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LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
21 Bcdjord St., W.C,
A Man of Honoc/ti
^ A T%AqEDr
In Four Acts
By JV. S. MAUGHAM
CHICAGO:
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY
Printed in England
HA!K
TO
GERALD KELLY
396931
"Ich ilbersah meine Sache und wusste
wohin ich wollte "
ECKERMANN, Gfsprciclie mit Goethe.
GENERAL PREFACE
.... For Clisthenes, son of Aristonymus, son of
Myron, son of Andreas, had a daughter whose name
was Agarista : her he resolved to give in marriage to
the man whom he should find the most accomplished
of all the Greeks. When therefore the Olympian
games were being celebrated, Clisthenes, being
victorious in them in the chariot race, made a procla-
mation ; " that whoever of the Greeks deemed
himself worthy to become the son-in-law of Clisthenes,
should come to Sicyon on the sixtieth day, or even
before ; since Clisthenes had determined on the
marriage in a year, reckoning from the sixtieth day."
Thereupon such of the Greeks as were puffed up with
themselves and their country, came as suitors ; and
Clisthenes, having made a race-course and palaestra
for them, kept it for this very purpose. From Italy,
accordingly, came Smindyrides, son of Hippocrates,
a Sybarite, who more than any other man reached the
highest pitch of luxury, (and Sybaris was at that
time in a most flourishing condition;) and Damasus
of Siris, son of Amyris called the Wise : these came
from Italy. From the Ionian gulf, Amphimnestus,
ix
X PREFACE
son of Epistrophus, an Epidamnian ; he came from
the Ionian gulf. An ^tolian came, Males, brother
of that Titormus who surpassed the Greeks in
strength, and fled from the society of men to the
extremity of the ^toHan territory. And from
Peloponnesus^ Leocedes, son of Pheidon, tyrant of the
Argivesj a decendant of that Pheidon, who introduced
measures among the Peloponnesians, and was the
most insolent of all the Greeks, who having removed
the Elean umpires, himself regulated the games at
Olympia ; his son accordingly came. And Amiantus,
son of Lycurgus, an Arcadian from Trapezus ; and an
Azenian from the city of P?eos, Laphanes, son of
Euphorion, who, as the story is told in Arcadia,
received the Dioscuri in his house, and after that
entertained all men ; and an Elean, Onomastus, son
of Agfeus : these accordingly came from the
Peloponnesus itself. From Athens there came
Megacles, son of Alcmseon, the same who had visited
Crcesus, and another, Hippoclides, son of Tisander,
who surpassed the Athenians in wealth and beauty.
From Eretria, which was flourishing at that time,
came Lysanias ; he was the only one from Euboea.
And from Thessaly there came, of the Scopades,
Diactorides a Cranonian; and from the Molossi, Alcon.
So many were the suitors. When they had arrived
on the appointed day, Clisthenes made inquiries of
their country, and the family of each ; then detaining
PREFACE xi
them for a year, he made trial of their manly
qualities, their dispositions, learning, and morals ;
holding familiar intercourse with each separately, and
with all together, and leading out to the gymnasia
such of them as were younger ; but most of all he
made trial of them at tlie banquet ; for as long as he
detained them, he did this throughout, and at the
same time entertained them magnificently. And
somehow of all the suitors those that had come from
Athens pleased him most, and of these Hippoclides,
son of Tisander, was preferred both on account of
his manly qualities, and because he was distantly
related to the Cypselidae in Corinth. When the day
appointed for the consummation of the marriage
arrived^ and for the declaration of Clisthenes himself,
whom he would choose of them all, Clisthenes, having
sacrificed a hundred oxen, entertained both the suitors
themselves and all the Sicyonians ; and when they
had concluded the feast, the suitors had a contest
about music, and any subject proposed for conversa-
tion. As the drinking went on, Hippoclides, who much
attracted the attention of the rest, ordered the flute-
player to play a dance ; and when the flute-player
obeyed, he began to dance : and he danced, probably
so as to please himself ; but Clisthenes, seeing it,
beheld the whole matter with suspicion. Afterwards,
Hippoclides, having rested awhile, ordered some one
to bring in a table ; and when the table came in, he
xii PREFACE
first danced Laconian figures on it, and then Attic
ones ; and in the third place, having leant his head
on the table he gesticulated with his legs. But
Clisthenes, when he danced the first and second time,
revolted from the thought of having Hippoclides for
his son-in-law, on account of his dancing and want
of decorum, yet restrained himself, not wishing to
burst out against him ; but when he saw him
gesticulating with his legs, he was no longer able to
restrain himself, and said : " Son of Tisander, you
have danced away your marriage." But Hippoclides
answered: "Hippoclides cares not." Hence this
answer became a proverb. (Herodotus VI. 12G,
Carys Translation.)
This play was first performed by the Stage Society
at the Imperial Theatre on February 22, 1903, with
the following cast :
Basil Kent
Jenny Bush
James Bush
John Halliwell
Mabel
Hilda Murray
Robert Brackley
Mrs. Griggs
Fanny
Butler
H. Granville Barker
Winifred Fraser
O. B. Clarence
Dennis Eadie
Gertrude Burnett
Mabel Terry-Lewis
Nigel Playfair
Henrietta Cowen
Gertrude de Burgh
A. BOWYER
XIU
A M^N OF HONOUIl
CHJl^JCTERS
Basil Kent
Jenny Bush
James Bush
John Halliwell
Mabel
Hilda Mueeay
Robeet Beackley
Mes. Geiggs
Fanny
Butlee
Time : T/ie Present Day.
Act I — Basil's lodgings in Bloonisbury.
Acts II and V^—The drawing-room of Basil's
house at Putney.
Act III — Mrs. Murray's house in Charles Street.
XV
The Performing Rights of this Play are
fully protected, and permission to perform
it, whether by Amateurs or Professionals^
must he obtained in advance from the
author's Sole Agent, R. Golding Bright,
20 Oreen Street, Leicester Square^ London,
W.C, from whom all 2^'^^'^^^^^'^^^^^^ c^**
he obtained.
XVI
A MAN OF HONOUR
THE FIRST ACT
Sitting-room of Basil's Lodgings in Bloomsbury.
In the loall facing the auditorium, tivo loindows icith
little iron balconies, giving a view of London
roofs. Between the loindotvs, against the wall, is
a ivriting-desk litte^^ed ivith papers and hooks. On
the right is a door, leading into the j^o-ssage ; on
the left a fire-place with arm-chairs on either side ;
on the chimney-piece various smoking utensils.
There are numerous bookshelves filled with books;
ivhile on the ivcdls are one or two Delft plates,
etchings after Eossetti, autotypes of paintings by
Fra Angelico and Botticelli. The furniture is
simple and inexjyensive, but there is nothing ugly
in the room. It is the dwelling-place of a person
loho oreads a great deed and takes pleasure in
beautiful things.
Basil Kent is leaning back in his chair, with his feet
on the writing-table, smoking a pipe and cutting
1 A
2 A MAN OF HONOUR
the Images of a hook. He is a very good-looking
man of six-and-ticenty^ clean-shaven, tvith a
delicate face and clear-cut features. He is dressed
in a lounge-suit,
\There is a knock at the door,
Basil.
Come in.
Mrs. Griggs.
Did you ring, sir '^
Basil.
Yes. I expect a lady to tea. And there's a cake
that I bought on my way in.
Mrs. Griggs.
Very well, sir.
\She goes out, and iymnediatehj comes in lolth a
tray on tvhich are ttvo cujjs, sugar, milk,
(he,
Basil.
Oh, Mrs. Griggs, I want to give up these rooms
this day week. I'm going to be married. I'm sorry
to leave you. You've made me very comfortable.
Mrs. Griggs.
\]Vit]i a sigh oj 7'esignatio7i.] Ah, w^ell, sir, that's
lodgers all over. If they'ie gents they get married ;
and if they're ladies they ain't respectable.
[^'1 ring is heard-
Basil.
There's the bell, Mrs. Griggs. I dare say it^s the
A MAN OF HONOUR a
lady I expect. If any one else comes, I'm not at
home.
Mrs. Griggs.
Very well, sir.
\^She goes out, and Basil occu2nes himself for a
moment in 2nitting things in order. Mrs.
Griggs, opening the door, ushers in the
neio- comers.
Mrs. Griggs.
If you please, sir.
[She goes out again, and during the next feio
speeches brings two more cups and the tea,,
[Mabel and Hilda enter, followed hy John
Halliwell. Basil going toioards them
very cordially , half stojys vjhen he notices
v)ho they a/'e ; and a slight exj^ression of
embarrassment passes over his face. But
he immediately recovers himself and is
extremely gracious. Hilda Murray is a
tall, handsome woman, self-possessed and
admirably govraed. Mabel Halliwell is
smaller^ pretty rather than beautifid,
younger than her sister, vivacious, very
talkative, aud somewhat irresponsible.
John is of the same age as Basil, good-
humoured, neither handsome nor 7J>^«i?i
blunt 0-^ speech and open.
Basil.
[Shaking hands,^ How d'you do ?
4 A MAN OF HONOUR
Mabel.
Look pleased to see us, Mr. Kent.
Basil.
I'm perfectly enchanted.
Hilda.
You did ask us to come and have tea with you,
didn't you?
Basil.
I've asked you fifty times. Hulloa, John ! I didn't
see you.
John.
I'm the discreet husband, I keep in the background.
Mabel.
Why don't you praise me instead of praising
yourself ? People would think it so much nicer.
John.
On the contrary, they'd be convinced that when
we were alone I beat you. Besides, I couldn't
honestly say that you kept in the background.
Hilda.
\^To Basil.] I feel rather ashamed at taking you
unawares.
Basil.
I was only slacking. I was cutting a book.
Mabel.
That's ever so much more fun than reading it, isn't
it ? \_She catches sight of the tea things.] Oh, what a
A MAN OF HONOUR 5
beautiful cake — and two cups! [S7ie loohs at h.lm,
questioning .^^
Basil.
[^ little aivkwardly.'] Oh — I always have an extra
cup in case some one turns up, you know.
Mabel.
How unselfish ! And do you always have such
expensive cake ?
Hilda.
\With a smile, remonstrati7ig.] Mabel !
Mabel.
^ Oh, but I know them well, and I love them dearly.
They cost two shillings at the Army and Navy Stores,
but 1 can't afford them myself.
John.
I wish you'd explain why we've come, or Basil will
think I'm responsible.
Mabel.
[Lightly.] I've been trying to remember ever since
we arrived. You say it, Hilda ; you invented it.
Hilda.
[With a laugh.] Mabel, I'll never take you out
again. They're perfectly incorrigible, Mr. Kent.
Basil.
[To John and Mabel, smiling.] I don't know why
yoiive come. Mrs. Murray has promised to come and
have tea with me for ages.
6 A MAN OF HONOUR
Mabel.
^Pretending to feel injured^ Well, you needn't turn
me out the moment we arrive. Besides, I refuse to
go till I've had a piece of that cake.
Basil.
"Well, here's the tea ! [Mrs. Griggs hrings it in as
he sjyealcs. He turns to Hilda.] I wish you'd pour it
out. I'm so clumsy.
Hilda.
[Smiling at him qfectionately.] I shall be delighted.
[She proceeds to do so, a7id the conversation goes
on while Basil hands Mabel tea and cake.
John.
I told them it was improper for more than one
woman at a time to call at a bachelor's rooms, Basil.
Basil.
If you'd warned me I'd have made the show a bit
tidier.
Mabel.
Oh, that's just what we didn't want. We wanted
to see the Celebrity at Home, without lime-light.
Basil.
[Ironically.^ You're too flattering.
Mabel.
By the way, how is the book ?
Basil.
Quite well^ thanks.
A MAN OF HONOUR 7
Mabel.
I always forget to ask how it's getting on.
Basil.
On the contrary, you never let slip an opportunity
of making kind inquiries.
Mabel.
/ don't believe you've written a word of it.
Hilda.
Nonsense, Mabel. I've read it.
Mabel.
Oh, but you're such a monster of discretion. . .
Now I want to see your medals, Mr. Kent.
Basil.
[Smiling.] What medals ?
Mabel.
Don't be coy ! You know I mean the medals they
gave you for going to the Cape.
Basil.
[Gets them from a draioer, and ivith a smile hands
them to Mabel.] If you really care to see them, here
they are.
Mabel.
[Taking one.] What's this ?
Basil.
Oh, that's just the common or garden South
African medal.
8 A MAN OF HONOUR
Mabel.
And the other one ?
Basil.
That's the D.S.M.
Mabel.
Why didn't they give you the D.S.O. ?
Basil.
Oh, I was only a trooper, you know. They only
give the D.S.O. to officers.
Mabel.
And what did you do to deserve it ?
Basil.
[Smiling.l I really forget.
Hilda.
It's given for distinguished service in the field,
Mabel.
Mabel.
I knew. Only I wanted to see if Mr. Kent was
modest or vain.
Basil.
l^^Vith a smile, taking the viedcds froon Aer and
putting tlieni awai/.] How spiteful of you !
Mabel.
John, why didn't you go to the Cape, and do heroic
things ?
A MAN OF HONOUR ^
John.
I confined my hei-oism to the British Isles. I
married you, my angel.
Mabel.
Is that funny or vulgar ?
Basil.
[Laughing.'] Are there no more questions you want
to ask me, Mrs. Halliwell ?
Mabel.
Yes, I want to know why you live up six flights of
stairs.
Basil.
[Amitsed.] For the view, simply and solely.
Mabel.
But, good heavens, there is no view. There are
only chimney-pots.
Basil.
But they're most aesthetic chimney-pots. Do come
and look, Mrs, Murray. [Basil and Hilda a2)2Jroach
one of the loindoics, and he 02:>ens it.] And at night
they're so mysterious. They look just like strange
goblins playing on the house-tops. And you can't
think how gorgeous the sunsets are : sometimes, after
the rain, the slate roofs glitter like burnished gold.
[To Hilda.] Often I think I couldn't have lived with-
out my view, it says such wonderful things to me.
[Turning to Mabel gaily.'] ScoflT, Mrs. Halliwell, I'm
on the verge of being sentimental.
10 A MAN OF HONOUR
Mabel.
I was wondering if you'd made that up on the spur
of the moment, or if you'd fished it out of an old
note-book.
Hilda.
[With a look at Basil.] May I go out?
Basil.
Yes, do come.
[Hilda and Basil ste]) out on the balcony,
whe7^eupon John goes to Mabel a7id tries
to steal a kiss from her.
Mabel.
[Springing zt;;.] Go away, you horror !
John.
Don't be silly. I shall kiss you if I want to.
[She laughing, walks round the sofa ivhile he
pursues her.
Mabel.
I wish you'd treat life more seriously.
John.
I wish you wouldn't wear such prominent hats.
Mabel.
[.4 s he puts his arm round her ivaist.] John, some
body'Jl see us.
A MAN OF HONOUR ii
John.
Mabel, I command you to let yourself be kissed.
Mabel.
How much will you give me ?
John.
Sixpence.
Mabel.
[Slippmg aivay from Aim.] I can't do it for less
than half-a-crown.
John.
\Laughing\ I'll give you two shillings.
Mabel.
\Coaxing?\ Make it two-and-three.
\He kisses her.
John.
Now come and sit down quietly.
Mabel.
[Sitting down by his side.] John, you mustn't make
love to me. It would look so odd if they came in.
John.
After all, I am your^husband.
Mabel.
That's just it. If you wanted to make love to me
you ought to have married somebody else. [He puts
his arm rowid her waist.\ John, don't, I'm sure they'll
come in.
12 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
I don't care if they do.
Mabel,
[Sighing.] Jolni, you do love me ?
John.
Yes.
Mabel.
And you won't ever care for* anybody else ?
John.
No.
Mabel.
[/7^ the same tone.] And you will give me that two-
and-threepence, won't you ?
John.
Mabel, it was only two shillings.
Mabel.
Oh, you cheat !
John.
