 Act III of the Mind the Paint Girl by Arthur Wing Panero. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The scene is Lily's Boudoir, a room upon the second floor of her house adjoining her bedroom. The decorations, though delicate, are gay with a good deal of pink in them. In the wall facing the spectator are two doors, one on the left, the other in the center. The left-hand door opens into the room from the landing, where the staircase is shown. The center door admits to the bedroom. In the right-hand wall there are two sash windows, giving a view of the tops of trees growing in a square. In the opposite wall the grate hidden by a low painted screen is the fireplace. The prettily designed fitment runs along the left-hand wall and the further wall, taking in the fireplace and doors as part of its scheme. On either side of the fireplace there is a cupboard with doors beneath it. Between the door on the left and the door in the center is a similar cupboard. And on the right of the center door extending to the right-hand wall there is a wardrobe with sliding doors. The cupboard doors are glazed and curtained in pink silk. In the middle of the room, a little to the right, there is a large and comfortable setee. And on the left of the setee is a table littered with books, magazines, a scent atomizer, a small silver-framed mirror, a case of manicure instruments, a box of cigarettes, and a match stand and other odds and ends. Behind the table there is a full-tool stool, and on the right of the table a cozy arm chair. A second arm chair stands apart between the table in the center and the fireplace. On the extreme left of the room on the nearest side of the fireplace there is a box ottoman. On the other side of the room by the nearer window are a small writing table and chair. Standing across the right-hand corner, the keyboard, towards the further window are a cottage piano and a music stool. And at the back of the piano there is another small chair with some soiled gloves upon it. A quantity of music is heaped untitledly on the top of the piano. One of the wardrobe doors is open, revealing some dresses hanging within. And the edge of a lace petticoat with its insertion of colored ribbon peeps out from under the carelessly closed lid of the box ottoman. Two milliner's hat boxes are on the floor by the ottoman, and a pair of satin slippers are lying one here, one there, under the center table. The window-blinds are down, but the daylight is seen through them. The door on the left opens, and Lily carrying her bouquet enters and makes straight for the windows and draws up the blinds, letting in the clear morning light. She is followed by Enid, Gabrielle, Daphne, and Jimmy. And they by Farncombe, von Rittenmeyer, Dacastro, Roper, Fulkerson, and Bland. They are all pale and haggard, and slightly disheveled. But everybody seems brought awake, except Daphne, who is born down by sleepiness. Some of the men are smoking. Lily laying her bouquet upon the table in the center as she crosses to the windows to the women. Come in, dears. Drawing up the blind of the nearer window. Come in, boys. Take off your things for a minute. Fulkerson, whose inebriety has reached the argumentative stage. Work it, clashes. Don't talk to me about work it, clashes. Hush. Shut up, Bertie. And she goes very mad, she had a name working, clashes. Sit on his head, somebody. We shall wake Ma and the servants. Lily taking off her wrap and hanging it up in the wardrobe. Don't worry. You won't wake my servants. And Mother's bound to hear us. She sleeps so lightly when I'm out. Daphne, keeping violently. How? Jimmy clapping her hand over Daphne's mouth. Menors? Fulkerson depositing his overcoat and hat upon the photoel stool. When we imagine working with an impression who ever does this work, ridiculous. Some truth in what Bertie's thing, though. For instance— Fulkerson with great disgust. British working men. By Jove, yes. When I think of the work Mr. Lionel Hesketh Roper manages to dispose of in the course of a day— Von Rettemire and De Castro have placed their overcoats and hats upon the chair at the back of the piano. And Farn Combe, Bland and Roper have piled theirs on the armchair on the left. Enid and Gabrielle throw their wraps upon the set tee. Daphne drops hers upon the box ottoman, and Jimmy puts hers over the arm of the chair by the center table. Lily, to everybody. I'll just run upstairs and tell Mother that old syring. She goes to the door on the left. Von Combe, Bland and Roper get in each other's way in their desire to open it for her. If any of you want a drink, you must hunt for it yourselves in a dining-room. To Roper. You play host, Uncle Lell. She disappears, turning to the left and ascending the stairs. Now, then, give your orders, gents. Coming forward. Ladies, don't all speak at once. Fulkerson, make you for the door. I'd have some whiskey and soda. He goes along the landing and down the stairs. Bland following him. No, no. Bertie, Bertie. Jimmy seated in the armchair by the center table. To Roper. Stop it. We'll have trouble enough to get that boy home as it is. Roper hurries out after Bland and Fulkerson. Von Rettenmeyer and De Castro also move to the door. Von Rettenmeyer to Enid, who is sitting with Gabrielle on the set team. Enid? A glass of soda water. Same for me, Von. Jimmy? No, thanks. Von Rettenmeyer looking down upon Daphne, who has curled herself up on the box Ottoman, and is already asleep, sentimentally. Baby, baby. Ah. Don't disturb her. She'll have her snooze in peace. Von Rettenmeyer is still contemplating Daphne. Shall I bring you your bottle, you pretty little baby? Don't be an idiot, Carl. Sam, will you fetch me some soda water? I beg pardon. He goes out with De Castro. Enid has taken the mirror from the table and now looks at herself in it. What a sight! To Gabrielle. I wonder whether Lil would mind me going into her bedroom. Gabrielle taking the mirror from Enid. Of course she wouldn't. Viewing herself with dismay. Oh, I'm yellower than you. She jumps up throwing the mirror upon the setee and goes to the door in the centre. Enid follows her and the two girls open the door narrowly and withdraw. Jimmy rises and picks up the mirror. Jimmy with one knee upon the setee surveying herself. Oh, you lovely creature. Glancing at Farncombe as she readjusts a comb and finding that he is gazing at her earnestly. Turn your face to the wall, please. I'm about to use my puff. Suddenly with rapid movements he shuts the door on the left, gives a quick look at Daphne, assures himself that the centre door is closed and comes to Jimmy. Jimmy stares at him in astonishment. Farncombe standing at the back of the setee in a low voice. Miss Birch, you're Miss Peridot's friend, her great friend. Would you be a friend of mine too and do me a service? Jimmy's startled. It—it all depends. Beg her to allow me to remain behind with you for a few minutes after the others have gone. Remain? You and I. And then, if she will, will you wait in the next room when I speak to her? Miss Birch, I—I must speak to her. Wouldn't—to—tomorrow? It is tomorrow, now. It's day. Jimmy dropping her eyes. She's tired. Five minutes. No longer. Won't you try to arrange it for me? Jimmy pursing her lips. I'd stay delighted. It doesn't matter how tired I feel. I'm a brute. But I really think the arranging is your job, Lord Farncombe. I know I should make a bungle of it with all these people round me and attract attention. You're clever. Jimmy raising her eyes to his abruptly. Look here. Do I guess correctly? What? She pulls him towards her and whispers into his ear. He nods. She whispers again, breathlessly, and then releases him. Eh? Eh? Farncombe, drawing back and facing her firmly. Yes. Jimmy walking away in a flutter. Oh. Oh. Oh. You'll help me. She pauses, deliberating. You'll help me. Jimmy returning to him with an air of pudence. I tell you what I will do. Pointing to the writing table. Scribble her a note, a line, and I'll give it to her. That won't attract attention. I have no objection to do that for you. Hurry up. He sits at the writing table and searches for writing materials. In the drawer. He opens the drawer and takes out a sheet of note paper. Standing at the other side of the table, she selects a pin and hands it to him. A J suit you? Farncombe taking the pin from her. What shall I say? Well, never. He writes. Oh, but it isn't exactly a love letter, is it? Simply say, what was the expression you used just now? Will you allow me to remain behind for a few minutes with Miss Birch after the others have gone? Farncombe writing. Thank you. Jimmy with a little wriggle. Call me Jimmy, if you like. Thank you. Jimmy knitting her brow, thoughtfully. I suppose you ought to give her an inkling, though the nearest hint of the reason, oughtn't you? Farncombe looking up. Aught I? Well, you don't want her to think it's only to chat about weather. For heaven's sake, don't chaff me. Writing. After the others have gone. Writing his pin. How would this do? I know I am presuming a lot, but I can't leave you. I can't leave you till I have asked you. But I have asked you the most important question a man can put to a woman. Oh, but that's ideal. Gabrielle reappears. That's these girls. Do Gabrielle, whose complexion is much improved? Lord Farncombe is writing me out a remedy for Freckels, isn't it sweet of him? Gabrielle mournfully. Freckels? If you want to see a martyr to Freckels, come to my door. Enid returns with lips that are little too red, as von Rettemeyer and De Castro re-enter at the door on the left. They leave the door open. Von Rettemeyer is carrying a siphon of soda water and De Castro two tumblers. The men put the siphon and tumblers on the center table, and von Rettemeyer fills the glasses and he and De Castro hand them to Enid and Gabrielle. I hope we have not kept you waiting. Bertie's been making himself a regular nuisance down there. Poor Bertie. Bertie, he has this little failing. Yes, there is not a nicer boy in London than Bertie, bar that. Fly to his head, though. The four continue talking. Jimmy has gone back to Farncôme, who is still writing and is watching him impatiently. Jimmy to Farncôme under her breath. To be quick. Hastily he blots