 Act II of Mrs. Pretty and the Premier by Arthur Adams. Scene The living room at Wyonora Homestead is a big room with parquette floor, comfortably furnished with big chairs covered with flowered gents. No pictures are on the walls, which are devoted to well-filled bookcases. There is a grand piano, tables littered with illustrated papers, magazines, photographs, and vases waiting, empty, for flowers. Tall standlamps light the room in the evening. At present, however, as it is the bright forenoon of the following day, the illumination of the room comes from two big French windows at the back, opening out on a broad veranda beyond the balustrade of which there is a glimpse of garden and a distant blue range of low hills. There are doors, on the right opening from the hall, and on the left leading to another room. Near at hand there is a big open fireplace with satis. Mrs. Kuzak, an aristocratic-looking old lady, is sitting, reading an illustrated paper. She yawns, rises, and strolls about the room. Prominent among the many photographs is one of William Power. She takes it up with surprise and scrutinizes it with evident aristocratic disapproval. Helen Pretty, in a charming simple morning dress, enters from the veranda. She is carrying a great bunch of wattle which she proceeds to arrange the vacant vases about the room while talking to Mrs. Kuzak. Lovely, isn't it, Mrs. Kuzak? I always say there's no wattle like the Wyonora wattle. Helen, noticing the portrait in Mrs. Kuzak's hand. Oh, the premiere. I suppose you put it in this prominent position, to flatter the inordinate vanity of the great man. Now he's honoring you with a visit. A strong face, don't you think, Mrs. Kuzak? I can't imagine, my dear, what you mean by having this man here. I know I shouldn't criticize, but I'm an old woman and an old friend, and I never thought that Wyonora would have a labor-editator for its guest. I always thought him a great, big, hungry ogre, and when I saw him yesterday, I confess he disappointed me. He didn't want to eat me at all, though he'd rather like to gobble up my estate. I found him most interesting. So you brought him here to dangle at your skirts, and you just engaged. I may be rude, I have a name for being rude, but what does Mr. Harrington think of this escapade? Mr. Harrington, I mean Vernon. You see, I'm so new to being engaged that I haven't accustomed myself to calling him by his Christian name. Vernon hasn't been consulted. I'll tell him when he arrives. He's driving over for lunch. I sometimes think, Helen, that you forget that you're a very pretty woman. I hope I shall never forget that. But Mr. Power is safe. He's armored all over. By his vanity. No, by his bigness. He's a strong man. By the way, where is the strong man? Helen indicating the door. In there, working hard. I haven't seen him yet. I heard his motor arrive this morning. A loud, democratic motor that woke me up at a most democratic hour. He motored up in the night. Doesn't he ever sleep? They say the only chance he gets is in the house when he's being attacked by the opposition. He always drops off when Vernon is speaking. But who's he got in there with him? Only his secretary and the typewriter girl. My dear, has he the impudence to bring his harem with him? Harem? startled, dropping some of the waddle. That girl? Nonsense. He has to travel with his staff. Like royalty. Oh no. This is practically a private visit. If it was a political one, he'd bring half a dozen secretaries. Then it's merely as your guest that he's here. Oh, I'd like him merely as a guest. But as it happens, there is a teeny little bit of business mixed up in it. Then it's true that he wants to steal this place from you and give it to the cockies and the unemployed. I'm afraid he still has that idea. Then why? I see. You're going to persuade him to let me off. Persuade? How? I'll just be nice to him. How nice. You've reminded me that I'm a pretty woman. Then permit me to remind you that you are engaged to Mr. Harrington. That's why I must hurry. This is my last chance. You're going to flirt with that man? No. I shall play fair. I shall appeal to his common sense. You'd have more chance, Helen, if you'd appeal to his common heart. It's too safe, Yenora. You may have to pay too big a price. He's not the sort of man you get anything for nothing from. Flirtation is very well, and you do it charmingly. But with one of your own class. Remember, this man does not know the rules. Ah, he's safe. I found that out when I saw him in town yesterday. He's a mere machine. All cog wheels. Oh, a very strong and efficient machine. Why, when I went to see him, he never even noticed my dress, or my new hat. He hasn't got a heart. He's got a dynamo. He's just an elemental force, like a thunderstorm. Take care, Helen, that you're not caught in that thunderstorm. Power's voice is heard, raised threateningly in the next room. Listen, it's growling now. Oh, I can always run to shelter. That's what Vernon is for. But Mr. Power is quite safe. My dear, you seem to have found out a great deal about Mr. Power in your one meeting with him. I saw him twice. I spent most of the night before last in his private office. Helen? Quite an adventure, Mrs. Cusack. I called and waited all the afternoon in the lobby to see him, but he never came. Then, as there was nobody about, I went into his room to wait. I was very tired, and you know I had been traveling all the previous night without a wink of sleep. So I plopped into a big, comfortable armchair behind a tall screen. These premiers do themselves remarkably well, and dropped off, and I slept till after two o'clock. In the morning? And I wouldn't have waken then if the premier hadn't clumsily knocked over the screen. Gracious the premier! Was he there all the time? He had been working there since ten o'clock that evening. He was almost as much surprised as I was. It shows anyhow that I don't snore. And then? He behaved like a perfect gentleman. No! Took me out and put me in a cab, and sent me home. Oh. But did anybody see you? At that hour? Of course not. Thank heaven. But if they had... It would have looked rather compromising, wouldn't it? But we could have explained. My dear, it doesn't sound very convincing to me. I don't wonder. The whole thing was too absurd. And Mr. Power, did he... No. He didn't kiss me. Not even in the dark. He didn't even try. And I've been wondering why ever since. Helen! Oh, I wouldn't have let him. But surely any man would have tried. It's hardly a compliment to me, is it? I'm afraid I must be going off. And it would have given just that little emotional touch that the situation lacked. But possibly it never occurred to him. He's not a man. He's a machine. But you'd think that even a machine would sometimes be wound up, wouldn't you? Of course it is your duty to tell Mr. Harrington. Helen, moving up to the front window. If Mr. Power had taken advantage of me, I should have felt bound to tell Vernon. But as he didn't, I couldn't possibly tell him. Vernon would think he had. Oh, there he is. Coming up the garden. I think you're wise, Helen. Mr. Harrington might not believe your absurd story any more than I do. I'll run away and leave you to your fiancée. Oh, don't go. But Mrs. Cusack does. Vernon Harrington enters through the front window. He is a man well preserved, sleek and well groomed. His features are carefully masked, a man of passion's quelled, but not quenched, and cold of eye. Ah, Vernon, you're early. I was impatient to see you again, Helen. She submits to his proprietary kiss. How charming you're looking, dearest. Holding her