[Getting np.] I'm going out on the balcony. I'm
passionately devoted to chimney-pots.
Mabel.
No, John, I want you.
John.
Why?
A MAN OF HONOUR 13
Mabel.
Isn't it enough for me to say I want you for you
to hurl yourself at my feet immediately ?
JOHX.
Oh, you poor thing, can't you do without me for
two minutes ?
Mabel.
Now you're taking a mean adviintage. It's only
this particular two minutes that I want you. Gome
and sit by me like a nice, dear boy.
John.
Now what have you been doing that you shouldn't ?
Mabel.
[Lau(jhi)i(/.] Nothing. But I want you to do some-
thing for me.
John.
Ha, ha ! I thought so.
Mabel.
It's merely to tie up my shoe. [She 2?ufs out her
foot.]
John.
Is that all — honour bright ?
Mabel.
[Laughing.] Yes. [John kneels doivn.]
John.
But, my good girl, it's not undone.
14 A MAN OF HONOUR
Mabel.
Then, my good boy, undo it and do it up again.
John.
[Starting ii^).] Mabel, are we playing gooseberry —
at our time of life ?
Mabel.
[l7'07iicaUi/.] Ob, you are clever ! Do you think
Hilda would have climbed six flights of stairs unless
Love had lent her wings ?
John.
I wish Love would provide wings for the chaperons
as well.
Mabel.
Don't be flippant. It's a serious matter.
John.
My dear girl, you really can't expect me to play
the heavy father when we've only been married six
months. It would be almost improper.
Mabel.
Don't be horrid, John.
John.
It isn't horrid, it's natural history.
Mabel.
[Primhj.] I was never taught it. It's not thought
nice for young girls to know.
A MAN OF HONOUR 15
JOHX.
Why didn't you tell me that Hilda was fond of
Basil ! Does he like her ?
Mabel.
I don't know. I expect that's precisely what she's
asking him.
John.
Mabel, do you mean to say you brought me here,
an inoffensive, harmless creature, for your sister to
propose to a pal of mine ? It's an outrage.
Mabel.
She's doing nothing of the sort.
John.
You needn't look indignant. You can't deny that
you proposed to me.
Mabel.
I can, indeed. If I had I should never have taken
such an unconscionably long time about it.
John.
I wonder why Hilda wants to marry poor Basil !
Mabel.
Well, Captain Murray left her five thousand a year,
and she thinks Basil Kent a genius.
John.
There's not a drawing-room in Regent's Park or in
Bayswater that hasn't got its tame genius. I don't
know if Basil Kent is much more than very clever.
IG A MAN OF HONOUR
Mabel.
Anyhow, I'm sure its a mistake to marry geniuses.
They're horribly bad-tempered, and they invariably
make love to other people's wives.
John.
Hilda always has goce in for literary people.
That's the worst of marrying a cavalryman, it leads
you to attach so much importance to brains.
Mabel.
Yes, but she needn't marry them. If she wants to
encourage Basil let her do it from a discreet distance.
Genius always thrives best on bread and water and
platonic attachments. If Hilda marries him he'll
only become fat and ugly and bald-headed and
stupid.
JOHX.
Why, then he'll make an ideal Member of Parlia-
ment.
[Basil and Hilda come into the room again,
Mabel.
\^Maliciously ^\ Well, what have }0U been talking
about ?
Hilda.
[Acidly.^ The weather and the crops, Shakespeare
and the Musical Glasses.'
Mabel.
[liaising her eyehroWi\ Oh !
A MAN OF HONOUR 17
Hilda.
It's getting very late, Mabel. We really must be
going.
Mabel.
\Getting u]?.'] And I've got to pay at least twelve
calls. I hope every one will be out.
Hilda.
People are so stupiil, they're alwavs in when you
call.
Mabel.
[Holding out her hand to Basil.] Good-bye.
Hilda.
\Coldly.'\ Thanks so much, Mr. Kent, I'm afraid
we disturbed you awfully.
Basil.
[Shaking hands luith her.] I've been enchanted to
see you. Good-bye.
Mabel.
[Lightlf/.] We shall see you again before you go to
Italy, shan't we ?
Basil.
Oh, I'm not going to Italy now, I've changed all
my plans.
Mabel.
[Giving Joht^- a look.] Oh ! Well, good-bye.
Aren't you coming, John.
B
18 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
No : I think I'll stay and have a little chat with
Basil, while you tread the path of duty.
Mabel.
"Well, mind you're in early. We've got a lot of
disgusting people coming to dinner.
Hilda.
[With a smile.] Poor things ! Who are they ?
Mabel.
I forget who they are. But I know they're loath-
some. That's why I asked them.
[Basil opens the door, and the two loomen go out.
John.
[Sitting doivn and stretching himself.] Now that
we've got rid of our womankind let's make ourselves
comfortable. [Taking a inpe out of his 'poc'ket?\ I
think I'll sample your baccy if you'll pass it along.
Basil.
[Handing him the jar.] I'm rather glad you stayed,
John. I wanted to talk to you.
John.
'Ha! ha!
[Basil pauses a moment, lohile John looks at
him with amusement. Ilefdls his pijye.
A MAN OF HONOUR 19
John.
[Lighting his 2ji2)e.] Nice gal, Hilda — ain't she ?
Basil.
[Enthusiastically.] Ob, I think she's perfectly
charming. . . . But what makes you say that ?
John.
[l7inoce7itl7/.'j Oh, I don't know. Passed through
my head.
Basil.
I say, I've got something to tell you, John.
John.
Well, don't be so beastly solemn about it.
Basil.
[Smiliiig.] It's a solemn thing.
John.
No, it ain't. I've done it myself. It's like a high
dive. When you look down at the water it fairly
takes your breath away, but after you've done it — it's
not so bad as you think. You're going to be married,
my boy.
Basil.
[With a S7nile.] How the deuce d'you know?
John.
[Gaih/.] Saw it with mine own eyes. I congratulate
you, and I give you my blessing. I'll get a new frock-
coat to give the lady away in.
20 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
You ? . . . [^Suddenly understanding.^ You're on
the wrong tack, old man. It's not you're sister-in-
law I'm going to marry.
John.
Then why the dickens did you say it was ?
Basil.
I never mentioned her name.
John.
H'm ! I've made rather more than an average ass
of myself, haven't I ?
Basil.
What on earth made you think . . . ?
John.
^Interrupting.'] Oh, it was only some stupid idea
of my wife's. Women are such fools, you know.
And they think they're so confoundedly sharp.
Basil.
\Dicsoncerted — looking at Ami.] Has Mrs.
Murray . . . ?
John.
No, of course not ! Well, who the deuce are you
going to marry '(
Basil.
[^Flushing ^^ I'm going to marry Miss Jenny Bush.
John.
Never heard of her. Is it any one I know ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 21
Basil.
Yes, you knew her.
John.
[^Searching Ms memory. '[ Bush . . . Bush . . .
\]Vith a smile^ The only Jenny Bush I've ever heard
of was a rather pretty little barmaid in Fleet Street.
Presumably you're not going to marry her,
[John has said this quite lightlij, not guessing
for a moment that it can have anything to
do with the person Basil ^7'oposes to marry.
Then, since Basil makes no ansicer, John
looks at him sharply : there is a silence
ivhile the tivo men stare at one another.
John.
Basil, it's not the woman we used to know before
you went out to the Cape ?
Basil.
[PaZe and nervous, hut determined.^ I've just told
you that you used to know Jenny.
John.
Man alive, you're not going to marry the barmaid
of the "Golden Crown"?
Basil.
[^Looking at him steadily. ^^ Jenny was a barmaid at
the " Golden Crown."
John.
But, good Lord, Basil, what d'you mean ? You're
not serious ?
22 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
Perfectly! We're going to be married this day
week.
John.
Are you stark, staring mad ? Why on earth d'you
want to marry Jenny Bush ?
Basil.
That's rather a delicate question, isn't it ? [ ]Viih
a smile.] Presumably because I'm in love with her.
John.
Well, that's a silly ass of an answer.
Basil.
It's quite the most obvious.
John.
Nonsense ! Why, I've been in love with twenty
girls, and I haven't married them all. Orje can't do
that sort of thing in a country where they give you
seven years for bigamy. Every public-house along
the Thames from Barnes to Taplow is the tombstone
of an unrequitted passion of my youth. I loved 'em
dearly, but I never asked 'em to marry me.
Basil.
[Tightening his lijjs.] I'd rather you didn't make
jokes about it, John.
John.
Are you sure you're not making an ass of your-
self ? If you've got into a mess, surely we can get
A MAN OF HONOUR 23
you out. Marriage, like hanging, is rather a desperate
remedy.
[Basil is sitting down and moodily shrugs Ms
shoidders. Johx goes %Lp to him, and
2n(,tting his hands on his friend's shoidders
looks into his eyes.
John.
Why are you going to marry her, Basil ?
Basil.
[Springing uj) impatieyitly.] Damn you, why don't
you mind your own business ^
John.
Don't be a fool, Basil.
Basil.
Can't I marry any one I choose ? It's nothing to
you, is it ? D'you suppose I care if she's a barmaid ?
[He ivalks up and down excitedly^ while John
loith steady eyes loatches him.
John.
Basil, old man, we've known each other a good
many years now. Don't you think you'd better trust
. me?
Basil.
[Setting his teeth,] What d'you want to know ?
John.
Why are you going to marry her ?
24 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
\^Ahru2:)tlyy fiercely.^ Because I must.
John.
[^Nodding his head quietly,] I see.
[There is a silence. Then Basil, more calmly
turns to JoHX.
Basil.
D'you remember Jenny ?
John,
Yes, Tcither. Why, we always lunched there in the
old days.
Basil.
Well, after I came back from the Cape I began
going there again. AVhen I was out there she took
it into her head to write me a letter, rather ill-spelt
and funny — but I was touched that she thought of
me And she sent some tobacco and some cigarettes.
John.
My maiden aunt sent you a woollen comforter, but
I'm not aware tliat in return you ever made her a
propo.-al of marriage.
Basil.
And so in one way and another I came to know
Jenny rather well. She appeared to get rather fond
of me — and I couldn't help seeing it.
John.
But she always pretended to be engaged to that
scrubby little chap with false teeth who used to hang
A MAN OF HONOUR 25
about the bar and make sheep's eyes at her over
innumerable Scotch-and-sodas.
Basil.
He made a scene because I took her out on one of
her ofF-nights, and she broke it off. I coukln't help
knowing it was on my account.
JOHX.
Well, and after that ?
Basil.
After that I got into the habit of taking her to the
play, and so on. And finally. . . 1
Joiix.
How long has this been going on ?
Basil,
Several months.
John
And theA ?
Basil.
Well, the other day she wired for me, I found her
in the most awful state. She was simply crying her
eyes out, poor thing. She'd been seedy and gone to
the doctor's. And he told her . , .
John.
What you might really have foreseen.
Basil.
Yes. . . . She was quite hysterical. She said she
didn't know w^hat to do nor where to go. And she
26 A MAN OF HONOUR
was in an awlul funk about her people. She said she'd
kill herself.
John.
[Drill/.^ Naturally she was very much upset,
Basil,
I felt the only thing I could do was to ask her to
marry me. And when I saw the joy that came into
her poor, tear-stained face I knew I'd done the right
thing.
[ The^^e is a jMuse. John locdks up and doiv7i,
then stops suddenly and tiirns to Basil.
John.
Have you thought that you, wdio've never needed
to economise, will have to look at every shilling you
spend ? You've always been careless with your money,
and what you've had you've flung about freely.
Basil.
[Shrugging his shoidders] If I have to submit to
nothing worse than going without a lot of useless
luxuries, I really don't think I need complain.
John.
But you can't afford to keep a wife andan increasing
family.
Basil,
I suppose I can make money as well as other men.
JOHN:
By writing books ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 27
Basil.
I shall set to work to earn my living at the Bar,
Up till now I've never troubled myself.
John.
I don't know any man less fit than you for the
dreary waiting and the drudgery of the Bar.
Basil.
We shall see.
John.
And what d'you think your friends will say to your
marrying — a barmaid ?
Basil.
[Contem2)tiwicsly.] I don't care two straws for
my friends.
John.
That's pleasant for them. You know, men and women
without end have snapped their fingers at society and
laughed at it, and for a while thought they had the
better of it. But all the time society was quietly smiliug
up its sleeve, and suddenly it put out an iron hand
— and scrunched them up.
Basil.
[Shrugging liis shoulders.'] It only means that a
few snobs will cut me,
John.
Not you — your wife.
28 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
I'm not such a cad as to go to a liouse where I can't
take my wife.
John.
But you're the hist man in the worki to give up
these things. There's nothing you enjoy more than
going to dinner-parties and staying in country houses.
Women's smiles are the very breath of your nostrils.
Basil.
You talk of me as if I were a tame cat. I don't
want to brag, John, but after all, I've shown that I'm
fit for something in this world. I went to the Cape
because I thought it was my duty. I intend to marry
Jenny for the same reason.
John.
[Seriously/,] Will you answer me one question — on
your honour ?
Basil.
Yes.
John.
Are you in love with her ?
Basil.
[After a pcmse.] No.
John.
[Passionateli/.] Then, by God, }ou have no right to
A MAN OF HONOUR 29
marry her. A man has no right to marry a woman
for pity. It's a cruel thing to do. You can only
end by making yourself and her entirely wretched.
BASITi.
I can't break the poor girl's heart.
John.
You don't know what marriage is. Even with
two people who are devoted to one ^another, who
have the same interests and belong to the same
class, it's sometimes almost unbearable. Marriage
is the most terrible thing in the world unless passion
makes it absolutely inevitable.
Basil.
My marriage is absolutely inevitable — for another
reason.
JOHX.
You talk as if such things had never happened
before.
Basil.
Oh, I know, they happen every day. It's no business
of the man's. And as for the girl, let her throw
herself in the river. Let her go to the deuce, and be
hanged to her.
JOHX.
Nonsense. She can be provided for. It only
30 A MAN OF HONOUR
needs a little discretion — and no one will be a ha'porth
the wiser, nor she a ha'porth the worse.
Basil.
But it's not a matter of people knowing. It's a
matter of honour.
John.
[Opening his eijes.] And where precisely did the
honour come in when you . . . ?
Basil.
Good heavens, I'm a man like any other. I have
passions as other men have.
John.
[Gravely.] My dear Basil, I wouldn't venture to
judge you. But I think it's rather late in the day to
set up for a moi-alist.
Basil.
D'you think I've not regretted what I did ? It's
easy enough afterwards to say that I should have
resisted. The world would be a Sunday School if we
were all as level-headed at night as we are next
mornino".
John.
[Shaking his head.] After all, it's only a very
regrettable incident due to your youth and — want of
innocence.
A MAN OF HONOUR 31
Basil.
[ With vehement seiHousness.] I may have acted like
a cur. I don't know. I acted as I suppose every
other man would. But now I have a plain duty
before me, and, by God, I mean to do it.
John.
Don't you realise that you've only one life and that
mistakes are irreparable ? People play with life as if
it were a game of chess in which they can try this
move and that, and when they get into a muddle,
sweep the board clear and begin again.
Basil.
But life is a game of chess in which one is always
beaten. Death sits on the other side of the board, and
for every move he has a counter-move. And for all
your deep-laid schemes he has a parry.
John.
But if at the end Death always mates you, the
fight is surely worth the fighting. Don't handicap
yourself at the beginning by foolish quixotry. Life
is so full. It has so much to ofier, and you're
throwing away almost everything that makes it
worth the trouble.
Basil.
[Graveli/.] Jenny would kill herself if I didn't
marry her.
32 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
You don't seriously think she'd do that. People
don't commit suicide so easily, you know.
Basil,
You've thought of a great deal, John — you've not
thought of the child. I can't let the child skulk into
the world like a thief. Let him come in openly and
lawfully. And let him go through the world with an
honest name. Good heavens, the world's bad enough
without fettering him all his life with a hideous
stigma.