his note and folds it. Bland, Fulkerson and Ropin appear on the landing, issuing from the staircase, and they are joined by Lily, who comes down the stairs. Fulkerson on the landing to Lily, indignantly. There he is, Bertie. Jimmy to Farncôme. Here she is. Roper to Fulkerson. Now then, have it out with Lily. What's wrong? Farncôme rises and slips his note into Jimmy's hand. Most legit variable treatment in the part of this gentleman. von Rettemeyer listening with the others at the center table to what is going on upon the landing. Jimmy to Farncôme over her shoulder. Good luck. Bland to Lily. The youth is irate with us for cutting off supplies. Lily enters with Fulkerson, Roper and Bland following. Bland strolls over to the piano laughing. Mergomet is this, where a gentleman shivered the lady of the house to partake his refreshment. Be quiet, Bertie, or I'll box your ears. You need the group at the center table. Oh, I've had such a winging for asking you up. Mother says we girls will look as ugly as sin on the stage tonight. So we shall, Hags. Lily sitting in the armchair by the center table. I feel as fresh as paint. To Gabrielle. Give me a sip. To Castro hands Gabrielle's glass to Lily. Fulkerson gazing at Daphne stupidly and singing to himself. And the girls of the girls have a three-foot of the girls. Be by Eben, we'll blow it on to the gallows by a pond. Hush, hush. Mars quite right. Sitting himself at the piano. One more turn, and then let's clear out. Lily jumping up. Hurrah! The roper as Bland runs his hands over the keyboard. Shut the door, Uncle Lell. Ah, one more turn, Enid. A dead footy phone of the girls. Roper closing the door. Choose your partners, gents. Very softly Bland plays the melody of a languorous song, and instantly Von Rettemire and Enid and De Castro and Gabrielle dance to it. Von Rettemire and Enid at the back, De Castro and Gabrielle near the piano. Jimmy. Jimmy passes Lily to go to Roper, as she does so she presses Farncombe's note into Lily's palm. Rattat sestapost, men. Catching hold of Roper and swinging him round. La-ra-ra-la. Lily to Farncombe, who is standing by the writing table. Lord Farncombe? Farncombe goes to her, and they dance together. Fulcusen to Daphne, tapping her on the shoulder. Miss Dior, may I have the good pleasure? Shaking her. Miss Dior, Miss Dior. Daphne starting up. Oh! Looking round wildly. Oh! Fulcusen dancing with her. For excuse the obsessive glues. Oh! Oh! I thought I'd gone to bed. With their hands on each other's shoulders, the couples wane from side to side, half sing, half murmur the refrain of the song. If you would only, only love me, if you would merely, merely say, Wait but a little, little for me, I will be yours, be yours some day. The refrain is repeated, the dancers droning to it with a buzzing sound, and then Bland returns to the melody. Lily as she dances, recollecting the note she is holding and opening it. What's this? Reading the note, her arm resting upon Farncombe's shoulder. There, Miss Paradelle. Glancing at the signature. Farncombe, from you. Yes. Lily reading. Will you allow me to? She reached to the end silently, and then she stops dancing, and they stand for a moment looking confusedly at each other. Then with an expressionless face, she slips the note into her dress and they dance again, singing the refrain as before. Bland at the finish, shutting down the lid of the piano and rising. Ladies and gentlemen, the festivities connected with Miss Paradelle's birthday are over. Leaving the piano. Our lives will now resume their normal, serious course. The ladies put on their raps, the men their overcoats, and there is a great deal of stir and chatter. De Castro assists Gabrielle, Van Rettenmeyer, Enende, Folkerson Daphne, and Farncombe, Jimmy. Lily joins in the talk and bustle with forced animation. Jimmy and Farncombe glance at her, and then inquirely at one another. Roper putting on his overcoat with Bland's help. Well, nobody can say the affair hasn't been a brilliant success. That's one comfort. Wouldn't be true if they did. To De Castro, irritably. You've got it inside out. Lily to Enende and Gabrielle kneeling upon the satine. Ah, yes, haven't we had a splendid, splendid time. Splendid? A charming party. Absolutely A-one. Venus signin' knockin' boys, the dine's clave deenstin' bright. Lily running to Roper and seizing his hands. A vote of thanks to Lull for his share in getting it up. Bland slappin' Roper on the back. Bravo, Lull. Bravo, Lull. Bravo, Lull. Lily, you're walkin' about. Unto Carleton. Bravo, Carleton. Bravo, Carleton. Bravo, Carleton. Bravo, Carleton. Bravo, Carleton. Bravo, Carleton. De Castro putting on his overcoat. Don't forget Maury coolin'. No, don't forget Maury. Dear old Maury. Bravo, Maury. Bravo, Maury. There haven't been a hitch from start to finish, in fact. Lily at the nearer side of the table again. Not a hitch. Fulkerson remembering his grievance. The bigger part of it. Dang it. In difficulties with his overcoat. Well, gentlemen, you've waited by the lady of the house. The partake of some refreshments.utlich. Gabriel coming to Lily and kissing her. So long dear. Ended, Daphne and Jimmy also come to Lily, who embraces them, demonstratively, and the men follow. Lily to the girls. Plaza, plaza, plaza. I want to come down. No no, we'll let ourselves out. Leaving Lily. Till to-night. Till to-night. Shaking hands with the men. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Ta-ta. Vaughn Retchmeyer kissing her hand slightly. Goddess. Lily to bland in a whisper. Take care of Gertie. Some are on the landing, some in the doorway, when she calls to Roper and Jimmy. Uncle Lell, Jimmy. I want to speak to you two for a second. Roper and Jimmy detach themselves from the rest and return. Oh, and Lord Farncôme? Farncôme also returns, and Lily passing him goes on to the landing and mixes with the others. Be off. Lord Farncôme and Lell will look after Jimmy. Vincent, you close the front door. No noise. Au revoir, Miss Infant. She watches them descend the stairs, and her manner softening comes back into the room. Lord Farncôme wants to have a quiet talk with me, Uncle Lell, about something, and he's asked me to let him remain behind with Jimmy for a few minutes. To Jimmy. But there's no necessity for you to wait, dear. Don't consider me. But I do. Go upstairs and tell Mother that Lord Farncôme's with me. Say I promise he shan't stay long. To Roper. You'll take Jimmy home, won't you, Lell? Roper, his eye is bulging. With pleasure. Lily to Jimmy. I shall see you again later in the day, perhaps? Rather. Throwing her arms round Lily's neck, impressing her cheek to Lily's. Rather. To Roper significantly. Sit in the hall till I'm ready. She runs out to the landing, pausing at the door to bestow a party nod and a smile upon Farncôme, and ascends the stairs. Roper in a state of great excitement and exhilaration to Lily. Yes, yes. I won't keep you. Winking at her and jerking his head in Farncôme's direction. From your tet-a-tet? Patting her face gleefully. Ha, ha, ha! Taking her hand, his own quivering. Lil Uncle Lell, you call me, but I've always felt more like a parent towards you. Act it as such, eh? Yes, Lell. And any happiness that befalls you? Any happiness that befalls you? I'll leave it there. God bless you, God bless you. Bustling over to Farncôme, who, his hat in his hand, his overcoat on his arm, is standing near the piano. And God bless you, my lad. I'm proud, proud to have the honour, and to have been the means of—the means of— Ringing Farncôme's hand. God bless you both. He goes to the door, and there finds Lily. I—I—I—I'll drop in by and by, and—and—and inquire after you, my pet. All right, Lell. Roper patting her face again. Ha, ha, ha! With a hop. Hooroo! Stand away from the lift. No more passengers this journey. He waves to Farncôme gaily, and departs, closing the door. There is a short silence, and then Farncôme places his hat and overcoat upon the chair by the piano, and turns to Lily. It's awfully kind and gracious of you to have granted my request, and frively selfish of me to have made it. I deserve to be kicked. Lily slowly advancing to the table in the centre, avoiding his gaze. Is—is Jimmy aware of precisely what's in your note? He—yes. Dry nearer to her. I hope you won't be angry with me for confiding in her. You see, I—I— Lily at the further side of the table fingering one of the objects upon it. And she'll confide in Uncle Lell. Shrugging her shoulders. Eh, the dear old Lell appears to have summed up the situation pretty accurately as it is. With an artificial little laugh. Well, I'm afraid they'll be horribly disappointed, poor wretches. Farncôme blankly. Disappointed. Lily raising her eyes to his, and shaking her head at him. You—you silly boy. Farncôme coming to her quickly. Oh, please—please don't take that turn with me. I'm no boy, and I'm simply mad about you. If you don't marry me, I—I—I'm done for. Hush! Nonsense! Not you. It's true. Life would be other for me from that moment if you refuse to marry me. Lily mockingly. Over. Oh, love is all on my side at present naturally. But as God hears me, it'll be no fault of mine if you don't grow to love me in time. Listen. I'll worship you. Worship you. I do worship you. Hush! Lord Farncôme. Eddie, won't you? Certainly not. Do. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie, then. Ah. Sit down a minute. She goes to the settee and sits there, somewhat ruffled, and he moves to the armchair by the centre-table and also sits, his elbows on his knees, bending towards her. She pushes her hair back from her brow impatiently, as if vexed with herself. Lord Farncôme. Eddie. For how long have you known me? What does it matter? I—I admit. Recording our acquaintance from last week, from the afternoon Bertie brought you here, when we scarcely spoke to one another, you haven't known me for as many days as you can count on your fingers. I've watched you. Watched you in the theatre. On the stage? Oh, you. But I mustn't call you silly boy again, must I? And what do you know of me, apart from the glimpse you've had of me off the stage, and my being a shining light at the Pandora? What do you know of my—what's the word—origin? Where and what I've sprung from, how I was reared, how much education I've received, how much I've contrived to pick up of the way to behave in perlite society. You can judge from poor mother, if from nothing else, that I come from humble beginnings. Yes, but how humble you couldn't dream. Making a grimace. Not after supper of raw carrots. Do you think I care how humble your beginnings were? What I do know, what I am sure about, is that you're good, and beautiful, and—and—and gifted. And—and— Leaning his head on his hands. Oh, I can't describe you. You're—you're—to me, you're perfect. Lily after a pass, looking at him with blinking eyelids. You—you dear. He raises his head. She changes her tone instantly. Merci. Yes. Perfect, pour le moment. You're my French. Taking a box of cigarettes from the table. Have a cigarette. Don't get up. She tosses him a cigarette, and he catches it. My name's sprinted on them. Lily. Lighting his cigarette. Isn't that chic? Francombe producing his cigarette case and exchanging her cigarette for one of his own. I'll never smoke that. Lily pushing the match stand towards him. Stupid. Now, attend to me. What do you say to a tiny provision shop in Kennington over the water? What's that? Lily nodding. Hmm. That was my start in the world. Father kept a small shop in Kennington, Gladwin Street, near the Oval. We sold groceries and butter and eggs and cheese and pickled pork and paraffin. I was born there, on the second floor, and in Gladwin Street I lived till I was fourteen. Then Father smashed through the stores cutting into our little trade. Well, hardly smashed. That's too imposing. The business just faded, and one morning we didn't bother to take the shutters down. Then, after a while, Father got a starvation berth. Eighteen shillings a week at a wholesale bacon warehouse, price in most ways, still over the water, and ironed an extra five at a place in the Westminster Bridge Road, for passing the gilt edges on to Paspertous from nine a.m. to six in the evening. Francombe his head bowed again. Great heavens! It was not a syllable against the Paspertous. They were the making of me. It was the Paspertous that brought me and Tether together. Who? Tether. In the house where I worked, a man of the name of Tether, Ambrose Tether, taught dancing, stage dancing, Tether's Academy of Saltatory Art, and every time I passed Tether's door, and heard his violin or piano, and the sound of the pupil's feet, I... Breaking off and throwing herself back. Oh, Lord, if once I... Go on, go on. Well, ultimately, Tether took me and trained me, did it for Nicks, for what he hoped to get out of me in the future. Ah, and he hasn't lost over me. Poor old Ambrose. He coloured a third of my salary for ever so long. And now that the old chap's rheumaticie had worn out, I... Oh, it's not worth mentioning. Jumping up and walking away. My stars, he could teach good Tether. I began by going to him for the last twenty minutes of my dinner hour. He wanted to stop that, because it was bad for me, he said, to practice on a full... On a full... On a full... Behind the table resting her two hands upon it, and shaking with laughter. As if I ever had in those days. Fonkome writhing. Ah, don't, don't. Lily brushing the tears from her eyes. Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. I was a pupil of Tethers for twelve months, and then he got me on at the Canterbury. And from the Canterbury I went to Gatties, and from Gatties to the Lane, for a few lines in the pantomime and an understudy. My first appearance in the West End. Oh, the West End is the best end. And from there I went to the Old Strand. And there Maury Cooling spotted me, and that led to me being engaged at the Pandora, where I ate my heart out, doing next to nothing, for two whole years. Then came the production of the Duchess of Brixton, and it was in the Duchess, thanks to Vincent Bland, that I sang the Mind the Pain song. He believed in me, did Vincent. He saw I was fit for something more than just prancing about and airing my ankles in a gay frock. By Jupiter how he fought for me. How he fought for me, up to the final rehearsal. And to this day, whenever I indulge in a prayer, you bet Vincent Bland has a paragraph all to himself in it. Checking herself and coming to Farncombe. But I needn't inflict quite so much of my biography on you, need I? He rises. Sorry, I merely wanted to tell you enough to show you... to show you... Farncombe close to her, gazing into her eyes. To show me what a... what a marvel you are. Lily, please. Oh, I'm not chucking mud at myself, really. Why should I? Many a woman would feel as vain as a peacock in my shoes. Fancy, from the shopping Gladwin Street to... With a gesture. To this, and from Tether's stuffy room in the Westminster Bridge Road to the stage of the Pandora as principal girl. Wonderful. Lily carried away by her narration and putting her hands upon his shoulders, familiarly. Yes, and all the schooling I've ever had, Eddie, was at a cheap, frowsy day-school in Kennington with a tribe of other common, skinny-legged brats. Imagine it. Farncombe taking her hands. I can't imagine it. I defy anybody to. Lily unthinkingly allowing him to retain her hands. Everything I've learned since, except my music and that I owe to Tether and Vincent. Everything I've learned since, I've learned by sheer cuteness from novels to papers to theatres and by keeping my ears open like a cunning little parrot. That's what I am, a cunning little parrot. Lily tossing her head. Oh, I daresay, if I had the opportunity, I could imitate the fine ladies you mix with, so that in less than six months you'd hardly know the difference between them and me. Farncombe holding her hands to his breast. There is no difference already. There is none. Isn't there? Almost nestling up to him. Ah, you should see me in one of my vile tempers. Whistfully. Then, then you wouldn't. Becoming conscious of her proximity to him, she backs away and stands rubbing the palms of her hands together in embarrassment. Anyhow. Anyhow, it isn't my intention to give you a chance of comparing us. Farncombe under his breath. Oh, Miss Peridot. Lily, collect it yourself. No, I—I'm not going to let you make a fool of yourself over me if I can help it. Foo! Lily facing him and speaking quietly, but firmly. Recollect. However shrewd and apt I may be, and however straight I've managed to keep myself, still I'm only a Pandora girl and should always be remembered as one by your chums and belongings. Only a Pandora girl. Nothing can alter that, dear boy, and you mustn't. You mustn't handicap yourself by hanging me round your neck. I—I shouldn't be the first of my sort to marry a Pandora girl. Not by half it is no more. No, but without wishing to flatter you, I don't quite put you on a level with Robbie Kinterton and Glenroy and Georgie Fawkes and that crew. Cheerfully. And so I mean to take care of you, to take care of you for your own sake and for your mommies and daddies. She turns from him and fetches his hat and coat and gives them to him. He receives them from her with a dazed look. Times up. After a silence during which neither stirs. Never mind. You'll survive it. Another pause. Come along. She passes him to go to the door on the left. As she does so, he flings his hat and coat onto the set tee and clasps her in his arms. Lily. Lily. That's not fair. Don't—don't send me away like this. Lily, her hand against his breast. It isn't fair of you. Say you'll take time to consider. I hate you for it. Ask Roper's advice. Your mother's. I've trusted you. Ask Miss Birch. Eddie, Lord Farncombe. He releases her and they confront one another. She panting, he hanging his head guiltily. Well, I—I have been mistaken in you. Farncombe and despair. I—I— Turning from her and hitting his temples with his fists. Forgive me. Forgive me. Ha! I—I thought you were such a quiet bashful fellow. Forgive me. Forgive me. She wavers and then slowly approaches him. Lily, gently. Don't—don't fret about it. I forgive you. Touching his arms with her fingertips. I'm to blame. Drawing a deep breath. All those dances. He seizes her hand and kisses it passionately. Let me see you again. Let me see you again. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily in a whisper, averting her head. No. We—we'd better not. There is a low but distinct knocking at the door on the left. She withdraws her hand and they look at each other, he inquiringly, she with a calm face. The knocking is repeated. Mother. She goes to the door and speaks with her mouth close to it. Got you, mother. She listens for a reply and again the knocking is heard. Who is it? She opens the door. Jeez is outside. Nicko. Jeez comes into the room. He has rid himself of his wig and beard and is wearing an overcoat buttoned up to his chin and a cap drawn down to his brows. His face is white and his jaws are set determinately. How—how have you gotten? He produces a bunch of keys and grimly displays a latch key. Oh. Oh. Pulling off his cap, Jeez advances to the table in the centre, glaring at Varncombe. Lily closes the door sharply and also advances speaking voluably to Varncombe as she comes forward. Captain Jeez is in the habit of bringing me home from the theatre after my work, and a long while ago I gave him a latch key to carry on his key ring so that he could let me into my house whenever I'd forgotten my own key. He hasn't the slightest right to use it at any other time. Nobody knows that better than he does. It's a confounded liberty. To Jeez, huddly. What are you doing here at all at this hour of the morning? Jeez after an expressive glance at Varncombe. An odd question in the circumstances. Answer me. Keeping an eye on you. Spying on me. On you. Joking his head towards Varncombe. And— How dare you? I've been out at all night. All night? Yes, I was in the theatre while you were supping and dancing. You were? I meant to be there. You did your best to stop it. That's a lie. So that you could enjoy yourself thoroughly. Glancing at Varncombe again. With? A lie. I didn't leave till past three. You and? With another motion of his head towards Varncombe. Had just had your fifth dance together, and they were hauling you round the building. Where were you? Who? Excuse me, that's