face between his hands. There's such a light in your eyes, you are glad to see me. Of course. Escaping from him. Vernon, don't. Somebody might see. There's nobody here but Mrs. Cusack and the servant, and they don't matter. But I've got another visitor. Indeed. But we don't want anybody else, do we? I should have thought that you'd have kept everybody else away. Who is the intruder? Mr. Power. Not the Premier. Yes. What is he doing here? I asked him up when I saw him in town yesterday. But why? He works so hard, doesn't he? I thought he was looking a little run down. But you don't know him. Why, we got on quite nicely together, and I confess I rather like him. Though to say that one likes a Premier is rather like admitting a friendship with an avalanche. He struck me as rather avalanche. Helen, do you mean to say that you've invited him up here as your guest? Why shouldn't I? There silly boy. That wasn't my only reason. I wanted to talk business. Business? Oh, about Wianora. Yes. Sitting. He seemed to be impressed by my argument. He decided to come up here and inspect the estate itself, before finally deciding whether it was suitable for closer settlement. And you really think that you can influence Bill Power? My dear Helen, he has made up his mind, and when Bill Power makes up his mind... Yet he accepted my invitation, jumped at it. He's playing with you. I don't know what his game is, but you've laid yourself open to a snub, Helen. I feel hurt, deeply hurt, that you didn't consult me before rushing into this hair-brained scheme. But it only flashed upon me when I saw him in town. And he arrived here at some unearthly hour this morning, and had his breakfast in his room, and started making speeches to his typewriter girl immediately after, shut up in that room. I haven't even seen him yet. You haven't seen him? Good. What do you mean? I'll see him. But Vernon, I asked him up here to see me. He is your guest, of course. But in a business matter such as this, I am your representative. Ah, but you'd spoil it all. It would be merely a political conference. But surely I... Vernon, dear, when I accepted you, I didn't accept a business representative. I feel quite capable of managing this affair myself. How? You think you can convince power where I have failed? You've only used arguments. They never convince anybody, not even politicians. And what will you use? My eyes. You're going to...? Exactly. It's the only way. If it's possible to flirt with a block of granite, I'm going to flirt with Mr. Power. But no decent woman would use those weapons. They're the only weapons nature has provided us with. But that is a dangerous game for a woman to play. It's the only game you let us women play. And all's fair in love and politics. And this is... which? Ah, I can't tell yet. Probably a teaspoon full of each. I'm afraid, Helen, I must forbid this mad scheme. Helen, quickly jumping up. Forbid? I cannot allow my future wife to bring herself in contact with that man. Can't allow? Vernon, you adopt that tone to me? Vernon, seeing he has gone too far. I beg your pardon. Helen, carrying it off with a smile. Oh, you big stupid. Do you know what's the matter with you? With me? You're jealous. Yes, actually jealous. You think I'm in love with Mr. Power? In love? With him? Nonsense. You're engaged to me, aren't you? But the ludicrous possibility has just occurred to me that power is in love with you. Ludicrous, why shouldn't the nice clean man fall in love with me? You did yourself. Do you really think so? Wouldn't that be exciting? But no, it's impossible. Why, Mr. Power never even offered to... To what? Ah, to compliment me on my new hat. He never even noticed that I had a hat on. You wanted him to? Any woman would. That's why we wear hats. Goodness knows they aren't of any other use. There. You see, he is not a man. Now just leave this little worrying business in my hands. But I'm just looking forward to it. Then Helen, I can only say... Helen, putting her hand to his mouth. Don't say it, please. Why, why it's almost a quarrel. Our first quarrel. And we're just engaged. Dear, let us kiss and be friends. There. When we're married I'll be a good, meek little girl, and do as I'm told. But... Charles Lucan is shown in by a maid. Mr. Lucan, Mom, to see Mr. Harrington. Ah, Lucan, you wanted to see me. On urgent business, sir. Helen, this is Mr. Lucan, the representative of the Tribune. Mrs. Pretty. How are you? I suppose it's politics. I'll run away. But I expect you to stay to lunch, Mr. Lucan. Thank you, Mrs. Pretty. Helen goes out. What's the matter, Lucan? The Tribune has got hold of some important private information. Something we can't publish yet. But something the editor thinks you should now. Damaging to the labour crowd? Immensely. Go on. Powers' voices heard. A great roar of laughter in the room outside. Lucan startled. What's it? It can't be. Yes, it's the Premier. Here? In the enemy camp he's here on business, inspecting the estate. Lucan lowering his voice with a look at the door. What I have to tell you, Mr. Harrington, concerns the Premier, personally. I shouldn't lie on him to catch me here with you, sir. I see. Coming to the garden. He leads the way, and together they excellent through the French window and disappear, talking, into the garden. William Power enters, followed by Dix. Well, that's finished. There's nothing else important, is there? Dix, with open notebook reading. Um... Run over the list. Those appointments to that Royal Commission, sir? Post-Ponem. The Secretaries of State urgent cable? Keep the Secretary of State waiting. Does these English Johnny's good? Goaps him awake. Inspect Wionora. Did that in the motor last night? See, Mrs. Pretty. Ah, I knew there was something I'd forgotten. Important, too. Dix, make that the first order of the day. Shall I tell her that you wish to see her, sir? Yes. No. I don't know how to begin. I must work up my speech. Speech, sir? I'm gonna propose to her. You don't imagine I can marry her without proposing. Draft me a proposal. To a widow. Love. Respect. Devotion to the public. Oh, I mean devotion to the widow. You know the sort of thing. I'm afraid, sir, I couldn't draft that sort of speech. Why, aren't you my private secretary? What do I keep you for? Haven't you ever proposed to a widow? Can't you draft a simple proposal? Not a proposal of marriage, sir. Power vexed at a loss, then calls. Miss Bim! Effy Bim enters. Miss Bim, you've been in love? Dozens of times, sir. Any proposals? Fifteen. Good. Just jot me down a praisey of the points made by your 15 admirers when proposing. The points that specially appeal to you. I'm afraid, sir, what most appealed to me could not be expressed in words. In fact, it wasn't words. But no, sir. The subject is too sacred. I rejected them all, except the last one. And I haven't made up my mind about him unless he's more definite. And the whole fourteen went on something awful. Threatened never to kiss me again. Quite right, Miss Bim. I respect your womanly instincts. But you could tell me how they began. The opening address, eh? How did they lead up? Most of them just kissed me, sir. It seemed to give them confidence. But I couldn't possibly start like that. It's always done, sir. And a shoulder to lean on makes it so much more comfortable for the lady. In the last case, Mr. Dix. Dix makes a hopeless gesture. Dix? Yes, in the motor last night. But I was in the motor last night. Well, you were asleep. Well? Sir, I must protest. Such moments are sacred. I can't allow that, Dix. The personal feelings of individuals must not be considered when