JOHX.
Oh, my dear Basil . , .
Basil.
[I')iterrupti7ig.] You can bring forward a thousand
objections, but nothing alters the fact that, under the
circumstances, there's only one way open to a man of
honour.
John.
[Drily.] Well, it's a way that may do credit to your
heart, but scarcely to your understanding.
Basil.
I thought you'd see at once that I was doing the
only possible thing.
John.
My dear Basil, you talk of pity, and you talk of
A MAN OF HONOUR 33
duty, but are you sure there's anything more in it than
vanity ? You've set yourself up on a sort of moral
pinnacle. Are you sure you don't admire your own
heroism a little too much ?
Basil.
[ With a good-natured smile.'] Does it look so petty
as that in your eyes ? After all, it's only common
morality.
John.
[^IinjKitiently .] But, my dear chap, its absurd to act
according to an unrealisable ideal in a world that's
satisfied with the second-rate. You're tendering
bank-notes to African savage?, among whom cowrie
shells are common coin.
Basil.
[Smiling^^ I don't know what you mean.
John.
Society has made its own decalogue, a code that's
just fit for middling people who are not very good and
not very wicked. But Society punishes you equally
if your actions are higher than its ideal or lower.
Basil.
Sometimes it makes a god of you when you're
dead.
John.
But it takes precious good care to crucify you when
you're alive.
34 A MAN OF HONOUR
[There is a knock at the door, and Mrs. Griggs
comes m.
Mrs. Griggs.
Some more visitors. Sir.
^5
Basil.
Show 'em in. [To John] It's Jenny. She said she
was coming to tea.
JOHX.
[Witli a smile.'] Oh, the cake was for her, was it ?
Would you like me to go ?
Basil.
Not unless you choose. Do you suppose I'm
ashamed ?
John.
I thought, after all you've told me, you might not
care for me to see her.
[Jenny Bush and her brother James come in.
She is very pretty, ivith delicate features
and a heautiful complexion : her fair hair
is abundant a7id very elaborately arranged.
She is dressed smartly, rather shoioily. It
is the usual type of barmaid, or tea-girl, a
shade more refined p)erhaps than the common
run. Her manners are ujiobjectionable,
but not those of a gentlewoman. James is
a young man with clean-shaven face and a
A MAN OF HONOUR 35
sharp expressio7i. He is over-dressed in a
very horsey manner^ mid is distinctly more
vuhjar than his sister. He talks English loith
a cockney accent, not invariably dropping
his aitches, but only noio and then^ He is
over cordial and over genial.
Jenny.
\Going up to Basil.] I'm awfully late, I couldn't
come before.
James.
\Jocosely^ Don't mind me. Give 'im a kiss, old
tart.
Jenny.
Oh, I brought my brother Jimmie to see you.
Basil.
[Shaking hands.] How d'you do ?
James.
Nicely, thanks. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
Jenny.
[Looking at John and suddenly recognising hitn?[
Well, I never! If that isn't old John Halliwell. 1
didn't expect to see you. This is a treat.
John.
How d'you do ?
86 A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
What are you doing here ?
John.
I've been having a cup of tea with Basil.
Jenny.
[Loolxing at the tea-thmgs.] D'you always drink
out of three cups at once ?
John.
My wife has been here — and her sister.
Jenny.
Oh, I see. Fancy 3 our being married. How d'you
like it?
John.
All right, thanks.
[Basil 2^ours out aci(p of tea, and during the
foUoiving speeches gives Jeinny mi/k and
sugar and cake,
James.
People say it wants a bit of gettin' used to,
John.
Mr. Bush, you're a philosopher.
James.
Well, I will say this for myself, you'd want to get
A MAN OF HONOUR 37
up early in the morning to catcli me nappiu'. I didn't
catch yonr name.
Halliwell.
James.
'Alliwell ?
Joh:n^.
[Emphasising the i/.] Halli^yell.
James.
That's what I say — 'Alliwell. I knew a fellow in
the meat trade called 'Alliwell. Any relation ?
John.
I don't think so.
James.
Fine business 'e 'ad too. There's a rare lot of money
to be made out of meat.
John.
I dare say.
Jexxy.
[To JoHX.] It is a long time since I've seen you. I
suppose you've quietened down now you're a married
man. You were a hot 'un when you was a bachelor.
James.
[Facetiously.^ Don't make 'im blush, Jenny. Acci*
dents will 'appen in the best regulated families. And
boys will be boys, as they say in the Bible.
38 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
I think I must be off, Basil.
James.
"Well, I'll be toddlin' too. I only come in just to
say 'ow d'you do to my future brother-in-law. I'm a
fellow as likes to be cordial. There's no 'aughtiness
about me.
Basil.
[Politehj, hut not efusivelf/.] Olip won't you stay
and have some tea?
James.
No, thanks. I'm not much of an 'and at tea ; I
ive t
myself,
Jenny.
[Bemonsli'ating.] Jimmie !
Basil.
I have some whisky, Mr. Bush.
James.
Oh, blow the Mister and blow the Bush. Call me
Jimmie. I can't stand ceremony. The way I look
on it is^this. We're both of us gentlemen, Now,
mind you, I'm not a fellow to praise myself. But I
will sa}^ this : I am [a gentleman. That's not self-
praise, is it ?
leave that to females. I like something stronger
A MAN OF HONOUR 39
John.
Dear me, no. Mere stitement of fact.
James.
Well, as I was saying, I know I'm a gentleman.
It's a thing you can't 'elp, so what's the good of being
proud about it ? If I meet a chap in a pub, and he
invites me to have a drink, I don't ask him if he's a
Lord.
Basil.
But you just take it.
James.
Well, you'd do the same yourself, wouldn't you ?
Basil.
I dare say. But will you have a drink now ?
James.
Oh, bless you, I know what it is to be engaged. I
don't want to disturb you canary-birds. Me and
' AUiwell '11 go and have a gargle round the corner. I
see you've got a public nice and 'andy. [To John.]
I suppose you're not above goin' in there now and
asfain, eh ?
Jenny.
[With a laugh.] He came into the " Golden Crown
every day of his life, and chance it !
40 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
I'm afraid I'm in a great hurry.
James.
'Ang it all, one's always got time to have a drop of
Scotch in this life.
Basil.
[To James, handing Mm the hox.^ Well, take a
cigar with you.
James.
[Taking and examining one.'\ If you are so pressing.
Villar y Villar. . . , What do they I'un you in a
hundred ?
Basil.
They were given to me, I really don't know what
they cost. [He lights a match.] Won't you take the
label off?
James.
Not if I know it. I don't smoke a Villar y Villar
every day, but when I do, I smoke it with the label
on.
Jenny.
[Laughing.] Jimmie, you are a caution !
John.
[Shaking hands tcith Jenny.] Good-bye and — my
best wishes.
A MAN OF HONOUR 41
Jenny.
Thanks. You didn't expect I'd marry Basil when
I used to mix cocktails for you in the " Golden
Crown," did you ?
James.
Come on, 'Alliwell, Don't stop there gassing.
You'll only disturb the canary-birds. So long, old
tart, see you later. Ta-ta, Basil, old man.
Basil.
Good-bye — Jimmie.
[John Halliwell and James (jo out, Jenny
goes uj^ to Basil imjndsively .
Jenny.
Kiss me. [He kisses her, smiling.^ There ! Now
I can sit down quietly and talk. How d'you like my
brother ?
Basil.
Oh — I hardly know him yet. He seems very
amiable.
Jenny.
He's not a bad sort when you know him. He's
just like my mother.
Basil.
[Raising his hroics^^ Is he ? And — is your father
like that too ?
42 A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
Well, you know, Pa hasn't had the education that
Jimmie's had. Jimmie was at a boarding-school at
Margate.
Basil.
Was he ?
Jenny.
You were at a boarding-school, too, weren't you ?
Basil.
[Smilmg.] Yes, I was at Harrow
Jenny.
Ah, you don't get the fine air at Harrow that you
get at Margate,
Basil.
Shall I put down your cup ?
Jenny.
[Placinrj it on a table.] Oh, thanks, it's all right.
Come and sit by me, Basil.
Basil.
[Seating himself on the arm of her chair.] There.
Jenny.
[Taking his hand.] I'm so glad we're alone. I
should like to be alone \\ith you all my life. You do
love me, don't you, Basil ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 43
Basil.
Yes.
Jenny.
Much ?
Basil.
[Smiling.] Yes.
Jenny.
I'm so glad. Oh, I don't know what I should do
if you didn't love me. If you hadn't been kind to
me I should have thrown myself in the river.
Basil,
What nonsense you talk,
Jenny.
I mean it.
[He i^cisses his hand affectionately over her hair,
Jenny.
Oh, you are so good, Basil. I'm so proud of you.
I shall be so proud to be your wife.
Basil.
[Gravely?[ Don't think too well of me Jenny.
Jenny.
\]Vith a laugh.'] I'm not afraid of that. You're
44 A MAN OF HONOUR
biave and you're clever and you're a professional man,
and you're everything,
Basil.
You foolish child.
Jenny.
[Passionately.'] I can't tell you how much I love
you.
Basil.
I'll try with all my might to be a good husband to
you, Jenny.
[She Jlings her arms round his neck and they
kiss one another.
End of tue First Act.
THE SECOND ACT
An Interval of One Year Elapses Between
Acts I. and II.
77^6 drmving-roovi in Basil's house at Putney. In the
IV all facing the auditor inm there is a door leading
from the passage. On the right tico doors lead
into hedrooms, and opjwsite these is a hay window.
The same 2nctures and plates decorate the walls as
in the j^receding Scene ; the writing-tahle is between
the side doors. Jenny's injinence is noticeahle in
the cushions in the ivicker-ivork arm-chairs, in the
ivindoiu curtains and portieres of art serge, and in
the huge chrysanthemums of the wall paper.
[Jenny is sewing lohile James Bush is lounging
in one of the arm chairs.
James,
Where's his lordship this afternoon ?
Jenny.
He's gone out for a walk.
46 A MAN OF HONOUR
James,
[With a malevolent laugh.'] That's what he tells you,
my dear.
Jenny.
[Looking U2'> quickly.] Have you seen him
anywhere '^
James.
No, I can't say I 'ave. And if I 'ad I wouldn't
boast about it,
Jenny.
[Insisting,] What did you mean then ?
James.
Well, whenever I come here he's out for a walk. . . .
I say, old tart, could you oblige me with a couple of
sovereigns till next Saturday ?
Jenny.
[Pained to refuse^ Oh no, Jimmie, I can't manage
it. Basil made me promise I wouldn't let you have
any more.
James.
What! He made you promise that? — Ugh, the
mean skinflint.
Jenny.
We've lent you so much, Jimmie. And ma's had a
lot, too.
James.
Well, look heie, you can manage a sovereign, can't
you? You needn't say anything about it.
A MAN OF HONOUR 47
Jenny.
I can't really, Jimmie. I would if I could. But
we've got a rare lot of debts worrying us, and the rent
will be coming along next week.
James.
[Sulkily. 1 You can't lend it me because you won't.
I should just like to know what Basil spends his
money on.
Jenny .
He's had a bad year — it's not his fault. And I was
so ill after the baby died, we had to pay the doctor
nearly fifty pounds.
James.
[With a sneer ^^ AYell, it was a wonderful fine thing
you did when you married him, Jenny, And you
thought you done precious well for yourself, too.
Jenny.
Jimmie, don't !
James.
I can't stick 'im at any price, and I don't mind who
knows it,
Jexny.
[Imjyetiious^y.^ I won't have you say anything
against him.
James
All right — keep your shirt in. I'm blowed if I know
what you've got to stick up for him abouta He don't
care much about you.
48 A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
[Ilastili/.] How d'30u know 1
James.
Think I can't see !
Jenny,
It's not true. It's not true.
James.
You can't get round me, Jenny. I suppose you
'aven't been crying to-day ?
Jenny.
[Flushinr/.] I had a headache.
James.
I know those sort of headaches.
Jenny.
We had a little tiff this morning. That's why he
went out ... Oh, don't say he doesn't care for me.
I couldn't live.
James.
[With a laugh.] Go along with you. Basil Kent
ain't the only pebble on the beach.
Jenny.
[Vehemently.] Oh, Jimmie, Jimmie, sometimes I
don't know which way to turn, I'm that unhappy.
If the baby had only lived I might have kept my
husband — I might have made him love me. [The
sound is heard of a door heing closed.] Tliere's Basil,
A MAN OF HONOUR 49
James.
Good luck to 'im.
Jenny.
Oh, Jimmie, take care not to say anything to make
him angry.
James.
I'd just like to give 'im a piece of my mind.
Jenny.
Oh, Jimmie, don't. It was my fault that we
quarrelled this morning. I wanted to make him
angry, and I nagged at him. Don't let him see that
I've said anything to you. I'll see — I'll see if I can't
send you a pound to-morrow, Jimmie.
James.
[^Defiantly ^^ He'd better not start patronising me,
because I won't put up with it. I'm a gentleman,
and I'm every bit as good as he is — if not better.
[Basil comes iii, notices James, hat does not
speak,
James.
Afternoon, Basil.
Basil.
[^Indifferently.^ You here again ?
James.
Looks like it, don't it.
Basil.
[^Qidetly.^^ Vm afraid it does.
D
50 A MAN OF HONOUR
James.
[Becoming more aggressive as the conversation pro-
ceeds.] Are you ? I suppose I can come and see my
own sister ?
Basil.
I suppose it's inevitable.
James.
Well ?
Basil.
' [Smiling.] Only I should be excessively grateful if
you'd time your coming with my — with my going.
And vice versa,
James.
That means you want me to get out, I reckon.
Basil.
You show unusual perspicacity, dear James.
James.
And who are you with your long words, I should
like to know ?
Basil.
[Blandly.] I? A person of not the least im-
portance.
James.
[Angrily.] Well, I wouldn't put on so much side if
I was you.
Basil.
I observe that you have not acquired the useful
art of being uncivil without being impertinent.
A MAN OF HONOUR 5l
James.
Look 'ere, I'm not going to stand this. I'm as
good as you are any day.
Basil.
That is a fact I should never dream of contradictingi
James.
[Indignantly.] Then what 'ave you got to turn up
your nose about, eh ? Wliat d'you mean by sneerin'
and snarHn' at me when I come here ?
Jenny.
[JVervously.] Jimmie, don't 1
Basil.
[With a smile.] You're very eloquent, James. You
should join a debating society.
James.
Yes, go on. That's right. You seem to think I'm
nobody. I should just like to know why you go on
as if I was I don't know what.
Basil.
[Abruptly.] Because I choose.
James.
You can bet anything you like I don't come 'ere to
see you.
52 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
[Smiling acidly.'] Then I have at least something to
be thankful for.
James.
I've got a right to come here as much as anybody.
I come to see my sister.
Basil.
Really, that's very thoughtful of you. I was
under the impression you generally came to borrow
money.
James.
Throw that in my face now. I can't 'elp it if I'm
out of work.
Basil.
Oh, I haven't the least objection to your being out
of work. All I protest against — and that very mildly
■ — is that I should be expected to keep you. How
much did you want to-day ?
James.
I don't want your dirty money.
Basil.
[With a laugh.] Have you already tried to borrow it
from Jenny ?
James.
No, I 'aven't.
A MAN OF HONOUR 53
Basil.
And she refused, I suppose.
James.
[Storming.] I tell you I don't want your dirty
money,
Basil.
"Well, then, we're both quite satisfied. You seemed
to think that because I married Jenny I was bound
to keep the whole gang of you for the rest of your
lives. I'm sorry I can't aflbrd it. And you will
kindly tell the rest of them that I'm sick and tired of
forking out.
James.
I wonder you don't forbid me your house while
you're about it.
Basil.
[Coolhj.] You may come here when I'm not at
home — if you behave yourself.
James.
I'm not good enough for you, I suppose ?
Basil.
No, you're not.
James.
[Angrili/.] Ah, you're a pretty specimen, you are.
