t matter. I thought I did. We’d better dine at Claridges.
Tom	But, Florence, I⁠—I can’t come!
Florence	Why not?
Tom	I promised to go out.
Florence	Who with?
Tom	Mother.
Florence	Can’t you put her off? It will be such a good first night.
Tom	Well⁠—you see, as a matter of fact⁠—it’s rather awkward. I put her off the other day⁠—
	There is a slight pause.
Florence	A trifle coldly. Oh, well, never mind, we’ll go some other night.
	Enter David.
David	Hallo, Florence! I thought you were in the drawing-room.
Florence	They’re playing mahjong, and there’s only one set. I shall break in presently.
Tom	I’ll just go and see how they’re getting on.
	This obvious excuse for getting out of the room is not lost upon Florence.
Florence	Yes, do.
Tom	Come and play soon.
	He goes out quietly.
Florence	Don’t you think this is a divine frock?
David	Very pretty.
Florence	You and Helen seemed to be very thick at dinner. What were you talking about?
David	Nothing much. I like Helen.
Florence	Only because she flatters you and listens to everything you say.
David	She doesn’t flatter me.
Florence	I suppose she was talking about the farm, and giving her opinions.
David	We did discuss the farm a little.
Florence	She doesn’t know a thing about it, really.
David	Perhaps not, but it passed the time.
	He goes out. Florence sits still for a moment, then she wearily buries her face in her hands. Enter Nicky.
Nicky	Going to her. What’s the matter, darling?
Florence	Nothing. I’ve got a slight headache.
Nicky	Why don’t you go Byes?
Florence	I can’t; it’s much too early.
Nicky	I’m sick of mahjong.
Florence	Who’s playing now?
Nicky	Pawnie and Helen and Clara are trying to teach Bruce Fairlight; he’s an awful fool at it.
	He sits down at the piano and plays absently.
Florence	You must get Bunty out of that habit of contradicting everything people say.
Nicky	I don’t see why.
Florence	It’s bad breeding.
Nicky	Striking a note viciously. Who cares nowadays? We’ve all got a right to our opinions.
Florence	She seems to forget that I’m much older than she is.
Nicky	That’s no argument, mother; it’s silly only to remember your age when someone says something you don’t like.
Florence	She’s having a bad effect on you.
Nicky	Nonsense!
Florence	You’ve changed since Paris.
Nicky	Naturally.
Florence	You never used to be rude to me.
Nicky	Oh, damn, I’m not rude.
Florence	Yes, you are.
Nicky	Well, don’t start running down Bunty.
Florence	Stop playing⁠—stop playing!
Nicky	Getting up angrily. Oh, God!
	He goes towards door and collides with Helen.
Helen	What’s happening?
Florence	Nothing. Bunty’s just putting Nicky against me. I knew she’d try to.
	She goes out.
Helen	You must be having a delightful evening! You leave the drawing-room, having rowed with Bunty, and come here and row with Florence.
Nicky	Mother’s impossible.
Helen	She’s no different from what she’s always been.
Nicky	Well, I haven’t realized it before.
Helen	Taking a cigarette and lighting it. You haven’t been engaged before.
Nicky	I’m hating this house party.
Helen	Lightly. Don’t say that, dear; it’s not kind.
Nicky	You know I don’t mean you.
Helen	Are you very much in love?
Nicky	Yes.⁠—No.⁠—I don’t know.
Helen	I wonder.
Nicky	It’s utterly devastating, anyhow.
Helen	When did you meet her?
Nicky	About five months ago.
Helen	What was she doing in Paris?
Nicky	Oh, I don’t know⁠—fooling about.
Helen	Splendid.
Nicky	She’s been studying French literature.
Helen	Why?
Nicky	She’s going to write⁠—herself⁠—some day.
Helen	Oh, I see!
Nicky	Helen, do you like her?
Helen	I can’t tell yet⁠—yesterday was the first time I’d ever set eyes on her.
Nicky	She’s wonderfully intelligent.
Helen	Yes⁠—I’m sure she is.
Nicky	You don’t like her?
Helen	I tell you⁠—I’m not sure yet.
Nicky	It’s generally the way⁠—one’s friends always hate one another.
Helen	Smiling. It is difficult for you, isn’t it?
Nicky	I should so like you to like her.
Helen	Very well⁠—I’ll try.
Nicky	She’s utterly opposite to me in every way.
Helen	Yes, I see that.
Nicky	But that’s as it ought to be, isn’t it?
Helen	It depends.
Nicky	I need a sort of restraining influence terribly.
Helen	Yes, Nicky.
Nicky	She’s awfully good for me.
Helen	Is she?
Nicky	Yes⁠—she curbs me when I get temperamental and silly.
Helen	I always felt you needed encouraging more than curbing.
Nicky	Laughing. Oh, Helen⁠—aren’t you a darling!
Helen	I mean it.
Nicky	You’re wrong, though⁠—I’m all over the place.
Helen	Anyhow, I do hope you’ll be very happy with her.
Nicky	I don’t suppose I shall ever be that. I haven’t got the knack.
Helen	Do you work hard?
Nicky	Yes.
Helen	Really hard?
Nicky	Frightfully.
Helen	Liar!
Nicky	If you’d seen me in Paris⁠—studying, studying⁠—all night long until the gray dawn put the guttering candle to shame⁠—and my nerveless hands dropped from the keys⁠—
Helen	Candles gutter awfully quickly when they’re burned at both ends.
Nicky	Meaning that I look a debauched wreck of my former self?
Helen	Exactly.
Nicky	If you go on encouraging me at this rate I shall commit suicide.
Helen	You do resent anyone taking a real interest in you, don’t you?
Nicky	I distrust it.
Helen	Why?
Nicky	I don’t know⁠—I’m not worth it.
Helen	You seem to be suffering from a slight inferiority complex.
Nicky	Not a bit of it⁠—I’m gay and witty and handsome.
Helen	Oh, Nicky, you’re so maddening.
Nicky	Don’t be cross, Helen.
Helen	I’m one of the few people who know what you’re really like, and you won’t give me the credit for it.
Nicky	Do you think you do, honestly?
Helen	Yes⁠—and I’m exceedingly worried about you.
