DOVER ROAD

En Zlbsutb Gomebg
in ‘(three Hats

BY

A. A. MILNE

COPYRIGHT 1923, BY SAMUEL FRENCH, LIMITED

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CAUTION:—-Professionals and Amateurs are hereby warned that
“THE DOVER ROAD.” being fully protected under the copy-
right laws of the United States and Great Britain, is subject to
a royalty and any one presenting the play without the consent

of the owners or their authorized agents_ will be liable to the
penalties by law provided. Applications for amateur acting rights
must be made to SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New

York, N. Y.
New York: London:
SAMUEL FRENCH SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd.
Publisher 26 Southampton Street

25‘ VVest 45th Street Strand

THE DOVER ROAD

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Especial notice should be taken that the possession of
this book without a valid contract for production first
having been obtained from the publisher, confers no right
or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play
publicly or in private for gain or charity.

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading
public only, and no performance, representation, produc-
tion, recitation, or public reading, or radio broadcasting
may be given except by special arrangement with Samuel
French, 25 West 45th Street, New York.

This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment
of a royalty of Fifty Dollars for each performance,
payable to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street,
New York, one week before the date when the play is

given.

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must
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play: “Produced by special arrangement with Samuel
French of New York.”

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for
any infringement of the author’s rights, as follows.

“SECTION 4966 :-—Any person publicly performing or rep-
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be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be
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prisoned for a period not exceeding one year.”—U. S.
Revised Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3.

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I‘? .1. .9
THE ORIGINAL CAST OF “THE DOVER ROAD”
The first performance on any stage was at the Bijou
Theatre, New York City, on Friday afternoon, December
23rd, 1921.
T H E H O U S E   1
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Enstasia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .MOLLY PEARSON “}~gu?',2;.=~u,Q_;
Nicholas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . LYONEL WATTS 3,  ,,:.._.; ii , W.

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THE DOVER ROAD

The SCENE is the Reception-Room of Mr. La.timor’a house, a little way ofl
the Dover Road.

Ac’! I.—Even1ng.
A01‘ II.—Next morning.

ACT III.—'l'hnoe days later. Evening.

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THE DOVER ROAD

ACT I

SCENE.-——What Mn. LATIMEB prefers to call the reception-room of his
house is really the hall. You come straight into it through the heavy
oak front door. But this door is so well built, so well—protected by
a thick purple curtain, and the room so well warmed by central
heating, that none of the usual disadvantages of a hall on a November
night attach to it. Just now, of course, all the curtains are drawn,
so that the whole of this side of the hall is purple-hung. In the
middle of the room, a little to the right is a mahogany table, cloth-less,
laid for three. A beautiful blue bowl, filled with purple anemones,
helps, with the silver and the old cut-glass, to decorate it. Over the
whole room there is something of an Arabian-night-adventure air ;
Dulac might have had a hand in the designing of it. Three large
alabaster bowls filled with fruit hang from ceiling on purple cor(ls.
These bowls are electrically fitted. In the day-time, perhaps, it is
an ordinary hall, furnished a trifle freakishly, but in the night-
time one wonders what is going to happen next.

(The Scene opens in darkness, except for firelight. Then all lights
are switched up to full, including those in the bowls of flowers, and
DOMINIC, tall, stout and grave, the major-domo of the house, in a
butler’s old-fashioned evening dress, draws centre curtains apart
and comes in. He stands down L.O., looking at the room to see that
all is as it should be. He turns round and waits a moment. «The
STAFF comes iw—in other words, two FOOTMEN and two CHAMBER-
MAIDS. The MEN come from the 12., the WOMEN from the L. Over
their clothes, too, MR. LATIMER has been a little freakish. The
WOMEN come down L. The MEN down R. (up and down stage) as
DOMINIC crosses to C.)

DOMINIC. The blue room in the east wing is ready 3
THE MEN. Yes, Mr. Dominic. ,
DOMINIC. The white room in the west wing is ready!
-‘THE WOMEN. Yes, Mr. Dominic.
Dommo (taking out his watch and looking at it). The procedure

will be as before.
7

8 THE DOVER ROAD. [Act I.

THE FOUR. Yes, Mr. Dominic.
DOMINIO. See to it that I have no fault to find. That will do.

(They turn militarily and go out up O.—-WOMEN L., MEN R.)

(DOMINIC moves towards fireplace L. As the front-door chime is heard
he goes to the front door and opens it. The top bolt, chain and key
only are used. LEONARD, in fur-coat and hat, is seen standing
outside. He is a big, well-made man of about thirty—five——dark,
with a little black tooth-brush moustache. When the door opens he
gets his first sight of the interior of the room and is evidently taken by
surprise. DOMINIO stands R. of opening.)

LEONARD. Oh-—er——is this—er——an hotel? My chaufieur said

——we’ve had an accident, been delayed on the way—he said that
we could put up here. (He turns -round and calls.) Here, Saunders !
This can’t be the place. (To DOMINIC.) Perhaps you could tell
me-——
ANNE (from outside, invisible). Saunders has gone, Leonard!
LEONARD (turning round). Gone! What the devil
DOMINIC. Saunders was perfectly correct, my lord. This is a
sort of hotel.

ANNE (getting out of the car, but still invisible). He went ofi as
soon as you got out of the car. Leonard, are you sur———

(She comes into the light ; he is holding her arm. She is young, tall,
pretty ; cool and self-confident in the ordinary way, but a little upset
by the happenings of the night.)

DOMINIC (to LEONARD). Saunders was perfectly correct, my lord.
This is a sort of hotel.

LEONARD (puzzled and upset). VVhat the devil’s happened to
him? (IIe looks out into the darkness.)

DOMINIC. Doubtless he has gone round to the garage to get the
doors open. Won’t your lordship——— (DOMINIC comes down R.c.)

LEONARD. You can put us up? Just for to-night. My-er——
wife and myself

DOMINIC. If your lordship and her ladyship will come in. (He
waits for them.)

LEONARD (to ANNE, coming down a step or two). It’s the best we
can do, dear. I'm frightfully sorry about it, but, after all, what
diflerence———-

ANNE (giving him a look which means “ Don't talk like this in front
of hotel servants,” comes down to L.). I dare say it will be quite
comfortable. (As if that were all he was apologizing for.) It’s only
for one night.

 

 

(LEONARD crosses up stage to 3.0.)
Dolmno. Thank you-—my lady.

AC1‘ I.] THE DOVER ROAD. 9

(He shuts and bolts the door, puts key in his waistcoat pocket. There
is an air of finality about it. Noise of bolt turns both round to look.
They are locked in now for good.)

LEONARD (his eye on the supper-table, is saying to himself). Dashed
rummy sort of hotel. (He moves slowly down to R.)
DOMINIO (comes to her L.). Allow me, my lady.

(She gives him her cloak and gloves, and crosses R.O. to LEONARD, who
starts——then hands him his hat, and DOMINIC helps him ofi’ with his
coat.)

LEONARD. You can give us something to eat!

ANNE. I dOn’t want anything, Leonard.

LEONARD (crosses L. to her). Nonsense, dear.

DOMINIC. Supper will be served in five minutes, my lord.

ANNE (coming down a step. Suddenly). Do you know who we
are ?

DOMINIO. I have not that pleasure, my lady.

ANNE. Then why do you call me “ my lady ’’I

LEONARD (disliking a scene). My dear!

ANNE (waving back LEONARD’s protesting arm). No, Leonard.
(Crosses O. to DOMINIO.) Well?

DOMINIO. His lordship mentioned that your ladyship was his
wife.

ANNE. Y-yes. . . . Then you know him by sight’!

LEONARD (complacently). Well, my dear, that need not surprise
you.

DOMINIO. Iknew his lordship’s rank, my lady. Not his lordship’s
name.

LEONARD (surprised. Crosses c. to DOMINIC). My rank? How
the devil 'l

DOMINIC. Supper will be served in five minutes, my lady.

 

-(DOMINIC goes up R. WOMAN SERVANT appears L., MAN R., and

DOMINIC gives them the clothes.)
(They turn and exit, followed R. by DOMINIO.)

(There is silence for a little. They look at the table, at the room, at
each other. Then LEONARD says it aloud.)

LEONARD. Dashed rummy sort of hotel!

ANNE. Leonard, I don’t like it.

LEONARD (goes to her, L.O.). Pooh! Nonsense, dear.

ANNE. It almost seems as though they had expected us.

LEONARD (laughing. Crosses to fireplace). My dear child, how
could they 3 In the ordinary way, we should have been at Dover
——why, almost at Calais by this time.

ANNE. I know. (In distress.) Why aren't we I (Goes toward:
him.)

10 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT I.

LEONARD. The car-——-Saunders, a fool of a chaufieur—a series 01
unfortunate accidents-——

ANNE. DO you often have these unfortunate accidents, Leonard ?

LEONARD. My dear Anne, you aren’t suggesting that I’ve done
this on purpose.

ANNE. No, no. (Sits in settee L.o.) But why to-night of all
nights ?

LEONARD. Of course, it’s damned annoying missing the boat,
but we can get it to-morrow morning. We shall be in Paris to-
morrow night.

ANNE. To-morrow night——but that makes such a difference. I
hate every hour we spend together like this in England.

LEONARD. Well, really, I don’t see why.

ANNE. You must take it that I do, Leonard. I told you from
the first that it was run-away or nothing with me ; there was going
to be no intrigue, no lies and pretences and evasions. And, some-
how, it seems less—Iess sordid, if we begin our new life together in
a new country. (With a little smile, turns to front.) Perhaps the
French for what we are doing is not quite so crude as the English.

(He turns to fire.)

Yes, I know it’s absurd of me, but there it is !

LEONARD (with a shrug). Oh, well! (Taking out his case.) DO
you mind a cigarette?

ANNE (violently. Rises and goes 0.). Oh, why do men always
want to smoke, even up to the moment when they’re going to eat '2
Can’t you breathe naturally for five minutes ?

LEONARD (sul/cily—putting his case back). I beg your pardon.

ANNE (down to L. of table R.C.). No. I beg yours.

LEONARD. YOu’re all to bits.

ANNE. Nerves, I suppose.

LEONARD. Nonsense! My Anne with nerves? (Bitterly)
N ow, if it had been Eustasia (Turns to front.)

ANNE (coldly). Really, Leonard, I think we had better leave your
wife out of the conversation.

LEONARD. I beg your pardon. (Turns to her.)

ANNE (to herself). Perhaps you’re right. In a crisis we are all
alike, we women.

LEONARD (going 0. to her). No, damn it, I won't have that. It’s
-—it’s blasphemy. Anne, my darling-——— (He takes her hands.)

ANNE (her hands on his chest). Ohl . . . I am difierent, aren’t
I 3

LEONARD. Darling!

ANNE. I’m not a bit like—-like anybody else, am I, not over
when I'm cross?

LEONARD. Darling!

ANNE. And you do love me, don’t you!

Am 1.] THE DOVER ROAD. 11

LEONARD. Darling!
(He wants to kiss her, but the stop: him.)

ANNE. Now you’re going to smoke.

(DOMINIC enters. She takes cigarette from his case, and puts it in his
mouth.)

Now sit down here.
(Puts him in settee.)

I’ll light it for you. Matches 1 (She holds out her hand for them.)
DOMINIC (who has come in noiselessly). Match, my lady.

(Strikes match and holds it to his cigarette——ANNE starts back to 0.
They are both rather confused.)

(DOMINIO puts down match-box on table L.c. and exit DOMINIC.)

LEONARD (starts up and watches him ofl‘). Damn that fellow!
(Puts cigarette on ash-tray on mantel.)

ANNE (smiling). After all, darling, he thinks I’m your wife . . .
or don’t wives light their husband’s cigarettes?

LEONARD. I believe yOu’re right, Anne. There is something
odd about this place.

ANNE (moves to him). So you feel it, too, now? (Looks round.)

LEONARD. What did he mean by saying he knew my rank, but
not my name?

ANNE (lightly, moving step back). Perhaps he looked inside your
hat-——1ike Sherlock Holmes-——and saw the embroidered coronet.

LEONARD. How do you mean ? There’s nothing inside my hat.

ANNE. No, darling. That was a joke.

LEONARD (crosses R.C., looking at the table). And the table laid.
(Looks round.) Only one table.

ANNE (both are now 0.). Yes, but it’s for three. They didn’t
expect us.

LEONARD (relieved). Three, yes. . . . It’s probably a new idea
in hotels-—sOme new stunt of Han-od’s——or what’s the fellow’s
name 'l———Lyons. A country-house hotel.

(DOMINIC comes in.)

By the way, Anne, what are you going to drink!
DOMINIO. Bollinger ’06, my lord.

(Both am back.)

Mr. Latimer will be down in two minutes, my lady. He asks you
to forgive him for not being here to receive you.

LEONARD. Mr. Latimer ? Who on earth is Mr. Latimer l

DOMINIO (looks disdainfully at him and turns to ANNE). If you
would wish to be shown your room, my lady———

IS THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT I.

ANNE (who has not taken her eyes of him). No, thank you.

LEONARD (stepping towards him). Look here, my man, is this an
hotel, or have we come to a private house by mistake’!

DOMINIC. A sort of hotel, my lord. I assure your lordship
there is no mistake. Thank you, my lady. (Finger and thumb
holding right corner of his coat——a favourite trick of his.)

(Exit DOMINIO R. up stage.)

ANNE (laughing half-hysterically as she sits in chair down L.)..
Very original man, Harrod. Or is it Lyons ?

LEONARD. Look here, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.
(He starts after DOMINIC.)

ANNE. Why bother ? Mr. Latimer will be here in two minutes.

LEONARD (turning back down 0.). Yes, but who the devil’s Mr.
Latimer ?

ANNE (with interest, rising). Leonard, do you always arrange
something fascinating like this when you elope? I think it’s so
romantic of you. (Kneels with one knee on settee.) But don’t you
think that the mere running away is enough just at first '9 Leaving
the fogs and the frets of England, the weariness and the coldness of
it, and escaping together to the warm, blue, sun-filled South——isn’t
that romantic enough '§ Why drag in a. mysterious and impossible
inn, a mysterious and impossible Mr. Latimer ? You should have
kept that for afterwards (move towards fireplace), for the time when
the poetry was wearing out, and we were beginning to get used to
each other.

LEONARD (coming down to her). My dear girl, what are you
driving at? I say again——do you really think that I arranged all
this ?

ANNE (with a shrug). Well, somebody did.

(Enter DOMINIC, who comes to the back of table R.o.)
Dommo. Mr. Latimer.

(The two Fooum-m and the two CHAMBERMAIDS come in and take up
positions on each side of 0. opening. LEONARD goes R.)

(MR. LATIMEB comes in.)

LATIMER (comes down to ANNE L.). Good evening! (C'ros3es R.
to LEONARD.) Good evening!

(DomN1o signs to the STAFF, who retire.)

(He bows with an air. A middle—aged gentleman, dressed rathep
fantastically as rflecggzds his tie and his dinner jacket. He carries
0 flower in his .)

LIIONARD. Good evening! Er-—

AC1‘ I.] THE DOVER ROAD. 13

(LATIMER turns and follows DOMINIO of up 11., snzfing his flower, and
then returns.)

LATIMER. You will forgive me for being announced in my own
house, but I find that it saves a good deal of trouble. If I had just
come in and said, “ I am Mr. Latimer,” then you would have had to
say, “ And I am——er——So-and-so, and this is —cr ” Exactly.
I mean, we can get on so much better without names. But, of
course

LEONARD. You will excuse me, sir, but-—-~

LATIMER (going happily on). But, of course, as you were just
going to say, we must call each other something. (Thoughlfully)
I think I shall call you Leonard.

(They start.)

There is something about you——forgive the liberty-——something
Leonardish. (With a very sweet smile to ANNE.) I am sure you agree
with me.

ANNE (smiling) I am wondering whether this is really happening,

or whether I am dreami-ng it.

 

 

(LEONARD taps his head significantly.)

LATIMER (his back to LEONARD). And Leonard isn’t wondering
at all ; he is just tapping his forehead with a great deal of expression.
(Putting flower in his buttonhole.)

(LEONARD, who was doing this, stops in some confusion.)

LEONARD (coldly). I think we have had enough of this, Mr.
Latimer. I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. If you are
not mad, then I will ask you for some other explanation of all this
nonsense.

LATIMER (to himself, snifing the flower in his buttonhole). An
impetuous character, Leonard. It must be so obvious to everybody
else in the room that an explanation will be forthcoming. But why
not a friendly explanation following a friendly supper.

ANNE. Are we your guests?

LATIMER. Please.

ANNE. Thank you. (Curtsies.)

LATIMER. But there is still this question of names. Now we
agreed about Leonard———

ANNE (looking at LATIMEB fearlessly). My name is Anne.

LATIMER. Thank you, M is: Anne.

LEONARD (awkwardly). Er-—-my wife.

LATIMEE. Then I am tempted to leave out the “ Miss.”

LEONARD (going to him 0.). Look here-—--

Lxrnmn (taming to him). But there is nothing to look at if I do,
Leonard.

14 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT 1.

(DomN1o enters, followed by the Srur.)

Ah, supper. (Goes to top of table.)
ANNE. May I take ofi my hat?
LATIMER. If you please.

(She puts it on table L.o.)
Will you sit here, Anne?
(She crosses him. He indicates the chair on the right of him.)