You mean skinflint !
54 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
Don't be abusive, James. It's rude.
James.
I shall say what I choose.
Basil.
And please don't talk so loud. It annoys me.
James.
[Mcdevoleiitly.] I dare say you'd like to get me out
of the way. But I mean to keep my eye on you.
Basil.
[Sharphj.] What d'you mean by that ?
James.
You know what I mean. Jenny has something to
put up with, I lay.
Basil.
[Containing his anger.] You'll have the goodness to
leave the relations between Jenny and myself alone
— d'you hear ?
James.
Ha, that's touched you up, has it ? You think I
don't know what sort of a feller you are. I can just
about see through two of you. And I know a good
deal mox-e about you than you think.
A MAN OF HONOUR 55
Basil.
[Oonfempfuoushj.] Don't be foolish, James.
James.
[Sa7'castic.] A nice thing Jenny did when she
married you.
Basil.
[Recovering himself, ivith a smile.] Has she been
telling you my numerous faults ? [To *Jexny.] You
must have had plenty to talk about, my love.
Jenny.
[Who has been going on with her sewing, looking up
noio and then uneasily.] I haven't said a word against
you, Basil.
Basil.
[Tinming his back on James.] Oh, my dear Jenny,
if it amuses you, by all means discuss me with your
brother and your sister and your father and your
mother, and the whole crew of them. ... I should
be so dull if I had no faults.
Jenny.
[Anxiously.] Tell him IVe not said anything
against him, Jimmie.
James.
It's not for want of something to say^ I lay.
Basil.
[Over his shoulder.] I'm getting rather tired,
brother James. I'd go, if I were you.
56 A MAN OF HONOUR
James.
[Veri/ agg^^essivehj.] I shan't go till I choose.
Basil.
[Turns round, smiling blandly.^ Of course, we're
both Christians, dear James ; and there's a good deal
of civilisation kicking about the world nowadays.
But, notwithstanding, the last word is still with the
strongest.
James.
What d'you mean by that ?
Basil.
[Good-humour edly.'\ Merely that discretion is the
better part of valour. They say that proverbs aie
the wealth of nations.
James.
[Indigncmtli/.] That's just the sort of thing you'd
do — to 'it a feller smaller than yourself.
Basil.
Oh, I wouldn't hit you for worlds, brother James.
I should merely throw you downstairs.
James.
[Making for the door.] I should just like to see you
try it on.
A MAN OF HONOUR 57
Basil.
Don't be silly, James. You know you wouldn't
like it at all.
James.
I'm not afraid of you.
Basil.
Of course not. But still — you're not very muscular,
are you ?
James.
You coward !
Basil.
[SrniUng.] Your repartees are not brilliant, James.
James.
[Stmiding at the door for safety s sake.^ I'll pay
you out before I've done.
Basil.
[^Raising his eyehi'oivs^ James, I told you to get out
five minutes ago.
James.
I'm going. D'you think I want to stay 'ere ?
Good-bye, Jenny, I'm not going to stand being
insulted by any one. \_IIe goes out slammmg the
door.]
[Basil, smiling quietly, goes to his ivriting -table
and turns over some paiJers.
58 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
The only compensation in brother James is that he
sometimes causes one a little mild amusement.
Jenny.
You might at least be polite to him, Basil.
Basil.
I used up all my politeness six months ago.
Jenny.
After all, he is my brother.
Basil.
That is a fact I deplore with all my heart, I assure
you.
Jenny.
I don't know what's wrong with him.
Basil.
Don't you ? It doesn't matter.
Jenny.
I know he isn't a Society man.
Basil.
[ With a laugh.] No, he wouldn't shine at duchesses
tea-parties.
Jenny.
Well, he's none the worse for that, is he ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 59
Basil.
Not at all.
Jenny.
Then why d'you treat him as if he was a clog ?
Basil.
My dear Jenny, I don't. . . . I'm very fond of
dogs.
Jenny.
Oh, you're always sneering. Isn't he as good as I
am? And you condescended to marry me.
Basil.
[Coldly.] I really can't see that because I married
you I must necessarily take your whole family to my
bosom.
Jenny.
Why don't you like them ? They're honest and
respectable.
Basil.
[TFi^A a little sigh of boredom.] My dear Jenny, we
don't choose our friends because they're honest and
respectable any more than we choose them because
they change their linen daily.
Jenny.
They can't help it if they're poor.
Basil.
My dear, I'm willing to acknowledge that they
have every grace and every virtue, but they rather
bore me.
GO A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
They wouldn't if they were swells.
[Basil gives a short laugh, hut does not answer;
and Jenny irritated, continues more
angrily.
Jenny.
And after all we're not in such a bad position as
all that. My mother's father was a gentleman.
Basil.
I wish your mother's son were.
Jenny.
D'you know what Jimmie says you are ?
Basil.
I don't vastly care. But if it pleases you very
much you may tell me.
Jenny.
[Flushing angrily.] He says you're a damned snob.
Basil.
Is that all? I could have invented far worse
things than that to say of myself. . . . [With a
change of tone.] You know, Jenny, it's not worth
while to w^orry ourselves about such trifles. One
can't force oneself to like people. I'm very sorry
that I can't stand your relations. Why on earth
don't you resign yourself and make the best of it ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 61
Jexny.
[Vindictiveli/.] You don't think they're good enough
for you to associate with because they're not in swell
positions.
Basil.
My dear Jenny, I don't in the least object to their
being grocers and haberdashers. I only wish they'd
sell us things at cost price.
Jenny.
Jimmie isn't a grocer or a haberdasher. He's an
auctioneer's clerk.
Basil.
[li'onicaUj/.] I humbly apologise. I thought he
was a grocer, because last time he did us the honour
of visiting us he asked how much a pound we paid
for our tea and offered to sell us some at the
same price. . . . But then he also ofiered to insure
our house against fire and to sell me a gold mine in
Australia.
Jenny.
Well, it's better to make a bit as best one can than
to . . . [She sfojjs.]
Basil.
[Smiling.] Go on. Pray don't hesitate for fear of
hurting my feelings.
Jenny.
[Defiantly.] Well, then, it's better to do that than
moon about like vou do.
62 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
\Shrugging his shoulders.'] Really, even to please
you, I'm afraid I can't go about with little samples of
tea in my pocket and sell my friends a pound or two
when I call on them. Besides, I don't believe they'd
ever pay me.
Jenny.
[Scornfully.] Oh no, you're a gentleman and a
barrister and an authoi', and you couldn't do anything
to dirty those white hands that you're so careful
about, could you ?
Basil.
[Looking at his handsy then up at Jenny.] And
what is it precisely you want me to do ?
Jenny.
Well, you've been at the Bar for five years. I
should have thought you could make something after
all that time.
Basil.
I can't force the wily solicitor to give me briefs.
Jenny.
How do other fellows manage it ?
Basil.
[With a laugh.] The simplest way, I believe, is to
marry the wily solicitor's daughter.
A MAN OF HONOUR 63
Jenny.
Instead of a barmaid ?
Basil.
[Gravely.] I didn't say that, Jenny.
Jenny.
[Passio7iately.] Oh no. You didn't say it, but you
hinted it. You never say anything, but you're
always hinting and insinuating— till you drive me
out of my senses.
Basil.
[Afte7' a moment's 2>(^use, gravely.] I'm very sorry if
I hurt your feelings. I promise you I don't mean to.
I always try to be kind to you.
[He looks at Jenny, ex'pecting her to say some-
thing in forgiveness or in ai^ology. But
she, shrugging her shoulders, looks down
sullenly at her worh., ivithout a loord, and
begins again to sew. Then Basil, tighten-
ing his li^ys, jncks iip ivriting materials and
goes towards the door.
Jenny.
[Looking u]) quickly.] Where are you going ?
Basil.
[Sto2)2nng.] I have some letters to write.
Jenny.
Can't you write them here ?
64 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
Certainly — if it pleases you.
Jenny.
Djn't you want me to see \^•llO you're writing to ?
Basil.
I haven't the least objection to your knowing all
about my correspondence. , . . And that's fortunate,
since you invariably make yourself acquainted with it.
Jenny.
Accuse me of reading your letters now.
Basil.
[With a smile.] You always leave my papers in
such disorder after you've been to my desk.
Jenny.
You've got no right to say that.
[Basil 2^cuises and looks at her steadihj.
Basil.
Are you willing to swear that you don't go to my
desk when I'm away to read my letters ? Come,
Jenny, answer that question.
Jenny.
[Disturbed hut forced by his glance to reply.] Well,
I'm you're wife, I have a right to know.
Basil.
\Bitterhj?\ You have such odd ideas about tlie
duties of a wife, Jenny. They include reading my
A MAN OF HONOUR 65
letters and following me in the street. Bat tolerance
and charity and forbearance don't seem to come in your
scheme of things.
Jenny.
\Svllenly^^ Why d'you want to write your letters
elsewhere ?
Basil.
[Shrugging his shoulders.'] I thought I should be
quieter.
Jenny.
I suppose I disturb you ?
Basil.
It's a little difficult to write when you're talking.
Jenny,
Why shouldn't I talk ? D'you think I'm not good
enough, eh ? I should have thought I was moie im-
portant than your letters.
[Basil does not ansiver.
Jenny.
[Angrily.^ Am I your wife or not ?
Basil. *
[h^ojiically.] You have your marriage lires care-
fully locked up to prove it.
Jenny.
Then why don't you treat me as your wife ? You
seem to think I'm only fit to see after the house and
6Q A MAN OF HONOUR
order the dinner and mend your clothes, And after
that I can go and sit in the kitchen with the servant.
Basil.
[Having again towards the doo7\] D'you think it's
worth while making a scene ? We seem to have said
all this before so many times.
Jenny.
[Inierrupting him,] I want to have it out.
Basil.
[Bored.] We've been having it out twice a week
for the last six months — and we've never got an}; where
yet.
Jenny.
I'm not going to be always put upon, I'm your wife
and I'm as good as you are.
Basil.
[With a thin smile.] Oh, my dear, if you're going
in for women's rights, you may have my vote by all
means. And you can plump for all the candidates at
once if you choose.
Jenny.
You seem to think it's a joke.
Basil.
[Bitterly.] Oh no, I promise you I don't do that.
It's lasted too long. And God knows where it'll
end. . . . They say the first year of marriage is the
worst ; ours has been bad enough in all conscience,
A MAN OF HONOUR 67
Jenny.
[Aggressively,'] And I suppose you think it's my
fault ?
Basil.
Don't you think we're both more or less to blame ?
Jenny.
[With a laugh.] Oh, I'm glad you acknowledge that
you have something to do with it.
Basil.
I tried to make you happy.
Jenny.
Well, you haven't succeeded very well. Did you
think I was likely to be happy — when you leave me
alone all day and half the night for your swell friends
that I'm not good enough for ?
Basil.
That's not true. I hardly ever see any of my old
friends.
Jenny.
Except JVIrs. Murray, eh?
Basil.
I've seen Mrs. Murray perhaps a dozen times in the
last year.
Jenny.
Oh, you needn't tell me that. I know it. She's a
lady, isn't she ?
68 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
[Ignoring the charge.'] And my work takes me
away from you. I can't always be down here. Think
how bored you'd be.
Jenny.
A precious lot of good your work does. You can't
earn enough money to keep us out of debt.
Basil.
\Good-humoureclly^ We are in debt. But we share
that very respectable condition with half the nobility
and gentry in the kingdom. We're neither of us
good managers, and we've lived a bit beyond our
means this year. But in future we'll be more
economical.
Jenny.
\Sulle7ily.'\ All the neighbours know that we've got
bills v/ith the tradesmen.
Basil.
\Acidly.] I'm sorry that you shouldn't have made
so good a bargain as you expected when you married
me.
Jenny.
I wonder what you do succeed in? Your book
was very successful, wasn't it? You thought you
were going to set the Thames on fire, and the book
fell flat, flat, flat.
Basil.
[Recovering his good temper.] That is a fate which
has befallen better books than mine,
A MAN OF HONOUR 69
Jenny.
It deserved it.
Basil.
Oh, I didn't expect you to appreciate it. It isn't
given to all of us to write about wicked earls and
beautiful duchesses.
Jenny.
Well, I wasn't the only one. The papers praised
it, didn't they ?
Basil.
The unanimity of their blame was the only thing
that consoled me.
Jenny.
And one of them advised you to study an English
grammar. And you're the fine gentleman who looks
down on poor things like us !
Basil.
I often wonder if the reviewer who abuses you for
a printer's error realises what pleasure he causes the
wife of your bosom.
Jenny.
Oh, I've learnt to know you so well this last six
months— since the baby died. You've got no cause
to set yourself up on a pedestal.
Basil.
\\Vith a laugh.] My dear Jenny, I never pretended
to be a golden idol.
70 A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
I know what you are now. And I was such a fool
as to think you a hero. You're merely a failure.
In everything you try you're a miserable failure.
Basil.
[With a slight sigh.] Perhaps you're right, Jenny.
[Basil loalks iq) and down ; and then^ stommig^
looks at her for a moment meditatively.
Basil.
I sometimes wonder whether we shouldn't be
happier — if we lived apart.
Jenny.
\With a start.] What d'you mean ?
Basil.
"We don't seem able to get on very well. And
1 see no chance of things going any better.
Jenny.
\With staring eyes.] D'you mean to say you want to
separate ?
Basil.
I think it might be better for both of us — at least
for a time. Perhaps later on we might try again.
Jenny.
And what'll yo2i do ?
Basil.
I should go abroad for a while.
A MAN OF HONOUR 71
Jenny.
With Mrs. Murray. Is that it ? You want to go
away with her.
Basil.
[Impatiently.] No. Of course not.
Jenxy.
I don't believe it. You're in love with her.
Basil.
You've got no right to say that.
Jenny.
Haven't I ? I suppose I must shut my eyes and
say nothing. You're in love with her. D'you think
I've not seen it in these months ? That's why you
want to leave me.
Basil.
It's impossible for us to live together. We shall
never agree, and we shall never be happy. For God's
sake let us separate and have done with it.
Jenny.
You're sick of me. You've had all you want out
of me, and now I can go. The fine lady comes along,
and you send me awiiy like a housemaid. D'you
think I can't see that you're in love with her ? You'd
sacrifice me without a thought to save her a moment's
unpleasantness. And because you love her you hate
me.
Basil.
It's not true.
72 A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
Can you deny that you're in love with her ?
Basil.
You're simply mad. Good heavens, I've done
nothing that could give you the least cause to be
jealous.
Jexny.
[Passionately.] Will yoa swear that you're not in
love with her ? Swear it on your honour ?
Basil.
You're mad.
Jenny.
[IVith growing evcitement.] S^^ear it. You can't.
You're simply madly in love with her.
Basil.
Nonsense.
Jenny.
Swear it. Swear it on your honour. Swear you
don't care for her.
Basil.
[Shrugging ids shoulde7^s.] I swear it ... on my
honour.
Jenny
[Scornfully.] It's a he ! . . . And she's just as
much in love with you as you are with her
Basil.
[Seizing her wrists.] What d'you mean ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 73
Jenny.
D'you think I haven't got eyes in my head? I
saw it that day she came here. D'you suppose she
came to see me ? She despises me. I'm not a
lady. She came here to please you. She was polite
to me to please you. She asked me to go and see her
to please you.
Basil.
\Trying to comjiose himself. "] It's absurd. She was
an old friend of mine. Of course she came.
Jenny.
I know that sort of friend. D'you think I didn't
see the way she looked at you, and how she followed
you with her eyes ? She simply hung on every word
you said. When you smiled, she smiled. When you
laughed, she laughed. Oh, I should think she was in
love with you ; I know what love is, and I felt it.
And when she looked at me I knew she hated me
because I'd robbed her of you.
Basil.
\Unahle to contain himself. ^^ Oh, what a dog's life it
is we lead ! We've been both utterly wretched. It
can't go on — and I only see one way out.
Jenny.