my business. Then I went back to German Street, and it suddenly struck me I'd like to see how your escort was composed. You've been watching outside? Since a quarter to four, under the portico at the corner. Lily, contentiously. You? Yes, but by God, I wasn't quite prepared for this. This? G's cramming his cap into his overcoat pocket, and coming to Varncombe. What the hell's your game? You've got some accommodating friends, both of you and that black guard roper and that slight Jimmy Birch. Oh. Approaching G's with clenched fists. Ah, you cur. Varncombe holding up his hand to her appealingly. Miss Paradel. Lily to G's. You cur. Mother's been told that Lord Varncombe's with me. I sent Jimmy up to tell her. Where is your mother? In bed, of course. Snoring. Ha, ha, ha. Fa, there's an ugly name, my girl, for such mothers as yours. Oh. She's in her fist. Oh. Miss Paradel. Lily restraining herself with difficulty and pacing the room. Oh, the cur. The cur, the cur. Varncombe to G's, looking at him steadily. Captain J's. The low cur. Captain J's, do you happen to know where I lodge? No, I don't know where your sty is. St. James's place. Forty-seven. I shall be in a twelve o'clock. Picking up his hat and overcoat. From the tone this gentleman adopts, Miss Paradel, I assume that he considers himself entitled to concern himself in your affairs. Moving over to the left, where Lily joins him. Perhaps it will make it easier for you, if I— Lily clutching his arm. Oh. I'm so indignant, Eddie. I—I—I— Eddie. Eddie. Lily turning upon G's in a fury. Yes, you can't. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. You can't. You sneak. You idler. You waster. I've stood it long enough. This is the last roll. I've done with you. I'm sick to death of you. How I've tolerated you all these years is a mystery to me. After this, get out of my sight, and never show yourself to me again. Jeez, grasping her wrist fiercely. Lily. Lily ridging herself free. What? Losing control over herself utterly. You'll spy on me, will you, you shabby loafer. You'll peep at me while I'm eating my supper, and count the dances I choose to give that boy over there, will you. And then you'll break into my house, and insult my friends behind their backs, and insinuate foul things against my poor old mother. You damned coward. And against me— Eddie. Pointy to Farncôton. Lily. And him. Well, you're not fit to blackest boots, and you never were. Never, you—you—you scum. Here. Taking Farncôton's note from her bosom, and thrusting it at G's. Read that. Sitting in the armchair by the center table. Read it, read it, read it. G's reads to himself. Outload. G's mumbling. Dear Miss Peridot, will you allow me? Louder. Will you allow me to remain behind for a few minutes with Miss Jimmy after the others have gone? I know I am presuming a lot, but I cannot leave you till I have asked you the most important question a man can put to a woman. Farncôme. Lily, breathless. Written here, on my note paper, while I was out of the room, it came on me like a thunderclap. Ah! G's sits upon the setee, staring at the carpet. And Maury Cooling and Lall will tell you that I hadn't a notion that Lord Farncôme was to be at the supper last night, or any of the boys, not a notion. I black-guarded him both for deceiving me and causing me to deceive you. Taking the scent atomizer from the table and spraying her face with it. No, what have you to say no? Ah! Ah! G's huskily. Why? Why the devil did you let Jimmy go? Why did you let her go? It was knowing that you and Farncôme were alone that... that made me. Oh, if I suspected that a private detective was hovering around, I'd have kept the whole lot of my friends. As it was, Jimmy was looking dead, and... In disdain. Bah! There is a pause, and then G's sits upright and draws his hand wearily across his eyes. G's to Lily. Well, I beg your pardon. Lily continues to spray herself energetically. I'm not so completely scum as not to see that I ought to beg your pardon. Humbly. I beg your pardon. Lily softening by degrees. You... you drive me mad sometimes. Positively frantic. G's partly to himself. Mad. To Farncôme. And you, Farncôme. I hope you'll accept my apologies. I offer them unreservedly. Farncôme bows somewhat stiffly. Lily to G's protruding her lower lip. I... I didn't mean half I said, Nico. I didn't mean half of it. I infirm Farncôme a scance as she replaces the atomizer. And I... I'm ashamed of myself for losing my self-control as I did. There is another pause, and then G's gets to his feet and silently returns the note to Lily. She looks up at him piteously and puts the note back into her bosom. Then he takes out his key ring, removes the latch key from it, and throws the key on the table. Having done this, he drags his cap from his pocket and makes for the door on the left. As he passes Lily, she rises and gently plucks at his sleeve. Nico. Nico. Eh? Won't you... Won't you give Lord Farncôme... some explanation? Explanation? Of the sort of terms we've been on, you and I. He... he must be rather puzzled. Turning away to the table. Oh, it's due to you as well as to me. Just as you please. Ha ha! Yes, perhaps it is due to me that he should learn a little more about me than he's been able to gather from personal observation and from your eloquent but summary description. Under his breath, screwing up his cap. Heidler, waster, loafer. Lily, penitently. Nico. She used to Farncôme quietly. Oh, what's a true Bill Farncôme? And yet, a very few years back, she won't dispute it. I was one of the smartest chaps going, good at my job, with prospects as rosy as any man's in my regiment. There wasn't a cloud the size of your hand, apparently, in my particular bit of sky at the time I speak of, not a speck. Then I met this young lady and... Boyd, you did the box out of him. Well, since we're in for it. Oh, Captain Jays. No, no. She wishes you to understand the exact nature of the friendship between her and me. I'm obeying instructions. Farncôme sits on the ottoman, nursing his hat and overcoat. Then Jays sits in the armchair by the center table, first turning the chairs so that it faces Farncôme. Farncôme, I was under thirty, and still a subaltern when I made Miss Paradol's acquaintance. Like most of my pals, I was spending my nights, whenever I could get away from Aldershot, in the stalls at the Pandora, much the same as you've been doing recently, and as a certain class of young man will go on doing as long as the Pandora and similar shops continue to flourish. Ha! How honoured we felt, we men in those days, at knowing some of the Pandora girls, and having the privilege of supping him and standing him dinner on Sunday evenings, if they'd been royal princesses we couldn't have been more elated. With a gesture. Don't jump at conclusions. We generally ended there, or with our running into dead-headed droolers. We were young, they were beautiful, or we thought them so, but the majority of us weren't vicious, any more than the majority of the girls were, though many of them were mighty calculating. It would have been better for us men, if all the girls had been wicked, the glamour, the infatuation, the folly, would have been sooner over, and one of us at least would have had a different tale to tell. G's pauses gaze in at the floor. Farnco moves impatiently on the ottoman, and Lily sits herself upon the satine. Lily, plaintively. Nicko! Nicko! I merely wanted you to... G's rousing himself and speaking to Lily over his shoulder. Who was it introduced us? Mr. Kane, Agni Dukane. Agni's Dukane. She's gone under. To Lily. Outside Buckley's Oyster Bar, wasn't it? Not outside, in the parlor. G's to Farnco. Lily had only lately come to the Pandora, a pale face-slip of a thing. Eighteen, weren't you? Lily Naughty. Eighteen. I confess I wasn't overwhelmingly attracted by her at first. She was so unlike the rest. Laughing bitterly. Ha ha ha. Ha ha. Wasn't I dody? But she was humble and naive and confiding, and my vanity was tickled by her delight at the little treats I gave her, and by her gratitude for a two-penny, half-penny presence or two. Nobody, I believe, with any pretensions to being a gentleman, had paid her much attention before I arrived on the scene. No, nobody. I didn't find out that I was in love with her. You guess it's a love story, don't you? Farncôme, delicately. My dear Captain Jace. I didn't find out that I was neck and heels in love with her until nearly a year afterwards, when my regiment went to the Quora. That did it, separation, what I suffered in that hole, thinking of her, starving for her. In less than three months I was in London again, on leave and in my old stall at the Pandora. But even then, Farncôme, I head into your pluck. Pluck? The pluck to snap my fingers at the world and propose marriage to a Pandora girl. Besides, my mother was alive then, and... Abruptly, with a wild look. Would you like to know what she used to call these Pandora women, Farncôme? Bending forward, his hands tightly clenched. She used to call them a menace to society, with their beauty and their flagrant opportunities for displaying it. They are a living curse, she used to say, a source of constant dread to mothers whose hope it is to see their sons safely mated to modest, maidenly girls of the typical English pattern. She told us once, my brothers and me, frightened as to where we were drifting, that she was one of many mothers who prayed on their knees daily, that their boys might be spared from being drawn into the net woven by their own weaknesses and passions, drawn into it by these, these. He breaks off, stares about him for a moment, and then rises. Oh, but I oughtn't to have repeated this to you, pardon. Walking away, unsteadily. Oh, damned bad taste. Behind the table, supporting himself by leaning upon it. Where was I, back from the corral? Yes, yes. And so things went on for a couple of years, I trailing after Lily closer than ever, and at last, at last I did ask her to be my wife. Lily, who has been listening to G's with parted lips and wide-open eyes, appealingly. Don't. Don't, Nico, don't. G's oblivious of her interruption. But I'd left it too late. The novelty of me had worn off. She'd squors of friends by that time. She'd made her big