public affairs are at stake. To Effie. How did he begin? I know how he would have liked to begin. But you were lying between us, sir, with your feet up. He squeezed my hand. Power, making a mental note. Squeeze her hand. But he had to reach over my feet, eh? Oh no, my hand happened to be over his side. Then he whispered Ducky. Ducky? Ducky Dumkins, I think it was. And no, that was Charlie the 13th. Dumkins? And he said he worshipped the very typewriter my pretty fingers played on. But Mrs. Pretty doesn't play on a typewriter. Mrs. Pretty? He wasn't proposing to her. I'd just like to catch him. If I thought he meant to, I believe I'd accept him. Calm yourself, Miss Bim. What did he say next? I couldn't hear. You snored. And then? That was all. It was the most unsatisfactory proposal I've ever had. Like tea without sugar. And in your opinion, as an experienced woman, 15, wasn't it? Was that an attractive proposal? Did your heart thrill to his impassioned words? Fat lot of good if it had. We were separated by your feet. We were worlds away. Besides, I love another. Dicks, who I stood on Tetherhook's listening, turning away with a sigh of relief and moving up to the French window. And hasn't this other proposed? Not yet, sir. He doesn't know. He is blind. Blind. I did have hopes yesterday, but now. Now. Now I know he loves another and oh, Mr. Power, my heart is breaking, and I do so need a nice, cozy, manly shoulder to weep upon. She throws herself into Power's arms. Helen Pretty, inopportunely, returns. Oh. Good morning, Mr. Power. Noticing Effie. Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were busy. I'll go. No. Dicks, remove this moist young woman. Dicks removes her limp and sobbing form. Better mop her up. Bucker into the garden and let her dry in the sun. Certainly, sir. Do Effie. There, Ducky, come out into the garden and have a real good cry. I don't mind my suit. Anyway, I did weep in his arms, and that's more than any other woman has been able to say. Effie goes out triumphantly, supported by Dicks. I feel I am keeping you from your work, Mr. Power. I never knew before a premier had so much to do. But, Mrs. Pretty, I particularly wished to talk to you. Helen, looking out at the garden. No, that's too bad. I thought those poor things had the garden to themselves. They need it, don't they? And there's Mr. Harrington and that reporter man there, too. A reporter? Why, that's Lurkin of the Tribune. Yes, he said he had some important news for Mr. Harrington. I left him here, politics, I suppose. That's the only thing you men think important. But it does seem important, doesn't it? Look at Mr. Harrington. I've never seen him so excited, not even when he— Power returning. Lurkin up here, and confide in the Harrington. I've no time to lose. He's told him. Told him what? Something Mrs. Pretty that makes it imperative for me to speak. About my poor estate. You've decided. No, it's not about why Nora. But a much more serious subject. It's about a woman. A woman? The woman I've decided to marry. Oh, that pretty little typewriter girl you carry around with you. Who wept so picturesquely on your shoulder. Well, why don't you? Anybody can see she's in love with you. Miss Bim in love with me? Head over her pretty Cuban heels. But I'm old enough to be a father. So was my poor husband. But the modern girl doesn't want a mere husband. She likes someone who has sufficient experience to settle down to remain a husband. Even the flapper distrusts any hair that isn't slightly gray. But what could Miss Bim find the love in me? Perhaps it was your shoulder. It looks such a comfortable shoulder to weep upon. She never gave me the least cause to suspect. On the two occasions I've seen you together, she's done nothing all the time but tell you. She never said a word. I heard her quite distinctly. Every look she gave you shouted it. But men are so deaf. Why, for all you know, I might be in love with you. You? Oh, I can understand that little girl's infatuation. You are so big and burly and stupid. This is pretty. You make it easier for me. Would you kindly sit down? Helen, amused, sitting. Thank you. Power, drawing himself up as if about to make a speech to his constituents. Where comes the time, ladies? I mean, Mrs. Pretty. When, uh, the exigencies of, uh, life insist upon that, which, uh, no. What I was about to observe, Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, is that a premier is, after all, a servant of the people. His life, private as well as public, should be in accordance with the social and democratic life of this favored community. He should march shoulder to shoulder with the, that is to say, with the husband he should. Why, you're making a political speech to poor me. Am I? Well, you see, they're the only sort of speeches I can make. Do you know they rather bore me? Do they? Uh, Mrs. Pretty, has it ever occurred to you that beneath this devotion of mind of the public welfare, this sacrifice of my life to the incessant demands of the progressive amelioration of humanity, they might be. He suddenly drops his labored speech and becomes natural. Ah, damn it, Mrs. Pretty. Oh, you marry me. Marry you? But, you dear, foolish man, don't you know I'm engaged to marry Mr. Harrington? I didn't ask you if you were engaged. I asked you to marry me. Mr. Power, if this is a joke, I consider it in excessively bad taste. A joke? I was never more serious in my life. Ah, but the thing is absurd. You, a marrying man. There's no law against getting married, is there? Yes, one. Well, tell me and I'll rush through a bill to amend it. Not even a wretched truck can marry a man who hasn't got the lady's consent. You mean that you don't, uh, love me? Love you, Mr. Power. And I just engaged to Mr. Harrington. I haven't begun even to analyze my sentiments toward you, we've practically just met. If you want me to humor you in this farce, I'll admit that I find you an interesting type, as long as you don't make speeches at me or ask me to marry you. And I confess that I admire you. Well? But even if I did love you, which of course I don't, it is usual for the gentleman to be in love with the lady. Haven't I asked you to marry me? Anybody could do that, but he ought to have some excuse. Love is the usual one. Love? I've had no time for love, Mrs. Pretty. In my life there's been no room for women. I've had a life of soulless struggle. I ran away from home to the gold diggings when I was only a kid. I worked. I never found any gold. But there are plenty of opportunities for a willing chap on the diggings. Before I was sixteen I was getting to man's wages and earning them. I saved my money. I never drank. And the women I was thrown into contact with had no attractions for me. Well, I got on. But last the chance came to start a store in a new rush. Luck was with me. Luck has always been with me. That rush became a mining township. And as it grew, my business grew. There were big profits to be made in those days. Honest profits too. And when civilisation came along it found me a rough uncouth, uneducated young man. Prosperous in a small way, but nothing but a country storekeeper. But even then there was in me a vague and vast ambition. I had sensed enough to see what was wanting in me, and set to work to implant it. I began to educate myself. And you don't know how far down I had to start. I could not speak without dropping my ages. I could not write a single letter. But I said to myself that if I could make money, I could make myself. And all that time do you think I could spare a moment for women and love? What was there in this ignorant, rough