That's what you've been brooding over this last
week, is it ? Separation ! I knew there was something,
and I couldn't find out what it was.
Basil.
I do my best to hold myself in, but sometimes I
74- A MAN OF HONOUR
feel it's impossible. I shall be led to saying things
that we shall both regret. For Heaven's sake let us
part.
Jenny.
No.
Basil.
We can't go on having these awful quarrels. It's
too degrading. It was a horrible mistake that we
ever married.
Jenny.
[JIorro7'-stricke7i.] Basil !
Basil.
Oh, you must see that as well as I. We're utterly
unsuited to one another. And the baby's death re-
moved the only necessity that held us together.
Jenny.
You talk as if we only remained together because
it was convenient.
Basil.
[Passionatehj,] Let me go, Jenny. I can't stand
it any more. I feel as if I shall go mad.
Jenny.
[Full of pain and angicish.] It's nothing at all to
you.
Basil.
Jenny, I did my best for you a year ago. I gave
you all I had to give. It was little enough in all
conscience. Now I ask you to give me back my
freedom .
A MAN OF HONOUR 75
Jenny.
[Distracted.] You only think of yourself. What
is to become of me ?
Basil.
You'll be much happier. It's the best thing for
both of us. I'll do all I can for you, and you can have
your mother and sister to live here.
Jenny,
[With a cry of grief and ^xtssion,] But I love you,
Basil.
Basil.
You ! ! Why, you've tortured me for six months
beyond all endurance. You've made all my days a
burden to me. You've made my life a perfect hell,
Jenny.
[Gives a long groan of horror and dismay.] Oh !
[They stand facing one another^ tvhen the
housemaid, Faxny, comes in.
Fanny.
Mr. Halliwell.
[John comes in. Jenny, after takhig his hand,
sinks down on a chair ^ ])aying no attention
to the follovnng conversation ; she stares in
front of her, quite distraught. Basil tries
with all his migJct to apj^ear calm and
natural.
Basil.
HuUoa, what are you doing in these parts ?
76 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
How d'you do, Mrs. Kent? I've been having an
early lunch at Richmond, and I thought I'd just drop
in on my way back. As it was Saturday afternoon I
thought I might find you.
Basil.
I'm sure we're delighted to see you. [John gives
a side glance at Junny, and slighth/ raises his ej/ehroivs.]
But you've only just come in time, because I've got to
go up to town. We might travel up together.
John.
Certainly.
Jenny.
Where are you going, Basil ?
Basil.
To Chancery Lane, to see my agent on business.
Jenny.
[Suspiciously.] On Saturday afternoon ? Why,
he won't be there.
Basil.
I have an appointment with him.
[Jenny does 7iot a7istver, hut is obviously uncon-
vinced. John, somewhat emhart'assedf exerts
himself to make conversation.
John.
I was thinking as I came along that one ^must lead
A MAN OF HONOUR 77
quite an idyllic existence in the suburbs — with the
river — and one's little garden.
Basil.
[Ironicallf/.] And the spectacle of the fifty little
houses opposite all exactly like one another.
John.
And the quiet is perfectly enchanting.
Basil.
Oh, yes. The only vehicles that disturb the peace-
ful seclusion are the milk-cart and the barrel-organs.
It's quite idyllic.
Jenny.
I think it's a very nice neighbourhood. And you
get such a superior class of people here.
Basil.
I'll just go and change. \Loohing at his watch.
There's a train at 4.15.
John,
All right, hurry up.
[Basil goes out of the room. Jb^'sy at once
sp'ings to her feet and goes towards John.
She is distracted and hardly knows what
she says,
Jenny.
Can I trust you ?
78 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
What d'you mean ?
[She stares into his eyes, doubting, trying to see
luhether he ivill he loHling to help her,
Jenny.
You used to be a good sort. You never looked down
on me because I was a barmaid. Tell me I can trust
you, John. There's no one I can speak to, and I feel
if I don't speak I shall go off my head.
John.
What is the matter ?
Jenny.
Will you tell me the truth if I ask you something ?
John.
Of course.
Jenny.
On your oath ?
John.
On my oath.
Jenny.
[After a momentary pause.'] Is there anything
between Basil and Mrs. Murray ?
John.
[Aghast.] No. Certainly not.
A MAN OF HONOUR 79
Jenny.
How d'you know ? A re you sure ? You wouldn't
tell me, if there was. You're all against me because
I'm not a lady. ... Oh, I'm so unhappy.
[She tries to restrain her tears^ she is half-
hysterical. John stares at her, surprised,
at a loss for loords.
Jenny.
If you only knew what a life we lead ! He calls it
a dog's life, and he's right.
John.
I thought you got on so well.
Jenny.
Oh, before you we've always kept up appearances.
He's ashamed to let you know he regrets he ever
married me. He wants to separate.
John.
What!
Jenny.
[Impatiently.^ Oh, don't look so surprised. You're
not an utter fool, are you ? He proposed it to-day
before you came in. We'd been having one of our
rows.
John.
But what on earth is it all about ?
80 A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
God knows !
John.
It's nonsense. It can only be a little passing
quarrel. You must expect to have those.
Jenny.
No, it isn't. No, it isn't. He doesn't love me.
He's in love with your sister-in-law.
John.
It's impossible.
Jenny.
He's always there. He was there twice last week
and twice the week before.
John.
How d'you know ?
Jenny.
I've followed him.
John.
You followed him in the street; Jenny ?
Jenny,
[Defiantly.] Yes. If I'm not ladylike enough for
him, I needn't play the lady there. You're shocked
now, I suppose ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 81
John.
I wouldn't presume to judge you, Jenny.
Jexxy.
And I've read his letters, too — because I wanted to
know what he was doing. I steamed one open, and
he saw it, and he never said a word.
JOHX.
Good heavens, why did 3^ou do it '^
Jenny.
Because I can't live unless I know the truth. I
thought it was Mrs. Murray's handwriting.
John.
Was it from her ?
Jenny.
No. It was a receipt from the coal merchant. I
could see how he despised me when he looked at the
envelope — I didn't stick it down again very well.
And I saw him smile when he found it was only a
receipt.
John.
Upon my word, I don't think you've got much
cause to be jealous.
Jenny.
Oh, you don't know. Last Tuesday he was dining
82 A MAN OF HONOUR
there, and you should have seen the state he was in.
He was so' restless he couldn't sit still. He looked at
his watch every minute. His eyes simply glittered
with excitement, and I could almost hear his heart
beating.
John.
It can't be true.
Jenny.
He never loved me. He married me because he
thought it was his duty. And then when the baby died
— he thought I'd "entrapped him.
John.
He didn't say so.
Jenny.
No. He never says anything — but I saw it in his
eyes. \Passionately clasping her hands.] Oh, you don't
know what our life is. For days he doesn't say a word
except to answer my questions. And the silence
simply drives me mad. I shouldn't mind if he black-
guarded me. I'd rather he hit me than simply look
and look. I can see he's keeping himself in. He's
said more to-day than he's ever said before. I knew
it was getting towards the end.
John.
[With a heliyJess gesture?^ I'm very sorry.
Jenny.
Oh, don't you pity me, too. I've had a great deal
A MAN OF HONOUR 8^
too much pity. I don't want it. Basil married me
from pity. Oh, I wish he hadn't. I can't stand the
unhappiness.
JOHX.
[Gravely.] You know, Jenny, he*s a man of honour.
Jenny.
Oh, I know he's a man of honour. I wish he had
a little less of it. One doesn't. want a lot of fine
sentiments in married life. They don't work. . . .
Oh, why couldn't I fall in love with a man of my own
class ? I should have been so much happier. I used
to be so proud that Basil wasn't a clerk, or some-
thing in the City. He's right, we shall never be
happy.
John.
[Trying to calm her.] Oh, yes, you will. You
mustn't take things too seriously.
Jenny.
It isn't a matter of yesterday, or to-day, or to-
morrow. I can't alter myself. He knew I wasn't
a lady when he married me. My father had to bring
up five children on two-ten a week. You can't
expect a man to send his daughters to a boarding-
school at Brighton on that, and have them finished
in Paris. . . . He doesn't say a word when I do
something or say something a lady wouldn't — but he
purses up his lips, and looks. . . . Then I get so mad
84 A MAN OF HONOUR
that I do things just to aggravate liim. Sometimes
I try to be vulgar. One learns a good deal in a bar
in the City, and I know so well the things to say
that'll make Basil curl up. I want to get a bit of
revenge out of him sometimes, and I know exactly
where he's raw and where I can hurt him. [With a
laugh of scorn?^ You should see the way he looks
when I don't eat properly, or when I call a man a
Johnny.
John.
[Brily?^ It opens up endless possibilities of domestic
unhappiness.
Jenny.
Oh, I know it isn't fair to him, but I lose my head.
I can't always be refined. Sometimes I can't help
breaking out. I feel I must let myself go.
John.
Why don't you separate, then ?
Jenny.
Because I love him. Oh, John; you don't know
how I love him. I'd do anything to make him
happy. I'd give my life if he wanted it. Oh, I
can't say it, but when I think of him my heart burns
so that sometimes I can hardly breathe. I can never
show him that he's all in the world to me ; I try to
make him love me, and I only make him hate me.
What can I do to show him ? Ah, if he only knew,
I'm sure he'd not regret that he married me. I feel
A MAN OF HONOUR 85
— I feel as if my heart was fall of music, and yeb
something prevents me from ever bringing it out.
John.
D'you think he means it seriously when he talks of
separation ?
Jenky.
He's been brooding over it. I know him so well,
I knew there was something he was thinking over.
Oh, John, I couldn't live without him. I'd rather
die. If he leaves me, I swear I'll kill myself.
John.
[Walking ^(j) and dovm.'] I w^ish I could help you.
I don't see anything I can do.
Jenny.
Oh, yes, there is. Speak to your sister-in-law.
Ask her to have mercy on me. Perhaps she doesn't
know what she's doing. Tell her I love him. . . .
Take care. There's Basil. If he knew what I'd said
he'd never speak to me again.
[Basil co??ies in^ dressed in a frock-coat; ivith a
tall hat in his hand.
Basil.
I'm ready. We've just got time to catch the train.
86 A MAN OF HONOUR
Joiix.
All right. Good-b)e, Mr?. Kent.
Jenny.
[Keeping her eyes fixed on Basil.] Good-bye.
\_The two men go out. Jenny runs to the door
and calls out.
Jenny,
Basil, I want you a moment, Basil !
[Basil appears at the door.
Jenny.
Are you really going to Chancery Lane ?
[Basil makes a movement of impatience and
goes out again ivithout answering.
Jenny,
[^^o^i*^.] Oh, well, I'm going to see that for myself.
[^Calling to the Maid.] Fanny ! . . , Bring my hat
and my j icket. Quick !
\She runs to the loindoiD and loohs out at Basil
and John going away» Fanny appears
ivith the clothes. Jenny hurriedly 2^uis
them on,
Jenny.
[As Fanny is helping her.] What time is it ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 87
Fanny.
[Looking up at the cloch.l Five minutes past four.
Jenny,
I think I can catch it. He said 4.15.
Fanny.
Will you be in to tea, mum?
Jenny.
I don't know. [She runs to the door and rushes out?^
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
THE THIRD ACT
The Same Afternoon.
[A luxuonously furnished draunng-room at Mrs.
Murray's house in Charles Street, May fair.
Everything in it is heautifid, hut suggests in the
owner good taste rather than originality^
[Hilda is seated near a tea-tahle, elahorately goumed,
and with her is Mabel. Mr. Kobert Brackley
is sitting down, a stout, round-faced man, clean-
shaven and very hcdd ; about forty ; he is attired
in the height of fashion, in a frock-coat, 'patent-
leather hoots a7id an eye-glass. He talks very
quickly, in a careless frivolous fashion, and is
always much amused at what he says.]
Mabel,
What is the time, Mr. Brackley ?
Brackley.
I shan't tell you again.
Mabel.
How brutal of you !
88
A MAN OF HONOUR 89
Brackley.
There's something unhealthy in your passion for
information. I've already told you five times.
Hilda-.
It's very unflattering to us who've been doing our
little best to amuse you.
Mabel.
I can't imagine what's happened to John. He
promised to fetch me here.
Hilda.
He's sure to come if you'll only wait patiently.
Mabel.
But I hate waiting patiently.
Hilda.
You shouldn't have let him out of your sight.
Mabel.
He went to Putney after luncheon to see your
friend Mr. Kent. Have you seen him lately ?
- Hilda.
John ? I saw him at the Martins yesterday.
Mabel.
ISlyly.l I meant Mr. Kent.
90 A MAN OF HONOUR
Hilda.
[Indifferently.'] Yes. He called the other day.
[To change the conversation.] You're unusually silent,
Mr. Brackley.
Brackley.
[Smiling.] I have nothing whatever to say.
Mabel.
That's usually when clever people talk most.
Hilda,
Are you doing anything now ?
Brackley.
Oh yes, I'm writing a play in blank verse.
Hilda.
You brave man. What is it about ?
Brackley^
Cleopatra,
Hilda,
Dear me ! Shakespeare wrote a play about
Cleopatra, didn't he ?
Brackley.
I daresay. I haven't read it. Shakespeare bores
me. He lived so long ago.
Mabel.
Of course there are people who read him.
A MAN OF HONOUR 91
Brack LEY.
Are there ? What do they look like ?
Hilda.
[Smiling.] They bear no distinctive mark of their
eccentricity.
Brackley.
The English are so original.
Mabel.
I think I shall go and ring up the flat. I wonder
if John has gone straight home.
Brackley.
Do. I'm growing very uneasy about him.
Mabel.
[Laughing.] You absurd creature.
[She goes out.
Hilda.
You talk more nonsense than anyone I ever met.
Brackley.
That's my stock in trade. You don't imagine
people would read my poems if they knew that I was
sober, industrious, and economical. As a matter of
fact I lead the virtuous life of a clergyman's daughter,
but not a reviewer would notice me if he knew it.
92 A MAN OF HONOUR
Hilda.
And the little things that the indiscreet read of in
the papers. . . .
Brackley.
Are merely another proof of my passion for duty.
The British public wants its poets to lead romantic
lives.
Hilda.
Are you ever serious ?
Brackley.
May I come to lunch with you on Thursday ?
Hilda.
[A little surprised.] Certainly. But why on
Thursday ?
Brackley.
Because on that day I intend to ask you to marry
me.
Hilda.
[With a smile.~\ I'm sorry, I've just remembered
that I'm lunching out.
Brackley.
You break my heart.
Hilda.
On the contrary, I provide you with the materials
for a sonnet.
^ MAN OF HONOUR 93
Brackley.
Won't you marry me ?
Hilda.
No.
Brackley.
Why not ?
Hilda.
[Amused.] I'm not in the least in love with yon.
Brackley.
People who propose to marry should ask themselves
if they can look forward with equainmity to break-
fasting opposite one another for an indefinite number
of years.
Hilda.
You're very unromantic.
Brackley.
My dear lady, if you want romance I'll send you
my complete works bound in vellum. I've ground
out ten volumes of romance to Phyllis and Chloe and
heaven knows who. The Lord save me from a
romantic wdfe.
Hilda,
But I'm afraid I'm hopelessly romantic.
Brackley.
Well, six months of marriage with a poet will cure
you.
94 A MAN OF HONOUR
Hilda.
I'd rather not be cured.
Brackley.
Won't you be in to luncheon on Thursday ?
Hilda.
No. \Tlie Butler comes in.
Butler.
Mr. Halliwell, Mr. Kent.
[Basil cmd John appear, and at the same
moment Mabel comes in from tlte room in
loJiich she has been tele2)honin(j .
Mabel.
\^To John.] Wretched creature ! I've been trying
to ring you up.
John.
Have I kept you waiting ? I went down to
Chancery Lane with Basil.
[John turns to shake hands imtli Hilda and
Brackley, n^Mle Basil, loho has said how
d'yoiL do to Hilda, comes down to sjjeak to
Mabel. The convci'sation between Mabel
and Basil is m an imdertone.