And you here, Leonard? (The chair on the left.)

(LEONARD goes reluctantly and sits. DOMINIC behind his chair.)
That's right. (LATIMEB sits down.)

(DOKINIO and the STAFF serve the supper. Five of them, so things go
quickly.)

“ A little fish, a bird, a little sweet.
Enough to drink, but not too much to eat.”

I composed that in my bath this morning. There was a pretty little
air attached to it. (Hums “ The King.”) Some trifling flowing tune
which has escaped me for the moment. The wine has been waiting
for you since 1906. How different from the turbofr-’twas but
yesterday it scarce had heard the name of Le-o-nard.

(They are all served with jish—-and the wine has been poured out.)

Dominic, dismiss the stafi. We would be alone.
(STAFF exit, followed by DOMINIO.)

(He rises, glass in hand.) My friends, I will give you a toast. (Ha
raises his glass.) A Happy Ending! (He drinks.)
ANNE (they clinic glasses). A Happy Ending!
Lumnn. You do not drink, Leonard.

(H e drinks.)

You would have the adventure end unhappily, as is the way of the
modern novel I

LnoNA1u>. I don't understand the beginning of it, Mr. Latimer.
I don’tr—if you will forgive my saying so-—I don’t see how you come
in. Who are you?

ANNE. Our host, Leonard.

LEONARD. So it seems, my dear. But, in that case, how did we
come here! My chaufieur told us that this was an hotel—yom-
man assured me, when I asked him, that it was an hotel—a sort of
hotel. And now it seems that we are in a private house. Moro-
ovsr, we seem to have been expected. And then again——if you will

A01‘ L]  DOVER ROAD. 15

forgive me—it appears to be an unusual kind of house. I tell you
frankly that I don’t understand it.

LATIMER (his mouth full of fish). I see your difficulty, Leonard.

LEONARD (stifitg). Nor am I accustomed to being called Leonard
by a. perfect stranger.

LATIMER. What you are saying to yourself is, “ Who is this
man, Latimer ? Is he known ? Is he in the Stud Book ?—I mean,
Debrett. Is he, perhaps, one of the Hammersmith Latimers, or does
he belong to the Ealing Branch ? ”

ANNE (eating calmly). What does it matter ?

LATIMER. Yes, but then, you like the fish; Leonard doesn’t.

LEONARD. I have no fault to find with the fish. You have an
excellent cook.

LATIMEB (rises, gravely bowing). I beg your pardon. I thank
you.

(DoMINIc comes in.)

Dominic, his lordship likes the fish.
DOMINIC. Thank you, sir. I will inform the cook.

(LATIMER sits. Exit DIMINIC L.)

ANNE. Mr. Latimer, when you are giving us your (pause), ex-
planations after supper, I Wish you would add just one more to them.
LATIMER. But, of course.

(DoM1N1c enters.)

ANNE. Your Mr. Dominic’s appearances are so apt. How is
it done ?

LATIMER (pulling down his cum. Yes, I'll make a note of that.
(He writes on it.) “ Dominic, apt appearance of.” Admit the
bird, Dominic.

(DOMINIC emits.)

LEONARD (rising stifilg). I’m afraid we shall have to be getting
on now, Mr. Lat-imer. . . . Anne, dear . . . we are much obliged
for your hospitality, but—-er-—I imagine we are not far from
Dover——  

-L

, (Domino and Snnvarrrs enter.)

LATIMEB. On the Dover Road, certainly.
LEONARD. Exactly. So if you would—-er—have instructions
given to my chaufieur——er---

(He hesitates as WOMEN go to sideboard and serve the bird-the MEN
stand up B.)

LATIMEB. Dominic, his lordship’s glass is empty. He Wishes
to drink my health.

16 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT I.

Dommc. I beg your pardon, my lord.
(DOMINIO fills the glass.)

LATIMER. And while he is _up, just find his lordship a more
comfortable chair. He has been a little uneasy on that one all
through the fish.

(Dommc replenishes LA'r1MER’s glass. DoMINIc comes L.C., motions
to MANSERVANT, who removes his chair up to R.)

DOMINIC. I beg your pardon, my lord.
(The other MANsERvAN'r approaches with another one from up L.)

LATIMER (rising with his glass, and drinking to LEoNARD). Your
happiness !

(He sits down, and motions to LEONARD, who mechanically sits down,
too.)

Now, for the bird. (To ANNE.) I like these little ceremonies in
between the courses—don’t you?
ANNE. I’m liking my supper.

(WOMEN go round with plates of chicken.)

LATIMER. I am so glad. (As ANNE is helped.) I shot this bird,
myself. (He looks at it through his glass.) What is it, Dominic 3
DOMINIC. Poulet en casserole with mushrooms, sir.

LATIMER. Poulet en casserole with mushrooms. I shot the
mushrooms.

(DOMINIC motions to S'rArr—-they exit ; he follows.)

(To LEONARD.) Let me introduce your chicken to you, Leonard,
one of the Bufi-Orpingtons. I dare say you know the family. His
mother was a Wyandotte. He was just about to contract an alliance
with one of the Rock girls, the Plymouth Rocks, when the accident
happened.

(They are alone again now, plates and glasses well filled.)
(LEONARD jumps up.)

Dear me I Not a " ' "d chair, surely ?

LEONARD. Look here, Mr. Latimer, this has gone on long enough.
I do not propose to sit through a whole meal without some further
explanation. Either we have that explanation now, or else-—Anne,
dear—or else we’ll be getting on our way.

LATIMER (thoughtfully). Ah, but which is your way?

LEONARD. Dover. My chaufieur seems to have got ofi the
track a little, but if you can put us on the Dover Road——

LATIMER (to himself). The Dover Road ! The Dover Road! A
dangerous road, my friends. And you’re travelling in the dark.

ACT I.] THE DOVER ROAD. 17

LEONARD. Really, Mr. Latimer, that needn’t frighten us.
ANNE (putting out her hand). What do you mean?

LATIMER. A strange road, Anne, for you ,' a new untravelled road.
LEONARD. Nonsense! She’s _often been this way before.

Haven’t you, dear?
ANNE (shaking her head). No. . . . But I’m not frightened, Mr.

Latimer.

(There is silence for a little. Then DOMINIO appears noiselessly,
followed by STAFF.)

LATIMER. Dominic, supper is over. (He finishes his champagne,
and with it his seriousness.) His lordship loved the chicken—too
well to eat it, and adored the mushrooms——in silence. Inform the
cook.

Dommo. Yes, sir.

LATIMER. Shall we-—-?

(All rise—ANNE crosses to L.)

LATIMER (ofiering his case to ANNE). A cigarette 3

ANNE. No, thank you.

LATIMER. You permit it?

ANNE. Of course.

LATIMER. Thank you. (Ofiers cigarette to LEONARD.) Leonard!
LEONARD. No, thank you.

DOMINIC (to LEONARD). Cigar, my lord?

(Brings cigar-boa; and matches from table L.o. LEONARD declines, but
on noticing the brand, relents.)

LEONARD (0.). Er—thanks.
(The STAFF clear the table and retire.)
LATIMER. Which chair would you like, Anne? There?
(ANNE sits in settee.)

That’s right. Now then, Leonard, (goes to him 0.) we want something
especially comfortable for you. You are a little finnicky about
chairs, if you don’t mind my saying so. . . . What about that one ?
Just try it and see how you like it.

(LEONARD falls into the chair down L., up to the neck almost.)

Yes, I think you will be happy there. And I shall sit here. (Sits
on down-stage arm of settee.)

(DOMINIC turns chair 0. into table—tums and bows to LATIMEB and
exits.)
LEONARD (with as much dignity as is possible from that sort of chair).

I am waiting, Mr. Latimer.
B

8 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT I.

LATIMER. I am waiting, Leonard, for your questions.
ANNE. Let me begin with one.

(LATIMER turns to ANNE.)

Your table was laid for three. For whom were the other two places
intended ?

LATIMER. For yourself and Leonard.

ANNE. You expected us?

LATIMER. Yes.

ANNE. How did you know we were coming?

LATIMER. Saunders had instructions to bring you.

LEONARD (starting up from his cha£r—or trying to, legs in air).
Saunders! My chauffeur! Do you mean to say

LATIMER (rises and goesto him). Let me help you, Leonard. You
have the wrong chair again. It is difiicult to be properly indignant
in that one.

 

(He helps him into a sitting posture.)

That’s better. (Goes and draws arm-chair up L. to settee and sets.)
You were saying-—

LEONARD. Do you mean to tell me that you had the audacity to
bribe my chauffeur?

LATIMEB. N 0, no, Leonard. What I mean is, that you had the
foolhardiness to bribe my friend Saunders to be your chaufieur.

LEONARD. Upon my word

ANNE. Who is Saunders?

LATIMEB. Saunders? He’s J oseph’s brother. Joseph was the
gentleman in yellow, who helped you to wine.

LEONARD (out of the chair at last. Crosses c.). How dare you
interfere in my concerns in this way, sir?

ANNE. Before you explain how you dare, Mr. Latimer, I should
like to know why you are so interested in us. Who are you 3

LATIMEE. No more than Mr. Latimer. It is a purely impersonal
interest which I take—and I take it just because you are going the
Dover Road, my dear, and it is a dangerous road for a young girl to
travel.

ANNE (very 0001. 087:! IWWJ. Hm). I don't think I asked you to
be interested in me.

Lrrnnnn. Nobody does, my dear. But I am very interested in
all my fellow-travellers. It is my hobby. '

LEONARD. Anne 1 (He means “ let’: get out of thic.” He makes
a movement to the from door.)

(ANNE following.)

LATIMIIB. The (100! I8 locked, Leonard.
LEONARD (crosses to Larumn L., bending over him and putting his

 

ACT I.] THE DOVER ROAD. 19

face very close to LA'rIMER’s). Ah I Then I will give you one minute
in which to open it, Mr. Latimer.

(DOMINIC has come in up L. door below columns. The two FOOTMEN
enter up R. with cofiee set.)

LATIMER. Dominic, his lordship’s face is just a little too close
to mine. Could you? . . . Thank you.

(LEONARD has started back on noticing DOMINIO, turns to face 0. and
is confronted by the two MEN with trays.)

Coflee! Excellent.
LEONARD. No, thanks.

(They ofier it to ANNE.)
ANNE. No, thank you.
(They turn to LATIMER.)
LATIMEB. No, thank you.
(They exit.)

By the way, Dominic, did you go round to the hospital this after-
noon ?

(LEONARD up 0.)

DOMINIO. Yes, sir. The young gentleman is getting on nicely.
He was able to take a little bread-and-milk this morning.
LATIMEB. Ah, I’m glad. Nothing solid yet?
DOMINIC. No, sir. The jaw is still very tender.

(DOMINIC walks towards LEONARD threateningly——and turns up and
exits C. to R.)

LATIMER (to LEONARD, who moves down 3.). He bumped it
against my knuckles last Week. An impetuous young fellow. He
was running away With—-dear me, I forget her name—I always
forget names. I think he called her “ Pussy.” She had several
children. (Unconsciously he has shot his cuff, and sees suddenly the
note he has made.) What's this ? “ Dominic, apt appearance of.”

(ANNE moves to settee eagerly.)

Oh yes. (He turns to ANNE.) It’s very simple. A little fad of
mine. There are bells everywhere in this room: in every chair,
on the table, in the floor; Wherever I am I can press a bell for
Dominic, He is always just outside the door on reception evenings.
Yes.

ANNE (looks at LEONARD). That was a little warning you were
giving just now?

20 THE DOVER RoAD. [Ac]: 1.

LATIMER (apologetically). Yes. I thought it better. Leonard
18 so impetuous. J oseph and Jacob were both amateur champions
in their day; Dominic is a very heavy faller. He never has to fall
on a man twice.

(LEoNARD sits.)

If all this is quite understood at the beginning, it makes it so much
easier.

ANNE. Mr. Latimer, I assure you that this is not a sudden freak
of fancy, and that I know my own mind. I ask you, as a gentleman,
to open the door.

LATIMER (shaking his head). I am afraid it is impossible, Anne.

(ANNE shrugs her shoulders and sits down 1.. of table R.o.)

LEONARD (calm for the moment). So we are kept here by force,
Mr. Latimer ?

LATIMER. Need we insist upon it ? Let us rather say that you
have postponed your visit to France in order to spend a few days
with a friend.

LEoNARD. I prefer to say force.

LATIMER (with a bow). I do not dictate your words to you.
Your movements for the momentr—yes. So let us say “force.”

LEONARD. We are prisoners, in fact?

LATIMER. Within the limits of my house.

LEoNARD. And if my—my wife chose to walk out of your front
door to-morrow morning, your—-your fellow-conspirators would lay
hands on her and stop her?

LATIMER (rises, crosses to settee, sits on arm of it). My dear Leo-
nard ! Why should your—your wife want to walk out of the front
door to-morrow? What would she want to do in the garden in
November? Do be reasonable!

LEONARD. Suppose she Wished to walk to the nearest police-
station ?

LATIMEB (to ANNE). Do you?

ANNE (with a smile). Could I?

LATIMER. If you stood on Leonard’s shoulders you might just
reach the top of the wall. . . . Dominic tells me that they have
lost the key of the gates. Very careless of them!

LEONARD (springs up). Well, I

 

(She motions to him and he sits again.)

It’s monstrous!

ANNE. Yes, but we can’t keep on saying that. Here we are
apparently, and here we have to stay. But I still want to know
very much why Mr. Latimer has this great desire for our company.

ACT I.] THE DOVER ROAD. 21

LEONARD (rises). You have the advantage of me now, sir, but
you will not always have it. The time will come when I shall
demand satisfaction for this insult. (Sits)

LATIMER (with an air, rising and bowing). My lord! Letters
addressed to me at the Charing Cross Post Oflice will always be
forwarded. (Sits)

LEONARD (slightly upset. Rises). This gross insult to myself
and—er—my wife. (Sits)

LATIMER (shaking his head). No, no. Not your wife.

LEONARD (rises). How dare you!

LATIMER (in alarm). Surely I haven’t made a mistake. (To
ANNE.) You and he are running away together, aren’t you ?

LEONARD (a step nearer). Look here, sir

ANNE (rises). Oh, Leonard, what’s the good ? We aren’t ashamed
of it, are we? Yes, Mr. Latimer, we are running away together.

LATIMER. Of course 1 Why not 3 Leonard, you aren’t ashamed
of it, are you?

LEONARD. I object to this interference in my private afiairs by
at-—_—

LATIMER. Yes, yes, but you ’ve said all that. It’s interfering of
me, damnably interfering. But I am doing it because I want you
both to be happy.

LEONARD. I can look after my own happiness, thank you!

LATIMER (rising). And this lady’s? i

LEONARD. She is good enough to believe it. (Ta/sing her hand.)

ANNE (going to LATIMER, L.c.). I am not a child. Do you think
I haven’t thought ?-—the scandal, the good name I am going to lose,
the position of that other woman. I have thought of all these
things.

LATIMER. There is one thing of which you haven’t thought,
Anne.

ANNE. I a.m afraid you are old—fashioned, Mr. Latimer. You
are going to talk to me of morality.

LATIMER (smiling). Oh no, I wasn’t.

ANNE (not heading him). Living alone here, a bachelor, within
these high walls—--(moves up and round, arms up)—which keep the
world out, you believe what the fairy-books tell us, that once two
people are married they live happy ever after.

LATIMER. Oh no, I don’t.

ANNE (comes down R. to LEONARD). I am the wicked woman
coming between the happy husband and wife, breaking up the
happy home. Is that it, Mr. Latimer?

LEONARD. Rubbish l The happy home 1 Why, this is my first
real chance of happiness. (Takes her hand.)

LATIMER. His first real chance of happiness I As he said when
he proposed to Eustasia. (Goes L. to fi/replace.)

LEONARD (upset). What’s that?

 

22 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT 1.

LATIMEB (to ANNE). May I ask you some questions now 3
ANNE. Yes.

LATIMER. Eustasia will divorce him?

LEONARD. We shall not defend the suit.

LATIMER. And then you will many Anne?

LEONARD. Another insult, Mr. Latimer. I shall not forget it.
LATIMER. I beg your pardon. I simply wanted an answer.
ANNE. He will marry me. (Takes LEONARD’s arm.)

LATIMER. I see. And then, as the fairy-books tell us, you will

live happy ever after?

(ANNE is silent.)

LEONARD. I need hardly say that I shall do my best to——er———-

LATIMER (goes 0.). And then, as the fairy-books tell us, you will
live happy ever after ? I live within my high walls which keep the
world out : I am Old-fashioned, Anne. You are modern, you know
the world. You don’t believe the fairy-books, and yet—you are
going to live happy ever after?

LEONARD (crosses to hat). I don’t see what you’re driving at.

LATIMER. Anne does.

ANNE (raising her eyes to him). I take the risk, Mr. Latimer.

(LATIMEB goes to ANNE E.o., LEONARD moves down L.o.)

LATIMER. But a big risk. . . . Oh, believe me, I am not so
much out of the world as you think. Should I have known all
about you, should I have brought you here, if I were? I know
the world ; I know the risks of marriage. Marriage isean art-—well,
it’s a profession in itself. (Slzarplg/.) And what are you doing?
Marrying a man whose only qualification for the profession is that
he has tried it once, and made a damned hash of it.