young man for any woman to love? But at 26 I found the latter by which I was to climb. And when I was elected a member of parliament for that rough mining constituency, not because I could make speeches, but because the miners trusted me and I had grown up among their ideals. Then I had sensed enough to tell myself that so far I was only on the lowest rung of the ladder. I entered parliament, a rough mining member, knowing the needs of my community but unable to express them. I was laughed at by the Tony members who had been to the universities. I became the butt of the whole house. Time or inclination then to fall in love? I saw that I hadn't begun my schooling. I went to a tutor and learnt grammar and arithmetic and history. I found out the uses of libraries. So I slogged in, making myself over night after night and in between I made more money. And gradually the house learned that I was something better than a laughing stock. They found I could hit back and hit hard. They began to see that behind my crudities I meant something and meant to get somewhere. Then my constituency believed in me and returned me again and again. And all the time the greater constituency of labour was growing and it too believed in me. So in the ranks of labour and in the ranks of the house I gradually forced myself forward, helped by nothing but my personality driven on solely by my convictions and my curbed and secret ambition. No one but myself dreamed that the day was so near when labour would rule the land. Time for women then. Time for sentiment. And then the moment I had worked for came and lifted me into the premiership. Time to relax then. Time to become acquainted with a sex I had so long ignored. Time to learn to love. More work crowded in on me. Force me back to the desk. Chained me night and day. Time for women then. Time even to understand them. Time for love. No. Helen who has listened with growing interest. I understand and I sympathise. I guessed something of this else I would not have forgiven you for asking me to marry you when you knew I was engaged. But even if I weren't sufficiently a woman to want to be wooed I must tell you that though you have been able to bludgeon your way to the premiership you can't bludgeon your way into marriage. I'm afraid after all that you're only fit to be a premier. Power formally. Mrs. Pretty I ask you for your hand. Helen rising and giving him her hand. My hand? Certainly you may hold it without prejudice for two minutes. But remember there's a ring already on it. Yes you can squeeze it if you like. He does so making her wince. Thanks but on one condition. Power suddenly cautious. Conditions I? Yes that you give up your mean scheme to take wirenora away from me. Power dropping her hand. Mrs. Pretty you're talking business. Why weren't you? Power after a pause. And it's no yes. Then I had better go. You were really in earnest. You really thought that I an engaged woman would seriously consider a proposal from you. You actually took it for granted that I would listen to you. Well you did. Do you know why? No. Perhaps it was merely a woman's curiosity but no it was because I felt a certain sympathy with you. I was grateful for what you did for me the night before last. But I didn't do anything. That's why a man less honorable would have. Done what? Taken advantage of the extremely compromising position in which I had placed myself. To attempt to kiss me. To kiss you Mrs. Pretty. Never occurred to me. There and it didn't occur to you to disbelieve my story. It never struck you that I an unknown woman might have taken that means to force myself upon you. After all my story didn't sound very believable even to myself. Surely it wasn't all a trick. No it couldn't be. Of course not. But you accepted my bare word. The word of a stranger and a woman. You did not even attempt to see my face nor ask my name. I was grateful for that. So when you asked me to marry you I didn't get up and go. Miss Bim was right. She said her proposals and she'd add 15. Always started with a kiss. Curious. Most no. All of my proposals started the same way. When you've got over this disappointment, if it is a disappointment, and you see some nice woman brought up to be a premier's wife, you might remember Miss Bim's advice. I'll say. I should have started by kissing you. Not at all. Perhaps you should have attempted to. What have I attempted to? I should have kissed you. Helen, taken aback. Oh. I believe you would. Well, no harm done. And now I want your forgiveness. For what? For deliberately leading you on. Leading me on? I assure you I never noticed it. You wouldn't. But I confess, I attempted to flirt with you. I took advantage of your feeling for me to try and induce you to give up your scheme for resuming Wayanora. But it didn't work. You didn't know how to flirt. I see. You wanted to get something out of me. That's why you came to see me. That's why you were nice to me. That's why you invited me up here. My dear miss is pretty. Don't let that distress you. I'm accustomed to that sort of thing. Since I've been premier, I've come to the conclusion that there isn't a single disinterested man in the world. Now I see I must include women. But I should have liked to think that you… Oh, but I do. Lots and lots. Thank you. I believe you. Well, as you said, no harm's done. Let's shake hands. You forgive me? Giving her hand. Thank you. Really, I think you're rather a deer. Power takes her hand, looking into her face. She uneasily drops her eyes. Impulsively, he puts his arm round her, and is on the point of embracing her. Vernon Harrington appears at the French window. Vernon pauses a moment in amazement, then strides forward, his arm raised. You! Power, swinging hell on the side protectively. Harrington! Vernon! Why didn't you come sooner? Vernon, with a sneer, white with passion. Or later… Mrs. Pretty is not to blame. She gave me not the least excuse nor encouragement. I apologise for my mad impulse, and now if you'll allow me, I'll go. Not yet. Helen, I've just heard something that you'll be interested to hear. From Lurkin? Yes, and since Mrs. Pretty is your host, it is her duty to know. It can't matter now, Tilla. He turns about to go. No, you wait and hear. As you please. Vernon, I don't want to hear. You must. That man, whom you invited here as your guest, was involved only the night before last, in a painful scandal of the grossest kind. The night before last? Yes. Though he bluffed Lurkin from publishing the damning facts for a few days, Lurkin felt it his duty to inform me, as leader of the opposition. He taught you in confidence, didn't he? Yes, but this is a matter that concerns you and your capacity of guest at Wyanor. Your hostess has a right to know the whole story. Oh, but I'd be delighted to hear the dreadful thing that Mr. Power did the night before last. I think not. One minute. Lurkin? Lurkin enters. Lurkin, kindly repeat to Mrs. Pretty the statement you have just made to me. I hardly like. You say it wasn't confidence. Go ahead, Lurkin. It's simply this. I happened to catch Mr. Power coming from his private room in the house in the early hours of yesterday morning with a woman. What sort of woman? What sort of woman would be coming from the man's rooms at that hour? It might be his sister, mightn't it, or a child woman. I admit the facts, but I have already explained them. Oh, your explanation. What was it? He said he didn't even know the lady's name. He had found her asleep behind a big screen. It doesn't seem very likely, does it? Though there is a big screen in Mr. Power's room. I saw it