Nicky	You needn’t be.
Helen	You’re sensitive and reserved and utterly foolish.
Nicky	Thank you⁠—I’m beginning to feel beautifully picturesque.
Helen	And you’re scared.
Nicky	Why! What have I to be scared about?
Helen	Would you like me to tell you?
Nicky	No.
Helen	Why not?
Nicky	Because you’re a sentimentalist, and you see things that aren’t there at all.
Helen	You’re far more sentimental than I.
Nicky	Darling Helen⁠—you’ve got such a lovely mind⁠—like a Christmas card⁠—with frosted robins and sheep wandering about in the snow⁠—bleating.
Helen	All the same, I should give up drugs if I were you.
Nicky	Helen!
Helen	Well?
Nicky	I don’t know what you mean.
Helen	Do you think I can’t see?
Nicky	Forcing a laugh. You’re being terribly funny, aren’t you?
Helen	You fool! You unutterable little fool!
Nicky	Don’t be dramatic, dear.
Helen	I thought you had common sense; I credited you with more intelligence than that.
Nicky	If you persist in being absurd.
Helen	Suddenly with intense feeling. Nicky, don’t resist me, don’t fight me; I’m your friend; I wouldn’t have said a word if I weren’t. You’ve got to stop it; you haven’t gone very far yet; there’s still time. For God’s sake listen to reason.
Nicky	Shut up, shut up, don’t speak so loudly.
Helen	Nicky, throw it away.
Nicky	When did you find out?
Helen	Tonight, you know, when you were playing, but I’ve guessed for ages.
Nicky	You needn’t be frightened, Helen; I only take just the tiniest little bit, once in a blue moon!
Helen	If anything goes wrong, you’ll take a lot. Throw it away.
Nicky	What could go wrong?
Helen	Never mind, throw it away!
Nicky	I can’t. Look out; somebody’s coming.
	Enter David.
David	Hallo!
Nicky	Hallo, father!
David	What’s the matter?
Nicky	The matter⁠—why?
David	You look very worried.
Nicky	Helen and I have just had a grand heart-to-heart talk; we’ve undone our back hair, loosened our stays and wallowed in it.
David	Oh, I see!
Helen	We haven’t seen one another for so long⁠—it was inevitable.
David	You never came and looked at the farm this morning. I waited for you.
Nicky	I’m awfully sorry, father⁠—I just went on sleeping.
Helen	I’ll see you later, Nicky.
Nicky	All right.
	Helen goes out.
David	How do you think your mother’s looking?
Nicky	Splendid⁠—the same as ever.
David	Would you like a cigar?
Nicky	No, thanks, father⁠—I’m not very good at them.
David	I was just on my way to bed⁠—there are far too many people in the house.
Nicky	Smiling. You must be used to that by now.
David	You ought to stay down here, you know⁠—during the week, and get some fresh air.
Nicky	I’ve got such millions of things to do in London.
David	Worth doing?
Nicky	Yes, of course.
David	You look as though you needed a rest.
Nicky	You needn’t worry about me⁠—I feel splendid.
David	She seems a nice girl.
Nicky	Who⁠—Bunty?
David	Yes. Quiet and untiresome.
Nicky	She’s a darling!
David	When do you propose to get married?
Nicky	I don’t know. The engagement’s only a sort of try out, you know.
David	Oh, I see. I didn’t realize that. I’m so unversed in modern technicalities.
Nicky	It’s her idea really⁠—just to tread water for a bit.
David	It sounds an excellent plan.
Nicky	I’m awfully glad you like her.
David	Is she musical?
Nicky	Oh, yes⁠—frightfully!
David	Good!
Nicky	Father, I think I will come down here for a few days⁠—and work quietly.
David	If you do that I’ll go up to London every other day. I see so little of you when you’re at the flat.
Nicky	That’s settled then. I wonder what mother will say!
David	I’ll talk to her.
Nicky	All right. She won’t bother about us much.
David	No⁠—I don’t suppose she will. I think I’ll be getting along to bed now. Good night, my boy!
Nicky	Good night, father!
	They shake hands, and David* pats Nicky’s shoulder rather tentatively. He goes upstairs and Nicky wanders to the piano. He plays absently, and Bunty enters.*
Bunty	I want to talk to you.
Nicky	Still playing. All right.
Bunty	Perhaps you’d stop playing for a minute.
Nicky	Won’t you let me woo you with a little Scriabine?
Bunty	Please stop.
Nicky	Rising. I’m unappreciated⁠—that’s what it is. There is a slight pause⁠—he goes over to her. I say, Bunty⁠—
Bunty	What?
Nicky	Before you say anything awful to me, I am sorry for being rude just now.
Bunty	So you ought to be.
Nicky	Will you forgive me?
Bunty	Yes, I forgive you.
Nicky	I’ve been irritable all the evening.
Bunty	Give me a cigarette, Nicky.
Nicky	Here.
	They both smoke.
Bunty	Thanks.
Nicky	What did you want to talk to me about?
Bunty	Lots of things⁠—us!
Nicky	Hardening. Oh, I see!
Bunty	Don’t you think it’s rather silly⁠—being engaged?
Nicky	No, not at all.
Bunty	I do.
Nicky	Just because we bickered a bit tonight?
Bunty	No, not only because of that.
Nicky	Why then?
Bunty	Can’t you see?
Nicky	No.
Bunty	Well, we’re not very suited to each other, are we?
Nicky	Why do you suddenly say that?
Bunty	Because I’ve only just realized it.
Nicky	I’m sorry.
Bunty	It’s not your fault particularly.
Nicky	I’m glad.
Bunty	It’s circumstances and surroundings.
Nicky	Oh, that can be altered quite easily. We’ll change the shape of the house⁠—we’ll take all that wall away and turn that into a studio⁠—you love studios, don’t you?⁠—then we’ll transform the drawing-room into an enormous aviary.
Bunty	It’s practically that now!
Nicky	And then we’ll⁠—
Bunty	Shut up, Nicky!
Nicky	I’m only trying to be amenable.
Bunty	Are you, really?
Nicky	Yes, I’m putting up a sort of defense, Bunty. I have a feeling that you’re going to be unpleasant, and I want to establish myself comfortably before you start.