LEONARD. Well, really, sir!

(ANNE sits L. of table.)

LATIMER. Isn't it true? (Goes to him.)

LEONARD. Well—er—I admit my marriage has not been a
happy one, but I venture to say—well, I don’t wish to say anything
against Eustasia——

LATIMER. Please go on. Life is too short for us to be gentlemen
all the time.

LEONARD (explosively). Well, then, I say that not even St.
Michael and all his angels could have made a success of it. I mean,
not even St. Michael.

LATIMER. Yet you chose her.

(LEONARD is silent—goes to chair L., sits.)

(After a pause.) Miss Anne, I am not being moral. You see, I
am a very rich man, and we have it on good authority that it is

A01‘ I.] THE DOVER ROAD. 23

difiicult for a very rich man to be a very good man. But, being
a very rich man, I try to spend my money so that it makes somebody
else happy besides myself. It’s the only happy way of spending
money, isn’t it? And it is my hobby to prevent people--to try
if I can prevent people——making unhappy marriages. . . . It’s
wonderful what power money gives you. Nobody realizes it, because
nobody ever spends it save in the obvious ways. . . . You may say
that I should have prevented Leonard from marrying Eustasia in
the first place. I have done that sometimes. I have asked two
young people here——oh, properly chaperOned—and guests, not
prisoners as you are——twO young people who thought that they
were in love, and I have tried to show each to the other in the
most unromantic light. Sometimes the engagement has been broken
off. Sometimes they have married-—and lived happy ever after
. . . but mostly, it is my hobby to concentrate on those second
marriages into which people plunge——with no parents now torestrain
them—so much more hastily even than they plunged into their
first adventure. Yet how much more carefully they should be
considered, seeing that one, at least, Of the parties has already
shown an utter ignorance of the art Of marriage? . . . And so,
my dear friends, when I hear—-and a rich man has many means of
hearing—when I hear that two people are taking the Dover Road,
as you were taking it to-night, I venture to stop them, and say——
in the words of the fairy—book—“ Are you sure you are going to
live happy ever after? ”

LEONARD (after a pause). Your intentions may be good, but ]
can only repeat that your interference is utterly unwarranted. And
you are entirely mistaken as to the power and authority which
your money gives you.

LATIMER. Authority, none. But power? (He laughs.) Why,
my dear Leonard, if I Offered you a hundred thousand pounds to
go back to your wife to-night, this lady would never see you again.

LEONARD (rises). Well, of all the damnable things to say! . . .

LATIMER. How damnable the truth is ! Think it over to-night.
You are a poor man for your position . . . think of all the things
you could do with a hundred thousand pounds. Turn it over in
your mind . . . and then over and over again. Ahundred thousand
pounds.

(LEONARD is beginning to tum it.)

ANNE (scomfully). Is this part of the treatment? Am I being
shown my lover when he is mercenary?

LATIMER (with a laugh). Oh no I If that were part of my treat-
ment, there would be no marriages at all. Oh no, it isn’t a genuine
offer. (To LEONARD.) It’s ofl, Leonard.

(LEONARD wakes up suddenly, a poor man, drops his oigawr.)

24 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT I.

You needn’t think it out any more. Besides, you misunderstand
me. I don’t want to separate you by force—I have no right to.

ANNE. But how modest suddenly!

LATIMEB (with a bow and a smile). Madam, I admire your spirit.

ANNE. Leonard, I am receiving the attentions of another man.
Beware of jealousy——

(LEONARD sits L.)

All part of the treatment, Mr. Latimer?

LATIMER. You’re splendid. (Seriously/.) But I meant what I
said just now. I am not preventing you from going the Dover
Road, I am only asking you to wait a few days and see how you
get on. It may be that you two are the perfect soul-mates ; that
your union has already been decreed in Heaven and will be watched
over by the angels. If so, nobody will rejoice in your happiness
more than I. I shall not say “ You have no right to be happy
together. Leonard must remain with his lawfully-wedded Eustasia.”
Believe me, I do not waste my money, my time, my breath in
upholding the sanctity of an unhappy_marriage. I was brought
up in the sanctity of an unhappy marriage; even as a child, I
knew all about it. (Less seriously.) But oh, my dear Anne, let
us have a little common sense before we adventure marriage with
a man who is always making a mess of it. We know what Leonard
is—how perfectly hopeless as a husband.

ANNE. I don’t think that is quite fair.

LATIMER. Well, as far as we can tell, you’ve never made a
happy marriage yet, have you, Leonard?

LEONARD (sullcily). I don’t want to say anything against Eusta-
sxa

LATIMER. Good God, man, aren’t you shouting it all the time 3
Why else are you here? But don’t try to pretend that it’s all
Eustasia’s fault.

LEONARD (doublfully). Well—--

LATIMER. Or that it will be all Anne’s fault next year.

LEONARD. What do you mean, next year?

Lumen. I beg your pardon. I should have said, the year
after next.

(LEONARD struggles out of chair. There is a little silence.)

ANNE (rises). I think I will go to bed. How long do you want
us to wait, Mr. Latimer?

Lumen. Could you spare a week? You, with so many years
in iront of you.

ANNE. I have a father. 1 left him a note to say what I was
doing. We don’t see much of each other, but I thought it polite.
Does that interfere with your plans at all ?

LATIMEB (smiling). Not at all. There was a little mistake about

 

ACT I.] THE DOVER ROAD. 25

the delivery of that note. Your father is under the impression that
you are staying with friends—in Kent . . . a great pOwer—money.

ANNE. I congratulate you on the perfection of your methods.
Good night, Mr. Latimer. A

(DOMINIO enters 0., followed by MAID.)

LATIMER (to DOMINIO). Dominic, her ladyship will retire.
DOMINIO. Yes, sir.

(MAID takes ANNE’s hat from table L.c. and moves to door L.)

LATIMER. Good night, Miss Anne.

ANNE (holding out her hand suddenly). Without prejudice.

LATIMER (bending over it gallantly). Ah, but you are prejudicing
me entirely.

‘ A-MAID. This way, my lady.

(MAID leads the way to a door up 1.. and ANNE follows her.)
(Exeunt MAID and ANNE L.—DOMINIO O.)

LATIMER (sits on end of table R.c., laughs). And did you leave a
note for your father, Leonard?

LEONARD. You ought to know. You appear to have conspira-
tors everywhere: Saunders—and I suppose Anne’s maid—and God
knows who else.

LATIMER. Money, Leonard, money. A pity you refused that
hundred thousand pounds.

(MANsERvAN'r enters C. with salver of whisky, soda and glasscs—puts
it on table L.C. and exits.)

You could have bribed the Archbishop of Canterbury to curse me.
. . Well, a week here won’t do either of you any harm. Have a
whisky and soda?

LEONARD. I am not at all sure that I ought to drink in your
house.

LATIMER. You will be thirsty before you go.

LEONARD (hesitating). Well

LATIMER. That’s right. Help yourself, won’t you? (He does
so.)

LEONARD (helping himself). Please understand that I do this,
as I do everything else in your house, under protest. (Raises glass.)

LATIMEB. Your protest is noted—a strong one.

 

(LEONARD comes down L., kaving cigar on ash-tray on tabk.)

LEONARD. And, as I have already said, your conduct is perfectly
outrageous. (He sinks into the depths of arm-chair L.)

LATIMER. And, as I have already said, you can’t do moral
indignation from that chair. Remember what happened to you
last tiIn3o

20 THE DOVER ROAD. [Aor I.

LEONARD. Perfectly outrageous. (He drinks.)

LATIMER. Have another cigar ?

LEONARD. I shall go to bed as soon as I have drunk this. (He
drinks.)

LATIMEB. You wouldn’t care for a game of billiards first 3

LEONARD. I am not in the mood for billiards.

LATIMER. By the way, we have another nmaway couple here.
But their week of probation is just over. They expect to leave
to-morrow.

LEONARD. I am not interested in your earlier _crimes.

LATIMER. I think you would be interested in this couple, Leonard.

LEONARD. I assure you I am not.

LATIMER. Ah! (Picking up a review and settling himself in
seuee.) Very good article this month by Sidney Webb. You ought
to read it.

LEONARD. I am not interested in Sidney Webb.

LATIMEB. Breakfast is at ten o'clock in here.

LEONARD (struggling out of his chair). I shall eat it——under pro-
test. (Puts glass on mantelshelf—-goes 0.)

LATIMER. You're ofi '9 Then I’ll say good night.

(The two FOOTMEN, JosE1>E and J ACOB, have come in, one to R.o.-—
one to door 1.. DOMINIC follows and stands up stage c.)

LEONARD (stifily)- Good night.

(LEONARD walks up to the door 1.. JACOB is in front of it. LEONARD
is pulled up at sight of him.)
DOMINIO (indicating the opening 13.). This way, my lord.
LEONARD (looking from one to the other). Er-e1~—thanks.

(He goes across and turns, to find Jossra immediately behind him.
LEONARD, hands in pockets, whistles and exits R. JAOOR exits c.)

(MR. LA-rmim isleftalonewith “ Sidney Webb.” DOMINIC comes down
0., glances at him—finger and thumb holding comer qf coat—then
goes up and wit 0., closing curtains.)

OUR-run.

ACT II

TIMn.—--It is the next morning.

(EUSTASIA, LEONAIm’s wife, who should be sitting patiently at home

A wondering when he will return, is having breakfast with an attractive
young man called NICHOLAS. She is what people who talk like
that, call “ a nice little thing ’Z,,° near enough to thirty to wish it
were twenty. At present she is making a good deal of fuss over
this dear boy, NICHOLAS. Breakfast is practically over. NICHOLAS,
in fact, is wiping his mouth.)

EUSTASIA (seated behind table 1:. 0.). Finished, darling!

NICHOLAS (B. of table). Yes, thank you, Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. A little more toast C’

NICHOLAS. No, thank you, Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. Just a. little tiny teeny—weeny bit if his Eustasia
butters it for him?

NICHOLAS. No, thank you. I’ve really finished.

EUSTASIA. Another cup of coffee?

NICHOLAS (with a sigh). N 0, thank you, Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. Just a little bit of-ga cup if his Eustasia pours it out
for her own Nicholas, and puts ._ the sugar in with her own iokle
fingers 3

NICHOLAS. No more cofiee, thank you.

EUSTASIA. Then he shall sit (in a more comfy chair while he
smokes his nasty, horrid pipe, vghich he loves so much better than
his Eustasia.

(He rises and crosses 0.)

He doesn't really love it better 3 (Rising, goes to him.)

NICHOLAS (laughing uneasily). Of course, he doesn’t.

EUBTASIA. Then kiss her to show that he doesn't.

NICHOLAS. You baby. . (He kisses her cheek.)

EUSTASIA. And now give me your pipe.
(He gives it her reluctantly.  kisses it and gives it back to him,

making a face.)

There I And she doesn’t really think it's a nasty horrid pipe, and
she’: ever so sorry she said so. . . .

(He goes up L., site.)
27

28 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT II.

Oh l (She sees a dish of appks on table LO. suddenly.)

NICHOLAs. What is it ‘I

EUs'rAsIA. Nicholas never had an apple!

NICHOLAS. Oh no, thanks. I don’t want one.

EUs'rAsIA. Oh, but he must have an apple! It’s so good for
him. (Takes apple.) An apple a day keeps the doctor away.
You must keep the doctor away, darling, else poor Eustasia will be
miserable.

NICHOLAS (with an efiort). I’ve finished my breakfast.

EUSTASIA (goes up B..C. towards sideboard). Not even if his Eustasia
peels it for him?

NICHOLAS. No, thank you. I assure you that I have had all I
want.

EUs'rAsIA. Sure? (Replaces apple.)

NICHOLAS. Quite sure, thank you. Where are you going to sit '9

(She goes to him, takes his hands and puts him in settee and sits beside
him—he R.—she L.)

EUSTASIA (indicating the settee). Nicholas sit there and Eustasia
sit next to him.

NICHOLAS (without much enthusiasm). Right.

EUSTASIA (snatches pouch). Eustasia fill his pipe for him?

NICHOLAS (he takes it back). No, thanks. It is filled, thank you.
(He lights his pipe.)

(They are silent for a little and at last he speaks, a little uncomfortably.)

Er——Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. Yes, darling.

NICHOLAS. We’ve been here a week.

EUSTASIA. Yes, darling. A wonderful, wonderful week. And
now today we leave this dear house where we have been so happy
together, and go out into the world together—— (Takes match
from him and puts it on ash-tray on mantel.)

NICHOLAS (who has not been listening to her). A week. Except
for the first day, we have had all our meals alone together.

EUSTASIA (sentimentally). Alone, Nicholas.

NICHOLAS. Four meals a day. That’s twenty-four meals.

EUSTASIA. Twenty-fourl

NICHOLAS. And at every one of those meals you have asked me
at least four times to have something more, when I had already
said that I didn't want anything more; or, in other words, you
have forced me to say “ No, thank you, Eustasia,” ninety-six times
when there was absolutely no need for it.

EUs'rAsIA (hurt). Nicholas!

NICHOLAS (inexorably). We are both young. I am twenty-six,
you are———

A01‘ II.] THE DOVER ROAD. 29

EUSTASIA (quickly). Twenty-five.

NICHOLAS (looking at her and then away again). You are twenty-
five. If all goes well—(sighs)—we may lookto have fifty years more
together. Say two thousand five hundred weeks. Multiply that
by a hundred, and we see that, in the course of our joint lives, you
will, at the present rate, force me to say “ No, thank you, Eustasia ”
two hundred and fifty thousand times more than is necessary.

EUSTASIA (pathetically). Nicholas!

NICHOLAS (pipe in mouth). I wondered if we couldn’t come to
some arrangement about it, that’s all.

EUSTASIA (in tears). You're cruel ! Cruel ! (She sobs piteously,
snatching his handkerchief.)

NICHOLAS (doggedly). I just wondered if we couldn’t come to
some arrangement.

EUSTASIA (completely overcome). Oh! Oh! Nicholas! My
darling! (Sobs on end of couch.)

(NICHOLAS, his hands clenched, looks grimly in front of him. He
winces now and then at her sobs. He tries desperately hard not to
give way, but in the end they are too much for him.)

NICHOLAS. Darling! Don’tl
(She goes on sobbing.)

There I There ! I’m sorry. Nicholas is sorry. I Oughtn’t to have
said it. Forgive me, darling.

(Her sobs get less.)

EUSTASIA (sitting up). It’s only because I love you so much, and
w-want you to be well, and you m-must eat. (Weeps again.)

NICHOLAS. Yes, yes, Eustasia, I know. It is dear of you.

EUs'rAsIA. Ask any doctor. He would say you m-must eat.
(Weeps.)

NICHOLAS. Yes, darling.

EUSTASIA. You m-must eat. (Weeps.)

NICHOLAS (resigned). Yes, darling.

EUSTASIA (sitting up and wiping her eyes). What’s a wife for, if
it isn’t to look after her husband when he’s ill, and to see that he
eats ?

NICHOLAS. All right, dear, we won’t say anything more about it

EUSTASIA. And when you had that horrid cold and were so ill,
the first day after we came here, I did look after you, didn't I,
Nicholas, and take care of you and make you well again?

NICHOLAS. You did. .}ear. Don’t think I am not grateful. You
were very kind. (Wincing at the recollection.) Too kind.

EUSTASIA. Not too kind. darling. I love looking after you, and
taking care of you ! (Replaces handkerchief in his pocket. Thought-
full-:/, to herself.) Leonard was never ilL

30 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT II.

NICHOLAS. Leonard!

EUSTASIA. My husband.

‘NICHOLAS. Oh ! . . . I’d never thought of him as Leonard-I
prefer not to think about him. I've never seen him, and I don’t
want to talk about him.

EUSTASIA. No, darling. I don't want to, either.

NICHOLAS. We’ve taken the plunge and——(bravely)—and we’re
not going back on it.

EUSTASIA (surprised). Darling!

NICHOLAS. AS a man of honour, I—— Besides, you can't go
back now—I mean, I took you away and—well, here we are.
(bravely)—-here we are.

EUSTASIA (amazed). Darling, you aren’t regretting!

NICHOLAS (hastily). No, no!

(She again snatches his handkerchief.)
NO, no, no! -
EUSTASIA. Oh yes, you are. (Again sobs on end of couch.)

NICHOLAS. No! No! (He is almost shouting.) Eustasia, lis-
ten ! I love you l I’m not regretting ! I’ve never been so happy !

(She is sobbing tumultuously.)

So HAPPY, EUSTASIAl I...HAVll...NEVEB...BEEN...
so . . . HAPPYl Can’t you hear?
(Her sobs cease.)
EUSTASIA (throwing her arms round his necIc—he subsides). Dar-
ling!

NICHOLAS (comforting her). There, there, there, there, there!

EUSTABIA (drying her eyes). Oh, Nicholas, you frightened me so.
Just for a moment I was afraid you were regretting.

NICHOLAS. No, no I

EUSTASIA (pause). How right Mr. Latimer was ! (She is leaning
afiectionately on him.)

NICHOLAS (with conviction). He was, indeed.

EUSTASIA. How little we really knew of each other when you
asked me to come away with you!

NICHOLAS. How little !

EUSTASIA. But this week has shown us to each other as we really
are.
NICHOLAS. It has.