A MAN OF HONOUR 95
Basil.
How d'you do. You must scold me for keeping
John so long.
Mabel.
I didn't really want him, you know.
Basil.
[Pointing ivith his head to Bkackley.] I say, who is
that ?
Mabel.
Robert Brackley. Don't you know him^?
Basil.
The poet ?
Mabel.
Of course. They say he'd have been given the
Laureateship if it hadn't been abolished at Tennyson's
death.
Basil.
[Tightening his li2)S.] He's rather a low blackguard,
isn't he ?
Mabel.
Heavens, what the matter with him, poor man ?
He's Hilda's latest celebrity. He pretends to adore
her.
Basil.
Don't you remember the Grange case that he was
mixed up in ?
96 A MAN OF HONOUR
Mabel.
[In to7ies of surprise.] But, my clear Mr. Kent, that
was two years ago.
Hilda.
Mr. Kent, I want to introduce you to Mr. Brackley.
Basil.
[Going up.] How d'you do.
[John comes down to his wife.
Mabel.
Wretched creature !
John.
I say, Mabel, is Basil often here ?
Mabel.
I don't know. I met him here last week.
John.
Why the Dickens does he come ? He's got no
business to.
Mabel.
You brought him yourself to-day.
John.
I didn't. He^insisted on coming — when I said I
had to fetch you.
Mabel.
Perhaps he came to see me.
A MAN OF HONOUR 97
John, ^^'
Fiddlediclee ! I think you ought to sp3ak to Hilda
about it.
Mabel.
My dear John, are you mad? She'd jump down
my throat.
John.
Why does she let him hang about her ? She must
know she's turning his silly head.
Mabel.
I daresay she wants to prove to him that he
showed very bad taste a year ago. It is rather
annoying when you're attached to a young man that
he should go and marry somebody else.
John.
Well, I don't think she's playing the game, and I
shall tell her so.
Mabel.
She'll snub you awfully.
John.
I don't care. . . . Look here, you make a diversion
so that T can get hold of her.
Mabel.
How ?
John.
[D7ylij,] I don't know. Exercise your invention.
98 A MAN OF HONOUR
Mabel.
[Gomg towards the others.] Hilda, John is clamour-
ing for some tea.
Hilda.
[Coming doivn.] Why on earth can't he help
himself ?
John.
My native modesty prevents.
Hilda,
That's quite a new trait in you,
[Hilda sits down and pours out tea for John.
He looks at her silenthj,
Hilda.
You've been lunching at Richmond ?
John,
Yes. , . . Then I went on to Putney*
Hilda.
You've been making quite a day of it.
John,
YTaking the cuj).] I say, old gal — you're not going
to make a fool of yourself, are you ?
Hilda,
[Opening her eyes.'] Oh, I hope not. AVhy ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 90
John.
I thonglifc it might have slipped your memory that
Basil was maiiied about a year ago.
Hilda.
[Freezing.'\ What on earth d'you mean ? [Calling]
Mabel.
John.
One moment. . . . You can give me a little con-
versation, can't you ?
Hilda.
I'm afraid you're going to bore me.
John.
\Good-huinouredly.] I assure you I'm not. . . .
Isn't Basil here rather often ?
Hilda.
I wonder you haven't learnt to mind your own
business, John.
John.
Don't you think it's rather rough on that poor little
woman in Putney?
Hilda.
\With a suspicion of conteni2)t.] I went down to see
her. I thought she was vulgar and pretentious. I'm
afraid I can't arouse any interest in her.
100 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
[Genthj.] She may be vulgar, but she tohi me her
love was like music in her heart. Don't you think
she must have suftered awfully to get hold of a thought
like that ?
Hilda.
[After a pause, changing suddenly both voice and
maomei'.] And d'you think I've not suffered, John ?
I'm so unhappy.
John.
Do you really care for him ?
Hilda.
[In a Join voice hoarse with passion.] No, I don't care
for him. I worship the very ground he treads on.
John.
[Very gravely.'] Then you must do as you think
best. . . . You're playing the most dangerous game
in the world. You're playing with human hearts.
, . . Good-bye.
Hilda.
[Taking his hand.] Good-bye, John. You're not
angry with me because I was horrid. . . . I'm glad
you told me about his wife. Now I shall know what
to do.
John.
Mabel.
Mabel.
[Coming foru'ard.] Yes, we really must be going.
I've not seen my precious baby for two hours.
A MAN OF HONOUR 101
Hilda.
[^Taking both her hands.] Good-bye, you happy
cliilcl. You've got a precious baby, and you've got a
husband you love. What can you want more?
Mabel.
\_Fli2>panlhj.'] I want a motor-car.
Hilda.
[Kissing her.] Good-bye, darling.
[Mabel and Joun go out.
Brackley.
I like this room, Mrs. Murray. It never seems to
say to you : now it's really time for you to go away,
as some drawing-rooms do.
Hilda.
[Recovering her serenity.^ I suppose it's the furniture.
I'm thinking of changing it.
Brackley.
[With a smile.'] Upon my word, that almost suggests
that I've outstayed my welcome.
Hilda.
[Gaily.] I shouldn't have said that if I didn't know
that nothing would induce you to go till you wanted
to.
Brackley.
[Rising.] You know me like your glove. But it
really is growing monstrous late.
102 A MAN OF HONOUR
Hilda.
You mustn't go till you've told me who the fair
charmer was I saw you v.ith at the play last night.
Brackley.
Ah, the green-eyed monster !
Hilda.
[Laughing.] Don't be so absurd, but I thought
you'd like to know her yellow hair was dyed.
[Basil lool-s over the pages of a hook, somewhat
annoyed that Hilda talces no notice of him.
Brackley.
Of course it was dyed. That was just the charm
of it. Any woman can have yellow hair naturally :
there's no more credit in that than in having it blue
or green.
Hilda.
I've always wanted to make mine purple.
Brackley.
Don't you think women ought to be artificial ? It's
just as much their duty to rouge their cheeks and
powder their noses as it is for them to wear nice
frocks.
Hilda.
But I know many women who wear horrid frocks.
Brackley.
Oh, those are the others. I treat them as non-
existent.
A MAN OF IIONOUU 103
Hilda.
What do you mean ?
Brackley.
There are only two sorts of women in the world —
the women who powder their noses and the others.
Hilda.
And who are they if you please ?
Brackley.
I haven't examined the matter very carefully, but
I understand they are clergymen's daughters by
profession. \IIe shakes hands ivith her.
Hilda.
It's so nice of you to have come.
Brackley.
[N'odding at Basil.] Good-bye. . . . May I come
again soon ?
Hilda.
[Looking at him quickly. ^ Were you serious just
now, or were you laughing at me ?
Brackley.
I've never been more serious in my life.
Hilda.
Then perhaps I shall be in to luncheon on Thursday
after all.
104 A MAN OF HONOUR
Brackley.
A thousand thanks. Good-bye.
[i/e nods to Basil a7ul goes out. Hilda loohs
at Basil ivith a smile.
Hilda.
Is that a very interesting book ?
Basil.
[Flitting it clonni.] I thought that man was never
going away.
Hilda.
[Laughing.] I suspect he thought precisely the
same of you.
Basil.
[Ill-te7nperedli/.] What an ass he is ! How can you
stand him ?
Hilda.
I'm rather attached to him. I don't take everything
he says very seriously. And young men ought to be
foolish.
Basil.
He didn't strike me as so juvenile as all that.
Hilda.
He's only forty, poor thing — -and I've never known
a coming young man who was less than that.
Basil.
He's a young man with a very bald head.
A MAN OF HONOUR 105
Hilda.
[Amused.] I wonder why you dislike him !
Basil.
[WitJi a jecdous glance, icihj.] I thought he wasn't
admitted into decent houses.
Hilda.
[Opening her eyes?\ He comes here, Mr. Kent.
Basil.
[Unable to restrain his ill-tem^yer.] Don't you know
that he's been mixed up in every scandal for the
last twenty years ?
Hilda.
[Good-hiwiouredli/, seeing that Basil is Qnerely
jealous.] There must be people in the world to provide
gossip for their neighbours.
Basil.
It's no business of mine. I have no right to talk
to you like this.
Hilda.
I wonder why you do it ?
Basil.
[Almost savagely.] Because I love you.
[There is a little 2)fiuse.
lOG A MAN OF HONOUR
Hilda.
[With a smile, ironically.] Won't you have .some
more tea, Mr. Kent ?
Basil.
[Going v/p to her, speaking with a sort of vehement
gravity.] You don't know what I've suffered. You
don't know what a hell my life is. . . I tried so hard
to prevent myself from coming here. When I married
I swore I'd break with all my old friends. . . . When
I married I found I loved you.
Hilda.
I can't listen to you if you talk like that.
Basil.
D'you want me to go ?
[Kihe does not answer for a moment, hut vxdks
up and doivn in agitation. At last she
stops and faces him.
Hilda.
Bid you hear me tell Mr. Brackley to come on
Thursday ?
Basil.
Yes.
Hilda.
He's asked me to be his wife. And on Thursday I
shall give him an answer.
Basil.
Hilda !
A MAN OF HONOUR 107
Hilda.
[Eaimestli/.] It's you who've driven me into it.
Basil.
Hilda, what are you going to say to him ?
Hilda.
I don't know — perhaps, yes ?
Basil.
Oh, Hilda,, Hilda, you don't care for him ?
Hilda.
[Shrugging her shoidders.] He amuses me. I dare
say we should get on very well together.
Basil.
[Passionateli/.] Oh, you can't. You don't know
what you're doing. I thought — I thought you loved
me.
Hilda.
It's because I love you that I shall marry Mr.
Brackley.
Basil.
Oh, it's absurd, I won't let you. You're making
us both utterly wretched. I won't let you sacrifice
our happiness. Oh, Hilda, I love you. I can't live
los A MAN OF HONOUR
without you. At first I tried to resist seeing you.
I used to pass your door and look up at your
windows ; and the door seemed as if it were waiting
for me. And at the end of the street I used to look
back. Oh, how I used to want to come in and see
you once more ! I thought if I saw you just once, I
should get over it. And at last I couldn't help
myself. I'm so weak. Do you despise me ?
Hilda.
[Almost in a v:his'per.'\ I don't know.
Basil.
And you were so kind I couldn't help coming again.
I thought I did no harm.
Hilda.
I saw you were unhappy.
Basil.
I should think I was unhappy. For months I've
dreaded going home. When I saw my house as I
walked along I almost turned sick. You don't know
how fervently I've wished that I'd got killed in the
war. I can't go on.
Hilda.
But you must. It's your dut}^
Basil.
Oh, I think I've had enough of duty and honour.
I've used up all my principles in the last year.
A MAN OF HONOUR 109
Hilda.
Don't say that, Basil.
Basil.
After all, it's my own fault. I brought it on my-
self, and I must take the consequences. . . . But I
haven't the strength, I don't love her.
Hilda.
Then don't let her ever find it out. Be kind to
her, and gentle and forbearing.
Basil.
I can't be kind and gentle and forbearing day after
day, for weeks, and months, and years.
Hilda.
I thought you were a brave man. They wouldn't
have given you that medal if you'd been a coward.
Basil.
Oh, my dearest, it's not hard to risk your life in
the midst of battle. I can do that — but this needs
more strength than I've got. I tell you I can't
endure it.
Hilda.
[Tenderly^ But it'll get better. You'll get used to
one another, and you'll understand one another better.
110 A MAN OF IIONOUrv
Basil.
We're too different. It's impossible for it to get
better. We can't even go on as we have been. I've
felt that the end was coming.
Hilda.
But try— try for my sake.
Basil.
You don't know what it is. Everything she says,
everything she does, jars upon me so frightfully. I
try to restrain myself. I clench my teeth to prevent
myself from breaking out at her. Sometimes I can't
help it, and I say things that I'd give anything to have
left unsaid. She's dragging me down. I'm getting
as common and vulgar as she is.
Hilda.
How can you sa.y that of your wife ?
Basil.
Don't you think I must have gone through a good
deal before I could acknowledge to myself w^hat she
was ? I'm chained to her for all my life. And when
I look into the future — I see her a vulgar, slatternly
shrew like her mother, and myself abject, degraded,
and despicable. The woman never tires in her con-
flict with the man, and in the end he always succumbs.
A man, when he marries a woman like that, thinks he's
going to lift her up to his own station. 'J'he fool !
It's she who drags him down to hers.
A MAN OF HONOUR 111
Hilda.
[Much distifrhed, rising from her seat.] I wanted
you to be so liappy.
Basil.
[Going toivards her.] Hilda !
Hilda.
No — don't. . . . Please !
Basil.
If it weren't for you I couldn't have lived. It was
only by seeing 3'ou that I gathered courage to go on
with it. And each time I came here I loved you
more passionately.
Hilda.
Oh J why did you come ?
Basil.
I couldn't help it. I knew it was poison, but I
loved the poison. I would give my whole soul for one
look of your eyes.
Hilda.
If you care for me at all, do your duty like a brave
man — and let me respect you.
Basil.
Say that you love me, Hilda.
112 A MAN OF IIONOUn
Hilda.
[Distracted.] You're making our friendship impos-
sible. Don't you see that you're preventing me from
ever having you here again ?
Basil.
I can't help it.
Hilda.
I ought never to have seen you again. I thought
there was no harm in your coming, and I — I couldn't
bear to lose you altogether.
Basil.
Even if I never see you again, I must tell you now
that I love you. I made you sufter, I was blind. But
I love you with all my heart, Hilda. All day I think
of you, and I dream of you in the night. I long to
take you in my arms and kiss you, to kiss your lips,
and your beautiful hair, and your hands. My whole
soul is yours, Hilda.
\IIe goes towards her again to taJce her in his
arms.
Hilda.
Oh, no, go away. For God's sake, go now. I can't
bear it.
Basil.
Hilda, T can't live without you.
A MAN OF HONOUR 113
Hilda.
Have mercy on me. Don't you see how weak I am ?
Oh, God help me !
Basil.
You don't love me ?
Hilda.
[Vehementhj.] You know I love you. But because
of my great love I beseech you to do your duty.
Basil.
My duty is to be happy. Let us go where we can
love one another — away from England, to a land
where love isn't sinful and ugly.
Hilda.
Oh, Basil, let us try to walk straight. Think of
your wife, who loves you also — as much as I do.
You're all the world to her. You can't treat her so
shamefully.
[iShe2)uis her handkercJiief to her eyes ^ and Basil
gently takes aicay her hand.
Basil.
Don't cry, Hilda. I can't bear it.
Hilda.
\In broken tonas.^ Don't you understand that we
could never respect ourselves again if we did that
H
114 A MAN OF HONOUR
poor creature such a fearful wrong ? She would be
always between us with her tears and her sorrows. I
tell you I couldn't bear it. Have nieicy on ine — if
you love me at all.
Basil.
[Waverhiy.] Hilda, it's too hard. I can't^leave you.
Hilda.
You must. I know it's better to do our duty.
For my sake, dearest, go back to your wife, and don't
let her ever know that you love me. It's because
we're strongei- than she that we must sacrifice
ourselves.
[He leans his head on his hands, and sighs
deeply. For a while they remain in silence*
At last, with another jighi he gets up.\
Basil.
I don't know any longer what's right and what's
wrong. It all seems confused. It's very hard.
Hilda.
[Roai'sely.] It's just as hard for me, Basil.
Basil.
[Broken-hearted.] Good-bye, then. I dare say
you're right. And perhaps I should only make you
very unhappy.
A MAN OF HONOUil 115
Hilda.
Good-bye, my dearest.
[He bends down and kisses her hands. She
stifles a sob. He goes slowhj to the dooi\
with his back turned to Iter ; and then
Hilda, unable to endure it, gives a groan.
Hilda.
Basil. Don't go.
Basil.
[With a cry ofjoij.'] Ah ! Hilda.
[He clasps her passionately in his arms.
Hilda.