myself. Oh, there's another explanation even more preposterous. Lurkin, you promised to withhold publication of your story for three days on condition that I produce the woman. And you won't. I find I am unable to do so. You can publish the whole thing tomorrow. Really? Thank you, sir. I had better send a wire to the office at once. Surely there's no hurry, Mr. Lurkin. I had expected you to stay to lunch. No, there's no hurry. The whole story, explanations and all is set up, but it can't appear before the first edition tomorrow morning. All I have to do is to wire them, it is OK. And while this time the Tribune will probably have the woman's name and her statement. You'd never think it from the Tribune's editorials that it was so clever, would you? Then you'll stay to lunch. Any time this afternoon will do for my wire. Thank you, Mrs. Pretty. I'll wait in the garden. Lurkin goes out. I think I have shown you, Helen, that Mr. Power has fitted neither to be a Premier nor your guest. I do not intend to trespass further on Mrs. Pretty's hospitality. No, Mr. Power. I couldn't think of letting you go without your lunch. I insist on your staying. Thank you. And now's I've got some work to do. One moment, please. Power pauses. To Vernon. And what do you propose to do now? I must wait till tomorrow, then I'll expose him. But the Tribune will have done that. Not as well as I shall. If you like, you can make it public today. Today I am addressing a big meeting at three. Then I suppose you'll tell your meeting this savory story. Yes. And it will win you the by-election. There can be no doubt about that. But the woman? What about the woman? You'll expose her, too. Oh, she must take the consequences. But you don't know whom she is. Not yet, but I can trust the Tribune to unearth her. And you hope they'll find her, so that you can crucify her for your politics and kill her reputation. What's the reputation of one woman when so much is at stake? No matter who she is. No matter who she is. Even if she is innocent? Innocent? That woman? That woman is... No, no. Yes. To Vernon. That woman is me. No, impossible. You? Yes. It was me. I... I went to sleep behind the screen. Vernon, with a savage snarl. That story. You expect me to believe that? Oh, of course. You'll back your partner up. It's the only thing left for you to do. It's a pity you didn't decide between you on a better story. You... you don't believe me? Believe you. I believe you spent the evening in that man's room, put a sleep behind the screen. Nobody would believe you. Nobody. Not even the man I am engaged to marry? Him least of all. Oh, Vernon. You... I find you here in that man's arms, and you think I'm full enough to believe it was for the first time. Barrington. Like that back? Like a backer all? Oh, I believe you. Politely sneering. I believe you both. Your explanation is so satisfactory that... that I have no further doubts. Vernon! I'm afraid that I can't stay till lunch, Mrs. Pretty. Vernon, you can't mean... Mrs. Pretty, I must say goodbye. Not goodbye. Goodbye. Vernon, without any further leave taking, goes out. Helen stands thunderstruck, staring after him. The realization of her dismissal slowly dawns on her. She glances down at her right hand and stares at her engagement ring. Slowly she draws it off, and drops it mechanically into a bowl of wattle with a long sigh. Then she contemplates her finger again, miserably. Power stands waiting, staring straight out, not seeing her. Helen, after a long look at him, shrugs her shoulders and moves toward him. Mr. Power, you don't love me. No. But you asked me to marry you. Why? It was forced on me. Forced on you? Lurkan saw us coming from my room. He threatened to print the story, and the damning interpretation he put on it. He refused to believe my plain statement, so to prevent him, I told him that the woman was my wife. Your wife? Don't you see a man's wife would be the only woman whose presence at that hour could give rise to no scandal. But then you told him that you didn't even know who I was. No, it was pure bluff. At least it would have given me three days. I got him to withhold publication for three days with the promise that I would produce the woman, my wife, within that time. Ah, I see. You did it to shield me, to save that unknown woman's reputation. Mr. Power, that is the thing for which every woman would honor you. And I... I thank you. No, I am not that sort of man. I never gave a thought to you. Oh. You have been frank with me, and all the time I have not been frank with you. I decided to marry that unknown woman. To save her reputation? No, to save my own. Your reputation? But a man's reputation doesn't matter in affairs of this sort. A man's doesn't, but a premier's does. I had to gain time to delay the publication of that libel to the by-election was won. I thought I could find the woman and marry her. You see, I knew nothing of women. And now the story will be published tomorrow, and we'll lose the by-election. And of course, when this comes out, I shall have to resign the premiership. Resign? Step down after you have climbed so high. I couldn't keep a party behind me with the reputation I shall have tomorrow. That means that the government will be defeated and... and Mr. Harrington? You'll make an excellent premier. So you did it all in a desperate effort to save yourself. And my party? Oh, you are your party. Then it was all selfish. This world, Mrs. Pretty, is mostly for itself, and I am merely a politician, no hero. And so, having shown you what I am, I can only apologize for my mad intrusion into your life, and go. That's so like a man. Selfish, yes, because you're a man. And like a man, you have never thought of me. You? Yes. Have you forgotten the shameful scene you witness just now? You saw Mr. Harrington break off his engagement with me. You saw him wound and scorn me. You saw him utterly shame me. Coming impulsively to him. I shall not lift up my beaten head again, unless... Unless what? Unless you marry me. Marry you? But you've already refused me. Helen, with an almost hysterical laugh. You should always ask a woman twice. You forget that when I was bound, I was engaged to Mr. Harrington. You saw what came of that? Well, I'm a free woman again. A bitterly shaken woman. A humble woman. So, Mr. Power, there is no obstacle in your way if... If you'll only ask me again. No, I could not do that. You mean to sacrifice yourself for me. I thank you for it, but I could not so ruin your life. But it is not myself I am sacrificing. It is you I ask to make the sacrifice. Desperately. Mr. Power, I ask you to marry me. You mean it? But why? Why? Oh, don't ask why. Don't ask anything. Just... just take me in your big, strong arms-end and comfort a little child that's got the miserables. You poor little baby, yes. He takes her gently in his arms. Though she expects it, he does not kiss her. I see. We too. That's the only thing left for us to do. Helen, through her tears. There. I feel better already. What a comfortable shoulder you've got, and I'm sure it isn't padded. Bill. Yes, Mrs. Pretty? The man I'm engaged to usually call me Helen. Well, Helen? Bill, I've got an idea. I think being engaged rather stimulates the brain, don't you? Bill, marry me today. Please. So do I. This afternoon. Don't you see? Being engaged doesn't seem to stimulate you. You promise to produce your wife within three days. Well, produce her now. Power suddenly alert. And dish Harrington in the tribute after all. No, don't move. Stay where you are. You might get some more ideas. I'll see if we're married this afternoon. Then Harrington