EUSTASIA. And now I feel absolutely safe. We are ready 
face the world together, Nicholas. (She sighs and leans back happily
in his arms.)

NICHOLAS. Ready to face the world together.

(He has his pipe in his left hand, which is round her  Her eyes
are closed. her riolu hand encircling his neck. He mes to bend his

ACT II.] THE DOVER ROAD. 31

head down so as to get hold of his pipe with his teeth. Several times
he tries and just misses it. Each time he pulls her a little closer to
him, and she sighs happily. At last he gets hold of it. He leans
back with a sigh of relief——she also lies back.)

(MB. LATIMER comes in down R.—to behind couch.)

LATIMER. Good morning, my friends, good morning.
NICHOLAS. Oh, good morning. (Rising—mooes to end of couch.)
Eusmsm. Good morning. ,
LATIMEB. So you are leaving me this morning and going on your
way ? -
NICHOLAS (without enthusiasm). Yes.

EUSTASIA. But we shall never forget this week, dear Mr. Latimcr.

LATIMEB. You have forgiven me for asking you to wait a little
so as to make sure?

EUSTASIA. Oh, but you were so right 1 I was just saying so to
Nicholas. Wasn’t I, Nicholas?

NICHOLAS. Yes. About a minute ago. (Looks at wrist-watch.)
About two minutes ago.

LATIMEB. And so now you are sure of yourselves ?

EUSTASIA. Oh, so sure, so very sure. Aren’t we, Nicholas !

NICHOLAS. Absolutely sure.

LATIMER. That’s right. (Looking at his watch.) Well, I don’t
want to hurry you, but if you have any little things to do, the car
will be here in half an hour, and

EUSTASIA (rises and goes up to L.c.). Half an hour 3 Oh, I must
fly. (She begins.)

NICHOLAS (not moving). Yes, we must fly.

LATIMER (going to the door with EUSTASIA). By the way, you will
be interested to hear that I had two other visitors last night.

EUSTASIA (stopping excitedly). Mr. Latimerl You don’t mean
another—couple 3

LATIMER. Yes, another romantic couple.

EUSTASIA. Oh, if I could but see them before I go I Just for a
moment 1 Just to reconcile them to this week of probation I To
tell them what a wonderful week it can be I

Lurrmzn (goes to open door 1..). You shall. I promise you that
you shall.

EUBTASIA. Oh, thank you, dear Mr. Latimer.

(Emit Eusrssu L.)
(Lsrmnn come: down 3.0.)

Nronoms (r..o.). I say.

Iwrnmn. es

Nronoms (slowly). I say, what would you—I mean, supposing-
because you see—I mean, it 1Bn’t as if-—— Of course, now-—— (He

32 THE DOVER ROAD. [Aocr I1.

looks at his watch and finishes up sadly.) Half an hour. Well, I
suppose I must be getting ready. (He goes towards the opening B.)
LATIMEB (as he gets there). Er-—Nioholas.
NICHOLAS (taming round). Yes ?
LATIMEB. Just a moment.
NICHOLAS (coming back to him). Yes ‘I

(LATIMEB takes NICHOLAS by the arm, and looks round the room to see
that they are alone.)

LATIMEB (in a whisper). Cheer up l
NICHOLAS (excitedly). What!

(LATIMER has let go of his arm and moved away, whistling “ Wedding
March.” The light dies out of NICHOLAS’ eyes, and he shrugs his
shoulders despairingly.)

r (Without any hope.) Well, I’ll go and get ready.
(Exit NICHOLAS, B.)

(DOMINIC enters with newspaper—followed by the four SERVANTS,
who proceed to clear away the old breakfast dishes, ete., and lay
afresh.)

(Eaceunt.)

LATIMEB. Ah, good morning, Dominic.

DOMINIC. Good morning, sir. A nicish morning, it seems to be,
811'.

LATIMER (sits in settee). A very nicish morning. I have great
hopes of the world to-day.

DOMINIC. I am very glad to hear it, sir.

LATIMER. We must all do What we can, Dominic.

DOMINIC. That’s the only way, isn’t it, sir?

LATIMEB. Great hopes, great hopes.

DOMINIC (handing him “The Times ”). The paper, sir.

LATIMER. Thank you. (He looks at the first page.) Anyone
married this morning? Dear me, quite a lot. One, two, three,
four, five, six, seven, eight, nine—ten. (Sung to tune of “ Wedding
March.”) Tenl Twenty happy people, Dominic!

DOMINIC. Let us hope so, sir.

LA'mmn. Let us hope so. . . . By the way, how was his
lordship this morning?

DOMINIC. A little depressed, sir.

LA'rna3. Ah!

DOMINIO. There seems to have been some misunderstanding about
his luggage. A little carelessness on the part of somebody, I imagine,
sit.

Lnmsn. Dear me I Didn’t it come with him!

Domino. I'm afraid not, sir.

Am: 11.] THE DOVER ROAD. 33

LATIMEE. Tut, tut, how careless of somebody! Can't we lend
him anything ?

DOMINIC. Joseph oflered to lend him a comb, sir—-his own
comb—a birthday present last year, Joseph tells me. His lordship
decided not to avail himself of the offer.

LATIMEB. Very generous of Joseph, seeing that it was a birth-
day present.  »-'"

(The two MAIDS re—enter with replenished cofies-pot, milk, and toast-
rack.)

DOMINIO. Yes, sir. Unfortunately, Joseph had come down to
the last blade of his safety-razor this morning. His lordship is
rather upset about the whole business, sir.  

(Eazeunt MAIDS.)

LATIMER. Well, well, I dare say a little breakfast will do him
good.

DOMINIO. Yes, sir; let us hope so, sir. Are you ready for
breakfast now, sir?

(ANNE comes in L.)

LATIMER (getting up and goingto her up L.). Good morning, Miss
Anne. May I hope that you slept well ?

(DOMINIO puts fthzishing touches to table.)

ANNE. Very well, thank you.
LATIMEB. I am so glad. . . . All right, Dominic.
DOMINIC. Thank you, sir.

(Exit DOMINIO up 0. to L.)

LATIMEE. Are you ready for breakfast ?

ANNE (goes to table). Quite ready, Mr. Latimer. But what about
Leonard ?

LATIMEB. Leonard 3 (Brings chair from up 0. down to L. of
table.)

ANNE. I made sure that I was to have a practice breakfast with
Leonard this morning. I have been thinking of a few things to say,
up in my room.

LATIMER (smiling). Say them to me instead.

ANNE. They are very Wifely.

LATIMEB. But think what good practice,

ANNE (smiling). Very well. (At the cups.) Tea or coflee,
darling 3

LATIMEB. Oh no, that  never do. You know by now that I
always have cofiee—-half milk and three lumps of sugar (Goes up to
sideboard 3.)

ANNE. Of course. How silly of me ! (She pours out the cafes.)

o

M THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT II

LATIMEB (taking the covers of the dishes). Omelette—fish—-«kidney
and bacon ?

ANNE. Now you’re forgetting.

LATIMER (putting back the covers). No, I’m remembering. Toast
and marmalade—isn’t that right?

ANNE. Quite right, dear.

LATIMER (to himself). I knew she would like marmalade. No
wonder that Leonard ran away with her. (He puts the toast and
marmalade close to her.)

ANNE. Your coffee, darling.

LATIMEB. Thank you, my love. . . .

(She laughs.)

“ My love ” is very connubial, I think. (Sits L. of table.)

ANNE. Delightfully so. Do go on.

LATIMEB. Er-—I am sorry to see in the paper this morning-
which I glanced at, my precious, before you came down How
do you like “ my precious ” ‘I

ANNE. Wonderfully life-like. Are you sure you haven’t been
married before ?

LATIMEB. Only once. Eustasia. You had not forgotten Eus-
tasia 3

ANNE. I am afraid I had. In fact, I had forgotten for the

a moment that you were being Leonard.

Lurmnn. (bowing). Thank you. I could wish no better com-
pliment.

ANNE (laughing, in spite of herself). Oh, you’re too absurd!

LATIMER (in LEoNAED’s manner). Of course, I don’t wish to say
anything against Eustasia. . . .

ANNE. My dear Leonard, I—I really think we might leave your
first wife out of the conversation.

LATIMEB. Yes, you want to get that off pat. You’ll have to say
that a good deal, I expect. Well, to resume. I am sorry to see in
the paper this morning that Beelzebub, upon whom I laid my
shirt for the 2.30 race at Newmarket yesterday—and incidentally
your shirt, too, darling—came in last, some five minutes after the
others had finished the course. . . . Tut, tut, how annoying!

ANNE. Oh, my poor darling!

Lanmm. The word “ poor ” is well chosen. We are ruined.

ANNE. At least, let me share your ruin with you.

LATIMER. No, we are not ruined. Pass the toast. I can always
refuse to pay my gambling debts.

ANNI. Oh, my love. I thought you were a man of honour!

Lsrmln. So I am. Then I shall write my autobiography
instead.

ANNE. You know what I want you to do, Leonard I

Lrrmnn. No. I have forgotten.

A02 11.] THE DOVER ROAD. 35

ANNE (seriously). I should like to see you in the House of Lords,
taking your rightful place as a leader of men, making great speeches.

LATIMEB (imitates LEONA12D’s voice). My dear Anne, I may be
a peer, but I am not a dashed politician——whatI

ANNE (wist fully). I wish you were.

LATIMER (himself). I will be anything you like, Anne.

(LATIMEB leans towards her, half-serious, half-mocking.)

ANNE (wt'th a little laugh). How absurd you are! Some more
coffee '1

LATIMER (passing his cup). To which I answer, “ A little more
milk.” Do you realize that this goes on for fifty years ?

ANNE. Well, and why not? A

LATIMEE. Fifty years. A solemn thought. But let it not mar
our pleasure in the meal that we are having together now. Let us
continue to talk gaily together. Tell me of any interesting dream
you may have had last night-any little adventure that befell you
in the bath—any bright thought that occurred to you as you were
dressing.

ANNE (thoughtfully). I had a very odd dream last night.

LATIMER. I am longing to hear it, my love.

ANNE. I dreamt that you and I were running away together,
Leonard, and that we lost our way and came to what we thought was
an hotel. But it was not an hotel. It was a very mysterious
house, kept by a very mysterious man called Latimer.

LATIMER. How very odd! Latimeri Latimer? No, I don’t
seem to have heard of the fellow.

ANNE. He told us that we were his prisoners. That we must
stay in his house a week before we went on our way again. That
all the doors were locked, that there were high walls round the
garden, that the gates of the garden were locked, so that we could
not escape, and that we must wait a week together in his house to
see if we were really suited to each other.

LATIMEB. What an extraordinary dream!

ANNE. It was only a dream, wasn’t it?

LATIMEB. Of course 1 What is there mysterious about the
house 3 (He throws a hand round the room.) What is there mysterious
about this—dear me-I always forget names.

ANNE. Latimer.

LATIMEB. Mr. Latimer 3 And as for anyone being kept prisoner
—here—in this respectable England—whyl

ANNE. It is absurd, isn’t it?

LATIMEB. Quite ridiculous.

ANNE (getting up). I thought it was. (She goes to the front door
and opens it.) You see, I thought it was. (She steps out into the
garden.) You see, the gates are open, too! (She comes back.)
What an absurd dream to have had! (She sits down again.)

36 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT II.

LATIMER. There’s no accounting for dreams. I had an absurd
one, too, last night.

ANNE. What was it?

LATIMER. A lonely house. Father and daughter living together
Father, old, selfish, absorbed in his work.

(She drinks.)

Daughter, left to herself; her only companion, books; knowing
nothing of the world. A man comes into her life; the fir :+. He
makes much of her. It is a new experience for the daughter. She
is grateful to him, so grateful ; so very proud that she means any-
thing to him. He tells her when it is too late that he is married;
talks of an impossible wife; tells her that she is his real mate.
Let her come with him and see something of the world which she
has never known. She comes. . . . Dear me, what silly things
one dreams!

ANNE. Absurd things. (Rises) When can we have the car?

LATIMER. The car?

ANNE. Leonard’s car.

LATIMER. You wish to continue the adventure ?

ANNE. Why not?

LATIMER. Dear, dear! What a pity! (Looking at his watch.)
111 twenty-five minutes!

ANNE. That will do nicely, thank you.

LATIMER (rises). We must let Leonard have a little breakfast
first, if he is to cross the Channel to-day. In twenty-five minutes, then.

ANNE (half-holding out her hand). I shall see you again?

LATIMER (shakes her hand). If only to wish you God-speed.

(ANNE looks at him for a moment, and then goes out, L.)

(LATIMER looks after her for a little, then picks up his paper, goes up 0.
to window L., whistling the “ Wedding March.” LEONARD sneezes,
of R.,and comes in. Sneezes again. He is in a dirty, rather dis-
reputable, once white, ba-th gown. His hair is unbrushcd, his cheeks-
the cheeks of a dark maw—unshaved and blue. He has a horrible
pair of bedroom slippers on his feet, above which, not only his socks,
but almost a hint of pantaloons may be seen on the way to the dressing-
gown. He comes in nervously, and is greatly relieved to find that the
breakfast-table is empty. He does not notice MR. LATIMEB. On his
way to the table he stops at a mirror on the wall 3., and, standing in
front of it, tries to persuade himself that his chin is -not so bad, after
all. He then goes up 3., helps himself to a kipper, and brings it
down to 3. of table. Then he pours himself out some coflee, and
falls to rauenously, sitting B. of table.)
LATIMEB. Ah, good morning, Leonard.
LEONARD (starting violently and turning round). Good Lord I
I didn't know you were there.

Aer II.) THE DOVER ROAD. 87

LATIMER (sits at back of table). You were so hungry. . . . I
trust you slept well. ’

LEONARD. Slept well ! Of all the damned draughty rooms. . . .
Yes, and what about my luggage ?

LATIMER (surprised). Your luggage?

LEONARD. Yes, never put on the car—yOur fellow, what’s-’is-
name-—Joseph says.

LATIMER. Dear me! We must inquire into this. Lost your
luggage '9’ Dear me ! That’s a very unfortunate start for a honey-
moon. That means bad luck, Leonard.

(DOMINIO comes in, 0.)

Dominic, what’s this about his lordship’s luggage!

DOMINIC. Yes, sir ! Joseph tells me there must have been some
misunderstanding about it, sir. A little carelessness on the part of
somebody, I imagine, sir.

LATIMER. Dear me! Didn’t it come with him"?

DOMINIC. I’m afraid not, sir.

LATIMEB. Tut, tut, how careless of somebody! Thank you,
Dominic.

DOMINIO. Thank you, sir.

(Emit DOMINIO O.)

LATIMER. Lost your luggage. How excessively annoying l
(An:m'ously.) My dear Leonard, what is it?

LEONARD (whose face has been shaping for it for some seconds). A
tish—oO ! —

LATIMER. At any rate, I can lend you a handkerchief. (He does
so.)

(LEONARD takes it just in time and sneezes violently again.)

LEONARD. Thank you.

LATIMEB. Not at all. That’s a very nasty cold you’ve got.
How wise of you to have kept on a dressing-gown.

LEONARD. The only thing I could find to put on.

LATIMEB. But surely you were travelling in a suit yesterday!
I seem to remember a brown suit.

LEONARD. That fool of a man of yours-———

LA'rmER (distressed). You dOn’t mean to tell mo-—

(DOMINIO comes in O.)

Dominic, what’s this about his lordship’s brown suit!

DomNIc. Yes, sir! Owing to a regrettable misunderstanding,
sir, his lordship’s luggage——

LATIMEB. Yes, but I’m not talking about his twenty-five other
suits; I mean the nice brown suit that he was wearing yesterday.

38 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT 11.

It must be somewhere. I remember noticing it. I remember-—
(He holds up his hand.) Just a moment, Dominic. . . .

LEONARD. A-tish-oo !

LATIMER. I remember saying to myself, “ What a nice brown suit
Leonard is wearing! ” Well, where is it, Dominic?

DOMINIC. Yes, sir. I seem to remember the suit to which you
are referring. I’m afraid that Joseph had an unfortunate accident
with it.

LEONARD (growling). Damned carelessness!

DOMINIO. Joseph was bringing back the clothes after brushing
them, sir, and happened to have them in his arms while bending
Over the bath in order to test the temperature of the water for his
lordship. A little surprised at the unexpected heat of the water,
Joseph relinquished the clothes for a moment, and precipitated them
into the bath.

LATIMER. Dear me! How extremely careless of Joseph!

DOMINIC. Yes, sir, I have already reprimanded him.

LEONARD. That fellow ought to be shot.

LATIMER. You’re quite right, Leonard. Dominic, shoot Joseph
this morning.

DOMINIO. Yes, sir.

LATIMEB. And see that his lordship’s suit is dried as soon as
possible.

DOMINIC. Yes, air. It is being dried now, sir.

LATIMER. But it must be dried thoroughly, Dominic. His
lordship has a nasty cold, and

LEONARD. A-tish-oo !

LATIMER. A very nasty cold. I’m afraid you are subject to
colds, Leonard?

LEONARD. The first one I’ve ever had in my life. (He smfls.)

LATIMER. Do you hear that, Dominic ? The first one his lord-
ship has ever had in his life.

DOMINIO. Yes, sir. If you remember, sir, Mr. Nicholas and
one or two other gentlemen who slept there, caught a very nasty
cold. Almost looks as if there must be something the matter with
the room.