Oh, I can't bear it. I won't lose yon. Basil, say
yow. love me.
Basil.
[In a madness of joy.^^ Yes. I love you with all
my heart.
Hilda.
I could have borne it if you'd been happy.
Basil.
Now nothing can separate us, Hilda. You belong
to me for ever.
Hilda.
God help me ! What have I done i
116 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
If we lose our souls, what does it matter ? We gain
the whole world.
Hilda.
Oh, Basil, I want your love. I want your love so
badly.
Basil.
Will you come with me, Hilda ? I can take you
to a land where the whole earth speaks only of love —
and where only love and youth and beauty matter.
Hilda.
Let us go where we can be together always. We
ha\ e so short a time ; let us snatch all the happiness
we can.
Basil.
[Kissing her again,] My darling.
Hilda.
Oh, Basil, Basil. . . . [She starts away.'] Take care !
[The Butler comes in.]
Butler.
Mrs, Kent.
[Jenny enters hurriedly, as he gives her name.
The Butler at once goes oat.
Basil.
Jenny !
A MAN OF HONOUR 117
Jenny.
I've caught you.
Basil.
[Trying to he nrham — to Hilda] I think you'know
my wife.
Jenny.
[In a loud angry voice.] Oh, yes, I know her. You
needn't introduce me. I've come for my husband.
Basil.
Jenny, what are you saying ?
Jenny.
Oh, I don't want any of your Society shams. I've
come here to speak out.
Basil.
[To Hilda.] Woukl you mind leaving us alone ?
Jenny.
[Also to Hilda, ^^^tssionately.] No, I want to speak
to you. You're trying to get my husband from me.
He's my husband.
Basil.
Be quiet, Jenny. Are you mad? Mrs. Murra}^,
for God's sake leave us. She'll insult you.
118 A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
You think of her, you don't think of me. You
don't care how much I sufier.
Basil.
[Taking her arm,] Come away, Jenny.
Jenny.
[Shakwg Mm off.] I won't. Y^ou're afraid to
let me see her.
Hilda.
[Pale and tremhlingt conscience- stricken.] Let her
speak.
Jenny.
[Going up to Hilda threateningly.] You're stealing
my husband from me. Oh, you . . . [She is at a loss
for iDords violent enough.
Hilda.
I don't want to make you unhappy, Mrs. Kent.
Jenny.
Y^ou can't get round me with polite words. I'm
sick of all that. I want to speak straight,
Basil.
[To Hilda.] Please go. Y^ou can do no good.
A MAN OF HONOUR 119
Jenny.
[Still more vehemently.^ You're stealing my husband
from me. You're a wicked woman.
Hilda.
[Almost in a vjhisper,] If you like I'll promise you
never to see your husband again.
Jenny.
[With angry scorn.] Much good your promises will
do me. I wouldn't believe a word you said. I know
what Society ladies are. We know all about them in
the City.
Basil.
[To Hilda.] You must leave us alone.
[lie opens the door^ ana she goes out, looking
o/way from him,
Jenny.
[Savagely.] She's frightened of me. She daren't
stand up to me*
Basil,
[As Hilda goes.] I'm so sorry.
Jenny.
You're sorry for her.
120 A MAN OF HONOUPx
Basil.
[Turning on her.] Yes, I am. What d'you mean
by coming here and behaving like this ?
Jenny.
I've caught you at last. . . . You liar ! You dirty
liar ! You told me you were going to Chancery Lane.
Basil.
I have been to Chancery Lane.
Jenny.
Oh, I know you have — for five minutes. It was
only an excuse. You might just as well have come
here straight.
Basil.
[Ang^'ily.] How dare you follow me ?
Jenny.
I've got a right to follow you.
Basil.
\Uiiahle to contain himself.] What d'you want here ?
Jenny.
I want you. D'you think I didn't guess what was
going on? I saw you come in Avith Halliwell. Then
I saw him go out with his wife. Then another man
went out, and I knew you were alone with her.
A MAN OF HONOUR 121
Basil.
[Sharply.^ How did you know ?
I gave the butler a sovereign, and he told me.
Basil.
[Looking for a vord to express his contempt.^ Oh,
you . . . you cad ! It's only what I should have
expected you to do.
Jenny.
And then I waited for you, and you didn't come.
And at last I couldn't wait any longer.
Basil.
Well, you've finished it now.
[Jenny catches sight of a photograp>li of Basil,
standing on a table.
Jenny.
[^Pointing to 27. ] "What's she got your photograph
here for ?
Basil.
I gave it to Mrs. Murray before I was married.
Jenny.
She's got no right to keep it there.
[She takes the pliotogrnpth andjVmgs it violently
on the floor.
122 A MAN OF TTONOUR
Basil.
Jenny, what are you doing ?
[Jenny digs her heel into it savayeli/, viciously.
Jenny.
[Hissing the imrds.'\ Oh, I hate her. I hate her.
Basil.
[Striving to contain himself.^ You drive me per-
fectly mad. You'll make me say things that I shall
regret all my life. For Heaven's sake, go.
Jenny.
I shan't go till you come with me.
Basil.
[Beside himself.] I choose to remain.
Jenny.
What d'you mean ?
Basil.
Look here, until to-day I swear to you before God
that I've never done anything or said anything that
you couldn't have known. Do you believe me ?
Jenny.
I don't believe that you're not in love with that
woman.
A MAN OF HONOTTR 123
Basil.
I don't ask you to.
Jenny.
What!
Basil.
I said, until to-day I've been absoluely faithful to
you. Heaven knows, I've tiied to do my duty. I've
done all I could to make you happy. And I've
struggled with all my might to love you.
Jenny.
Say it out if you've got anything to say, I'm not
afraid to hear.
Basil.
I don't wish to deceive you. It's best that you
should know what has happened.
Jenny.
\^Scornfully.'\ Now for another thumping lie.
Basil.
This afternoon I told Hilda I loved her. . . . And
she loves me too.
Jenny.
\With a cry of rage. ^ Oh !
\She hits at his face ivith her umhrella, hut he
vmrds the bloif), and, snatcldng the umbrella
from her, throws it away.
124 A MAN OF HONOTTTl
Basil.
You've brought it on yourself. You made me too
unhappy.
[Jenny, pantmg and heivildered, stands helpless,
trying to control herself.
Basil,
And now it's the end. The life we led was im-
possible. I tried to do something that was beyond
my power. I'm going away. I can't and I won't
live with you any longer.
Jenny.
[Frightened at herself and at iohat he saj/s.^ Basil,
you don't mean that ?
Basil.
I've struggled against it for months. And now
I'm beaten.
Jenny.
You've got me to count with. I won't let you go.
Basil.
[Bitterlj/.] What more d'you want ? Isn't it enough
that you've ruined my whole life ?
Jenny.
[Hoarsely.^ You don't love me ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 125
Basil.
I never loved you.
Jenny.
Why did you marry me ?
Basil.
Because you made me.
Jenny.
[In a ivhisjjer.] You never loved me — even at the
beginning ?
Basil.
Never.
Jenny.
Basil !
Basil.
It's too late now to keep it in. I must tell you
and have done with it. Yoii\e been having it out for
months — now it's my turn.
Jenny.
[Gohig itp to him and trying to put her mmi round
his neck.^ But I love you, Basil. I'll make you love
me.
Basil.
YShrlnkiny from her.] Don't touch me !
126 A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
[ With a movement of despair.^ I really think you
loathe me.
Basil.
For Heaven's sake, Jenny, let us finish with it.
I'm very sorry. I don't wish to be unkind to you.
But you must have seen that — that I didn't care for
you. What's the good of going on humbugging,
and pretending, and making ourselves utterly
wretched ?
Jenny.
Yes, I've seen it. But I wouldn't believe it.
When I've put my hand on your shoulder, I've seen
that you could hardly help shuddering. And some-
times when I've kissed you, I've seen you put out all
your strength to prevent yourself from pushing me
away.
Basil.
Jenny, I can't help it if I don't love you. I can't
help it if I — if I love some one else.
Jenny.
[^Dazed and cowed.] What are you going to do ?
I'm going away.
Where '^
Basil.
Jenny.
A MAN OF HONOUR 127
Basil.
God knows.
[There is a knock at the door.
Basil.
Come in.
[The Butler enters with a note, which he' gives
to Basil. ^
Butler.
Mrs. Murray told me to give you this note, Sir.
Basil.
[Taking it.] Thank you.
[He ope?is and reads it as the Servant goes out
of the room, then looks up at Jenny, who
is anxiously watching him.
[Reading.] " You may tell your wife that I've made
up my mind to marry Mr. Brackley. I will never
see you again."
Jenny.
What does she mean '(
Basil.
[Bitterly.] Isn't it clear ? Some one has asked her
to marry him, and she means to accept.
Jenny.
But you said she loved you.
[He shrirgs his shoidders without answering.
Jenny goes up to him imploringly.
128 A MAN OF HONOUR
Jenny.
Oh, Basil, if it's true, give me another chance. She
doesn't love you as I love you. I've been selfish and
quarrelsome and exacting, but I've always loved you.
Oh, don't leave me, Basil. Let me try once more if
I can't make you care for me.
Basil.
[Looking down, hoarsely*] I'm very sorry. It's too
late.
Jenny.
[DesjKiirmgly.] Oh, God, what shall I do? And
even though she's going to marry somebody else, you
care for her better than any one else in the world ?
Basil.
[In a vjhispe7\] Yes.
Jenny.
And even if she does marry that other man she'll
love you still. There's no room for me between you.
I can go away like a discharged servant. . . .|0h,
God ! oh, God ! what have I done to deserve it ?
Basil.
[Touched by her utter misery.'] I'm very sorry to
make you so unhappy.
Jenny.
Oh, don't pity me. D'you think I want your pity
now?
A MAN OF HONOUR 129
Basil.
You had better come away, Jenny.
Jenxy.
No. You've told me you don't want me any more.
I shall go my own way.
Basil.
l^Looks at her for a moment^ hesitating ; then shrugs
his shoulders.^ Then good-bye.
[He goes out, and Jenny, looking after him,
passes her hoMd wearily over her forehead.
Jenny.
\With a sigh.] He's so glad to go, . . . [She gives a
little sob.] They've got no room for me.
[She takes up from the floor the photograpih on
which she stauiped^ and looks at it; then
sinkt, doivn, burying her face in her hands,
and bursts into a 2^assion of tears.
END OF the THIHD ACT.
THE FOURTH ACT.
The Next Morning.
\The scene is the same as in the Second Act, the draioing-
room at Basil's house in Putney. Basil is sitting
at the table, with his head in his hands. He looks
tired and ivorn ; his face is very white, and there
are great black lilies under his eyes. His hair is
dishevelled. On the table lies a revolver.
[A knock at the door.
Basil.
\Withoiit looking up?[ Come in.
Fanny.
[Fanny e^iters.]
[Subdued and ^^cde.^ I came to see if you wanted
anytliing, sir.
Basil.
[Looking uj) at her slotoly, his voice is dull and
hoarseA No.
130
A MAN OF HONOUR 131
Fanny.
Shall I open the windows, Sir ? It's a beautiful
morning.
Basil.
No, I'm cold. Make up the fire.
Fanny.
Wouldn't you like a cup of tea ? You ought to
'ave something after not going to bed all night.
Basil.
I don't want anything. . . . Don't worry, there's
a good woman.
[Fanny puts coals on the fire, ivhile Basil
listlessly watches her.
Basil.
How long is it since you sent the telegrams ?
Fanny.
I took them the moment the office was opened.
Basil.
What's the time ?
Fanny.
Well, sir, it must be 'alf-past nine by now.
132 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
Good Heavens, how slowly the hours go. ^ I
thought the night would never end. . . . Oh, God,
what shall I do ?
Fanny.
I'll make you a strong cup of tea. If you don't
'ave something to pull you together — I don't know
what'ir appen to you.
Basil.
Yes, make it quickly, I'm thirsty. . . And I'm so
cold.
[A ring at the front door is heard.
Basil.
[Jumping up.] There's some one at the door,
Fanny. Hurry up.
[She goes oiU, and he follows her to the door of
the r 00771.
Basil.
Fanny, don't let any one up beside Mr. Halliwell.
Say I can see no one. [He waits for a moment^
anxiously.] Is that you, John ?
John.
[Outside.] Yes.
Basil.
[To himself] Thank God !
[John comes in.
A MAN OF HONOUR 138
Basil.
I thought you were never coming. I begged you
to come at once.
John.
I started immediately I got your wire.
Basil.
It seems hours since the girl went to the post-
office.
JOHX.
What's the matter ?
Basil.
[Hoarsely. ^^ Don't you know? I thought I had
said it in my telegram.
JOHX.
You simply wired that you were in great trouble.
Basil.
I suppose I thought you'd see it in the papers.
John.
What on earth d'you mean ? I've not seen a paper.
Where's your wife ?
Basil.
\After a pause, almost in a iohiS2M7\] She's dead.
John.
[Thunderstruck.] Good God !
134 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
[Iinjmtiently .^ Don't look at me like that. Isn't it
plain enough ? Don't you understand ?
John.
But she was all right yesterday.
Basil.
[JDullu^ Yes. She was all right yesterday.
John.
For goodness sake tell me what you mean, Basil.
Basil.
She's dead. . . . And she was all right yesterday.
[John does not understand, lie is greatly
distressed, and does not knoio ivhat to say.
Basil.
I killed her — as surely as if I'd strangled her with
my own hands.
John.
What d'you mean ? She's not really dead !
Basil.
\In agony.] She threw herself into the river last
John.
night.
How awful !
A MAN OF HONOUR 135
Basil.
Haven't yon got something more to say than how
awful ? I feel as if I were going mad.
John.
But I can't understand ! Why did she do it ?
Basil.
Oh — yesterday we had an awful row . . . before
you came.
John.
I kcow.
Basil.
Then she followed me to ... to your sister-in-
law's. And she came up and made another scene.
Then I lost my head. I was so furious, I don't know
what I said. I was mad. I told her I'd have
nothing more to do with her. . . . Oh, I can't bear
it, I can't bear it.
[He hi^eaks down and hides his face in his hands,
sobbing.
John.
Come, Basil — pull yourself together a bit.
Basil.
[Looking up despairingly.^ I can hear her voice
now. I can see the look of her eyes. She asked me
to give her another chance, and I refused. It was
so pitiful to hear the way she appealed to me, only I
was mad, and I couldn't feel it.
[Fanny comes in loith the cup of tea, which
Basil silently takes and drinks.
136 A MAN OF HONOUR
Fanny.
[To John.] He ain't slept a wink all night, sir,
. . . No more 'ave I, for the matter of that.
[John 7iods, but does not ansiver ; and Fanny,
wiping her eyes imth her a^won^ leaves the
room.
Basil.
Oh, I'd give everything not to have said what I
did. I'd always held myself in before, but yesterday
— I couldn't.
John.
Well ?
Basil.
I didn't get back here till nearly ten, and the maid
told me Jenny had just gone out. 1 thought she'd
gone back to her mother's.
John.
Yes?
Basil.
And soon after a constable came up and asked me
to go down to the river. He said there'd been an
accident. . . . She was dead. A man had seen her
walk along the tow-path and throw herself in.
John.
Where is she now ?
Basil.
[Pointing to one of the doors.^ In there.
John.
Will you take me in ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 137
Basil.
Go in alone, John. 1 daren't, I'm afraid to look
at her. I can't bear the look on her face. ... I
killed her — as surely as if I'd strangled her with my
own hands. I've been looking at the door all night,
and once I thought I heard a sound. I thought she
was coming to reproach me for killing her.
[John" goes to the door^ and as he opens it, Basil
averts his head. When John shuts the
door after him, he looks at it with staring,
frightened eyes, half mad ivith ajony. He
tries to contain himself. After a while
John" comes hack, very quietly.
Basil.
[Whisjjering.^ What does she look like?
John.
There's nothing to be afraid of, Basil. She might
be sleeping.
Basil.