Bunty	I don’t want to be unpleasant⁠—only honest.
Nicky	You won’t let the two run together, will you?
Bunty	With vehemence. You’re hopeless, hopeless, hopeless!
Nicky	Yes⁠—I think I am, rather.
Bunty	In a way I’m glad⁠—it makes it easier.
Nicky	Does it?
Bunty	You’re not in love with me, really⁠—you couldn’t be!
Nicky	Please don’t say that.
Bunty	Why don’t you face things properly?
Nicky	One generally has to in the end. I like to put it off for as long as possible.
Bunty	That’s cowardly.
Nicky	Don’t be pompous, darling.
Bunty	You’re a great help, I must say.
Nicky	Why should I help to destroy my own happiness?
Bunty	That’s self-pity and self-deception.
Nicky	Why are you going on like this?
Bunty	Because I tell you⁠—I’ve realized the truth.
Nicky	I suppose you’ve taken a hatred to mother!
Bunty	No, not a hatred.
Nicky	You don’t like her.
Bunty	Not very much.
Nicky	Why not? She likes you.
Bunty	She detests me.
Nicky	Nonsense! Why should she?
Bunty	Because I’m young.
Nicky	What a filthy thing to say!
Bunty	It’s true.
Nicky	It’s nothing of the sort.
Bunty	You’re so stupid sometimes.
Nicky	Thank you.
Bunty	Don’t let’s start bickering again.
Nicky	We won’t discuss mother any more then.
Bunty	You started it.
Nicky	I wish I could make you understand her like I do. I mean she’s awfully irritating, I know⁠—but deep down she’s marvelous in spite of everything.
Bunty	Coldly. Everything?
Nicky	Vehemently. Yes, everything! Don’t be a beast, Bunty; just try to see her point a little, even if you do dislike her. She is terribly silly about being “young,” I know, but she’s been used to so much admiration and flattery and everything always, she feels she sort of can’t give it up⁠—you do see that, don’t you? And she hasn’t really anything in the least comforting to fall back upon. She’s not clever⁠—real kind of brain cleverness⁠—and father’s no good, and I’m no good, and all the time she’s wanting life to be as it was instead of as it is. There’s no harm in her anywhere⁠—she’s just young inside. Can’t you imagine the utter foulness of growing old? ’Specially if you’ve been lovely and attractive like she was. The beautiful Flo Lancaster! She used to be known as that. I can remember her when I was quite small, coming up to say good night to me, looking too perfectly radiant for words⁠—and she used to come to the school, too, sometimes, and everyone used to go mad over her, and I used to get frightfully proud and excited⁠—
Bunty	I’ve never heard you talk like this before.
Nicky	I don’t think I ever have.
Bunty	I like you better clear cut, not blurred by sentiment.
	Nicky looks at her for a moment in amazement.
Nicky	To describe you as hard would be inadequate⁠—you’re metallic!
Bunty	I can see straight.
Nicky	Politely. Can you?
Bunty	Yes. We could never be happy together.
Nicky	Perhaps not.
Bunty	Shall we just⁠—finish⁠—then?
Nicky	Certainly, I’m sorry we were too modern to have an engagement ring; you’d have been able to give it back to me so beautifully.
Bunty	Don’t be ridiculous!
Nicky	Better than being blurred by sentiment.
	Bunty lights another cigarette and, kicking off her shoes, perches on the club fender and proceeds to warm her feet at the fire. Enter Clara Hibbert.
Clara	My dear, I’m shattered⁠—and I’m going straight to bed⁠—probably for several weeks.
Bunty	Why?
Clara	Shshsh! He’s coming.
Bunty	Who’s coming?
Clara	Bruce Fairlight. I’ve been teaching him mahjong. These master brains⁠—agony, dear⁠—
	Enter Bruce Fairlight.
Bruce	Very interesting, that game.
Clara	Weakly. I thought you’d like it.
Bruce	It’s interesting psychologically! The concentration and suspense⁠—
	Enter Florence, Helen, Pawnie* and Tom. Tom is grasping a whisky and soda⁠—Pawnie is eating a biscuit.*
Pawnie	I’m quite exhausted; it must be the country air⁠—
Florence	—it was too lovely, because I started with two red dragons in my hand⁠—
Helen	I wondered who had them⁠—
Pawnie	One more tune, Nicky, before we go to bed⁠—
Florence	Yes, just one⁠—
Nicky	Looking at Bunty. I’ll play “I love you”⁠—such a romantic tune.
	He puts on the gramophone.
Bunty	Do.
Helen	What time’s everyone going up in the morning?
Florence	The ten-o’clock’s the best⁠—we’ll have breakfast at nine downstairs.
Pawnie	Confidentially. Do you know that in London I can never do more than nibble a piece of thin toast, and whenever I’m away I eat enormously!
Nicky	How very peculiar!
Pawnie	Your tone revolts me, Nicky. You must never be irascible with your old friends.
Nicky	I haven’t got any.
Helen	Nicky!
Nicky	Sorry, Helen.
Florence	I don’t know what’s the matter with Nicky. He’s been in a vile temper all the evening⁠—his first weekend home, too.
Nicky	Such a pity, when so much trouble has been taken to make me happy and cozy.
Tom	Come and dance, Bunty.
Bunty	No, not now.
Nicky	Dance with him, Bunty. Chaps must have exercise.
Florence	You dance with Bunty, Pawnie⁠—I’ll dance with Tom⁠—come on.
	She and Tom* dance.*
Helen	The great thing in this world is not to be obvious, Nicky⁠—over anything!
	Florence and Tom dance, also Helen and Pawnie. Everyone talks at once, as in the beginning of the act.
Pawnie	You are infuriating, Helen. It’s a wonderful book.
Helen	Thoroughly second-rate.
Pawnie	What do you think about Mischievous Passion, Fairlight?
Bruce	I never read novels on principle.
Pawnie	Well, you must read this⁠—it’s colossal.
Helen	Don’t be led away by Pawnie, Mr. Fairlight, he has no discrimination.
Pawnie	But I tell you it’s brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!
Helen	Nonsense.
Pawnie	There are times, Helen, when I could willingly see you dead at my feet.
Florence	A little slower, for Heaven’s sake!