LEONARD. Damned draughtiest room. . . .

LATIMER. Dear me l You should have told me of this before,
Dominic. We must have the room seen to at once. And be sure
that his lordship has a difierent room to-night.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

(Exit DOMINIO 0.)

LATIMEB (rises, goes to sideboard«—-brz'ngs down two omelette dishes.
Sympathetioally.) My dear fellow, I am distressed beyond words,
but you know the saying, “Feed a cold; starve a fever.” You
must eat, you must eat. We must be firm with this cold. We

A01: 11.] THE DOVER ROAD. 39

must sufiocate it. How wise of you not to shave this morning.
The protection ofiered by the beard, though small, is salutary.
But I was forgetting—perhaps you lost your razor, tool

LEONARD. Damned careless fellows!

LATIMER. I must lend you mine.

LEONARD (feeling his chin). I say, I wish you would.

LATIMER. I’ll get it at once. Meanwhile, eat. No half measures
with this cold of yours.

(LEONARD sneezes.)
My poor fellow! My poor fellow!
(LATIMEB reluctantly exits R.)
(LEONARD gets busy with his breakfast. Enter ANNE, L.)

ANNE (hurrying in). Leonard, my dear! (She observes him
more thoroughly.) My dear Leonard!
LEONARD (his mouth full). G’morning, Anne. (Goes to her up 0.)
ANNE (coldly). Good morning.
LEONARD (napkin in hand). How are you this morning 'l (Wip-
ing his mouth.) _
ANNE. No, please go on with your breakfast. (In alarm.) What
is it ?
(His face assumes an agonized expression. He sneezes——ANNE
shudders.)

LEONARD. Got a nasty cold. Can’t understand it. First one
I’ve ever had in my life.

ANNE. Do you sneeze like that much 3

LEONARD. Oil and on.

ANNE. Oh! . . . Hadn’t you better get on with your break-
fast 'l

LEONARD. Well, I will, if you dOn’t mind. Good thing for a
cold, isn’t it? Eat a lot.

ANNE. I really know very little about colds. . . . Do get on
with your breakfast.

LEONARD (going back). Well, I will, if you don't mind. You
had yours ?

ANNE. Yes.

LEONARD (sits). That’s right. (Resuming it.) Did you have
one of these kippers?

ANNE. No.

LEONARD. Ah! A pity. I will say that for Latimer’s cook,
she knows how to do a kippcr. Much more difficult than people
think. (Eats.)

ANNE. I really know very little about kippers. ‘

LEONARD. I have often wondered why somebody doesn't invent

40 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT ‘II.

one without bones. (He takes a mouthful.) Seeing what science
can do nowadays—— (He stops.)

(ANNE’s eye is on him. He says nothing, but waves his hand for her
to look the other way.)

ANNE. What is it?
(He frowns fiercely and continues to wave.)

(She says coldly.) I beg your pardon. (She turns away, goes to
fireplace L.)

(He removes a mouthful of bones.)

LEONARD (cheerfully). Right-oh, darling. . . . After all, what
do they want all these bones for ? Other fish manage without them.
(He continues his Icipper.)

ANNE (after a pause). Leonard, when you can spare me a moment
I should like to speak to you.

LEONARD (eating). My darling, all my time is yours.

ANNE. I should like your undivided attention if I can have it.

LEONARD. Fire away, darling. I’m listening.

ANNE (going to him). Have you finished your——kipper?

LEONARD. Yes, thank you.

ANNE (she takes the plate away). What are you going to have
next ? (Brings plate, knife and fork from sideboard.)

LEONARD. Well, what do you recommend ? (He snifls violently.)

ANNE (taking of a cover). Omelette 3 I don’t think it has any

nes.
LEONARD. What’s in that other dish ?

(She takes of the cover.)
Kidneys? What are the kidneys like?

ANNE (coldly). Well, you can see what they look like.
LEONARD. I mean, did you try one ?

ANNE (impatiently). Oh, they’re delightful. I tried several.
(Helps himself in three goes.)
There ! Got the toast ? Butter ? (She gives it him.) Salt ?

(He looks for something.)

Now what is it?
LEONARD. Pepper.
ANNE. Pepper—there. Now have you got everything?
LEONARD. Yes, thank you, my dear. (He picks up his knife and
fork.)
ANNE. Then, before you actually begin, I have something I
want to say to you.
LIOIAID. You're very mysterious. What is it!

A01‘ IL] THE DOVER ROAD. 41

ANNE. There is nothing mysterious about it at all. It's per-
fectly plain and obvious. Only I do want you to grasp it.
LEONARD. Well? (Sneezes.)

(ANNE waits for him to finish.)
Well? (He is still flourishing his handkerchief.)
(ANNE waits patiently. He puts it back in his pocket.)

Well ?

ANNE. The car will be here in a quarter of an hour.

LEONARD. The car?

ANNE. The automobile.

LEONARD. But whose car?

ANNE. Ours. More accurately, yours.

LEONARD. But what for?

ANNE (patiently. Her face down to his). We are running away
together, dear. You and I. It had slipped your memory, perhaps,
but I assure you it is a fact. The car will take us to Dover, and the
boat will take us to Calais, and the train will take us to the South of
France. You and I, dear——when you’ve finished your breakfast.

LEONARD. But what about Latimer ?

ANNE. Just you and I, dear. Two of us only. The usual
number. We shall not take Mr. Latimer.

LEONARD. My dear Anne, you seem quite to have forgotten that
this confounded fellow, Latimer, has got us prisoners here until he
chooses to let us go. (With dignity.) I have not forgotten. I eat
his kidneys now, but he shall hear from me afterwards. Damned
interference l

ANNE. Have you been dreaming, Leonard? Before all those
kippers and kidneys and things?

LEONARD. Dreaming?

ANNE. The car will be here in a quarter of an hour. Why not ?
It is your car. This is England, this is the twentieth century. We
missed the boat and spent the night here. We go on our way this
morning. Why not?

LEONARD. Well, you know; I said last night it was perfectly
ridiculous for Latimer to talk that way. I mean, what has it got
to do with him ? J usta bit of leg-pulling—that’s what Ifelt all the
time. . . . Stupid joke! (Picking up his knife and fork.) Bad
taste, too.

ANNE (moves to 0.). You did hear what I said, didn't you 3 The
car will be here in a quarter of an hour. I don't know how long it
takes you to—(she glances him over)—to shave-—and—and dress
properly, and——and brush your hair, but I fancy you ought to be
thinking about it quite seriously. You can have some more kidneys.
another time.

LEONARD. B-but I can't possibly go like this.

42 THE DOVER ROAD. [Aer II.

ANNE. No, that’s what I say. (Hitting her hand.)

LEONARD. I mean, I haven’t got any luggage, for one thing . . .
and with a cold like this, I’m not at all sure——

ANNE. You’ve lost your luggage? (Leans over table.)

LEONARD. Apparently it was left behind by——

ANNE (with anger). You let yourself be tricked and humiliated
by this Mr. Latimer, you let me be humiliated; and then when I say
that, whatever happens, I won’t be humiliated, you—you lost your
luggage! (Goes O.)

LEONARD. I didn’t lose it. It just happens to be lost.

ANNE. And you catch a cold I

LEONARD. I didn’t catch it. It caught me.

ANNE. The—-the humiliation of it l . . . And now what do you
propose to do?

LEONARD. As soon as my luggage turns up, and if I am well
enough to travel

ANNE (flings her hand out). Meanwhile, you accept this man's
hospitality. . . .

LEONARD. Under protest. (Helping himself from the dish.) I
shall keep a careful account of everything that we have here.

ANNE. Well, that’s your third kidney; you’d better make a
note of it.

LEONARD (with dignity). As it happens, I was helping myself to
a trifle more bacon. . . . As I say, I shall keep a careful account,
and send him a cheque for our board and lodging, as soon as we have
left his roof.

ANNE. Well . . . (going L.) I had some coffee and one slice of
toast and a little marmalade. About a spoonful. And a cup of
tea and two thin slices of bread and butter upstairs. Oh, and I’ve
had two baths. They’re extra, aren’t they ? A hot one last night
and a cold one this morning. I think that’s all. Except supper last
night, and you wouldn’t let me finish that, so I expect there’ll be a
reduction. . . . You want a note-book with one of those little
pencils in it. (Comes to chair 0. and then up stage.)

LEONARD (reproachfully). I say, Anne, look here--—

ANNE. Do go on with your breakfast.

LEONARD. You’re being awfully unfair. How can we possibly
go now ? Why, I haven't even got a pair of trousers to put on.

ANNE (comes to table again). You're not going to say you've lost
those, tool

LEONARD (sulkily). It’: not my fault. That fel1ow—what’s-
his-name. . . .

ANNE (steps back to 0. up stage). What made you even think that
you could take anybody to the South of France? Without any
practice, at all ? . . . (Comes down L.o.) If you had been taking
an aunt to Hammersmith . . . well, you might have lost a bus or
two . . . and your hat might have blown off . and you would

Aor 11.] THE DovER ROAD. 43

probably have found yourselves at Hampstead the first two or three
times . . . and your aunt would have stood up the whole way . . .
but still, you might have got there eventually. I mean, it would
be Worth trying——if your aunt was very anxious to get to Hammer-
smith. (Goes to chair 0.) But the South of France! My dear
Leonard, it’s so audacious of you!
LEONARD (annoyed). Now, look here, Anne-—

(MR. LATIMER comes in cheerily, with shaving-pot, brush, safety-razor
and towel, puts them on cabinet down B. and the towel round
LEoNARD’s shoulders.)

LATIMER. Now then, Leonard, we’ll soon have you all right.
(He puts the things down.) Ah, Anne, you don’t mind waiting
while Leonard has a shave '1 (Goes to her, 0.) He wanted to grow
a special beard for the Continent, but I persuaded him not to. The
French accent will be quite enough. (Picking up the razor. Goes
to R. of LEONARD.) Do you mind Wednesday’s blade? I used
‘I‘uesday’s myself, this morning.

ANNE. Oh, Mr. Latimer, I find that we shall not want the car,
after all.

LATIMER. No? (Games to her, 0.)

ANNE. No. Poor Leonard is hardly well enough to travel. I
hope that by to-morrow, perhaps—but I am afraid that we must
trespass on your hospitality until then. I am so sorry.

LATIMER. But I am charmed to have you. Let me tell your
maid to unpack.

ANNE. Don’t trouble, thanks. I’ve got to take my hat ofi.
(Very sweetly for LA'r1MER’s benefit.) I shan’t be a moment, Leonard
darling.

(ANNE goes out.)
LATIMER (comes down 0.). Now then, Leonard darling, to work.

(LEONARD reluctantly lays down knife and fork, picks up the tray
and moves to opening R.).

But where are you going?

LEONARD. Upstairs, of course.

LATIMEB. Is that wise—with a cold like yours?

LEONARD. Dammit, I can’t shave down here!

LATIMER. Oh, come, we mustn’t stand on ceremony when your
life is at stake. You were complaining only five minutes ago of the
draught in your room. N ow, here we have a nice even tempera-
ture . . .

LEONARD. Well, there's something in that.

LATIMER. There’s everything in it. Of course, you’ve never
had a cold before, so you don’t know; but any doctor will tell you
how important it is to stay in one room with a. nice even tempera-
ture. You mustn’t dream of going upstairs.

44 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT I].

LEONARD (surrendering). Well
LATIMER. That’s right. Got everything you want? There are

plenty of mirrors. Which period do you prefer 3 Queen Anne?
LEONARD. This is all right, thanks.
LATIMER. Good! Then I’ll leave you to it.

(Exit LATIMER.)

(LEONARD butters a piece of toast, and takes it with him to a glass on
the wall ; he applies the soap. His cheeks are just getting beautifully
creamy when the SERVANTS enter to clear the table—LEONARD goes
0., watches them—and eats his last bit of toast on their exit-and
goes R. as NICHoLAs enters.)

NICHOLAS (C.). Hallo!

LEONARD (looking round). Hallol

NICHOLAS. Shaving?

LEONARD (exasperated). Well, what the devil did you think I was

doing ?
NICHOLAS. Shaving. (Cross L.O.)

(LEONARD goes on with the good work.)

LEONARD. A-tish-oo I .

NICHOLAS. Got a cold? (Sitting on settee.)

LEONARD. Obviously.

NICHOLAS (sympathetically). Horrid, sneezing when you’re all
covered with soap.

LEONARD (a step towards him). Look here, I didn’t ask for your
company, and I don’t want your comments. «

NICHOLAS. Well, if it comes to that, I was here first, and I didn’
ask you to shave in the hall.

LEONARD (with dignity). There are reasons which make it
necessary for me to shave in the hall.

NICHOLAS. DOn’t bother to tell me. I know ‘em.

LEONARD. What do you mean?

NICHOLAS. YOu’re the couple that arrived last night?

LEONARD (looking at him thoughtfully). And you’re the couple
that is leaving this morning?

NICHOLAS. Exactly.

LEONARD. Yes, but I don’t see———-

NICHOLAS. You haven’t tumbled to it yet?

LEONARD (not understanding). Tumbled to what 1 (Again faces
mirror.)

NICHOLAS. The fact that a week ago there were reasons why it
was necessary for me to shave in the hall.

LEONARD. YOu—you don’t mean

NICHOLAs. Yes, I do.

LEONARD. You lost your luggage 3

 

AC1‘ II.] THE DOVER ROAD. 45

NICHOLAS. Yes.

LEONARD. You woke up with a nasty cold!

NICHOLAS. Yes . . . horrid, sneezing when you're all covered
with soap.

LEONARD (excitedly). I say, that fe11ow——what’s—his-name-—didn’t
drop your clothes in the bath?

NICHOLAS. Oh, rather. . . . Damned smart chap, Latimerl

LEONARD. Damned Scoundrel!

NICHOLAS. Oh no. He’s quite right. One learns a lot down
here.

LEONARD. I shall leave this house at once—as soon as I have
shaved. (Goes R., continues shaving.)

NICHOLAS. You still want to? (Turns to him.)

(LEONARD looks at him in surprise.)

Oh well, you’ve hardly been here long enough, I suppose.
LEONARD. What do you mean '9 Don’t you want to any more 2
NICHOLAS. Latimer’s quite right, you know. One learns a lot

down here.

LEONARD (grunts, shaving). What about the lady‘!

NICHOLAS. That’s the devil of it.

LEONARD. My dear fellow, as a man of honour you’re bound to
go on.

NICHOLAS. As a man of honour, ought I ever to have started?

LEONARD. Naturally, I can’t give an opinion on that.

NICHOLAS. No. . . . You want to be careful with that glass.
The light isn’t too good. I Should go Over it all again.

LEONARD (stifly). I am accustomed to shaving myself, thank
you-

NICHOLAS. I was just ofiering a little expert advice. You
needn’t take it.

LEONARD (surveying himself doubtfully). H’m, perhaps you’re
right. (He lathers himself again. In the middle of it he stops and
says.) Curious creatures, women.

NICHOLAS. Amazing.

LEONARD. It’s a life’s work in itself trying to understand ‘em.
And then you’re no further.

NICHOLAS. A week told me all I wanted to know.

LEONARD. They’re so unexpected.

NICHOLAS. So unreasonable.

LEONARD. What was it the poet said about them!

NICHOLAS. What didn't he say?

LEONARD. No. You know the one I mean. How does it
begin? . . . “ 0 Woman, in our hours of ease——-”

NICHOLAS. “ Uncertain, 00y and hard to please.”

LEONARD. That’s it. Well, I grant you that__

46 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT II.

N ICHOLAs. Grant it me! I should think you do l They throw
it at you with both hands.

LEONARD. But in the next two lines he misses the point alto-
gether. When—what is it 1-“ When pain and anguish wring the
brow ”

NICHOLAS (with feeling). “ A ministering angel thou.”

LEONARD. Yes, and it’s a lie. It’s simply a lie.

NICHOLAs. My dear fellow, it’s the truest thing anybody ever
said. Only——only one gets too much of it.

LEONARD. True? Nonsense!

NICHOLAS. Evidently you don’t know anything about women

LEONARD (steps towards him. Indignantly). I don’t know any
thing about women?

NICHOLAB. Well, you said yourself just now that you didn’t.

LEONARD. I never said—— What I said

NICHOLAS. If you did know anything about ’em, you’d know
that there’s nothing they like more than doing the ministering angel
business.

LEONARD. Ministering angel!

NICHoLAs. “ Won’t you have a little more of this, and won’t
you have a little more of that, and how is the poor cold to-day-—
and '9 ”

LEONARD. You really think that women talk like that!

NICHOLAS. How else do you think they talk?

LEONARD. My dear fellow! . . . Why, I mean, just take my
own case as an example.

(Goes to L. end of table as LATIMEB enters R.)

Here am I, with a very nasty cold, the first I’ve ever had in my
life. I sit down to a bit of breakfast—not wanting it particularly,
but feeling that, for the sake of my health, I ought to try and eat
something. And what happens?

(LATIMER has entered during this speech. He stops and listens to it,
standing beside LEONARD down R.O.)

LATIMER (trying to guess the answer). You eat too much.

LEONARD (turning round angrily). Ah, so it’s you! You have
come just in time, Mr. Latimer. I propose to leave your house at
once.