[Clenching his hands.^ But the ghastly pallor , . .
John.
[Gravely.'] She's happier than she would ever have
been if she'd lived.
[Basil sighs deeply.
John.
[Seeing the revolver?^ What's this for ?
138 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
[With a groan of seIf-conte7n2)t.] I tried to kill
myself in the night.
John.
H'm!
[fie takes the cm^tridges out and jnits the re'colver
in his i^ocket.
Basil.
[Bitterly^ Oh, don't be afraid, I haven't got the
pluck. ... I was afraid to go on living. I thought
if I killed myself it would be a reparation for her
death. I went down to the river, and I walked along
the tow-path to the same spot — but I couldn't do it.
The water looked so black and cold and pitiless. And
yet she did it so easily. She just walked along and
threw herself in. [Apause?^ Then I came back, and
I thought I'd shoot myself.
John.
D'you think that would have done any one much
good ?
Basil.
I despised myself. I felt I hadn't the right to
live, and I thought it would be easier just to pull a
trigger. . . . Peoi:>le say it's cowardly to destroy
oneself, they don't know what courage it wants. I
couldn't face the pain — and then, I don't know what's
on the other side. After all, it may be true that
there's a cruel, avenging God, who will punish us to
all eternity if we break His unknown laws.
A MIS; OF HONOrK im
fm werj ^laA wn seiat for me. Xon liad hsitiker
eome hofiE: Ky JjsmiSimi^ and fita^ tnlii me for ihB
Jkaid dj'oo loiow wi3^ l3a|spGffied ]iiil>ein^bt>f I
eoaldQD% go id) lisid. ' 1 mJt I coaild never s!lee|» ^^^nn
— and Hien, {seaeDtfy, 1 dcoed aflT quite qvaetlj in
nrr diaic Jind I Sq^ as esnuf otIbMik^ — as if Jewsy
'wisrsL.'z "rviiiv m thssRB, odd and dead. ATii<i iJie maid
jni3m HA 'i^tmsiwiit mii i^kmikff J piiSBBd as iSeqatees a
PleatM:', mr. Mr. Jame»t.
':''■ -- '^.^' r' ania^, 1 t<M ma jim wai) toe ID 1^ see
Basil.
I wm^t mat lorn. 1 knew lue'd be ipiond, emise
JLf:.^ iJl I sn^fOEe ifae laas a. eerlain n^ajt to eome
hoc — imder iiie ammuttaneBs. Hadn% jcm liei^ler
see iiiHidt lie wants f
140 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
Oh, he'll make a scene. I shall knock him down.
I've sufierecl too much through him already.
John.
Let tne see him. You don't want him to make a
fuss at the inquest.
Basil.
I've been thinking of that. I know the stories he
and his people will make up. And the papers will
get hold of it, and every one will blackguard me.
They'll say it was my fault.
John.
D'you mind if I have a talk to him ? I think I
can save you from all that.
Basil.
[Shrugging his shoulders., impatiently ^^ Do what-
ever you like.
John.
[To Fanny.] Show him up, Fanny.
Fanny.
Yes, sir. [She goes out.
Basil.
Then I shall go.
[John nods, and Basil goes out hy the door
next to that of the roomi in which Jenny is
lying. James Bush appears.
A MAN OF HONOUR 141
John".
[Grave and cold.] Good morning, Mr. Bush.
James.
[Aggressively.] Where's that man ?
JOHI^.
[liaising his eyebrows.] It's usual to take one's hat
ofl:' in other people's houses.
James.
I'm a man of principle, I am ; and I keep my 'at
on to show it.
John.
Ah, well, we won't discuss the point.
James.
I want to see that man.
John.
May I ask to whom you're referring ? There are
so many men in the world. In fact, it's very over-
crowded.
James.
Who are you, I should like to know ?
John.
[Politely.] My name is Halliwell. I had the
pleasure of meeting you at Basil's rooms in Blooms-
bury.
142 A MAN OF HONOUR
James.
[Aggressively/.] I know that.
John.
I beg your pardon. I thought you were asking
for information.
James.
I tell you I want to see my brother-in-law.
John.
I'm afraid you can't.
James.
I tell you I will see 'im. He's murdered my
sister. He's a blackguard and a murderer, and I'll
tell him so to his face.
JOHN^.
[Sao'castic] Take care he doesn't hear you.
James.
I want him to hear me. I'm not frightened of
him. I should just like to see him touch me now,
[lie sidles viciously to Joh:n'.] H'm, you tried to keep
me out, did yer ? Said I couldn't come to my sister's
'ouse — and kept me waitin' in the 'all like a tradesman.
Oh, I'll make you all pay for this. I'll get my own
back now. Measley set of West End curs, that's all
you are.
A MAN OF HONOUR US
John.
Mr. Bush, you'll be so good as to keep a civil
tongue in your mouth while you're here — and you'll
talk less loudly.
James.
[Sco7mfuUy.] Who says so ?
John.
[Lookmg at Mm quietly.] I do.
James.
[Less decisively.] Don't you try and bully me.
John.
[Pointing to a chair.] Won't you sit down ?
James.
No, I won't sit down. This ain't the 'ouse that a
gentleman would sit down in. I'll be even with 'im
yet. I'll tell the jury a pretty story. He deserves
to be strung up, he does.
John.
I can't tell you how extremely sorry I am for what
has happened.
James.
Oh, don't try and get round me.
John.
Really, Mr. Bush, you have no reason to be indig-
nant with me.
144 A MAN OF HONOUR
James.
Well, I don't think much of you, any 'ow.
John.
I'm very sorry. Last time we met I thought you
a very amiable person. Don't you remember, we
went and had a drink together ?
James.
I don't say yoiire not a gentleman.
John.
[I'akinrj out his cigar-case.] Won't you have a
cigar ?
James.
[Suspiciously.] Look here, you're not trying to
bluff me, are you ?
John.
Certainly not. I wouldn't dream of such a thing.
James.
[Taking a cigar.] Larranaga.
John.
[With an acid smile.] Nine pounds a hundred.
James.
That's one and nine apiece, ain't it ?
A MAN OF HONOUR 145
JOHX.
How quickly you reckon !
James.
You must be pretty oofy to be able to afford that.
John.
[Bi'ilt/.'] It does inspire respect, doesn't it ?
James.
I don't know what you mean by that. But I
flatter myself I know a good cigar when I see it.
[John sits down, and James Bush, without
thinking, follows his example.]
John.
What d'you think you'll get out of making a row
at the inquest ? Of course, there'll be an inquest.
James.
Yes, I know there will. And I'm lookin' forward
to it, I can tell you.
John.
I wouldn't have said that if I'd been you.
James.
[Quite imconscious of the construction that may\ he
put on his last words — full of his own 'grievances.]
I've 'ad something to put up with, I 'ave.
s
146 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
Really ?
James.
Oh, he's treated me shockin' ! He simply treated
me like dirt. I wouldn't 'ave stood it a minute,
except for Jenny's sake. / wasn't good enough for
'im, if you please. And the way he used to look
right through me as if I wasn't there at all — Oh, I'll
be even with 'im now.
John.
What are you going to do ?
James.
Never you mind. I'm going to make it hot for
'im.
John.
D'you think that'll do you any good ?
James.
[Springing u]).] Yes. And I mean to. . . .
John.
[Interrupting.] Now sit down, there's a good chap,
and let's have a little talk about it.
James.
[Angrily.] You're trying to bamboozle me.
John.
Nonsense.
A MAN OF HONOUR 147
James.
Oh, yes, you are. Don't try to deny it. I can see
through you as if you was a pane of glass. You
people in the West End — ^you think you know every-
thing.
John.
I assure you. . . .
James.
[Interrupting.] But I've had a City training, and
you can lay anything you like there ain't no flies
on me.
John.
We're both men of the world, Mr. Bush. Will
you do me a great favour as a — friend ?
James.
[Sus2nciously.] That depends on what it is.
John.
It's merely to listen to me quietly for two or three
minutes.
James.
I don't mind doing that.
John.
Well, the fact is — Basil's going away, and he wants
to get rid of the furniture and the house. What
d'you think it's worth, as an auctioneer?
James.
[Looking roicnd.] It's a very'difFerent business what
a tiling's worth, and what it'll fetch.
148 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
Of course, but a clever man like you. . . .
James.
Now then, no bluff. I tell you it won't work with
me. . . . D'you include plate and linen ?
John.
Everything.
James.
Well, if it was well sold — by a man as knew his
business. ...
John.
If you sold it, for instance ?
James.
It might fetch a hundred pounds — it might fetch a
hundred and fifty.
John.
That wouldn't be a bad present to make to anyone,
would it ?
James.
No. I think I can agree with you there.
John.
Well, Basil thought of giving the entire contents
of the house to your mother and sister.
James.
To tell you the truth, it's no more than he ought
to do.
A MAN OF HONOUR 149
John.
The condition is, of course, that nothing is said at
the inquest.
James.
[With a sneer. 1 You make me laugh. D'you think
you can gag me by giving a houseful of furniture to
my mother ?
Joh:n'.
I had no such exalted opinion of your disinterested-
ness, Mr. Bush. I come to you now.
James.
[Sharply. '\ What d'you mean by that ?
John.
It appears that you owe Basil a good deal of money.
Can you pay it ?
James.
No.
John,
Also it appears that there was some difficulty with
your accounts in your last place,
James.
That's a lie.
John.
Possibly. But altogether I fancy we could make
it uncommonly nasty for you if you made a fuss. If
dirty linen is going to be washed in public — there's
generally a good deal to be done on both sides.
150 A MAN OF HONOUR
James.
I don't care. I mean to get my own back. If I
can only get my knife into that man — I'll take the
consequences.
John.
On the other hand — if you won't make a fuss at
the inquest, I'll give you fifty pounds,
James.
■ [Jiimping up indignantly. '\ Are you trying to bribe
me?
John.
[Calmly, '\ Yes.
James.
I would 'ave you know that I'm a gentleman, and
what's more, I'm an Englishman. And I'm proud of
it. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I've never
'ad any one try and bribe me before,
John.
[Indifferently.'] Otherwise you would, doubtless,
have accepted.
James.
I've got more than half a mind to knock you down.
John.
[With a slight smile.'] Come, come, Mr. Bush, don't
be ridiculous. You'd far better keep quiet, you
know.
A MAN OF HONOUR 151
James.
\Scorrifully,\ What do you think fifty pounds is
to me ? '
JohXb
\}VUh a sharp look^ Who spoke of fifty pounds?
James.
You did.
John.
You must have mistaken me. A hundred and
fifty.
James.
Oh ! ^At first he is surprised, then, as the amount
sinks into his mind, grows doubtfid.^ That's a very
different pair o^ shoes.
Joux,
I don't ask you to say anything untrue. After all,
it's not worth while for a man of the world like you
— a business man — to give way to petty spite. And
we don't want to have any scandal. That would be
just as unpleasant for you as for us.
James.
[Undecided.] There's no denying that she was hys-
terical. If he'd only treated me like a gentleman, I
shouldn't have had anything to say.
Joiix.
Well?
152 A MAN OF HONOUR
James.
[With a fox?/, keen glance at John.] Make it two
'undred, and I'"ll say done.
John.
[Firmly.] No. You can take a hundred and fifty,
or go to the devil.
James,
Oh, well, 'and it over,
John,
[Taking a cheque out of his 2'>ocket.'\ I'll giv^e you>fifty
now and the rest after the inquest,
James,
[With ascertain achiiirationn] You're a sharp 'un,
you are,
[John writes out the cheque and gives it to
James Bush.
James.
Shall I give you a receipt ? I'm a business man,
you know.
John,
Yes, I know ; but it's not necessary. You'll tell
your mother and sister ?
James.
Don't you fear. I'm a gentleman, and I don't go
back on my friends.
A MAN OF HONOUR 153
John.
Now I think I'll say good morning to you. You
can understand that Basil isn't fit to see any one.
James.
I understand. So ]on<T^.
\He stretches out his hand, v:hkh John shakes
gravely.']
John.
, Good morninsf.
[Fanny comes in hy one door as James Busk
goes out hy another.]
Fanny.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
John.
Ah, Fanny, if there were no rogues in the world,
life would really be too difficult for honest men.
[Fanny goes out,' and John walks to the door
and calls.]
John. ' '
Basil — he's gone. . . . Where are you ?
[Basil comes out of the room in vjhich is lying
Jenny's body.]
John.
I didn't know you were in there.
154 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
I wonder if she forgives me ?
John.
I wouldn't worry myself too much if I were yon,
Basil, old man.
Basil.
If you only knew how I despise myself !
John.
Oome, come, Basil, you must make an eftbrt. . . .
Basil.
I've not told you the worst. I feel such a cad.
There's one thought that's been with me all night.
And I caiTbt drive it away. It's worse than anything
else. It's too shameful.
John.
"What do you mean ?
Basil.
Oh, it's so despicable. And yet it's too strong for
me. ... I can't help thinking that I'm — free.
John.
Free ?
Basil.
It's treachery to her memoiy. Bat you don't know
what it is when your prison door is opened. \^As lie
speaks he grows more and more excited.^ I don't want
A MAN OF HONOUR 155
to die. I want to live, and I want to take life by
both hands and enjoy it. I've got such a desire for
happiness. Let's open the windows, and let the
sunlight in. [He goes to the vnndoio and Jiings it
open.] It's so good just to be alive. How can I help
thinking that now I can start fresh ? The slate is
wiped clean, and I can begin again. I tvill he ha.'p'py.
God forgive me, I can't help the thought. I'm free.
I made a ghastly mistake, and I suftered for it.
Heaven knows how I suffered, and how hard I tried
to make the best of it. It wasn't all my fault. In
this world we're made to act and think things because
other people have thought them good. We never
have a chance of going our own way. We're bound
down by the prejudices and the morals of everybody
else. For God's sake, let us be free. Let us do this
and that because we want to and because we must,
not because other people think we ought. [lie sto2)8
suddenly in front of Jonx.] Why don't you say
something ? You stare, at me as if you thought me
raving mad !
John.
I don't know what to say.
Basil.
Oh, I suppose you're shocked and scandalised, I
ought to go on posing. I ought to act the part
decently to the end. You would never have had the
courage to do Avhat I did, and yet, because I've failed,
you think you can look down on me from the height
of your moral elevation.
156 A MAN OF HONOUR
John.
[Gravely.] I was thinking how far a man may fall
when he attempts to climb the stars.
Basil.
I gave the world fine gold, and their currency is
only cowrie-shells. I held up an ideal, and they
sneered at me. In this world you must wallow in
the trough with the rest of them^ ^ . . The only
moral I can see is that if I'd acted like a blackguard
— as ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have
done — and let Jenny go to the dogs, I should have
remained happy and contented and prosperous. And
she, I dare say, wouldn't have died. . . . It's because
I tried to do my duty and act like a gentleman and a
man of honour, that all this misery has come about.
John,
[Looking at him quietly.] I think I should put it in
another way. One has to be very strong and very
sure of oneself to go against the ordinary view of
things. And if one isn't, perhaps it's better not to
run any risks, but just to walk along the same secure
old road as the common herd. It's not exhilarating",
it's not brave, and it's rather dull. But it's eminently
safe.
[Basil scarcely hears the last words, but listens
intently to other sounds outside.
A MAN OF HONOUR 157
Basil.
What's that ? I thought I heard a carriage.
John.
[A little surprised.] Do you expect any one ?
Basil.
I sent a wire to — to Hilda at the same time as to
you,
John.
A h'eady ?
Basil.
[Excited.] D'you think she'll come ?
John.
I don't knowe [A inng is heard at the front door,
Basil.
[Running to the ivindow.] There's some one at the
doore.
John.
Perhaps it's occurred to her also that you're free.
158 A MAN OF HONOUR
Basil.
[With the utmost passion.] Oh, she loves me, and
I — I adore her. God forgive me, I can't help it.
[Fanny comes in.
Fanny.
If you please, sir, the Coroner's oflficer.
THE END.
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