Nicky	How’s that?
	He makes it far too slow.
Florence	I think you’d better go to bed, Nicky.
Helen	We’re all going, anyhow.
Nicky	Not yet, please, mummy dear⁠—I’m having such a lovely time!
	He slams off in a rage.
Pawnie	I always knew the Continent was fatal for the young.
Bunty	Nicky’s upset⁠—it’s my fault⁠—we’re not engaged any more.
Florence	Why⁠—what’s happened?
Bunty	Nothing happened⁠—it was never very serious, really.
Helen	I had a feeling that it was.
Bunty	You were wrong.
Florence	Well, I must say it’s all been rather abrupt.
Bunty	It’s better to finish things off at once⁠—cleanly⁠—if you’re not quite sure, don’t you think?
Florence	Well, I’m sorry, Bunty. If you feel like that about it there’s nothing more to be said.
Bunty	I wouldn’t have mentioned it at all⁠—only you all seemed to be blaming him for being irritable⁠—
Helen	Poor Nicky!
Clara	I really must go up to bed now. I’m so tired. Good night, Florence dear.
Florence	Good night, Clara. Breakfast at nine. Have you got books and everything you want?
Clara	Yes, thanks. Good night, everyone.
	Everyone murmurs good night politely.
Florence	Tom, be an angel and fetch me a glass of milk. It’s in the drawing-room.
Tom	All right.
	He goes off.
Helen	Come on up, Florence. I’m dead.
Florence	So am I. Will you turn out the lights when you come?
Pawnie	With beautiful precision, dear.
Florence	As she and Helen* go upstairs.* Tell Tom to bring my milk up to me, somebody.
Pawnie	All right.
Florence	Good night, Mr. Fairlight.
Bruce	Good night.
Pawnie	Good night, Florence.
	Florence and Helen go off.
Bruce	I suppose we’d all better go up.
Bunty	I don’t feel I could sleep yet.
	Reenter Tom* with glass of milk.*
Tom	Hallo! Where’s Florence?
Bunty	Gone up to bed. Will you take her milk to her?
Pawnie	What’s become of Nicky?
Tom	In the smoking-room, I think.
Bruce	Good night, Miss Mainwaring.
Bunty	Good night.
	They shake hands.
Pawnie	I shall come, too⁠—good night.
Tom	Good night.
Pawnie	To Bruce* as they go upstairs.* When you’re writing, do your characters grow as you go along?
Bruce	No, I think each one out minutely beforehand.
Pawnie	How too intriguing.
	They go off.
Tom	So you’ve broken it off already?
Bunty	Yes.
Tom	I didn’t know you were going to do it so soon.
Bunty	It’s better to get things over.
Tom	What did he say?
Bunty	Nothing much.
Tom	Was he furious?
Bunty	Oh, what does it matter? Don’t let’s go on about it.
Tom	It’s all damned awkward.
Bunty	What?
Tom	The whole thing.
Bunty	You’re rather scared, aren’t you?
Tom	No, not exactly⁠—now that I’ve got you to back me up.
Bunty	I shall be glad when we’re out of this house.
Tom	So shall I.
Bunty	I hate the atmosphere.
Tom	I don’t know how I’ve stood it for so long.
Bunty	You didn’t notice it until I came, any more than I noticed Nicky’s atmosphere until you came.
Tom	It’s queer, isn’t it?
Bunty	We’re reverting to type, don’t you see?
Tom	How d’ye mean?
Bunty	Never mind, it’s true.
Tom	Do you think I’m being a cad to Florence?
Bunty	Yes, I do rather.
Tom	But, Bunty! You said this morning⁠—
Bunty	That I didn’t see how you could help yourself; neither I do. It’s frightfully difficult, but it’s not altogether your fault, any more than it would have been mine if I’d married Nicky. One gets carried away by glamour, and personality, and magnetism⁠—they’re beastly treacherous things.
Tom	You are wonderful.
Bunty	Don’t be silly.
Tom	You’re so cool and clear, and you see everything.
Bunty	I’m sorry⁠—for Nicky.
Tom	Oh, damn Nicky!
Bunty	Laughing. Oh, Tom!
Tom	Why, what’s up?
Bunty	You’re so dead set.
Tom	You’re worth ten of him any day. What’s the use of a chap like that? He doesn’t do anything except play the piano⁠—he can’t play any games, he’s always trying to be funny⁠—
Bunty	Shut up, Tom; you’re being rather cheap. I haven’t reverted to type so quickly that I can’t see some of the things I’m missing.
Tom	I wish I knew what you were talking about.
Bunty	Oh, God! I feel so miserable!
	She burst into tears.
Tom	Flummoxed. I say⁠—Bunty⁠—for Heaven’s sake⁠—
	He puts his arm round her.
Bunty	Shaking him off. Don’t, don’t. Give me my shoes⁠—
	He picks up her shoes; she puts them on. She is half sobbing all the time.
Tom	I say, old girl, hadn’t you better go to bed? You’re all wrought up!
Bunty	He said beastly things.
Tom	I’ll wring his neck.
Bunty	With a fresh burst of tears. Shut up, Tom, shut up⁠—
Tom	Bunty, stop crying⁠—there’s a dear; please, please stop crying⁠—
	He takes her in his arms and kisses her; she is groping for her handkerchief. Florence* comes quietly downstairs.*
Bunty	I can’t find my hanky!
Tom	Here’s mine.
Florence	Like a pistol shot. Tom!
	Tom and Bunty break away.
Tom	Yes, Florence?
Florence	Ominously. What does this mean?
Tom	I’m sorry, Florence⁠—I⁠—
Florence	You utter cad!
Bunty	Look here⁠—I should like to say⁠—
Florence	Be quiet⁠—mind your own business.
	Nicky enters.
Nicky	Seeing tears on Bunty’s* face.* What’s the matter⁠—is anybody hurt?
Florence	Ominously. No, not hurt!
Bunty	I banged my hand, that’s all.
Florence	Liar!
Nicky	Mother⁠—don’t be so stupid⁠—
Tom	Florence⁠—I⁠—
Florence	Don’t speak to me⁠—
Nicky	Quietly. Mother⁠—not now⁠—not now⁠—it’s all wrong. Control yourself! Bunty⁠—Bunty⁠—do go to bed⁠—please.