LATIMEB (surprised). Not like that? Not with a little bit of
soap just behind the ear '1

(LEONARD hastily wipes it.)

 

 

The other ear.
(LEONARD wipes that one.)
That's right.
LEONARD. At once, sir.

Acm II.] THE DOVER ROAD. 47

NICHOLAS. You3d better come with us. We’re just going.
LEONARD. Thank you.
LATIMER. Four of you. A nice little party.

(LATIMEB goes up R. and to 0., laughing——followed by LEONARD.
ANNE comes in L.)

LEONARD. Anne, my dear, we are leaving the house at once.

Are you ready?
ANNE (looking from one to the other in surprise). But I’ve just
taken off my hat. Besides, you can’t go like that?

(NICHOLAS rises and goes L. LEONARD hastily wipes his ear again.)

LATIMER. N 0, no. She means the costume this time.
LEONARD. Mr. Latimer, I insist on having my clothes restored
to me.
LATIMER. Wet or dry, you shall have them.
EUSTASLA (from outside L.). Nich-o-lasl

(LEONARD looks up in astonishment.)

NICHOLAS (down L., gloomily). Hallol
EUSTASIA. Where—are——you ?
NICHOLAS. Here I

(EUs'rAsIA comes in L.)

EUSTASIA. Are you ready, darling?

(LEONARD moves to opening R. She stops on seeing them all and looks

from one to the other. She sees her husband.)

Leonard!
NICHOLAS (understanding). Leonard!
LEONARD. Eustasial
ANNE (understanding). Eustasial

(They stare at each other open-mouthed——all but MR. LATIMER. His
eyes on the ceiling, sings the “ Wedding March " tune to himself.)

0 O O] fio O 0

ANN! LATIMEB

O LEONARD O EUSTASIA
N ICHOLA8

ANNE (impatiently). Oh, iSn’t anybody going to say anything I
III. Latimer, while Leonard is thinking of something, you might
introduce me to his wife.

Lu'nmn. I beg your pardon. Eustasia, this is Anne.

43 THE DOVER ROAD. [Aor II.

ANNE. How do you do!
  EUSTASIA. How do you do?

LATIMER. Leonard, this is Nicholas.

NICHOLAS (nodding). We’ve met, quite old friends.

LEONARD. I repudiate the friendship. We met-—under false
pretences. I—I—we1l, upon my word, I don’t know what to say.
(Goes down R.)

NICHOLAS. Then don’t say it, old boy. Here we all are, and
we’ve got to make the best of it.

LEONARD. I—I——a-tish-oo!

EUs'rAsIA (alarmed. Crosses to him down R.). Leonard, you have
a cold ‘I .

NICHOLAS. A very nasty cold.

ANNE (coldly). It will be better when he has finished his breakfast.

LEONARD (hwrt). I have finished my breakfast. A long time ago.

ANNE. I beg your pardon. (She indicates the towel round his
neck.) I misunderstood.

LEONARD (pulling it away, throws it on cabinet R.) . I’ve been shaving.

EUs'rAsIA. But, Leonard dear, I don’t understand. I’ve never
known you ill before.

LEONARD. I never have been ill before. But I am ill now. Very
ill. And nobody minds. Nobody minds, at all. This fellow,
Latimer, invaygles me here———

LA'rmER. Inveegles.

LEONARD. I shall pronounce it how I like. It is quite time I
asserted myself. I have been too patient. You invaygle me
here———

LATIMER. I still think inveegle is better.

LEONARD. —and purposely give me a cold. You——(pointing
accusingly to ANNE)——are entirely unmoved by my sufferings, instead
of which you make fun of the very simple breakfast which I had
forced myself to eat. You—(to NIOHOLAs)—run away with my wife,
at a time when I am ill and unable to protect her, and you (to
EUs'rAs1A) . . . well, all I can say is, that you surprise me, Eustasia,
you surprise me ; I didn’t think you had it in you.

LA'rmER. A masterly summing-up of the case. Well, I hope
you’re all ashamed of yourselves.

EUBTASIA. But, Leonard, how rash of you to think of running
away with a cold like this. (She goes up and comforts him.) You
must take care of yourself—Eustasia will take care of you, and get
you well. Poor boy! He had a nasty, nasty cold, and nobody
looked after him. Mr. Latimer, I shall want some mustard, and
hot water, and eucalyptus?

(Enter Doumro O.)
LLTIIIEB. But, of course!
(LEONARD up stage 3.0. EUSTABIA R.)

As»: 11.] THE DOVER ROAD. 49

LEONARD (goes to ANNE). There you are I As soon as somebody
who really understands illness comes on the scene, you see what
happens. Mustard, hot water, euca1yptus——she has it all at her
fingers’ ends.

DOMINIO (0.). Yes, sir?

LATIMER (down L.C.). A small mustard and water for his lordship.

EUSTASIA. It’s to put his feet in, not to drink.

LATIMER. A large mustard and water.

DOMINIO. Yes, sir.

EUSTASIA. Hot water.

DOMINIO. Yes, my lady.

EUSTASIA. And if you have any eucalyptus

DOMINIC. Yes, my lady, we got some in specially for his lordship.

LATIMER. Did Mr. Nicholas absorb all the last bottle ?

DOMINIC. Yes, sir.

NICHOLAS (L. with feeling). I fairly lived on it.

DOMINIO (to EUSTASIA). Is there anything else his lordship will
require ?

NICHOLAS. What about a mustard-plaster '!

LEONARD. You kindly mind your Own business.

EUSTASIA. NO, I don’t think there’s anything else, thank you.

NICHOLAS. Well, I call it very unfair. I had one.

LEONARD. Oh, did you? Well, in that case, Eustasia, I cer-
tainly don’t see why———

LATIMER (to DOMINIC). Two mustard plasters. We mustn't
grudge his lordship anything.

DOMINIC. Yes, sir.

(DOMINIO retires.)
(EUSTASIA and LEONARD cross to L. down stage.)

EUSTASIA (to LEONARD). Now, come over here, darling, near the
fire. Lean on me.

ANNE. Surely one can walk with a cold in the head!

NICHOLAS. No, it’s very dangerous. (Goes up L.)

LATIMER. Nicholas speaks as an expert.

EUSTASIA (settling LEONARD). There! Is that comfy!

LEONARD. Thank you, Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. We’1l soon have you all right, dear.

LEONARD (pressing her hand). Thank you.

LATIMER (after a little silence). Well, as Nicholas said just now,
“ Here we all are, and we’ve got to make the best of it.” What
are we all going to do?

ANNE. Please leave me out of it. I can make my own arrange-
ments.

(She gives them a cool, little bow as she crosses L. NICHOLAS opens
4009‘ for her.)
D

so THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT II.

If you will excuse me.
(She goes out.)

(DOMINIO comes in with a clinical thermometer on a tray, 0.)

DOMINIO. I thought that her ladyship might require a thermo-
meter for his lordship’s temperature.

EUSTASIA (coming to him, 0.). Thank you. I think it would be
safe just to take it. And I wondered if we couldn't just put this
screen round his 1ordship’s chair.

DOMINIO. Certainly, my lady. One can’t be too careful.

(DOMINIC goes to get screen up 1.. NICHOLAS is attempting to get it,
but DOMINIO snaps it together and comes down L. with it.)

EUSTASIA. Yes, that's right.
(LATIMER to NICHOLAS, who crosses to him up 3.0.)

LATIMER. Did you have the screen?

NICHOLAS. Oh, rather.

LATIMER. And the thermometer‘!

NICHOLAS. Yes . . . funny thing was, I liked it just at first. I
don't mean the actual thermometer. I mean all the fussing.

LATIMER. It’s a wonderful invention, a cold in the head. It
finds you Out. There’s nothing like it, Nicholas, nothing.

EUSTASIA (to DOMINIC). Thank you. And you're bringing the
other things 3

DOMINIC (crosses C. and up). Yes, my lady, as soon as ready.

(DOMINIO goes out 0.)

EUSTASIA. Thank you. (To LEONARD.) Now, dear. Under
the tongue.

(He puts it in his mouth.)

LEONARD (mumbling). I don't think I ever
EUSTASIA. No, dear, don't try to talk.
NICHOLAS (coming close to LArmI«:a. who has dropped to table 3.).
I sa ——

LAYTIMEB. Well?

NIcHOI.As (indicating the screen). I say—not too loud.
LATIMEB (in a whisper). Welli

NICHOLAS. Well, what about it I

LATIMEB. What about what I

NICHOLAS. I mean, where do I come in I

(NICIIOI.As takes LATIMEB up 1!.)

 

As 3 man of honour. oughtn’t I to—er—you see what I mean!
01 course, I want to do the right thing.

ACT II.] THE DOVER ROAD. 51

LATIMER. Naturally, my dear Nicholas. It’s what one expected
of you.

(NICHoLAs brings LATIMER down to table R. again.)

NICHOLAS. I thought that if I slipped away now, unostenta-
tiously——

LATIMEB. With just a parting word of farewell

NICHOLAS. Well, that was what I was wondering. Would
anything in the nature of a farewell be in good taste?

LATIMER. I see your point.

NICHOLAS. Don’t think that I’m not just as devoted to Eustasia
as ever I was.

LATIMER. But you feel that in the circumstances you could
worship her from afar with more propriety.

NICHOLAS (waving a hand at the screen). Yes. You see, I had no
idea that they were so devoted.

LATIMEB. But their devotion may not last for ever.

NICHOLAS. Exactly! That’s why I thought I’d. slip away now.

LATIMEB. Oh, Nicholas! Oh, Nicholas!

NICHOLAS (a little ofiended). Of course, I don’t want to say any-
thing against Eustasia-———-

LATIMER. But the whole house is full of people who don’t want
to say anything against Eustasia. (Goes to C.)

NICHOLAS. But, you see—— Look out, here’s Miss Anne.

(ANNE comes in, L.)

LATIMER. Anne, you’re just in time. Nicholas wants your
advice.

NICHOLAS. I say, shut up! We can’t very well———

ANNE. Mr. Latimer, I went upstairs to get my things and find
my way to the nearest railway station. But—but there is a reason
why I am not going, after all, just yet. I thought I’d better tell
you.

LATIMER. Were you really thinking of going?

(She nods.)

I’m so glad you’ve changed your mind.

ANNE (with a smile). There are reasons why I had to.

LATIMER. Bless them . . . Nicholas, I believe she stayed just
so that she might help you.

ANNE. What does Mr. Nicholas want? (Cross to NICHOLAS
up R.

N IC)HOLAB. I say, it’s awfully good of you and all that, but this
is rather—I mean, it’s a question that a fellow ought to settle for
himself.

LATIMEB. What he means is, ought he to get his things and find
his way to the nearest railway station?

as THE DOVER ROAD. (Ac: II.

ANNE (dismayed). Oh no!
LATIMER. There you are, Nicholas!
NICHOLAS (rather flattered). Oh, well——well—-— (He looks at her
admiringly.) Well, perhaps you're right.
EUSTASIA (the three minutes up). There!

(She takes the thermonzeter out and comes from behind the screen to C.)

LATIMER. His temperature I An exciting moment in the history
of the House of Lords. (He comes down to EUSTASIA.)

NICHOLAS (to ANNE). I say, do you really think I ought to stay '!

ANNE. Please, Mr. Nicholas, I want you to stay.

NICHOLAS. Right-Oh-—then I’ll stay.

LATIMEB (over EUs'rAsIA’S shoulder). A hundred and nine.

LEONARD (putting his head round the screen). I say, what ought
it to be?

NICHOLAS (coming down 11.0.). Ninety-eight.

LEONARD. Good Lord, I’m dying!

EUs'rAsIA. Just ninety-nine. A little over normal, Leonard,
but nothing to matter.

LATIMEB. N inety-nine-—so it is. I should never have forgiven
myself if it had been a hundred and nine. ’

NICHOLAS (coming up to LATIMER). It’s all right, I’m going to.

EUSTASIA (surprised). Going to? Going to what!

NICHOLAS (confused). Oh, nothing.

LATIMEB. What he means is, that he is going to be firm. He
thinks we all ought to have a little talk about things. Just to see
where we are.

EUSTASIA. Well, things aren’t quite as they were, are they?
If I’d known that Leonard was ill——but I’ve seen so little of him
lately. And he's never been ill before.

NICHOLAS. Of course, we ought to know where we are.

LATIMER. Yes. At present, Leonard is behind that screen,
which makes it diflicult to discuss things properly. Leonard, could

on
y EUSTASIA. Oh, we mustn’t take any risks. I think I might just
move the screen back for a moment. (Does so and arranges hood
of gown over LEONARD’s head and goes and sits in settee.)

LATIMEB. Delightful!

NICHOLAS. Sit here, Miss Anne, won’t you!

(They arrange themselves. ANNE R. of table, LATIMEB 0. of table.
LATIMER indicates the other chair to NICHOLAS, who moves into it.)

LATIMER (behind table). There! Now, are we all here’! . . .
We are. Then with your permission, ladies and gentlemen, I will
open the proceedings with a short Speech.

NICHOLAS. Oh, I say, must you?

Lanna. Certainly.

A01‘ II.] THE DOVER ROAD. 53

EUs'rAs1A (to LEONARD). Hush. dear.

LEoNARD. I didn’t say anything.

EUSTASIA. No, but you were just going to.

LATIMER (severely). Seeing that I refrained from making my
speech when Leonard had the thermometer in his mouth, the least
he can do now is to listen in silence.

LEONARD. Well, I’m—--

(Attempts to rise. EUSTASIA stops him with a gesture.)

LATIMEB. I resume. (Site) By a fortunate concatenation of
circumstances. ladies and gentlemen—-or, as more illiterate men
would say, by a bit of luck—two runaway couples have met under
my roof. No need to mention names You can all guess for
yourselves. But I call now—this is the end of my speech, Leonard
—-I call upon my noble friend over there to tell us just why he left
the devoted wife by his side in order to travel upon the Continent.

LEONARD. Well, real1y——-

LATIMER. Naturally, Leonard does not wish to say anything
against Eustasia. Very creditable to him But can it be that the
devoted wife by his side wishes to say anything against Leonard ?

EUs'rAsIA. You neglected me, Leonard. you know you did. And
when I was so ill———

LEONARD. My dear, you were always ill. That was the trouble.

LATIMER. And you were never ill. Leonard. That was the
trouble . . . you heartless ruflian!

EUSTASIA (to LEONARD). Hush. dear.

LATIMER. Why couldn’t you have had a cold sometimes ? Why
couldn’t you have come home with a broken leg, or lost all your
money, or made a rotten speech in the House nf Lords? If she
could never be sorry for you, for whom else could she be sorry except
herself 1 (To EUSTASIA.) I don't suppose he even lost his umbrella,
did he 3

ANNE. Oh, he must have lost that.

LATIMER. Eustasia, ladies and gentlemen. is one of those dear
women, one of those sweet women. one of those delightful women-
(aside to ANNE)—etop me it Im over-doing it--—one of those adorable
women who must always cosset or be cossatted. She couldn't
gmset Leonard I Leonard wouldn't nos:-rt her. Hence»-the Dover

oad.

EUs'rAsIA. How well you understand, Mr. Latimerl

LATIMER. Enter, then, my friend Nicholas (Shaking his
head at NICHOLAS.) Oh, Nicholas! Oh, Nicholas! Oh, Nicholas!
(Face in hands.)

NICHOLAS (wneasily). What’s all that about?

LA'rmER. Anything you say will be used in evidence against ;ou.
Proceed, my young friend.

Nronous. Well—well——well, I mean, there she was.

54 THE DOVER ROAD. [Aozr IL

LATIMEB. Lonely.
Nrcnonss. Exactly.
LATIMER. Neglected by her brute of a husband.

(As LEONARD opens his mouth.)

Fingers crossed, Leonard—who spent day and night rioting in the
House of Lords while his poor little wife cried at home.

N ICEOLAS. Well

LATIMER. Then out spake bold Sir Nicholas-—-— (Asideto ANNE.)
This was also composed in my bath-~

Then out spake bold Sir Nicholas,
An Oxford man was he:

" Lo, I will write a note to-night
And ask her out to tea."

NIoHoLAs. Well, you see———

LATIMER. I see, Nicholas . . . and so here we all are.

ANNE. Except me.

LATIMER. I guessed at you, Anne. You remember! Did I
guess right?

ANNE. Yes.

LATIMEB. And so here we all are . . . and what are we all
going to do 3 My house is at your disposal for as long as you wish.
The doors are open for those who Wish to go . . . Eustasia?

EUSTASIA. My duty is to stay here-to look after my husband.

LATIMER. Well, that settles Eustasia . . . Anne?

ANNE. Of necessity, I must stay here-—for the present.

 

LATIMER. Well, that settles Anne . . . Nicholas?
NICHOLAS. I stay here, too—(lookz'ng at ANNs)—-from choice.
LATIMER. Well. that settles Nicholas . . . Leonard? 

(Dommc, followed by ALL THE STAFF. men first. comes in 0.. together
with a collection of mustard bath, plasters. eucalyptus. etc., etc.)

LATIMEB (looking round at the interruptevsl. Ahl . . . And
this will settle Leonard.

(The bath and towel are laid at Ls:oNAnn's feet. EUSTASIA takes om
tray and Nxcnoms the other, which the; deposit also as Sun oon~
tissue up D. and em’! 0.)