hit and followed it with another, and was the talk of the town. And she'd money. She wasn't dependent on me any longer for her gloves and her trips and outings. Lily, her head drooping. Oh, oh. Ringing her hands. Oh, that's beastly of you. Beastly. She was kind to me too, in a way kind and cruel. She didn't want to marry me. She didn't want to marry anybody. She was in love with herself. And her success, and what it was bringing her. But she wouldn't give me the kick. No, she wouldn't do that. I had been something to her. And that's where the kindness came in. And the merciless cruelty. Sitting upon the four-tool stool rigidly. God, if only she'd broken with me then. Firmly and finally. If only she'd broken with me then. She, she might have saved me. Lily's struggling with her tears. Oh, Nico. Nico. Twelve months ago she did throw me a bone. The regiment was under orders for India. And of course I sent in my papers. And out of pity, I suppose. And because I was always pestering her, she promised to become engaged to me if I'd get other work to do. Work! I wonder whether really she was grinning to herself when she made the stipulation. Oh! Work! All the spunkle, the energy, had been sapped out of me long before. And even her promise couldn't revive it. My search for a birth wasn't much more than a sham. At the back of my head I knew very well what I'd come to. The only work I was capable of was dancing attendance on her. And filling in what remained of the day and night at a rotten restaurant. A bohemian club in the bar of the theatre. And that's been my sole employment for the past year. Nothing but that. Pretty for a man who started life as swimmingly as I did. His voice died away. Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty. Lily, after a profound stillness. I... I don't think you've ever put a case to me. You make so plainly as this, Nico. I... I don't think I've ever put it quite so plainly to myself. Lily, her lip trembling. You... you won't believe me. What? I... I've never fully realised it till now. The harm I've done you. I declare to God I've never realised it till now. Nico. G's after further pause. Ah, well. With a deep sigh. Ah, well. To Farncombe, residedly. Farncombe, I... I'm afraid I'm a shocking brute. I... I got carried away. Forget... forget the things I've said of this girl. Forget him, will you? Starting to his feet. And look here, a man who was into sportsmen deserves to be shocked. You've won her. I've lost her. Congratulations, old chap. Congratulations. Pulling on his cap. Take care of her, that's all. Mind you, take care of her. He turns towards the door, and she jumps up and runs to him, and ceases his arm. Farncombe also rises. No, no. Nico. Nico. Giving Farncombe a half frightened, half imploring look. Nico, I can't undo the mischief I've done. I can't do that. But I can try to make it up to you, some of it. And I will, if you'll let me. Putting your arms round his shoulders. Nico. G's roughly. Make it up to me. Lily, her face close to his. You know what I mean. As soon as possible. Next month, if you like. Next week. Quietly. He grips her arms and stares at her blankly. Ha ha. Yes, you've been in too great a hurry to settle matters. You have. We're at Farncombe and I. We're not going to be married. I've refused him. I've ruined you, Nico. But I've told him. I'm not going to draw him into my net. Clinging to G's and burying her face in the breast of his coat crying. Oh, oh. Oh, I'm not going to draw him into my net. Again, there was a pause. And then G's turns to Farncombe dazed. Farncombe? Farncombe and climbing his head. Yes. Yes. G's with feeling. My dear fellow, I, I. Lily raising her head and speaking through her tears to G's. Nico, I, I want to have one more word with Lord Farncombe. Just one more word. He nods understandably and goes to the door on the left. She follows him. Only a minute. He opens the door. And then you must walk away together. You and he and part good friends. He goes out onto the landing and she closes the door and stands with her back to it, drying her eyes with her handkerchief. Farncombe still carrying his hat and overcoat as crossed to the setee, a falorn figure. Well, you, you have had a lucky escape, haven't you? Escape. Lily leaving the door in advancing. You, you've heard what a cold-blooded, selfish wretch I am. How I've treated Nico. Farncombe waving the idea away. Lily coming to him. And you've seen what I'm like when I'm in a rage. You've seen what the genuine Lily Margaret of John is, without her disguise. Looking up into his face, pathetically. Yes, that was me, Eddie, under the crust. Common as dirt, dear. Common as dirt. Holding the lapels of his coat. Oh, oh, you'll always remember me, with my eyes starting out of my head, spitting at Nico. You'll always picture that horrible sight when you think of me. You were, you were provoked. I, I admired you for it. Lily tinderly. Oh, you dear boy. Eddie. Yes. Had you a little hope that, after all, I might turn your offer over in my mind, and, and eventually. Yes, yes. Lily with a catch in her breath. Oh, I, I'll tell you something. What? Lily in his ear. I might have, if, if you'd persisted. Fine comb groaning. Lily retreating a step or two. Thank God, Nico came along. Thank God, Nico came along. What was it his mother called us girls? A menace to society. Creatures to be dreaded and preyed against. You see, I was right in wishing to protect you for your mammy's sake, as well as for your own. But, oh, thank God, Nico came along. He sits suddenly upon the settee and covers his face with his hands. She returns to him quickly. Oh, don't do that. Don't do that. Touching his hands. Eddie, Eddie, I'm not worth it. Eddie. With an effort he lifts his head. Listen. This is what I want to say to you. Don't come near me anymore. You mustn't. And don't come to the theatre again, either. If I thought you were sitting in front, I, I'm sure I couldn't. Entreatingly. Swear, swear you'll keep away from me and from the theatre. He nods. And you'll never go to any supper or dinner or dance where you're likely to meet the other girls, will you? Eddie. He shakes his head. Swear. He rises and as he does so, she grasps the lapels of his coat again, her eyes blazing fiercely. Oh, oh, if one of the girls ever got hold of you, I, I, I, ah! His scene into his face. I'd kill her. She leaves him and goes to the door on the left and opens it. Niko. G's enters the room. March, both of you. I, I'm pretty well baked. Farncombe joins Lily and G's at the door and she stands between the two men looking from one to the other and taking a hand of each. I've made a pair of you precious miserable if you only knew it. To G's. The difference is that he'll soon forget me and you, with me for a wife, are doomed for a life. Putting her hands upon G's shoulders. Niko. She kisses him lightly and having done so asks him a question with her eyes. G's turns aside and she faces Farncombe and offers him her lips. They kiss. Goodbye. After a moment's pause to both of them. Away with you. The two men go out and she follows them to the top of the stairs and watches them descend. Then she slowly comes back into the room and stands listening at the door. There is a distant sound. Partly closing the door she wanders about the room aimlessly for a while. Then impulsively she runs to the further window, lifts the sash and looks below. Drawing back. She shuts the window and comes to the setee and sitting there takes off her shoes. Then she goes down upon the floor in elegantly, hunts for her slippers and puts them on. As she rises the door on the left is pushed open and Mrs. Upjohn peeps in cautiously. Mrs. Upjohn in a dressing gown with her hair now very scanty tightly screwed up. Lell? Lily stiffening herself and speaking in a cold, level voice. Oh, I was just coming up to you, mother, to get you to undo me. Mrs. Upjohn bustling to Lily. I didn't mean to, but I fell off. Unhooking Lily's dress. It was the front door I earned a minute ago then. It gave me such a start. In difficulties with the hooks. Turn more to the light, Dairy. These dress-makers do it on purpose, I believe. The looks on that new gown of mine are a perfect mystery. What's this? Lily twisting her body. Oh, don't fiddle so, mother. You did let him stay a time, Lil. Eeps to talk-o-bye. Lily stonely. Heaps. Trying to assist Mrs. Upjohn. Oh. Well, dear. Well, well, tell me what's took place. Don't keep me in suspense. I shan't tell you anything, mother, till I've had a sleep. I must go through the sheets first. Stamping her foot. Oh, tear to thing, tear it. Have you consented to make him happy, poor young jet man? That's all I want to know, Lil. Overcoming a hook. There. Thank you, mother. Slipping her arms out of her dress. I can manage to rest. But, Lil, dare I? Oh, for mercy's sake, leave me alone. Why can't you leave me alone? Oh, very good. Moving away indignantly as Lily with shaking fingers, unfassens a necklace. This is my reward for lying awake after night, is it? And for thinking of you and wondering about you. I'm rightful, little purse, you. Going towards the door. After this, you can keep your affairs to yourself for as long as ever you choose. Don't you expect me? Lily suddenly sitting upon the settee. Mother? Yes. Lily her hand to her brow. Oh, mother. Mrs. Upjohn hurrying to Lily. What is it? Lily's wane. At last, at last. At last? Lily clinging to Mrs. Upjohn. I'm in love, mother. I'm in love, in love. End of Act Three. Act Four of the Mind to Paint Girl by Arthur Wing Pinero. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The scene is the same as in the preceding act. But the light outside is brighter and warmer, and then the room is more diffused. On the table in the center, placed close to the settee, there is a small tray with a breakfast of tea and toast upon it. The bedroom door is partly open. Lily, wane, and red-eyed is lying propped up by cushions upon the settee. A newspaper is on her lap, but she is gazing at vacancy. She is in negligee. A dainty morning robe covers her nightgown, her bare feet are in slippers, and her hair is in a simple knot. Maude is at one of the drawers of the cupboard at the back, engaged in selecting some articles of lingerie. And Mrs. Upjohn, completely dressed for the day, is sitting in the armchair by the center table, her face hidden by a newspaper which she is reading. Presently Maude shuts the drawer and carrying the lingerie comes forward. Maude to Lily. What frock will you put on? Lily, starting slightly. One of your embroidered muslins, or your ninon? Lily, languidly. Either. I don't care. Gracious. What on earth is the matter with you this morning? I've never known you as clear as this after any hop you've been to in my time. To Mrs. Upjohn, who has lured her paper. Nothing wrong, is there? Lily turning over and burying her head in the cushions. Maude. Maude moving to the setee and bending over Lily. Here I am, Lovie. Go into the next room and shut the door, and don't let me see your stupid, soft face till I come to you. Oh, that's better. Go into the bedroom door. That's how I like to hear her talk. We need incentive for Dr. Gilson yet a while. She disappears into the bedroom and closes the door. Mrs. Upjohn looking at Lily. Lil. Yes, Mother? Have another cup of tea, won't you? No. Another bit of toast then? No. Smoke a cigarette? No. You always do have a whip after your breakfast? Come. No. Mrs. Upjohn rising and walking away. Oh, dear, oh, dear. Doogs take Carlton's smith and his supper party. Those are my sentiments, and Lil Ropa, busybody that he is, things were going on with us as smooth and peaceful as could be before this upset. Lily raising herself angrily. You were in it, Mother. You were as much to blame as anybody. Mrs. Upjohn halting. How in it? An Uncle Lell's artful plan to prevent Nicko from being invited. You've confessed you were. Lell twisted me round his little finger. I was claying the part as and as your dad was fond of saying. Lily changing her position. If only Nicko had been there, I shouldn't have given young Farncombe all those dances, nor wondered about with him in the intervals, nor allowed him to see me home. It all simply wouldn't, couldn't have happened. Hitting a cushion. Oh. Sitting up and embracing her knees. Mother. Mrs. Upjohn behind the settee. What? Lily knitting her brows. I, I'm so surprised at myself. Surprised? So, so disappointed with myself. Why, you haven't done anything that's, that's not quite respectable, Lell. On the contrary. No, I haven't done anything that's actually not nice, but fancy. Mrs. Upjohn close to Lily. Fancy? Lily opening her eyes widely. Fancy my letting myself go with young Farncombe as I did. He, he'd been admiring me from a distance for weeks and weeks, but I'd scarcely noticed him till last night. Leaning her head against Mrs. Upjohn softly. I, I always thought I was such a cold girl, Mother, in, in that way. I suppose it was what's called love at first sight, Lell. Lily laughing shame-facedly. Ha, ha, ha. Putting her feet to the ground and shielding her face with her hands. Oh, don't talk rot, Mother. Mrs. Upjohn moving away. Anyhow, it's not too late, Lell. Even now. Not too late. Mrs. Upjohn behind the centre-table. To back out, Dairy. That Captain couldn't possibly hold you to a hasty promise given him between four and five in the morning. Oh, oh, how can you? I've passed my word to Nicko, and I wouldn't break it for twenty thousand pounds. Looking up. Mother. Mrs. Upjohn fussing with the things upon the table. Yes. Lily resolutely. I'm going to pull Nicko up, Mother. I've dragged him down, and I mean to raise him. Clenching her hands. So help me God, I do. Well, you've got a tough job before you, Lell, in my opinion. Perhaps, but I mean to succeed. After a pause. Besides. Besides. Lily slowly. I've told you. Nicko, or no Nicko. I'm determined. I'm determined not to draw Eddie Farncob into my net. Into your net. Another pause. Lell. Eh? That's twice you've made use of that remark. Who's accused you? There is a lively rat tat at the door on the left. Come in. The door opens and Jimmy Birch bounces into the room. Jimmy as she closes the door. Ah, ma. Ah, Lilums. Good morning. Jimmy kissing Mrs. Upjohn. We've met before, this morning, haven't we? Coming to Lily. Hello, old girl. And how are you today? Kissing Lily and then eyeing her keenly. A wreck? Rather. I ought to be, but I'm not. Directly I laid my pretty head on my pillow. I went off and never stirred till I found the breakfast tray on my chest. Reckoning on her fingers. Five to six. Six to seven. Eight, eight to nine. Nine to ten, ten to eleven. I've had six hours. That's not so dusty. To Lily slightly. You didn't sleep very soundly, probably? Not very. Jimmy smiling from ear to ear. Excited? Lily shrugs her shoulders. There is a silence and then Jimmy, still beaming, looks round and sees that Mrs. Upjohn has seated herself upon the foetool stool. May I sit down for a minute? Of course, Jimmy. Do. Jimmy sits in the armchair by the center table, awaiting some communication which doesn't come. Mrs. Upjohn drums upon the table with her fingers, and Lily busies herself with rearranging the cushions on the set tee. Jimmy, after a while. Hope I haven't dropped in too early. Lily settling her shoulders into the cushions. Not a bit, dear. It's nearly half past twelve. I dashed round. After another pause, unable to restrain herself further. Any news? Any anything to tell me? Mrs. Upjohn abruptly. Yes. What? Lily's engaged. Ha! Triumphantly. Ha! Ha! Clapping her hands and beating her feet upon the floor. Jumping up and sitting beside Lily and hugging and kissing her. Oh! Oh! Oh! Yum, yum, yum! Oh, you humbugs! Rising and rushing to Mrs. Upjohn and embracing her. You solemn humbug, ma. Missing Mrs. Upjohn and singing and dancing to the refrain sung in the previous act. Oh! If you would only only love me. Ha! Ha! Ha! If you would merely merely say. Her voice gradually dying away as she sees that the expression on Lily's face and upon Mrs. Upjohn's doesn't alter. Wait but a little. Standing still. Little for me. Mrs. Upjohn costically. Yes, you had better wait a little. You better wait till you hear who. She's engaged too. Who, too? Lily studying her nails. Whom, too, mother? Why, isn't it? No, it ain't. It's the cap. The, the cap? To Lily. Nico? Lily nods. Jimmy draws a deep breath. Oh! Lily calmly. Nico turned up here early this morning while Eddie, well, Lord Furnco, was with me, in fact. And I, we, the three of us, we talked matters over and, and... Jimmy, her eyes starting out of her head. Was there a row? Oh, don't be so curious, Jimmy. Poor Nico has been after me for six years. A girl must play the game if she's at all decent and wishes to preserve a shred of self-respect. Again there is a pause. Then Jimmy silently resumes her seat in the armchair. Mrs. Upjohn moistened her lips with her tongue to Jimmy. How do you feel about it? Jimmy thoughtfully. How do I feel about it? To Lily. May I say? Lily coldly. Certainly. Jimmy rubbing the arm of her chair with the palm of her hand. Well, if I were on board a ship at this moment, I should be ringing for the stewardess. That's how I feel about it. Lily throwing herself face downward at full length upon the setee. Oh, oh, you're just like the rest of our girls on the question of marriage. You, you, you're detestable. Jimmy sliding out of her chair and kneeling at the setee and putting an arm round Lily. Oh, Lily, Lily. Lily repulsing her. Yes, yes, you are. Raising herself upon her elbow. You'd rejoice to see me draw this boy into my net, wouldn't you? You know you would. Mrs. Upjohn rises and comes forward. I daresay you jolly well wouldn't object to catching him yourself if you'd halved a chance. Fiercely. You try it. You try it. I'm not going to let you or any of you. Jimmy attempting to rise, scandalized. Oh. Lily holding her. No, no, Jimmy. Lil, I'm perfectly ashamed of you. Speaking to Jimmy Birch in that manner. Lily dropping her head on Jimmy's shoulder. Oh. She doesn't mean it. I hope not. She doesn't do have a dog in the manger for a doubter. To Lily. Why shouldn't young farm comb turn his attention to Miss Birch pray or to any young lady who doesn't object to take your leaveence? Jimmy to Mrs. Upjohn. Hush, hush, hush. Mrs. Upjohn walking about. No, I won't, Dush. Jimmy to Lily quietly. I'm going to come back in the afternoon. Lil seems to have got some maggot or other in her brain about drawing Lord Farncombe into her net. Net indeed. Jimmy not heeding Mrs. Upjohn arranges Lily comfortably upon the setee and then rises and smooths out her skirt preparatory to departure. As Lyle Roper was saying yesterday, our tip-top aristocratic English families out to be extremely grateful that strong, healthy professionals of the class of Miss Archer and Miss Traveille and Miss Shaftow are entering their ranks. And if Lil chooses to be pig-added enough. Jimmy makes a movement towards Mrs. Upjohn. Ever ball old ginger bear before you go. There is a prolonged playful knocking at the door on the left, followed on the part of those in the room by a gloomy pause. That is loud. Lily groggy. Oh. Jimmy drawing a long face. Hmm. Lily to Jimmy. Oh Jimmy, stay. The knocking is repeated. Jimmy retreats to the right as Mrs. Upjohn goes to the door and opens it. Roper is outside. Roper entering in high spirits. Hello, hello, hello, hello. Embracing Mrs. Upjohn. Morning ma. Advancing. Any more bids for the handsome guilt candelabra with the crystal drops? To Jimmy. Morning Jimmy. Looking down upon Lily eagerly. Well, Lil, well my pet. Lily in a weary tone, giving him the tips of her fingers and then turning upon her side with her face to the back of the setee. How are you, Uncle Lell? Roper chilled. Oh, I thank you, Lil. After a short pause to Mrs. Upjohn. Glancing at Lily. Not up to much today? Mrs. Upjohn glumly. No great shakes. Dancing too hard, I suspect. A deal too odd. Roper after another pause. Anything else abysmal? Mrs. Upjohn sitting upon the box ottoman to Jimmy, who is at the piano examining some of the music. You tell Lil, Jimmy. Tell? To Jimmy who comes to the setee apprehensively. Jimmy. Jimmy behind the setee, gravely. No, the old Pandora isn't going to score this time, Lil. Isn't going to, I don't follow you. Be playing, Jimmy. Jimmy endeavouring to relieve the situation. Ha-ha! Nature's taken precious good care of that, in my case. Roper angrily. Now