	He goes to the piano and begins to play jazz.
Bunty	All right⁠—Tom⁠—
	Florence goes to the fireplace, trembling with rage. Nicky goes on playing. Tom and Bunty go towards the stairs.
Florence	Stop⁠—I want an explanation, please!
Bunty	How dare you speak to me like that?
Florence	Get out of my house! Get out of my house!
Bunty	This is disgusting!
Tom	I say, Florence⁠—
Florence	Get out of my house!
Bunty	I shall leave the first thing in the morning; it’s much too late tonight.
	She goes off. Nicky never stops playing for a moment.
Florence	Tom. He goes towards her, absolutely silent. You kissed her⁠—you kissed her⁠—I saw you!⁠—
Tom	Yes.
Florence	In this house!
Tom	Yes, Florence. I apologize.
Florence	Apologize! You’re beneath contempt. Never speak to me again, never touch me again⁠—I hate you!
Tom	Look here, Florence⁠—I’m desperately sorry. You see, I’m afraid I love her.
Florence	Hysterically. You dare to stand there and say that to me? It’s incredible⁠—after all I’ve done for you⁠—after all we’ve been to each other. Love! You don’t know what it means. You’ve lied to me⁠—all these months. It’s contemptible⁠—humiliating. Get out of my sight!
Tom	Turning and going upstairs. Very well.
Florence	Suddenly realizing that he is gone. Tom⁠—Tom⁠—come back⁠—come back!⁠—
	She runs upstairs after him. Nicky* at last stops playing and lets his hands drop from the keys.*
	Curtain.

Act III

The scene is Florence’s bedroom the same night. About two hours have elapsed. When the curtain rises Florence is lying face downwards on the bed; she is dressed in a very beautiful but slightly exotic negligee.

Helen is standing by the window, fully dressed; she is holding the curtain aside, and a bar of moonlight comes in to mingle with the amber of the dressing-table lights. Florence is obviously extremely hysterical.

Helen	Florence, what is the use of going on like that?
Florence	I wish I were dead!
Helen	It’s so cowardly to give way utterly⁠—as you’re doing.
Florence	I don’t care⁠—I don’t care!
Helen	If you don’t face things in this world, they only hit you much harder in the end.
Florence	He loved me⁠—he adored me!
Helen	Never! He hadn’t got it in him.
Florence	After all I’ve done for him, to go to⁠—to Bunty!
Helen	Leaving the window. If it hadn’t been Bunty it would have been someone else⁠—don’t you see how inevitable it was?
Florence	How dared they!⁠—Here!⁠—In this house!
Helen	That’s a little thing; it doesn’t matter at all.
Florence	It does⁠—it does⁠—
Helen	Florence, sit up and pull yourself together.
Florence	Sitting up slowly. I think I’m going mad.
Helen	Not a bit of it; you’re just thoroughly hysterical.
Florence	Give me some water.
	Helen goes to the bathroom and returns with a glass of water.
Florence	Taking it. What time is it?
Helen	Looking at her watch. Ten past one.
Florence	Don’t go to London by the early train, Helen; stay and come up with me in the car.
Helen	Very well.
Florence	Thank God, you were here!
Helen	I wish I’d known what was happening; I might have done something.
Florence	What can I do to get him back?
Helen	Don’t be silly.
Florence	What can I do⁠—what can I do?⁠—
Helen	Do you mean to say you’d take him back after tonight?
Florence	No, never. Not if he crawled to me⁠—never⁠—
Helen	Well, then, make up your mind definitely never to see him again whatever happens.
Florence	Yes⁠—I will.
Helen	Why don’t you go to bed now?
Florence	I couldn’t sleep.
Helen	Put it all out of your mind⁠—make an effort.
Florence	I can’t⁠—I’m too unhappy.
Helen	Think of Nicky.
Florence	Nicky’s young.
Helen	That doesn’t make it any better for him.
Florence	He’ll get over it in the long run.
Helen	The long run never counts at the moment.
Florence	He wasn’t in love⁠—really?
Helen	As much as either you or he are capable of it.
Florence	He’s well rid of her. She’d never have appreciated him properly⁠—she hasn’t the intelligence.
Helen	I don’t agree with you there⁠—she’s got intelligence right enough.
Florence	Treacherous little beast!
Helen	Yes, but farseeing.
Florence	Are you standing up for her? Do you think it was right of her to get Tom away from me?
Helen	Yes, quite right.
Florence	Helen!
Helen	To do her justice, she didn’t deliberately set herself out to get him away from you at all. She discovered that in spite of the somewhat decadent years Tom was still her type, and likely to remain so. So with common sense she decided to shelve Nicky forthwith and go for him.
Florence	Her type indeed!
Helen	Yes, she’d have been quite a nice girl really if she’d been left alone and not allowed to go to Paris and get into the wrong set.
Florence	You are extraordinary, Helen. Do you realize that you’re making excuses for the girl who’s betrayed your best friend?
Helen	Don’t be so utterly absurd. I’m not making excuses, and, anyhow, she hasn’t betrayed you. She hardly knows you, in the first place, and she’s just followed her instincts regardless of anyone else’s feelings⁠—as you’ve done thousands of times.
Florence	Helen⁠—you’re being horrible to me!
Helen	I’m not, I’m trying to make you see! You’re battering your head against silly cast-iron delusions, and I want to dislodge them.
Florence	Helen, I’m so unhappy⁠—so desperately unhappy.
Helen	Yes, but not because you’ve lost Tom; it’s something far deeper than that.
Florence	What then?
Helen	You’re on the wrong tack, and have been for years.
Florence	I don’t understand.
Helen	You won’t understand!
	Florence gets off the bed and goes over to the dressing-table. She sits and stares at herself in the glass for a moment without speaking.
Florence	My eyes are sore. She powders her face and sprays a little scent on her hair. It’s so lovely this⁠—and so refreshing.
Helen	I think I’ll go to bed now.
Florence	No, wait a little longer with me⁠—please, Helen⁠—just a few minutes.
Helen	It’s so hot in here.
Florence	Open the window then.
Helen	All right.