Otmuil,

AC1‘ III

Three days later and evening again.

(ANNE is standing busy with some coins and a pencil and paper, an
A.B.C'. and her purse.)

ANNE. Three and fourpence ha’penny. (Sits)

(She is trying to work out how much it costs to go home, and subtracting
three and fourpence ha’penny from it. Having done this, she puts
the paper, pencil and the purse in her bag.)

(Rises.) One pound two shillings and sixpence. (She goes towards
the opening B. One gathers that she has come to a decision. Gatling.)
Nich-O-las !

NICHOLAS (from outside). Hallo!

ANNE. Where—are—you l

NICHOLAS. Coming.

(Enter NICHOLAS. She goes 0.)

Just went upstairs to get a pipe. (Putting his hand to his pocket.)
And now I’ve forgotten it.
ANNE. Oh, Nicholas, how silly you are. (She am down in mice.)
NICHOLAS (sitting on arm of settce) 1 don't want to smoke. you
know.
ANNE. I thought men always did.
NICHOLAS. Well, It depends what they're doing

(There is no doubt what an is doing. He 4: making love I0 ANNE,
the dog, and ANNE to encouraging Mm.)

ANNE (looking away). Ob!

NICHOLAS. I say, it has been rather jolly bare the last three
days, don't you think?

ANNE U00/ting 0Wf'f07?1)- It has been rather nice.

NICHOLAS. We've sort of got triendly.

ANNE. We have, haven't we?

NICHOLAS. You’ve been awfully nice to me.

ANNE  at  YOlJ'Ve been gjce to me_

NICHOLAS. I Should h&Ve gone, you know, if it hadn't been fol
you.

65

56 THE DOVER ROAD. [AC1 III.

ANNE (looking front). I don’t know what I should have done ii
you had gone.

NICHOLAS. You did ask me to stay, didn't you 3

ANNE (looks at him). Yes. I couldn't let you go.

NICHOLAS. Do you know what you said? You said “ Please,
Mr. Nicholas, I want you to stay.”

(Her eyes drop.)

I shall always remember that. (Lovingly to himself.) “ Please,
Mr. Nicholas, I want you to stay." I wonder what made you think
of saying that. (Leaning over her.)

ANNE. I wanted us to be friends. I wanted to get to know
you, to make you think of me as——as your friend.

NICHOLAS. We are friends, Anne, aren't we?

ANNE. I think we are now, Nicholas.

NICHOLAS (with a sentimental air). Friendsl

(ANNE, wondering if she shall risk it, summons up her courage and
takes the plunge.)

ANNE. Nicholas!

NICHOLAS. Yes?

ANNE (timidly). I—I want you to do something for me.

NICHOLAS. Anything, Anne, anything.

ANNE. I don’t know whether I ought to ask you———

NICHOLAS. Of course, you ought!

ANNE. But you see, we are triends—(loo/cs at him)—almost like
brother and sister

NICHOLAS (disappointed). Well, I shouldn’t put it quite like
lhatr—-

ANNE. And I thought I might ask you——

NICHOLAS. Of course, Anne. You know I would do anything for
you.

ANNE. Yes . . . Well-—well—(in a rush)-—well, then, wiu you
lend me one pound two shillings and sixpence till next Monday l
(Hands clenched and pushed forward.)

NICHOLAS (fiabbergasted). Lend you——-I

ANNE. To-day’s Friday. I'll send you the money of} on Sun-
day. I promise. Of course, I know one oughtn’t to borrow money
from men, but you're difierent. Almost like a brother. I knew
you would understand.

NICHOLAS (rises, turns away from her). But—but—I don’!
understand.

ANNE (ashamed). You see, I—I only have three and fourpence
ha’penny, and it costs one pound live and tenpence to get home.
(Indignantlg/.) Oh, it is a shame the way men always pay for us,
and then when we really want money we haven't got any. . . .

A01‘ III.] THE DOVER ROAD. 57

(Turns to him.) But I will pay you back on Sunday. I have some
money at home; I meant to have brought it.

NICHOLAS. But——but why do you suddenly——

ANNE (draws back). Suddenly ? I’ve been wanting it ever since
that first morning. I went upstairs to get my hat, meaning to walk
straight out of the house——and then I looked in my purse and found——
(pathetically)—three and fourpence ha’penny. What was I to do ?

NICHOLAS. Anyone would have lent you anything.

ANNE (coldly). Leonard, for instance?

NICHOLAS (thoughtfully). Well—no. . . . No. You couldn’t
very well have touched Leonard. But, Latimer———

ANNE (scornfully). Mr. Latimer! The man who had brought
us here, locked us up here, and started playing Providence to us-—
I was to go on my knees to him and Say, “ Please, dear Mr. Latimer,
would you lend me one pound two shillings and Sixpence, so that I
may run away from your horrid house.” Really!

NICHOLAS. Well, you seem to have been pretty friendly with
him these three days.

ANNE. Naturally, I am polite to a man when I am staying in
his house. That’s different.

NICHOLAS. As a matter of fact, Latimer has been jolly decent.
Anyway, he has saved us both from making silly asses of ourselves.

ANNE (scornfully). And you think I am grateful to him for
that? . . . Doesn’t any man understand any woman?

NICHOLAS (annoyed). Are you suggesting that I don’t understand
women ?

ANNE. I’m suggesting that you should lend me one pound two
shillings and Sixpence.

NICHOLAS (sullcily, feeling in his pockets. Turning away). Of
course, if you’re in such a confounded hurry to get away from here-—
do you mind all silver '4

ANNE (eagerly). Not at all.

NICHOLAS. In such a confounded hurry to get away from here
1 (He counts the money.)

ANNE. Why ever Should I want to Stay ‘Q

NICHOLAS. Well—weI1 (With a despairing shrug.) Oh,
lord! Ten Shil]ings—fourteen and Six—why should she want to
Stay. (To ANNE.) Why do you think I ’m staying?

ANNE (unlcindly). Because you’re so fond of Mr. Latimer. II e’s
so jolly decent.

NICHOLAS (looking at the money in his hand). One pOuI1d two
shillings and Sixpence. I suppose, if I told you what I really thought
about it all, you’d get on your high horse again and refuse the money
lrom me. . . . So I won’t tell you. Here you are.

ANNE (gently). You didn’t think I was in love with you, Nicholas 3

(NICHOLAS looks uncomfortable.)

58 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT III.

In three days? Oh, Nicholas!

NICHOLAS. We1l—wel1, I don’t see—— (Holding out the money.)
Here you are.

ANNE. From a friend?

NICHOLAS. From a friend.

ANNE. Lent to a friend?

NICHOLAS. Lent to a friend.

ANNE (rises. Grabs money). Thank you, Nicholas. (She runs
to the door L., exit, and comes in again.) Thank you very much,
Nicholas.

(Emit ANNE.)
NICHOLAS. Well, I'm damned!

(H e sits in settee gloomily, his legs stretched out and regards his shoes.
As far as we can tell, he goes on saying .' “ Well, I ’m damned ” to
himself. EUSTASIA and LEONARD come in C. from L.——she R. of
him. He is properly dressed now, but still under EUs'rAsIA’s care,
and she has his arm, as if he were attempting a very diflicult feat in
walking across the hall.) .

NICHOLAS (looking round). Hallo! (Getting up.) Do you want
to come here?

LEONARD (hastily). Don’t go, old boy, don’t go. Plenty of room
for us all.

EUs'rAsIA (puts LEONARD in settee. To NICHOLAS). Thank you
so much. Leonard is not very strong yet. His temperature is up
again to-day. (To LEONARD.) You will be better on the sofa,
darling. (To NICHOLAS.) I’m so sorry to trouble you.

NICHOLAS. Not at all. I was just going, anyhow. (Feeling in
his pockets.) Got to get my pipe. Left it upstairs, like an ass.

LEONARD (taking out his case). Have a cigarette instead?

NICHOLAS. Rather have a pipe, thanks. (He makes for the
opening R.) '

LEONARD (anxiously). But you’ll come back?

(She crosses to L. of LEONARD.)
NICHOLAS (unwillingly). Oh——er—right-oh.
(Exit NICHOLAs.)

LEONARD. Come and keep us company. (To EUSTASIA, who is
piling cushions behind him.) Thanks, Eustasia, thanks. That’s
quite all right.

EUSTASIA. Another cushion for your back, darling!

LEONARD. No, thanks.

Eus'rAs1A. Quite sure?

LEONARD. Quite sure, thanks.

EUs'rAsIA. I can easily get it for you.

ACT III. 1 THE DOVER ROAD 59

LEONARD (weakly). 011, very well.

EUs'rAsIA. That’s right. (Getting the cushion from chair L.)
You must be comfortable. Now, are you sure that’s all right?

LEONARD. Quite all right, thank you.

EUSTASIA. Sure, darling? Anything else you Want, I can get
it for you at once. A rug over your knees?

LEONARD. No, thank you, Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. You Wouldn’t like a hot-Water bottle?

LEONARD (with a sigh). No, thank you, Eustasia.

EUs'rAsIA. You’ve only got to say, you know. Now shall we
talk, or would you like me to read to you ?

LEONARD (choosing the lesser evil). I think read——no, I mean,
talk-——no, read to me.

EUSTASIA (rising). It’s for you to say, darling.

LEONARD (his eyes closed). Read to me, Eustasia.  

EUSTASIA (gets book from table behind settcc. Opening her book).
We’ll go on from Where We left ofi. We didn’t get very far-—I
marked the place . . . (Sits) Yes, here We a_re——— “ . . . the
sandy desert of Arabia and Africa, 4.” And then there’s a little
footnote at the bottom; that’s how I remember it. (Reading the
footnote.) “ Tacit. Annal. 1. ii. Dion Casssius 1. lvi. p. 833, and
the speech of Augustus himself.” That doesn’t seem to mean
much. “ It receives great light from the learned notes of his French
translator M. Spanheim.” Well, that’s a good thing. Spanheim——
sounds more like a German, doesn’t it '2 N OW, are you sure you’re
quite comfortable, dear? (Hitting cushion, which disturbs him.)

LEONARD (his eyes closed). Yes, thank you, Eustasia.

EUSTASIA. Then I’ll begin. (In her reading-aloud voice.) “ Hap-
pily for the repose of mankind, the moderate system recommended
by the Wisdom of Augustus, Was adopted by the fears and vices of
his immediate successors. Engaged in the pursuit of pleasure or
the exercise of tyranny, the first Caesars seldom showed themselves
to the armies, or to the provinces ; nor were they disposed to sufier
that those triumphs Which their indolence neglected should be
usurped by the conduct and valour of their lieutenants. (Speeding
up.) The military fame of a subject was considered as an insolent
invasion of the Imperial prerogative; and it became the duty as
well as interest of every Roman general to guard the frontiers
entrusted to his care-—(reclclesslg)——without aspiring to conquests
which might have proved no less fatal to himself than to the van-
quished barbarians.” . . . And then there’s another footnote.
Perhaps it would be better if I read all the footnotes afterwards———
what do you think, darling? Or shall we take them as they come ?

LEONARD (without opening his eyes). Yes, dear.

EUSTABIA. Very well. This is footnote 5. “ Germanicus, Sue-
bonius Paulinus and Agril—and Agriloca ”—(she stumbles over the
name)—“ were checked and recalled in the course of their victories.

60 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT III.

Corbulo was put to death.” Oh, poor Corbulo, what a shame!
“ Military merit, as it is admirably expressed by Tacitus, was, in
the strictest sense of the word ” Well, there are two words,
and they are both in Latin. I suppose Tacitus wrote in Latin.
But it doesn’t really matter, because it’s only a footnote.
(An;z:iouslg.) Are you liking the book, darling?

LEOINIARD. Very much, dear.

EUSTASIA. It’s nicely Written, but I don’t think it’s very exciting.
I don’t think Mr. Latimer has a very good taste in books. I asked
him to recommend me something really interesting to read aloud,
and he said that the two most interesting books he knew were
Carlyle’s “ French Revolution ” and-—and—(l00king at the cover)-
Gibbons’s “ Roman Empire.” . . . Fancy, there are four volumes
of it and six hundred pages in a volume. We’re at page four now.
(She reads a line or two to herself.) Oh, now this is rather interesting,
because it’s all about us. “ The only accession which the Roman
Empire received during the first century of the Christian Era was
the province of Britain.” Fancy I “ The proximity of its situation
to the coast of Gaul seemed to invite their arms; the pleasing,
though doubtful intelligence, of a pearl fishery, attracted their
avarice.” And then there’s another little footnote-—I suppose
that's to say it was Whitstable. (Getting to it.) Oh no. “ The
British pearls proved, however, of little value, on account of their
dark and livid colour.” How horrid. “ Tacitus observes-——”
Well, then Tacitus says something again . . . I wish he would write
in English. Now, where was 1? Something about the pearls.
Oh yes. “ After a war of about forty years”———good gracious !—
“ undertaken by the most stupid, maintained by the most dissolute,
und_1__”

 

(Nronoms returns with his pipe, B.)

NICHOLAS. Oh, sorry; I’m interrupting.

LEONARD (waking up). No, no ; Eustasia was reading to me.
(To Eusmsm.) You mustn't tire yourself, dear. (To NICHOLAS.)
Stay and talk.

Nronoms (comes 0.). What’s the book? Carlyle’s “ French
Revolution 3 ”

Eosmsu (primlg). Certainly not. (Looking at the title again.)
Gibbons’s “ Roman Empire.”

Nronous. Any good?

Eosusn. Fascinating. Isn't it, Leonard!

LEONARD. Very.

N rcnous. You ought to try Carlyle, old chap.

Lnonuzn. Is he good?

Nrcnoms (who has had eight pages read aloud to him by Eosmsn).

Oh. termina-

ACT III.] THE DOVER ROAD. 61

EUSTASIA (looking at his wrist-watch). Good gracious! I ought
to be dressing.

LEONARD (looking at his watch). Yes, it is about time. (Attempts
to rise.)

NICHOLAS.- Yes.

EUSTASIA. Now, Leonard darling, I don’t think it Would be
safe for you to change. Not to-night. To-morrow if you like.

LEONARD. I say, look here, you said that last night.

EUSTASIA. Ah, but your temperature has gone up again.

NICHOLAS. I expect that’s only because the book was so exciting.

LEONARD. Yes, that’s right.

EUSTASIA. But I took his temperature before I began reading.

NICHOLAS. Perhaps yesterday’s instalment was still hanging
about a bit.

EUSTASIA (to LEONARD). No, darling, not to-night- Just to
please Eustasia.

LEONARD (sulkily). Oh, all right.

EUSTASIA. That’s a good boy. Now Stay here, and perhaps if
he’s very good and his Eustasia_ dresses very quickly, he shall have
just a little more of that nice book before dinner.

(She walks to the door L., NICHOLAS going with her to open it. He
crosses as if to exit R.)

LEONARD. I say, don’t go, old chap. You can change in five
minutes.
NICHOLAS. Right-Oh. (Comes down and sits on table R.o.)

(There is silence for a little.)

LEONARD. I say.

NICHOLAS. Yes '9

LEONARD (thinking better of it). Oh, nothing.

NICHOLAS (after a pause). Curious creatures, women.
LEONARD. Amazing.

NICHOLAS. They’re so unexpected.

LEONARD. So unreasonable.

NICHOLAS. Yes . . .

LEONARD (suddenly throwing cushions from behind him). I hate

England at this time of year.

NICHOLAS. SO do I.

LEONARD. Do you go South, as a rule!

NICHOLAS. As a rule.

LEONARD. Monte ?

NICHOLAS. Sometimes. We had thought-—I half thought of

Nice this year.

LEONARD. Not bad. We were—I think I prefer Cannes, myself.
NICHOLAS. There’s not much in it.

82 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT III

LEONARD. No. . . . (After a pause.) Between ourselves, you
know—quite between ourselveS—I’m about fed up with women.

NICHOLAS. Absolutely.

LEONARD. You are, too.

NICHOLAS. Rather. I should think so.

LEONARD. They’re so dashed unreasonable.

NICHOLAS. So unexpected. . . .

LEONARD (pause, then suddenly). Had you booked your rooms 3

NICHOLAS. At Nice? Yes.

LEONARD. So had I.

NICHOLAS. At Cannes 3

LEONARD. Yes. . . . (An idea comes to hz'm—n'ses and goes 0.,
l>ecIcom'ng NICHOLAS.) I say, what about it?

NICHOLAS. Do you mean 3 (He waves a hand at the door.)

LEONARD. Yes.

NICHOLAS. Evaporating 3

LEONARD. Yes. Quite quietly, you know.

NICHOLAS. Without Ostentation.

LEONARD. That’s it.

NICHOLAS. It’S rather a scheme. And then we shouldn't waste
the rooms. At least, only one set of them. I’ll tell you what.
I’ll toss you whether we go to Nice or Cannes.

LEONARD. Right. (He takes out a coin and tosses.)

NICHOLAS. Tails.

LEONARD (uncovering the coin). Heads! Do you mind coming
to Cannes ?

NICHOLAS. Just as soon, really. When Shall we go ? To-
morrow '4’

LEONARD. Mightn’t get a chance to-morrow. Why not to-
night ? It seems a pity to waste the Opportunity.

NICHOLAS. You mean while She’S dressing’!

LEONARD. The opportunity. We can sleep the night at Dover
and cross to-morrow morning.