look here, Jimmy. I just as a capital thing in its way. No man has a keener sense of humour than Lyle Roper. But there are occasions when it's out of place, and this is one of them, my dear, and if it's not putting you to serious inconvenience... Jimmy also losing her temper. Oh, well then. Have it in the neck. Lil's declined young Farncombe. There. And when you crack a joke next, Mr. Roper, I beg you contrive to favour us with a little variety. Flouncing away. Because you bore me pallet with your rotten wheezes, and always have done. Roper going to Mrs. Upjohn, aghast at the tidings. Ma. Mrs. Upjohn to Roper under her breath. Won't draw him into her net, Uncle. Won't draw him into her. Jimmy at the back. K-N-E-Double-T. Net. Mrs. Upjohn pacifically. Jimmy. Jimmy mimicking Roper derisively. Hello, hello, hello, hello. Fresh fish from the sea. Buy him on the beach. Buy him on the beach. Buy him on the beach. Roper to Jimmy indignantly. Jimmy Birch. Jimmy sitting upon the photo-tool stool. Ha-ha! Roper to Mrs. Upjohn wiping his brow. Of course there is this to be said, Ma. Rallying at the idea. It's maybe wise of dear Lil to decline Farkham at first. It doesn't do for a girl, doesn't to appear to throw herself at any man, let alone a young fellow of the position, the social status. Lily suddenly sitting up and putting her feet to the floor again. Oh, for mercy's sake. Cease discussing my affairs in my presence. To Mrs. Upjohn. Mother, why do you keep Uncle Lall in the dark? To Jimmy. Jimmy, why don't you? In the dark? Yes, Lall. You're flying out at Jimmy over her armless jokes. Stopped her finishing. Lil's not only refused young Farmco, but she's gone and plaited herself to another individual. Plaited herself? Lily passionately. To one of the best. To one of the best. Roper stupefied. Do I—do I know him? Ha! Know him? You know him sufficiently to have plotted and schemed to prevent his being lost to the party last night. Jimmy to Lily. Did Lall do that? Did he? Impudence. Roper sitting in the armchair by the centre table quietly. Chase. Nico. Lily firmly. Nico. But the captain was at the party last night, not with Stanon. Jimmy to Mrs. Upjohn. Nonsense, Mar. Yes, Nico managed to get into the theatre somehow or other. And watched you and young Farmco. And stationed himself under the portico of twenty-seven to see who brought me home. Oh! He's always been frightfully jealous the captain was. Jimmy looking at Roper. Oh! so really it's entirely owing to Lall Roper's interference that matters were brought to a head this morning. Lily, her eyes flashing. Entirely. Mrs. Upjohn joining in the attack upon Roper. Yes, if Lall had been content to mind his own business. And hadn't meddled. And muddled. Things might have gone on much the same as before. And might have ended different. Lily rising and walking away to the right. Ah! no mother. Jimmy rising and joining Lily. Certainly they might. Mrs. Upjohn rising. Anyhow, I hope it'll be a lesson to Lall. Do you, Mar? Mrs. Upjohn moving over to the girls. Not to put his fingers into other people's poise. Jimmy to Mrs. Upjohn with a withering glance at Roper. Oh! you are sanguine. Roper rising and straightening himself out. Mar, Mrs. Upjohn, Lily. Jimmy scornfully. Hello, hello, hello, hello. Roper to Jimmy. Psh! Impressively. Mar, Lily, for years, longer than it's agreeable to count, I've been a patron of the drama, particularly musical comedy, of which I studied the development with a special interest. Jimmy resting her elbows upon the back of the setee. Yes, you've studied a lot of development, Lall, in your day. Roper ignoring Jimmy. It's been a fad with me. I put it no higher than that. Producing his gloves. But I've devoted time to it. Any amount. Roper drawing a glove on. Often to the neglect of my ventures in the city. Here I am now, for instance. Huh, that's obvious. And, I frankly admit it, I've had more than one serious dispute with Mrs. Roper on the subject. Jimmy softly whistles a few bars of rule Britannia. Yesterday, by a coincidence. Feeling the outside of his breast pocket. Letter from the wife, full of complaints, haven't been too bexiled to her and the kids for weeks. And to do Ellen Roper justice, she's not the woman to grumble without cause. Picking up his hat and cane, which he has placed upon the center table. Dash it all, home ties are home ties. Polishing his hat with his sleeve. And taking one consideration with another. And after this, this occurrence, it's my intention for the future. My firm intention. Lily returning to Roper and throwing her arms around his neck. Oh, Uncle Lell, not altogether. We're tired in cross this morning. Not altogether. Mrs. Upjohn behind the center table. No, no, Uncle, you mustn't. Lily to Roper. Forgive us. Cooksy-nay. Mother and Jimmy are cats. Oh! The door on the left opens and Gladys enters with a card on a silver. Gladys advancing to Lily. Are you in? In. Gladys surveying Lily with mingled disdain and pity. You two look washed out. Lily going to Gladys. Never you mind whether I look washed out or not. Who is it? Lily takes the card, reads some writing upon it and stands twiddling the card in her fingers. They're in the dining room. Lily to Gladys after a pause. Wait outside on the landing. All right. This won't get my silver cleaned. Gladys withdraws. Lily waits for the door to close and then walks about distractedly. Oh! Why can't they leave me alone? What do they want with me now, both of them? Mrs. Upjohn moving towards Lily. Oh! Nico's downstairs with Lord Farncone. Lord Farncone? Aunt Jay's. Lily reading the card again. Nico asks me to see him and Du Bois together. Roper and Mrs. Upjohn go to Lily, one on each side of her, and try to read the card. She pushes them from her and sits in the armchair by the center table. I won't. I won't. Jimmy joining Mrs. Upjohn and Roper. Yes, yes, Lil, do. Mrs. Upjohn be willed. What? Perhaps they've arrived at a friendly understanding. Understanding? Jimmy excitedly and have come to propose that Lil should choose between them. Great Scott! I have chosen. I have chosen. It's settled. Undoubtedly sure to see them. It's a shame to prosecute me so. A shame! Jimmy misses up John and Roper behind Lily's chair. Lil, Lily. Give them a minute, dear. Hear what they've got to say. It would be uncivil not to. Oh, back up, Lil. Out to reason, dearie. Lil, Lily. Lily yielding helplessly. Oh, very well. Tell Gladys when I ring. Jimmy flying to the door on the left. I'll tell her. Roper to Mrs. Upjohn, importantly. Lucky I was on the spot. Lucky I was on the spot. Jimmy on the landing to Gladys. Bring the gentleman up when Miss Lily rings. Lily rising and pacing the room on the right. Give me some stockings. Mrs. Upjohn hurrying into the bedroom. Yes, dearie. As she disappears. Mod. Jimmy returning and closing the door and then whispering to Roper. Bet my boots. That's it. Roper to Jimmy and a whisper. Choose between them. What else can it be? I can't. Jimmy throwing herself into Roper's arms. Oh, if it is. Roper hugging her. Oh. Jimmy suddenly releasing herself. Oh. Hotly. Thought you were Lily. Mrs. Upjohn returns carrying a pair of stockings. Lily seats herself upon the photoel stool. Where concealed by the center table she draws on the stockings with Mrs. Upjohn's assistance. Lily whimpering. Oh. Don't, dearie. Don't. Mother's ear. Roper impatiently. I think I'll run downstairs and shake hands with Jayes and Farncom while Lily's tidying herself. Jimmy, who has moved over to the right, to Roper. Be careful. I should advise you not to risk it. Roper at the door. Risk it. If Niko knows you were the cause of his being shot out of the party last night, he'll simply throttle you. Roper opening the door. Throttle me. Throttle now, Roper. He disappears closing the door as Mod enters from the bedroom with a pair of shoes. Lily weakly. Oh. Get me something to keep these up with. Jimmy to Mod. Ribbon. Mrs. Upjohn snatching the shoes from Mod. Ribbon. Mod opens one of the doors underneath the further cupboard on the left and finds a roll of bright new Ribbon while Jimmy's searching among the objects on the center table, discovers the case of manicure instruments, and takes from it a pair of scissors. Lily putting on her shoes to Mrs. Upjohn. No. No. That's the left foot. Oh. Don't agitate yourself, dearie. Mother's ear. Mod comes to the center table with the Ribbon and Jimmy cuts off two links from the roll. Mod to Jimmy. Morning, Mrs. Jimmy. Morning. Lily to Mrs. Upjohn. Where's the mirror? Where's the mirror? Mrs. Upjohn taking the mirror from the table and giving it to Lily. Here it is, dearie. Here it is. And I'm here, too. Lily viewing herself in the mirror and running her hand over her hair. Oh, how horrid I look. Jimmy goes to Lily with two links of Ribbon and Mod replaces the roll in the door. Ring the bell. Jimmy hands Lily the garters, relieving her of the mirror, and Mrs. Upjohn hastens to the fireplace and presses the bell push continuously. That'll do, Mod. You hug it. Mod going to the bedroom door. That's how I like to hear her talk. Mod vanishes into the bedroom, closing the door, and Lily, having tied up her stockings, rises and comes to the setee. Mrs. Upjohn still pressing the bell push. Now I don't believe I'm wrong. Lily at the uttermost tension. Stop it, Mother. Stop it. Sitting on the setee. We're not calling the fire brigade. Jimmy at the back of the setee to Lily. I'll wait in your bedroom till the men have been shown up and sneak out that way. Bending over Lily. Mind. If Nico is willing, after all, that you should make your choice. Mrs. Upjohn advancing. Yes, dear AFB is willing. Lily frantically. I tell you I have made it. I keep on telling you I've chosen. I've chosen, I've chosen. Fledging her hands. If you torment me any more, either of you. Mrs. Upjohn and Jimmy retreat precipitately to the bedroom door. They open the door and then standing in the doorway listen intently. Jimmy disappearing. Mrs. Upjohn partially disappearing. Ah. Only her head visible, speaking to Lily in a hoarse whisper. Mother's here, dearie. The head is withdrawn and the door softly closed. After a pause Gladys enters at the other door, followed by G's and Farncombe. The men are carrying