	She goes to the window and opens it. Florence* takes a cigarette out of a box and then shakes a scent-bottle and rubs the cigarette lightly with the stopper.*
Florence	Do you ever do this? It’s divine.
Helen	What a wonderfully clear night. You can see the hills right across the valley⁠—the moon’s quite strong.
	Florence goes to the window and stands next to Helen, looking out⁠—she is puffing her cigarette.
Florence	I chose this room in the first place because the view was so lovely.
Helen	Do you ever look at it?
Florence	Listlessly. Of course I do, often!
Helen	It’s been raining. I wish you’d throw away that cigarette⁠—it spoils the freshness.
Florence	Turning away. It’s soothing me⁠—calming my nerves.
Helen	I do wish I could help you⁠—really!
Florence	You are helping me, darling⁠—you’re being an angel.
Helen	Suddenly angry. Don’t talk so emptily, Florence; I’m worth more than that.
Florence	I don’t know what you mean.
Helen	It sickens me to see you getting back so soon.
Florence	Getting back?
Helen	Yes, to your usual worthless attitude of mind.
Florence	Helen!
Helen	A little while ago you were really suffering for once, and in a way I was glad because it showed you were capable of a genuine emotion. Now you’re glossing it over⁠—swarming it down with your returning vanity; soon you won’t be unhappy any more⁠—just vindictive.
Florence	Don’t go on at me like that⁠—I’m too wretched.
Helen	Going to her. Florence dear, forgive me, but it’s true⁠—and I don’t want it to be.
	The door opens and Nicky* enters. He is in dressing-gown and pyjamas. His face looks strained and white.*
Florence	Nicky!
Nicky	Helen, I want to talk to mother, please.
Helen	All right, Nicky.
Florence	What is it?
Nicky	I couldn’t sleep.
Helen	Florence dear⁠—good night.
Florence	No⁠—no, Helen⁠—don’t go yet⁠—
Helen	I must.
Florence	Helen⁠—stay with me.
Nicky	Please go.
Helen	I can’t stay, Florence⁠—it’s quite impossible.
	She goes out.
Florence	I don’t know what you mean⁠—by coming here and ordering Helen out of my room.
Nicky	I’m sorry, mother. I felt I had to talk to you alone.
Florence	At this hour of the night? You’re mad!
Nicky	No, I’m not; I think I’m probably more unhappy than I’ve ever been in my life.
Florence	You’re young⁠—you’ll get over it.
Nicky	I hope so.
Florence	I knew the first moment I saw her⁠—what sort of a girl she was.
Nicky	Oh, mother!
Florence	It’s true. I had an instinct about her.
Nicky	It’s all been rather a shock, you know⁠—
Florence	Becoming motherly. Yes, dear⁠—I know⁠—I know⁠—but you mustn’t be miserable about her; she isn’t worth it. She goes to kiss him.
Nicky	Gently pushing her away. Don’t, mother!
Florence	Listen, Nicky. Go back to bed now⁠—there’s a dear; my head’s splitting.
Nicky	I can’t yet.
Florence	Take some aspirin; that’ll calm your nerves.
Nicky	I’m afraid I’m a little beyond aspirin.
Florence	I don’t want you to think I don’t sympathize with you, darling⁠—my heart aches for you⁠—I know so well what you’re going through.
Nicky	Do you?
Florence	It’s agony⁠—absolute agony⁠—but, you see⁠—it will wear off⁠—it always does in time. Nicky doesn’t answer. Nicky, please go now!
Nicky	I want to talk to you.
Florence	Tomorrow⁠—we’ll talk tomorrow.
Nicky	No, now⁠—now!
Florence	You’re inconsiderate and cruel⁠—I’ve told you my head’s bursting.
Nicky	I want to sympathize with you, too⁠—and try to understand everything⁠—as well as I can⁠—
Florence	Understand everything?
Nicky	Yes, please.
Florence	I don’t know what you mean⁠—
Nicky	Will you tell me things⁠—as though I were somebody quite different?
Florence	What kind of things?
Nicky	Things about you⁠—your life.
Florence	Really, Nicky⁠—you’re ridiculous⁠—asking me to tell you stories at this hour!
Nicky	With dead vehemence. Mother⁠—sit down quietly. I’m not going out of this room until I’ve got everything straight in my mind.
Florence	Sinking down⁠—almost hypnotized. Nicky⁠—please⁠—I⁠—
Nicky	Tom Veryan has been your lover, hasn’t he?
Florence	Almost shrieking. Nicky⁠—how dare you!
Nicky	Keep calm⁠—it’s our only chance⁠—keep calm.
Florence	Bursting into tears. How dare you speak to me like that⁠—suggest such a thing! I⁠—
Nicky	It’s true, isn’t it?
Florence	Go away⁠—go away!
Nicky	It’s true, isn’t it?
Florence	No⁠—no!
Nicky	It’s true, isn’t it?
Florence	No⁠—I tell you⁠—no⁠—no⁠—no!
Nicky	You’re lying to me, mother. What’s the use of that?
Florence	You’re mad⁠—mad⁠—
Nicky	Does father know?
Florence	Go away!
Nicky	Does father know?
Florence	Your father knows nothing⁠—he doesn’t understand me any more than you do.
Nicky	Then it’s between us alone.
Florence	I tell you I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Nicky	Mother⁠—don’t go on like that; it’s useless. We’ve arrived at a crisis; wherever we go⁠—whatever we do we can’t escape from it. I know we’re neither of us very strong-minded or capable, and we haven’t much hope of coming through successfully⁠—but let’s try. It’s no good pretending any more⁠—our lives are built up of pretenses all the time. For years⁠—ever since I began to think at all, I’ve been bolstering up my illusions about you. People have made remarks, not realizing that I was your son, and I’ve pretended that they were inspired by cattiness and jealousy. I’ve noticed things⁠—trivial incriminating little incidents, and I’ve brushed them aside and not thought any more about them because you were my mother⁠—clever and beautiful and successful⁠—and naturally people would slander you because you were so beautiful⁠—and now I know⁠—they were right!
Florence	Nicky⁠—I implore you⁠—go away now⁠—leave me alone.
Nicky	No, I can’t.