can't say a word at this meeting tonight. And the poor old dribbion can't print a line. That's why. But, Bill dear, could we be married in such a hurry? I arranged all that yesterday, the moment you had left. Helen, releasing herself. Arranged it. Oh, Dick's fixed it up with the nearest registrar. Just in case you accepted me, you know. Oh, you do rush things, Bill. But I like you for it. So you knew all along I'd have you. I was assure you'd marry me yesterday. As I was sure you wouldn't ten minutes ago. I might change my mind again. That's why I suggested us getting married this afternoon. Come, I must introduce you to Lucan. But Mr. Lucan knows me. Only one of you. I want to introduce him to two other people. The mysterious woman and my wife. Hmm, he's out in the garden. He couldn't possibly see us here. Power, unconscious of her wish to be kissed. That's why we must go to him. They go out into the garden. Mrs. Kuzak enters. She is surprised to find the room deserted. She goes up to the French windows and looks out. Helen, on the premier's arm. And Harrington, driving away like a man possessed. Through the other French window to that at which Mrs. Kuzak stands, Dick's and Effie Bimm enter, hand in hand. Another pair. She goes. It's a lovely garden, isn't it? I'd like a garden like that for our house, Herbert. But I think Bill might have had the decency to leave the garden to us. Do you know, Herbert, there was a time when I was just a teeny bit attracted by Mr. Power? Him? Why, he must be forty. And fancy him being caught so easily by that designing creature, Mrs. Pretty. I can't for the life of me see what he can see in her. Why, she must be nearly thirty. And a widow. Here they come. Quick, come into this room. I haven't kissed you on the left ear yet. Then I can't understand how you managed to miss it. They fly. Power and Helen re-enter. Wasn't he surprised and disappointed? Never even congratulated us. Do you know, Bill, you've got a duck of a chin? Have I? What if we're going to be married this afternoon? I must finish up my work. Work? No. Oh, there's always work for a premier. But we're just engaged, Bill. That's what's wise to the time. All are preliminaries. I'll be finished in time for lunch. He goes into the other room. I thought I was getting a husband. And all I've got is a premier. Mrs. Kuzak returns. Well, Helen, can you explain what happened? I've broken off my engagement with Mr. Harrington, and I'm going to marry Mr. Power this afternoon. Helen, was it necessary for you to go to such lengths, merely to prevent Wyonora being taken from you? Wyonora? Why, I've forgotten all about Wyonora. Then hasn't Mr. Power promised not to steal it? Oh, I clean forgot to ask him. Then why? Why, are you going to marry the premier? The usual reason, Mrs. Kuzak? Because I love him. I fell in love with him at first sight, behind the screen at two o'clock in the morning. But how did you know? How do I know? My dear Mrs. Kuzak, I'm a widow. And I'm head over heels in love with the great, big, burly, silly baby. A gong sounds. That's lunch. Helen, running toward the door. Bill, dear, bill, billykins, the gong's gone for the wedding breakfast. Curtain. End of Act Two. Act Three of Mrs. Pretty in the Premier by Arthur Adams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act Three. Scene. The same is in Act One. The time is midnight, a few days later. House of Parliament is in session. William Power is seen at his table, busily working, clearing out pigeonholes and drawers, filing and destroying documents. His manner is grave and preoccupied. Vice, shown in by Gregory, enters. Well? It's all up, Bill. We're still one vote short. Just the one vote we need to make it a tie and enable us to carry on till our absentee members can get back. Wouldn't Thompson rat? I thought we could novel him, but... Wasn't our price high enough? Nothing we could offer would be high enough. He can't be bribed for his vote. He's been bribed already. Harrington has offered him a place in his cabinet. Or more to thought of that. It's just what I would have done myself when so much depended on one vote. The rotten luck of it all. Here we've got a working majority, an actual working majority. And Whittaker gets suddenly ill. And McCallum's in New Zealand and Harrington won't allow him a pair. And we get our man in at Wyonora by election. And the Ritz not return, and he can't take his seat till Wednesday. And down on us swoops Harrington with a censure motion. Of course it's a snap division, but it's a censure motion. And the governor must send for Harrington. Lenny forms a ministry and goes straight to the country as premier. And you know what that means. It's the dead finish, Bill. Oh, we'll get our innings again someday. But to be snuffed out like this, after all I did, my sacrifice was useless. Your sacrifice? Oh, I see. You mean your marriage with Mrs. Pretty? All that bother. And all useless. You're the first husband I've met who regarded as honeymoon as a sacrifice. My honeymoon? There hasn't been a honeymoon. No honeymoon? No marriage. But you told me you married her. Legally, yes. But immediately after the ceremony I got wind of Harrington's motion of censure and I moated straight down here. But Mrs. Power? Mrs. Power? Oh, you mean the lady I married. I left her at Wyonora. As a married man, Bill, I think you made a mistake. Women don't easily forgive a thing like that. Oh, I can't consider our feelings in a crisis like this. And after the division tonight, I'll have plenty of time for this honeymoon foolery. You'll be a free man tomorrow. No, I mean today. It's a quarter to one. Go back to Wyonora first thing and make it up. But I can't understand Harrington making this compulsory resumption of empty estates, Bill, the ground of essential motion. Why not? It's the only subject on which his party is unanimous. I grant you. It was good political tactics on Harrington's part. But surely you forget that Mrs. Pretty's estate, I mean your wife's estate, is the first area to be resumed under your bill. Well, because I'm married, is that any reason why I should go back on my policy? I see. She'll let you have your way. I haven't discussed it with her. You haven't spoken to her about it. The subject wasn't mentioned. No time. She'd have been dreadfully disappointed if you'd passed your bill. Well, thanks to Harrington, it won't be passed. Thanks to Harrington. I say, Bill, how did it occur to you that she might have put Harrington up to this motion of censure? What for? To save her estate. You won't help her. Why shouldn't she turn to the one man who cares? I don't know much about women, but I admit it seems rather likely. Thinking it over. Yes, why shouldn't she? So I owe this to my wife. Grimly. And you ask me to go straight to her now? I don't say she's done it, but you see, she turned Harrington down, and he's not the sort of man to give up. I often suspected that Harrington's passion swayed him more than he let us see. He's still in love with your wife, and here's his chance to show her he can serve her and humiliate you. He might be working for more than the premiership. He may want your wife. If she's burnt at the bottom of it, he's welcome to her. But talking won't do any good. It's no use coping the debate going any longer, is it? Let's get back to the chamber and take the division as soon as Well's has finished his speech. Might as Well get it over. It's nearly one o'clock, and I'd like a sleep. Well, goodbye, Bill. When we come back to this room again, you won't be premier. Goodbye, old chap. It's all the luck of the game. Power