their hats and canes. Gladys retires closing the door and G's comes to Lily and shakes hands with her. G's to Lily gently. How are you today, Lou? Very fagged. I am a little. G's turns from her to lay his hat and cane upon the box Ottoman. And then Farncombe, who has hung back, advances hesitatingly to the further side of the center table and bows to Lily. She rises and avoiding his eyes gives him a limp hand across the table. How do you do? To G's, who having got rid of his hat and cane, moves away from the Ottoman. Sit down, won't you? She resumes her seat upon the said tea and G's with a nod sits in the armchair by the center table. Farncombe remains standing and again she addresses him without meeting his eyes. And you? Farncombe with another bow sits upon the foetool's stool. There is a brief silence and then G's speaks. Little. Yes? In the first place, Farncombe wants you distinctly to understand how it is he's committing this breach of his compact with you. To Farncombe. You promised? I promised never to attempt to come near Miss Paradelle again, nor even to enter the theater. G's to Lily. And if I many judge of a man, Lily, Farncombe would have kept his promise. He'd have kept it faithfully, but for me. I've brought him along. Insisted on it. Emphatically. I've brought him along. See? Why, Niko? I'll tell you, my dear. You remember when we left you early this morning, ordering us to walk away together and to part good friends. Perfectly. Well, we did walk away together and we did part good friends, but we didn't part at all till some hours later in his rooms. We didn't part till I'd made him stand by me and listen to me while I had a long draw with my brother on the phone. Lily, wonderingly. With your... About that Rhodesian business. What Rhodesian business? I mentioned it to you yesterday. Bob owns a third, with Peter Chalmers and Tom Dobby. Of a group of farms near Bulawayo, and he's been badgering me eternally to cut this and to settle out there as their agent. And I've accepted, old girl. Lily with a blank face. Acceptant? Jeez, grimly. Leaving you to bring an action against me, to recover damages for a broken heart. Drawing a deep breath. Yes, I'm chucking you, Lil. I give you formal notice of my intention, and you can drive down to your solicitors this afternoon and instruct them to rich me without delay. Forcing a laugh. Ah-ha-ha-ha. Niko. Unless, unless you have an idea of consoling yourself shortly with, with another chap, and prefer not to carry the matter into court. Lily about to rise. Niko. Jeez, restraining her by gesture. Sh, no, no, no. She sinks back. Ah, Lil, Lil. I know you're full of generous, honest impulses. Though I did tear you to rags in farm-combs hearing a few hours ago. But I'm not going to allow you to sacrifice yourself to them. I, I, I've come to my senses, and I'm not going to permit it. Ending forward. Oh, my dear, why should I make you pay for the weaknesses of my character? Because that's what it did amount to. I've bullied you for having played Skittles with my life, my career. So you have. Damn it, so you have. But you've done it out of blind thoughtlessness. And if I'd been a fairly strong man with some ballast in me, you couldn't have landed me where I am. Not you nor fifty Pandora girls. Sitting erect. And that, that's the moral of the tale. And, and... Abruptly to farm-combs. There's nothing more, is there, farm-combs? Farm-combs, brokenly. Except that, that I'd like to repeat. What I've already said to Jays. That I... His elbows on the table. His head bowed. Oh, you make me feel terribly small, Jays. Again there is a pause. And then Lily struggles to her feet and holds out her hands to Jays, uncertainly. And at once he rises and takes her in his arms. Farm-combs also rises, and standing beside the said T, turns his back to Jays and Lily. Lily to Jays choking. Oh, Niko, I can't, I can't. Jays patting her shoulder. Ah. Why, what, what would become of my resolutions? Resolutions. To, to raise you up, Niko. You are raising me up, setting me on my legs again. Lily in a fright. And, and drawing Eddie into my net. Oh, we've talked of that too, he and I. He's given me an account of what's passed between you here. My dear girl, your conscience may be quite clear on that point. Nobody can ever reproach you with trying to draw him into your net. They would. They would. At all events, the task you have to face now is to prove to the world. His world. And his parallel is equal to playing lead on a bigger stage than the stage of the Pandora. Holding her at arm's length and shaking her fondly. And you'll do it. Ho, ho, ho. You'll do it. Ha, ha, ha. His voice dies away miserably, and he releases her. Then, pulling himself together, he looks at his watch. I've got to go to lunch with Bob at half-past one at the Junior Carlton. Lily agitatedly. It's not nearly that, Niko. It's not nearly that. Niko. She passes him moving towards the door on the left, as if to intercept him. And then turns to him. A strip of ribbon lies upon the spot where she has been standing. After gazing at it for a moment, he stoops and picks it up. Oh. He folds the ribbon carefully and puts it into his pocket. Oh. Pitching up her stocking to her robe piteously. Ha, ha, ha, ha. They face one another, laughing, and then she sits upon the photo-stool and drops her head upon the table, and he fetches his hat and cane from the box ottoman. Jeez, coming to her. This isn't goodbye, Lil, not by any manner of means, my dear. We'll kill the fatted path several times before I start. You, I, and the boy. Besides, bye and bye. You and he must take a trip and come out to see me. Serenja Vale is the farm where I shall be quartered, Bob tells me. Looking into space. German street to Serenja Vale. Shaking himself. Fuh, there are no great distances in these days. To Farncombe with a change of tone. Farncombe. Farncombe comes forward. You dine with me tonight. Recollect, it's an engagement. Yes. Eight o'clock. Eight o'clock. Quintanis. Quintanis. Without looking at Lily again, G's goes to the door and opens it. Farncombe follows him and the two men halt in the doorway. G's to Farncombe with a motion of his head towards Lily. And afterwards you fetch her from the theater and take her home. That's your job. Lily rising. Farncombe goes out onto the landing with G's and parts from him at the top of the stairs. Then Farncombe slowly returns, closes the door and finds Lily sitting upon the settee in a woeful attitude. Farncombe coming to Lily and standing before her thoughtfully. Lily. I, huh? I'm afraid there's one thing finer than winning the woman you love and when you've won her, being prepared to go through fire and water for her. What's that? Having the courage to give her up as G's has done. Lily with a renewed at first. Nicko, poor Nicko, poor Nicko. Farncombe sitting beside her and taking her hand consolingly. By George, he's a brick, isn't he? Lily after a pause, drying her eyes. Eddie? Yes. If, if ever we marry. Farncombe, his jaw falling. If? When, then? When we marry. You'll be obliged to resign your commission in guards, won't you? Farncombe snapping his fingers. Shhh! I shan't care a wrap about that. Lily snatching her hand away. The snobs, the snobs! They'd let you marry any bit of trash in your own set. But a Pandora girl, though she's as pure as the Queen of England. Oh, the contemptible snobs. Farncombe regaining possession of her hand. Shhh! It, it's the practice. Blow the practice. A cheerful reflection for me it'll be. The errant snobs. Farncombe stroking her hand. Ah! And then, poor mother. You, you won't be very proud of poor mother. Your mother? Boyishly. Oh, she, she's an awfully good sort. She hasn't an H to her name. Farncombe inadvertently. She oughtn't to have. Lily withdrawing her hand again, sharply. She calls herself Hup-joing, you mean? Farncombe distressed. No, no, no. In a difficulty. Er, at any rate, H's don't lead you to heaven, do they? Lily gloomily. You're right. Mothers lead her to heaven. Rising and walking away. Well, you'd better go now. Farncombe rising. And tonight? No, I'll come home alone. Lily. Please. When? Lily moving to the door on the left. Not for two or three days. Give me time to shake down over this. Farncombe taking up his hat and cane, which he has left upon the centre-table. Sunday. Lily fretfully. No. Monday. Lily opening the door. No. Farncombe joining her at the door. Tuesday. Lily appealingly. I, all right. Again he takes her hand, she keeping him at a distance. He attempts to lessen the distance, but she checks him, shaking her head. Not just yet, Ernie. He smiles at her tenderly, and with a bow, departs. From the doorway she watches him disappear. Then she shuts the door and wanders listlessly to the door of the bedroom. Her hand lingers upon the knob for a moment, and then she opens the door a little way and calls. Mother. Mother. She leaves the door and is returning to the setee, when Mrs. Upjohn enters. Mrs. Upjohn oligog. Yes, Lil? Lily seats herself upon the setee without speaking. Yes, Dairy. Yes. Advancing to the centre-table. Have they given you your choice? Lily Dolly. No. They've given me no choice. Mrs. Upjohn advancing further. What? Niko's going out to South Africa, Mother. South Africa? Well, to Rhodesia. Then you're free, Lil. No, I'm not. Not? Niko. Niko's handed me over, Mother. Ended you over? To Lord Farncoe. Mrs. Upjohn gasping. And you went the young chuckman. I suppose so. Oh. Sinking into the armchair by the centre-table. Oh, the dear captain. Lily transferring herself from the setee to Mrs. Upjohn's lap. Oh. Oh. In her arms round Mrs. Upjohn's neck. Oh, poor Niko. Mrs. Upjohn soothingly. He'll have his reward, Lil. He'll have his reward hereafter. And poor Carlton Smith. Oh, poor Carlton. Poor Carlton? He's losing every one of his best girls, Mother. Gwennie Harker, Mady Treveille, Eva Shaftow, and now me. Oh, poor Carlton. Ash, dere, ash. Don't consider am. Rocking Lily to and fro like a baby. Think. Think what a lot of good you're all doing to the aristocracy. The door on the left opens and Jimmy and Roper look in gleefully and then Tiptoe towards Lily and Mrs. Upjohn. End of Act IV. End of The Mind the Paint Girl by Arthur Wing Pinero.