Florence	You’re cruel⁠—cruel to torment me⁠—
Nicky	I don’t want to be cruel⁠—
Florence	Go to bed then, and we’ll talk everything over quietly another time.
Nicky	It is true about Tom Veryan, isn’t it?
Florence	No. No⁠—
Nicky	We’re on awfully dangerous ground. I’m straining every nerve to keep myself under control. If you lie to me and try to evade me any more⁠—I won’t be answerable for what might happen.
Florence	Dropping her voice⁠—terrified. What do you mean?
Nicky	I don’t know⁠—I’m frightened.
Florence	Nicky⁠—darling Nicky⁠—I⁠—
	She approaches him.
Nicky	Don’t touch me, please.
Florence	Have a little pity for me.
Nicky	Was Tom Veryan your lover?
Florence	In a whisper. Yes.
Nicky	I want to understand why⁠—
Florence	He loved me.
Nicky	But you⁠—did you love him?
Florence	Yes.
Nicky	It was something you couldn’t help, wasn’t it⁠—something that’s always been the same in you since you were quite, quite young?⁠—
Florence	Yes, Nicky⁠—yes⁠—
Nicky	And there have been others, too, haven’t there?
Florence	With her face in her hands. I won’t be cross-questioned any more⁠—I won’t⁠—I won’t⁠—
Nicky	I wish you’d understand I’m not blaming you⁠—I’m trying to help you⁠—to help us both⁠—
Florence	What good can all this possibly do?
Nicky	Clear things up, of course. I can’t go on any more half knowing⁠—
Florence	Why should that side of my life be any concern of yours?
Nicky	But, mother!
Florence	I’m different from other women⁠—completely different⁠—and you expect me to be the same. Why can’t you realize that with a temperament like mine it’s impossible to live an ordinary humdrum life. You’re not a boy any longer⁠—you’re a man⁠—and⁠—
Nicky	I’m nothing⁠—I’ve grown up all wrong.
Florence	It’s not my fault.
Nicky	Of course it’s your fault, mother⁠—who else’s fault could it be?
Florence	Your friends⁠—the people you mix with⁠—
Nicky	It wouldn’t matter who I mixed with if only I had a background.
Florence	You’ve got as much money as you want⁠—you’ve got your home⁠—
Nicky	Bitterly. Home! That’s almost funny⁠—there’s no peace anywhere⁠—nothing but the ceaseless din of trying to be amused⁠—
Florence	David never complains.
Nicky	I don’t suppose you’ve looked at father during the last few years⁠—or you wouldn’t say that.
Florence	He’s perfectly happy because he’s sensible⁠—he lives his own life and doesn’t try to interfere with mine.
Nicky	It must be your vanity that makes you so dreadfully blind⁠—and foolish.
Florence	Understand once and for all, I won’t be spoken to like this⁠—
Nicky	You’ve had other lovers besides Tom Veryan⁠—haven’t you?
Florence	Yes, I have⁠—I have. Now then!
Nicky	Well, anyhow⁠—that’s the truth⁠—at last⁠—
	He rises, turns his back on her and stands looking out of the window.
Florence	After a pause⁠—going to him. Nicky⁠—don’t be angry⁠—please don’t be angry with me.
Nicky	I’m not angry a bit. I realize that I’m living in a world where things like this happen⁠—and they’ve got to be faced and given the right value. If only I’d had the courage to realize everything before⁠—it wouldn’t be so bad now. It’s the sudden shock that’s thrown the whole thing out of focus for me⁠—but I mean to get it right. Please help me!
Florence	Dully. I don’t know what to do.
Nicky	It’s your life, and you’ve lived it as you’ve wanted to live it⁠—that’s fair⁠—
Florence	Yes⁠—yes.
Nicky	You’ve wanted love always⁠—passionate love, because you were made like that. It’s not your fault⁠—it’s the fault of circumstances and civilization; civilization makes rottenness so much easier. We’re utterly rotten⁠—both of us⁠—
Florence	Nicky⁠—don’t⁠—don’t⁠—
Nicky	How can we help ourselves? We swirl about in a vortex of beastliness. This is a chance⁠—don’t you see⁠—to realize the truth⁠—our only chance.
Florence	Oh, Nicky, do stop⁠—go away!
Nicky	Don’t keep on telling me to stop when our only hope is to hammer it out.
Florence	You’re overwrought. It isn’t as bad as you think.
Nicky	Isn’t it?
Florence	No, no. Of course it isn’t. Tomorrow morning you’ll see things quite differently.
Nicky	You haven’t understood.
Florence	Yes, I have⁠—I have.
Nicky	You haven’t understood. Oh, my God, you haven’t understood! You’re building up silly defenses in your mind. I’m overwrought. Tomorrow morning I shall see things quite differently. That’s true⁠—that’s the tragedy of it, and you won’t see. Tomorrow morning I shall see things quite differently. All this will seem unreal⁠—a nightmare⁠—the machinery of our lives will go on again and gloss over the truth as it always does⁠—and our chance will be gone forever.
Florence	Chance⁠—chance? What are you talking about⁠—what chance?
Nicky	I must make you see, somehow.
Florence	You’re driving me mad.
Nicky	Have patience with me⁠—please⁠—please⁠—
Florence	Wildly. How can I have patience with you? You exaggerate everything.
Nicky	No I don’t⁠—I wish I did.
Florence	Listen⁠—let me explain something to you.
Nicky	Very well⁠—go on.
Florence	You’re setting yourself up in judgment on me⁠—your own mother.
Nicky	No, I’m not.
Florence	You are⁠—you are. Let me speak. You don’t understand my temperament in the least⁠—nobody does⁠—I⁠—
Nicky	You’re deceiving yourself⁠—your temperament’s no different from thousands of other women, but you’ve been weak and selfish and given way all along the line⁠—
Florence	Let me speak, I tell you!⁠—
Nicky	What’s the use? You’re still pretending⁠—you’re building up barriers between us instead of helping me to break them down.
Florence	What are you accusing me of having done?
Nicky	Can’t you see yet?
Florence	No, I can’t. If you’re preaching morality, you’ve no right to. That’s my affair⁠—I’ve never done any harm to anyone.
Nicky	Look at me.
Florence	Why⁠—what do you mean?