and vice go out. A knock has heard at the door. Gregory is surprised. He opens the door. Helen Power enters. She is in evening dress. Gregory, where's the premier? I'm not very sure, Mum. Who is the premier just now? But Mr. Power is engaged in the chamber. If you'd wait till after the division. The vote hasn't been taken yet? Not yet, Mum. But are you sure? You wouldn't know here what's going on in the house. I'd know by the division bell, Mum. Uh, what's a division bell? Gregory, indicating the division bell over the door. That, Mum, when a vote is being taken, the bells ring all over the house to call the members in to record their votes. But what does Mr. Power want with one in here for? Wouldn't he hear the other bells ringing? Not in this private room, Mum. It's soundproof, with double doors. The cabinet meetings are held here. And it wouldn't do for anybody to overhear all the devilry that goes on. Now would it? I see. Please tell Mr. Power that I'm here. His wife. Yes, Mum. Gregory goes. Helen, left alone, examines the room. Her attention is specially drawn to the division bell. She examines it carefully, then comes down. Oh, if there was some way that I could help. Gregory returns, showing in power, and retires. You! I thought you were at Juan Nora. At home, when you were fighting for your life, you thought that I could stay sitting quietly there with my useless hands in my lap, with not even a telegram from you to tell me how the battle was going? Bill, your wife is not that sort of wife. But quick, tell me, what chance have you of winning? None. He's caught us on the hop, with one of my party away ill, another away New Zealand, and the writ for the by-election not returned, so that Brown can't vote. So Harrington's party will just win by one vote. Only one vote? That's enough. You ought to be satisfied with your work. My work? What have I done? Oh, if only I could do something. Surely you've done enough. I don't understand. How could I? Let me remind you. I was called away down here immediately after my hour, marriage. I'd unblame you for being angry at my desertion, but that you should seek to revenge yourself in this way, and by that man. Bill, what on earth are you talking about? I'll be plain enough. You're angry because I left you. You knew that I was committed to the passing of the bill that would take wirenora from you, so you turned to the one man who could prevent that bill passing. You think that I got Mr. Harrington to move this vote of Sanger? Oh, but you can't think that of me. That I plotted your defeat? And with that man? Why, I hate him. That would not prevent you using him, would it? But what grounds? What evidence have you got to show I could do this thing? Ah, you're clever enough to hide your tracks. But I haven't seen Mr. Harrington. I haven't written to him. Your very presence here at this hour confirms me. You came down to share in Harrington's triumph. I came down because I was torn with anxiety about your estate. No, about my husband. Because I had hoped that in some way I could help you. Help me? A woman? Your wife. It's too late now, either to help or hinder. That bell will ring at any moment. I suppose you'd like to come into the lady's gallery to see my defeat? No. I'm too upset, too hurt, too miserable to see anybody. Couldn't I wait here? Very well. But you'll come straight back after I hear the bell and tell me the result, won't you? Yes, but there can only be one result. Bill, you've made me your wife. And I am almost happy because you will see how silly your suspicions are. And Bill, I almost hoped for your defeat. I knew it. Because in your downfall, perhaps, perhaps you'll feel the need of me. I shall wait here, and if it is not Premier who comes back to me, it will be somebody I love infinitely better, my husband. Power arrested by her sincerity. Helen, it was vice who put those ideas into my mind. Convince me. Gregory enters with a note, which he hands to power. I am wanted at once in the house. Wait here. He goes out. Oh, to think that he should believe that I and Mr. Harrington... Suddenly arrested by a new thought. Mr. Harrington, Vernon, why shouldn't I try? Pulling herself together as she sees Gregory waiting. Gregory! Yes, Mrs. Power? My husband tells me that the opposition will beat him by just one vote. One vote will be enough. But isn't there any chance that one vote could be won over from the other side? Do you think, ma'am, that that hasn't been tried? That's the first lesson of practical politics. But couldn't one of the opposition be prevented from voting? How? I think if I were Premier, I'd strangle him. That's just what Mr. Power would love to do, especially if it was Mr. Harrington. But it's rather risky, even for a Premier. But there must be other ways. I wish we knew them, ma'am. It would save the country all the expense of the elections. Suppose? Suppose? There's none of the opposition deaf are there? No. But why deaf, ma'am? It's a pity. If only one of their side was deaf, he wouldn't hear the division bells ringing, would he? And if he didn't know the vote was being taken, we'd win. But even a deaf man would hear the division bells tonight, with such an important vote coming on. But suppose something went wrong with a bell, and it didn't ring? He'd hear the other bells, ma'am. But if this bell didn't ring? What made you think of that? Well, a couple of years ago, something went wrong with the wire to that bell, and it refused to ring. The Premier missed the division. But it wasn't an important one. And I got a new wire put in the next day. That bell? It might happen again, mightn't it? Hardly likely, ma'am. And if the Premier's bell didn't ring, and he was in here, that would mean only an extra vote to the opposition. I wasn't thinking of the Premier, Gregory. Wait a minute. She seats herself at the table and scribbles a note, puts it into an envelope, addresses it, and hands it to Gregory. Please take this to Mr. Harrington at once. Mr. Harrington? Uh-oh. But I'm afraid there's no chance of him attending to it till after the division. I depend on you, Gregory, to make Mr. Harrington read this note before the vote is taken. You must. Mrs. Power, you don't mean to say. There's not a minute to waste. I'll get it to him, ma'am. I'll make him read it. To himself? Women. They'll dare anything. He hastens out. Helen watches him till the door closes. Then goes quickly up to the division bell, places a chair beneath it, mounts on it, rapidly strips one of her long gloves from her arm, and stuffs it carefully between the striker and the bell, of actually preventing it from sounding. She jumps down, replaces the chair, contemplates her work with satisfaction, seeing that the glove does not show, smiles, and returns to the table, where she sits in the Premier's chair, impatiently waiting. Harrington enters, with her letter opened in his hand. Vernon, it was good of you to come. Mrs. Mrs. Power, why did you write this? I felt I must see you, to make it up. It is too late for that. Well then, to tell you that I am sorry. What the hell is the good of that? Vernon, won't you forgive me, even after the cruel way I've wronged you, if I say I regret? You bring me here at this hour of the night, when every moment is of importance. To talk? To explain? The thing's done. Finished. There's nothing more between us, and I've no time to waste with you here. I've got more important business on hand. So you won't forgive me, Vernon? I came down all this way because I reproached myself with my unkind treatment of you. Oh, well. But I can't bear you leaving me for the last