NICHOLAS. She’ll be after us.

LEONARD. Nonsense !

NICHOLAS. My dear chap, you don’t know Eustasia.

LEONARD. I don’t know Eustasia? Well!

NICHOLAS (with conviction). She’ll be after you like a bird.
You’ve never seen Eustasia when she has got somebody ill to look
after.

LEONARD. I’ve never seen Eustasia ? Well!

NICHOLAS. My dear chap, you’ve only had three days of her; I
had Six . . . Lord! . . . Look here, we Shall have tO——

(Enter LATIMER, R.)

LATIMEB. What, Leonard, all alone?
NICHOLAS (mm: to him). I say, you’re the very man we want

ACT III.] THE DOVER ROAD. 33

LEONARD (frowning). S’shl (Hits NICHOLAS and crosses L.C.)

LATIMER (comes C.). Leonard, don’t shish Nicholas when he
wants to speak to me.

NICHOLAS (to LEONARD). It’s all right, old chap. Latimer is
a sportsman.

LATIMER (to LEONARD). There! You see the sort of reputation
I have in the West End. (To NICHOLAS.) “That is it you want to
do ‘i Run away ?

LEONARD. Well——er

NICHOLAS. I say, however did you guess?

LATIMER. Leonard’s car has had steam up for the last twenty-
four hours, waiting for a word from its owner.

LEONARD (seeing the south of France). By Jove l

LATIMER. And you are going with him, Nicholas ?

NICHOLAS. Yes. Thought I might as well be getting on. Very
grateful and all that, but can’t stay here for ever.

LATIMER (wondering what has happened between NICHOLAS and
ANNE). So you are going, too. I thought———-— Well! (He is
obviously a little excited by the realization that NICHOLAS means nothing
to ANNE.) Nicholas is going, too!

LEONARD. I say, you do understand—I mean about-—(indicates
EUsTASIA)——I mean, when I’m quite well again—start afresh and
all that. Cosset her a bit. But when you’re ill-—or supposed to be
i11—well, I mean, ask Nicholas.

NICHOLAS. Oh, rather.

LATIMER. My dear Leonard, why all these explanations ? Who
am I to interfere in other people’s matrimonial afiairs ? You and
Nicholas are going away—goOd-bye! (He holds out his hand.)

NICHOLAS. Yes, but what about Eustasia ? She’s not going to
miss the chance of cossetting Leonard just when she is getting into
it. She’ll be after him like a bird.

LATIMER. I see. SO you want me to keep her here?

NICHOLAS. That’s the idea; if you could.

LATIMER. How can I keep her here if she doesn’t want to stay ?

LEONARD. Well, how do you keep anybody here?

LATIMER. Really, Leonard, I am surprised at you. By the
charm of my old-world courtesy and hospitality, of course.

LEONARD. Oh! Well, I doubt if that keeps Eustasia.

LATIMER (shaking his head sadly). I am afraid that that is only
too true. In fact, the more I think of it, the more I realize that
there is only one thing which Will keep this devoted wife from her
afflicted and suffering husband.

LEONARD and NICHOLAS. What?

 

(DOMINIO comes in O.)

LATIMER. Dominic, his lordship and Mr. Nicholas are leaving

64 THE DOVER ROAD. [Act III

at once. His lordship’s car will wait for them outside the gates

See that a bag is packed for them.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir.
LATIMER. And come back when you’ve seen about that.
DOMINIC. Yes, sir.

(DOMINIC exit, B.)

LATIMER. The car can return here for the rest of your luggage,
and take it over in the morning.

NICHOLAS. Good !

LEONARD. Er—thanks. (Amciously.) What were you going to
say about the only way of—er

LATIMER. The only way of keeping this devoted wife from her
afilicted and suffering husband?  

LEONARD. Yes. What is it?

LATIMER. Somebody else must have a temperature. Somebody
else must be ill. Eustasia must have somebody else to cosset.

NICHOLAS. I say, how awfully sporting of you!

LATIMER. Sporting ?

NICHOLAS. To sacrifice yourself like that.

LATIMER. I? You don’t think I am going to sacrifice myself
do you? No, no, it’s Dominic.

 

(DOMINIC coming in, B.)
DOMINIO. Yes, sir.
(LA'I'nniR goes L.)

LATIMER. Dominic, are you ever ill?

DOMINIC. Never, sir, barring a slight shortness of the breath!

LATIMER (to the others). That’s awkward. I don’t think you
can cosset a shortness of the breath.

NICHOLAS (to DOMINIC). I say, you could pretend to be ill,
couldn’t you '4

DOMINIC. With what object, sir?

NICHOLAS (awkwardly). Well—er

LEONARD. You see-——

 

(Domino turns his eyes on him.)

Oh!

LATIMER. Her ladyship is training to be a nurse. She has
already cured two very obstinate cases of nasal catarrh, accompanied
by debility and a fluctuating temperature. If She brings one more
case ofi successfully, She not only earns the diploma but the gold
medal of the Royal Therapeutical Society.

NICHOLAS. The Royal Thera

DOMINIC. -—-peutical, sir.

NICHOLAS. That’s right.

AC1‘ III.] THE DOVER ROAD. 65

LEONARD. Yes, that’s right.

DOMINIO. And you would wish me to be that third case, lit?

LEONARD. That’s the idea.

DOMINIC. And be cossetted back to health again by her ladyship.

LATIMER. Such would be your inestimable privilege.

DOMINIC. I am sorry, sir; I must beg respectfully to decline.

NICHOLAS. I say, be a sport. ‘

LEONARD (awkwardly). Of course, we should——naturally, you
would not—er—lOse anything by—er

LATIMER. His lordship wishes to imply that, not only would
your mental horizon be widened during the period of convalescence,
but that material blessings would also flow. Isn’t that right,
Leonard ?

LEONARD. Yes, that’s it!

NICHOLAS. A commission on the gold medal. Naturally.

DOMINIC. I am sorry, sir; I am afraid I cannot see my way.

NIcHOLAs and LEONARD. I say

LATIMER. Thank you, Dominic.

DOMINIO. Thank you, sir.

(E:m't DOMINIO, O.)

(LATIMER goes up L. NICHOLAS moves to R.)

NICHOLAS. Well, that’s torn it. (To LATIMER.) If you’re quite
sure that you wouldn’t like to have a go? It’s the chance of a
life-time to learn all about the French Revolution.

LATIMER (comes down 0.). Well, well! (He realizes that {I
EUSTASIA goes, ANNE goes.) Something must be done. (He smiles
suddenly.) After all, why not?

LEONARD (eagerly). You will?

LATIMEB. I will.

NICHOLAS. I say——

LATIMER (wam°ng*them of). No, no. Don’t wait. Fly!

LEONARD. Yes, we’d better be moving. Come on! (Runs to
opemng R.)

NICHOLAS (turning to LATIMEB). There’s an awfully good bit in
the second chapter-——

LA'rmER (holding up a finger). Listen! I hear her coming.

LEONARD. Good Lord!

(They fly. 8-)

(LATIIIEB, left alone, gives himself :14} to thought. He goes 5. Domino
comes m, 0.)

LA'rmEE. Oh, Dominic, in consequence of your obstinate good

health, I am going to sacrlfice myself for—I mean I myself am going

to embrace this great opportunity of mental and spiritual develop-

meat.
I

Dommo.
LATIMER.
Dommo.
LATIMEB.
Dommo.

THE DOVER ROAD. [Aer 111.
Yes, sir. Very good of you, I'm sure, sir.

What sort of illness would you recommend!

How about a nice sprained ankle, sir?

You think that would go well’!

It would avoid any interference with the customary

habits at meal-times, sir. That’s a sort of monotony about bread-
and-milk ; no inspiration about it, sir, whether treated as a beverage
or as a comestible.

LATIMER.
Dommo.
air, if you attempt anything stomachic.

I hadn’t thought about bread-and-milk.
You’ll find that you will have little else to think about,
Of course, you could have

the usual nasty cold, sir.

LATIMER.
DOMINIC.
LATIMER.
DOMINIC.

years.

LATIMER.
Dommo.

No, no, not that. Let us be original. . _. .

How about Xerostomia, sir? Spelt with an X.

Is that good?

Joseph tells me that his father has had it for some

Oh l then perhaps we oughtn’t to deprive him of it.
I looked it up in the dictionary one Sunday afternoon,

sir. They describe it there as “ an abnormal dryness of the mouth.”

(The four Snnvmrs enter and lay table as at opening of play.)

LATIMEB.

I said I wanted to be original, Dominic.

DOMINIO. Quite so, sir.

LATIMER. It’s a diflicult problem.

Dommo. Very diflicult, sir—very knotty, if I may say so.
LATIMER. Perhaps it would be better if I left it to the inspiration

of the moment.

Dommo. Yes, sir.

Eusmsu (of). Leonard—Leonard.

DOMINIO. This appears to be the moment, sir.

LATIMEB. But the inspiration tarries. Just go to her ladyship,
Domin.ic——while I—whi1e I—think.

Dommo.

Yes, sir.

LATIMER. Any little delaying observation you could make to
her about the weather or the political situation—

DOMINIO.

Leave it to me, sir.

LATIMEB. Just to keep her attention while I assume a recumbent

position.

(He arranges cushions in settee.)

(Exit Domino 0. to 3., followed by Snnvmrs, who go 5.)

(Lxrmsn lie: down atfulllength on the sofa and begins to groan:
my a handfirst on has stomach, then on his elbow, than on his
He looks up cautiously; the room is empty.)

Lrrnnrn (disappoinledly). Throwing it away! (He hears fool-
depe and settles down again.)

ACT III.] THE DOVER ROAD. 67

(ANNE comes in L., hat on, bag in hand. She is 0. when a groan
reaches her. She stops. Another groan comes. She comes towards
the sofa with an “ Oh! ” of anxiety.)

ANNE (alarmed). What is it? (She kneels by him.)

LATIMER (cheerfully). Hallo, Anne, is it you? (He sits up.)

ANNE (she gets up). Yes, what is it?

LATIMER (bravely). Oh, nothing, nothing. A touch of neuralgia.

ANNE. Oh . . . you frightened me.

LATIMER (much more pleased about this than he ought to be). Did I,
Anne’! I’m sorry.

ANNE. You were groaning so, I thought—I didn’t know what
had happened. . . . (Sympatheticallg/.) Is it very bad?

LATIMER. Not so bad as it sounded, Anne.

ANNE. I know how bad it can be; father has it sometimes.
Then I have to send it away. May I try?

(Behind couch, pulls him back.)
LATIMER (remorsefully). Anne!

(She leans over from the back of him, and begins to stroke his forehead
with the tips of her fingers. He looks up at her.)

ANNE. Close your eyes.

LATIMER. Ah, but that’s so diflicult now.

ANNE. It will go soon.

LATIMEB. Not too soon. . . .

ANNE. Aren’t faces funny when they’re upside down!
LATIMEB. You have the absurdest little upside-down face that

ever I saw, Anne.
ANNE (laughing a little). Have I?
LATIMER. Why do you wear a hat on your chin!

(She laughs.)

LATIMER. Why do you wear a hat?

ANNE. I was going away.

LATIMEB. Without saying good-bye?

ANNE (ashamed). I—I think so.

LATIMER. Oh, Anne!

ANNE (hastily). I should have written.
LATIMEB. A post-card.

ANNE. A letter.

LATIMER. With many thanks for your kind hospitality. Yours

sincerely. _

ANNE. Yours very sincerely.

LATIMEB. P.S. I shall never see you again.
ANNE. P.S. I shall never forget.

LATIHEB. Ah, but you must forget. . . §

68 THE DOVER ROAD. [ACT III.

ANNE (after a pause). Is it better?

LATIMER. No. (Lazily.) It is just the same. It will always
be the same. It is unthinkable that anything different should ever
happen. In a hundred years’ time we shall still be like this. You
will be a little tired, perhaps; your fingers will ache; but I shall
be lying here, quite, quite happy.

ANNE. You shall have another minute—no more.

LATIMER. Then I shall go straight to the nearest chemist and
ask for threepennyworth of Anne’s fingers, please.

(They are silent for a little. Then she stops and listens, hearing
LEONARD and NICHOLAS whisper, of B.)

What is it!
ANNE. I thought I heard something. Whispers.

(He takes her hand and pulls her round to end of settee.)
LATIMER. Don’t look round.

(LEONARD and NICHOLAS, in hats and coats, creep cautiously in.
Very noiselessly, fingers to lips, they open the front door and creep
out.)

ANNE. What was it? Was it——?

LATIMER. Yes, an episode in your life. Over, buried, for-
gotten. . . .

ANNE. It never really happened, did it?

LATIMER. Never. We must have read about it somewhere; or
was it in a play?

ANNE. Yes, that was it—we were in a box together.

LATIMEB. Munching chocolates. Such a child she was. Do you
remember how she made us laugh with her little grown-up ways?

(DOMINIO comes in 0. from L. and stops suddenly on seeing them.)

DOMINIO. I beg your pardon, sir.
(ANNE goes down 3.0.)

LATIMER. Go on, Anne. (Happily.) I was having neuralgia
Dominic.
Dommc (0,). A stubborn complaint, as I have heard, sir.
LATIMER. Miss Anne is making me well. . . . What did you
want, Dominic?
DOMINIO. Her ladyship says, will you please excuse her if she
is not down to-night.
LATIMEB (to ANNE). Shall we excuse her if she is not down to-
ni ht?
Ounno. The fact is, air, that Joseph is taken suddenly ill, sir,
.nd__.

A013 III.) THE DOVER ROAD. 69

LATIMER (to himself). I never thought of Joseph! (Rises, goes
down L.)

ANNE. Oh, poor Joseph! What is it?

DOMINIC. A trifling affection of the throat, but necessitating
careful attention, her ladyship says.

LATIMER‘ (goes towards ANNE). Please tell her ladyship how very
much I thank her for looking after Joseph . . . and tell Joseph how
very sorry I am for him.

Dommo. Yes, sir.

(He goes out 0.)

LATIMER. You can’t go now, Anne. You will have to stay and
chaperon Eustasia and me.

(She laughs and shakes her head.)

ANNE. No.

LATIMER. Must you go!

ANNE. Yes.

LATIMER. Back to your father!

ANNE. Yes.

LATIMER. Then——let us say good-bye now. There is a magic in
your fingers which goes to my head and makes me think ridiculous
things. Let us say good-bye now.

E ANNE (taking his hand). Good-bye. I wish you had been my
athet.

(Emit L.)

(MB. LATIMER stands there, wondering how he likes this. He walks
across to a mirror, L., to have a look at himself. While he is there,
Dommo comes in.)

LATIMEB (at the mirror). Dominic, how old would you say I
was 3

Dommo. More than that, sir.

LATIMEB (with a sigh). Yes, I’m afraid I am. And yet I look
very young. Sometimes I think I look too young.

DOMINIO. Yes, sir.

Larmna. Miss Anne has just asked me to be her father.

DOMINIO. Very considerate of her, I’m sure, sir.

LATIMEB. Yes. . . . To prevent similar mistakes in the future,
I think I shall wear a long white beard.

Dommo. Yes, sir. Shall I order one from the Stores!

LATIMEB. Please.

Dommo. Thank you, air. In Miss Anne leaving to-night, sir!

LATIMEB. Yes. . . . Do‘n’t overdo the length, Dominic» Did I
like the orinkly sort.

70 THE DOVER ROAD. [AOT III.

DOMINIO. Yes, sir. . . . One of our most successful weeks, on
the whole, if I may say so, sir. (Finger and thumb holding coat.)
LATIMER (thoughtfully). Yes . . . yes. . . . Well, well, we must
all do what we can, Dominic.
DOMINIO. That’s the only way, isn’t it, sir!
(Door-bell rings as LATIMER and Dommo face audience, smiling.)
(LATIMEB exit, 3.)

(Dommo goes up 0. and opens the big front door. A LADY and
GENTLEMAN, in motoring costume, enter.)

A VOICE. Oh—er—is this—er—an hotel?

Dommc. A sort of hotel, your Grace.
A VOICE. My chaufleur said——we’ve had an accident, been

delayed on the wa.y—he said thaté

(And in the middle of Unis the curtain comes down.)

ACT I
On the sideboard area-—

2 lamps.

Blue table napkin.

1 pair fish servers.
Large knife and fork.
Dessert spoon and fork.

On the table are :-

Property bowl of fruit.
2 salt-cellars.

2 pepper-pots.

At each place :-

Table mat (mounted 3-ply).
Large knife and fork.

Fish knife and fork.

Small knife.

Napkin.

2 wine-glasses.

Small plate with roll of bread.

AOT II

On the sideboard are .'—-

2 hot plates.

On one—teapot.

On the other—2 dishes with covers, spoon and fork in out
2 standard lamps.
Bowl of violets.
2 large plates with knives and forks.
2 small plates with napkins and small knlvu.
2 table knives.
4 table forks.
l fish knife.
1 dessert spoon.

On the table are.‘-

Oofiee t.

Hot mi jug.

Small milk jug.

Sugar basin and tongs.
Marmalade jar with cover and
Toast raek—-2 pieces of toast.
8 napkins.

Butter dish and knife.

8 small plates and knlvu.
gait-cellar.

oppor-pot
6 cups and saucers and spoon.

DUE

RETURNED

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APR 18 1990 -‘«'-g_

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