Nicky	You’ve given me nothing all my life⁠—nothing that counts.
Florence	Now you’re pitying yourself.
Nicky	Yes, with every reason.
Florence	You’re neurotic and ridiculous. Just because Bunty broke off your engagement you come and say wicked, cruel things to me⁠—
Nicky	You forget what I’ve seen tonight, mother.
Florence	I don’t care what you’ve seen.
Nicky	I’ve seen you make a vulgar, disgusting scene in your own house, and on top of that humiliate yourself before a boy half your age. The misery of losing Bunty faded away when that happened⁠—everything is comparative, after all.
Florence	I didn’t humiliate myself⁠—
Nicky	You ran after him up the stairs because your vanity wouldn’t let you lose him. It isn’t that you love him⁠—that would be easier⁠—you never love anyone, you only love them loving you⁠—all your so-called passion and temperament is false⁠—your whole existence had degenerated into an endless empty craving for admiration and flattery⁠—and then you say you’ve done no harm to anybody. Father used to be a clever man, with a strong will and a capacity for enjoying everything⁠—I can remember him like that⁠—and now he’s nothing⁠—a complete nonentity because his spirit’s crushed. How could it be otherwise? You’ve let him down consistently for years⁠—and God knows I’m nothing for him to look forward to⁠—but I might have been if it hadn’t been for you⁠—
Florence	Don’t talk like that. Don’t⁠—don’t. It can’t be such a crime being loved⁠—it can’t be such a crime being happy⁠—
Nicky	You’re not happy⁠—you’re never happy⁠—you’re fighting⁠—fighting all the time to keep your youth and your looks⁠—because you can’t bear the thought of living without them⁠—as though they mattered in the end.
Florence	Hysterically. What does anything matter⁠—ever?
Nicky	That’s what I’m trying to find out.
Florence	I’m still young inside⁠—I’m still beautiful. Why shouldn’t I live my life as I choose?
Nicky	You’re not young or beautiful; I’m seeing for the first time how old you are. It’s horrible⁠—your silly fair hair⁠—and your face all plastered and painted⁠—
Florence	Nicky⁠—Nicky⁠—stop⁠—stop⁠—stop!
	She flings herself face downwards on the bed. Nicky* goes over to her.*
Nicky	Mother!
Florence	Go away⁠—go away⁠—I hate you⁠—go away⁠—
Nicky	Mother⁠—sit up⁠—
Florence	Pulling herself together. Go out of my room⁠—
Nicky	Mother⁠—
Florence	I don’t ever want to see you again⁠—you’re insane⁠—you’ve said wicked, wicked things to me⁠—you’ve talked to me as though I were a woman off the streets. I can’t bear any more⁠—I can’t bear any more!
Nicky	I have a slight confession to make⁠—
Florence	Confession?
Nicky	Yes.
Florence	Go away⁠—go away⁠—
Nicky	Taking a small gold box from his pocket. Look⁠—
Florence	What do you mean⁠—what is it⁠—?
Nicky	Don’t you know?
	Florence takes the box with trembling fingers and opens it. She stares at it for a moment. When she speaks again her voice is quite dead.
Florence	Nicky, it isn’t⁠—you haven’t⁠—?
Nicky	Why do you look so shocked?
Florence	Dully. Oh, my God!
Nicky	What does it matter? Florence suddenly rises and hurls the box out of the window. That doesn’t make it any better.
Florence	Flinging herself on her knees beside him. Nicky, promise me, oh, promise you’ll never do it again⁠—never in your life⁠—it’s frightful⁠—horrible⁠—
Nicky	It’s only just the beginning.
Florence	What can I say to you⁠—what can I say to you?
Nicky	Nothing⁠—under the circumstances.
Florence	What do you mean?
Nicky	It can’t possibly matter⁠—now.
Florence	Matter⁠—but it’s the finish of everything⁠—you’re young, you’re just starting on your life⁠—you must stop⁠—you must swear never to touch it again⁠—swear to me on your oath, Nicky⁠—I’ll help you⁠—I’ll help you⁠—
Nicky	You!
	He turns away.
Florence	Burying her face in her hands and moaning. Oh⁠—oh⁠—oh!
Nicky	How could you possibly help me?
Florence	Clutching him. Nicky!
Nicky	Almost losing control. Shut up⁠—shut up⁠—don’t touch me⁠—
Florence	Trying to take him in her arms. Nicky⁠—Nicky⁠—
Nicky	I’m trying to control myself, but you won’t let me⁠—you’re an awfully rotten woman, really.
Florence	Nicky⁠—stop⁠—stop⁠—stop⁠—
	She beats him with her fists.
Nicky	Leave go of me!
	He breaks away from her, and going up to the dressing-table he sweeps everything off on to the floor with his arm.
Florence	Screaming. Oh⁠—oh⁠—Nicky⁠—!
Nicky	Now then! Now then! You’re not to have any more lovers; you’re not going to be beautiful and successful ever again⁠—you’re going to be my mother for once⁠—it’s about time I had one to help me, before I go over the edge altogether⁠—
Florence	Nicky⁠—Nicky⁠—
Nicky	Promise me to be different⁠—you’ve got to promise me!
Florence	Sinking on to the end of couch, facing audience. Yes⁠—yes⁠—I promise⁠—The tears are running down her face.
Nicky	I love you, really⁠—that’s why it’s so awful.
	He falls on his knees by her side and buries his face in her lap.
Florence	No. No, not awful⁠—don’t say that⁠—I love you, too.
Nicky	Sobbing hopelessly. Oh, mother⁠—!
Florence	Staring in front of her. I wish I were dead!
Nicky	It doesn’t matter about death, but it matters terribly about life.
Florence	I know⁠—
Nicky	Desperately. Promise me you’ll be different⁠—promise me you’ll be different⁠—
Florence	Yes, yes⁠—I’ll try⁠—
Nicky	We’ll both try.
Florence	Yes, dear.⁠—Oh, my dear⁠—!
	She sits quite still, staring in front of her⁠—the tears are rolling down her cheeks, and she is stroking Nicky’s* hair mechanically in an effort to calm him.*
	Curtain.

Colophon

The Vortex
was published in 1924 by
Noël Coward.

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