time, as you did at Wyonora. Won't you just shake hands? Good-bye. Vernon, hurriedly taking her hand. Oh, yes, I'll say good-bye. Helen, holding it, eagerly. Vernon, before you go out of my life forever, I must tell you something. I have made the greatest mistake a woman can make. Ah, so you have found out already. So as a husband— Husband? He's not a husband. He left me the very hour we were married. Well, he has made an honest woman out of you, hasn't he? That is all you wanted. Vernon! Recalled to her purpose. I thought I loved him. I don't. Oh, why? Why didn't you take me from him? Her hand caressingly on his arm. Vernon, it's you. You I love. I've always loved. It's you I love still. I knew it. He's about to draw her to him when he hesitates, and looks at her suspiciously. No. You're trying to fool me. Trying to persuade me to let your husband off. No. Fool that I was not to see it. You're trying to keep me here to prevent me recording my vote. How could you think that of me? I know I deserve your suspicions, but Vernon, how could I keep you here against your will? No. I'd hear the bell. Of course you'd hear the bell. Vernon, you can't know how he treats me. He said things to me just now that made me desperate. He flung me off. He almost struck me. The moment he left I scribbled that note to you. I mean every word of it. I don't care. I don't care what happens. His wife, after the things he said to me, never. I'd like to show him. He has driven me to it. Vernon, can't you see? He has your chance to revenge yourself on him. Revenge? I'll have my revenge the minute that bell rings. Isn't his defeat revenge enough? No, there's a greater one. When he returns from the chamber, defeated, perhaps even wanting my sympathy and forgiveness, then, if I can tell him to his face, that I've taken my revenge too. You don't mean. The hint you gave in your letter? I mean everything. Everything you could read into that letter. Everything that I've said. I will tell him that here, in this room of his, I... Ah yes, that would be good, but let me tell him. I don't care who does, but I know I could hurt him more. His wife. He called me. He was right. Vernon, I know you love me. Love you? By God, yes, Helen, mine. He crushes her in his arms, but suddenly his old suspicions return. He puts her from him. No, it's a trick, a plot to keep me from voting. No, I'd hear the division bell. He takes her again in his arms. Helen, my Helen. Savagely and triumphantly. His wife. Vernon, kiss me. Vernon, about to kiss her, suddenly smiles. Wasn't that the screen he found you behind that night? The dear old screen. Come. He almost carries her behind the screen. After a pause, power comes draining in, triumphant. Wave one. Arringdon didn't vote. He's disappeared. He pauses as he sees no sign of Helen. Why, she's gone. Must have gone to the lady's gallery. He turns to go. A slight sound behind the screen arrests his attention. Why? He strides over and flings the screen down. Helen is seen standing by the window, as if she has just repulsed Vernon, who stands angrily regarding her. Arringdon, here. The vote. The vote can't have been taken. You didn't vote, so it was a tie, and we won by the speaker's casting vote, and we have adjourned till next week, when we'll have our majority back. But I don't understand. Oh, Mr. Harrington, and I kept you. I'm so sorry. You. But the division bell. I will look on everywhere for you. Nobody thought of looking in here. Mr. Harrington would stay chatting. But the bell. He goes quickly up and looks at the bell. He discovers the glove in it, unnoticed by power, and reaching up is about to take it out, when he stays his hand. To himself. A trick. A woman's trick. To power, coming down. I must congratulate you. Thanks. It's all the luck of the game. Oh, not on your victory, but on your wife. To Helen, meaningly. I must thank you for the... the pleasant little chat we had behind that screen. It was worth losing the premiership for. Good night. He goes off. Power puzzled. So he was here all the time. Helen, you kept him here? It was fortunate that I did, wasn't it? You did it on purpose to save me. It wasn't much to do, was it? But the government's victory, and on that resumption of empty estates, Bill, means that we must go on with it and pass it. And you'll lose why Nora. My estate. I never thought of that. I was only thinking of you. But I don't understand. How did Harrington come here? I sent him a little invitation. I'll see. But how did you manage to keep him here when he knew the vote was coming on? He must have forgotten all about the nasty vote. Harrington, forget. Why shouldn't he? I was rather nice to him, and I can be, you know. Or rather, you don't know, yet. Power, whose puzzlement, had been growing to suspicion. But Harrington's no fool. He'd hear the division bell. Where sudden passion, jealously. Helen, you kept him here? You say, chatting with you, when he knew the importance of this vote? He stayed here, behind that screen, with you, with that division bell, and all it meant to him, clanging in his ears? My God, Helen. I told you I had to be rather nice to him. Nice. Yes, you women know how to be nice. You were in Harrington's arms, at the very moment when I thought I had him beaten. Oh, you. You saved me, yes. But the price you paid, you. No, I won't say it. You're my wife, you bear my name. But go. Why, Bill, you're jealous. Really and truly jealous. Jealous? Yes. Jealous of my wife. My wife? No. Jealous of a woman who could hold that man in her arms, who could stop with her kisses the sound of that damned division bell. There. You are jealous. I do believe, husband, that you're really in love with me. In love with you? God forgive me, yes. Madly in love, and with a woman who is no better than my wife. But I had to flirt a teeniest little bit with him, hadn't I? Flirt? Were that bell dinning in his ears? What bell? That a vision bell over that door. I didn't hear any bell. No, you wouldn't hear it. That bell up there, you say? I really cannot recollect it ringing. Perhaps it didn't ring. It didn't for your lover, nor for you, and I married you. Breaking down. Helen, why? Why, when I must never see you again, must I want you so? I knew all along you loved me, so this is goodbye. It must be. Then I'll go. Looking on the floor. Dear me, I've dropped my gloves somewhere. Look behind the screen. Of course. Goes up and looks. Not here. I wonder why I really believe there it is stuffed in the division bell. In the bell? He goes to the bell and reaching up extracts the glove. How? Stupid of me to forget. I put it there myself, before I sent for Mr. Harrington. You see, Bill, I didn't want him to hurry away. It didn't ring. And he didn't know that a vision was being taken. And you? But Harrington said. He said it was worthwhile. Bill, you don't believe that I stuffed up that bell for my own sake, because I wanted him. You can't believe that. No. I knew it. I had to be rather nice with him to lead him on. Of course it was mean of me, but it was for you. But, Bill, it did seem a long time before you came in. Another minute and I would have called for Gregory. Gregory was listening at the door as I came in. He knew then. Of course. He was a fellow conspirator. Holding out the smooth glove. It hasn't crumpet much after all, has it? And you did that for me? Oh, you'll have to buy another pair of gloves. You ought to be able to afford it. Your premiere, still. Ah, you've made me more than that. You've made me your husband. He embraces her. Curtain. End of Act Three. End of Mrs. Pretty and the Premier by Arthur Adams.