Monsieur D'Or; a dramatic fantasy

Front matter

Gopight^j" /f /0

COPYRIGHT DEPOSnV

BY THE SAM:E AUTHOR,

Scene IV

Dr. MIRSKY

RAMANAND, an Oriental

CYRIL, a boy

EDITH PACKARD, a nurse

Epilog

ROBERT DORR Mr. MATHEWS ELEANOR RICHMOND Mr. HANSON, her secretary

The forty characters may be distributed among thirteen players. See note on page lo.

THE PROLOG

A terrace adjoining the Dorr Villa at Lenox.

SCENE II The music room of the Chateau D'Or, near Versailles. SCENE HI

A private parlor in the Hotel Royal, Interlaken.

SCENE IV A chamber in a Balkan palace

THE EPILOG A parlor in the Hotel Orient, Port Said.

Fifteen years elapse between the Prolog and the Epilog.

NOTE

The forty characters may be distributed among thirteen players as follows:

Prol.

Sc. I

Sell

Sc. Ill

Sc. IV

Epil.

Dorr

D'OR

D'OR

D'OR

D'OR

DORR

Westbrook

R. Lehmann

Lemaire

Muirhead

Ramanand

Hastings

F. Lehmann

MOREAU

Gilbert

Mirsky

Hanson

Fanshawe

Bertine

Lob EN

Mathews

NORGATE

Albert

Baptiste

Fallot

MiDDLETON

Fremiet

Andriev

Lorraine

Vaux

Graefflingen r

Mrs. Keene

Eleanor

Adrienne

Helene

Claire

Edith

Eleanor

Marian

Celeste

Margaret

Cyprienne

Gertrude

Lucette

Rose

Cyril lO

THE PROLOG

[A handsome terrace adjoining the ball room of the Dorr Villa. Wide marble steps in the rear lead to a higher tesselated walk with marble balustrades. As it is night there is only a dim vista of the beautiful gardens beyond. On the right there is a similar approach by marble steps to the higher level. The ball room is reached by steps on the left. Its glass doors and deep windows are draped with exquisite lace curtains. Palms and other exotic plants are placed appropriately about the terrace; large, gaudy Japanese lanterns are strung overhead at various points. At each side of the terrace there is, in front of a bank of potted plants, a large marble bench provided with silk cushions. The orchestra in the ball room is playing a delightful Viennese waltz as the curtain rises. During the earlier part of the scene recurrent noise of laughter and chatter is heard from the dancers and their shadows are reflected on the curtains of the room. As the various couples emerge from the ball room or enter from the rear they engage in mutual conversation as they promenade without regard for the others. The characters all suggest superabundant wealth and a marked air of flippancy in the consciousness of their social preeminence. A few moments after the rising of the curtain Sidney Hastings and Marian Winthrop enter from the ball room.'\

II

Marian. So the court granted her the custody of the children ?

Sidney. And he is forbidden to marry again during her life time.

Marian. She gets alimony, of course?

Sidney. Fifty thousand a year.

Marian. Poor Mabel! She'll spend that in three months. I really believe the dear girl will have to make up with him or find some one else who is willing to take her with the youngsters. There's three of them, you know, Sid — and large families are not fashionable now. She'll never manage to scrape along on fifty thousand. Why, he used to give her that in jewels every year!

Sidney. I believe you're right, Marian. It seems a bit hard, doesn't it?

Marian. ^Mabel would have done better if she had gone to Reno. They're specialists out there, you know — they would have given her a square deal. [^They pass up the steps at the right and return slowly by the upper walk to the ball room. Meanwhile Billy Fanshawe and Margaret Thurber enter direct from the ball room.^

Billy. Yes, the whole story is in the New York papers this evening. Shot himself through the mouth and didn't live a minute. I felt sorry for the poor devil! Did you know him?

Margaret. I knew his wife — she was Susie Caxton — one of the Amherst Caxtons. Lucky there's no children. Why did he do it, Billy?

Billy. I suppose he couldn't stand the pace his particular Amherst Caxton was setting for him. He was only a bank clerk, you know, and trying to keep up with people who spent as much in a week as he earned in a year.

LOG Monsieur D'Or I3

Margaret. I thought he had an important position at the bank.

Billy. My dear Margaret, how innocent you are! His position was important enough, but they didn't pay him more than they had to. He tried the stock-market to help him out and before he knew it he was juggling the deposit slips like a professional crook. The warrant was out for his arrest and he knew it. That's why he turned the gun upon himself.

Margaret. Poor little Susie! She gave up Charlie Decker, who is worth at least ten millions, to marry that man. I suppose we've seen the last of her. [During the latter part of the conversation Percy Middleton and Rose Lowell have entered from the ball room and have walked across the back of the stage, so that they now pass Billy and Margaret at the right and proceed along the front while the other two sit on the bench at the right side and converse.l

Rose. You shouldn't associate with that woman, Percy — she's a notorious character.

Percy. She's not so bad. You girls are simply jealous. Besides, there's always a lot of reporters and johnnies hanging around her dressing-room. There's no chance to get really intimate. She seems to think a lot of me, though— you ought to hear her call me ' mon cher Pairsee '—she's not strong on English, you know.

Rose. I don't know.

Percy. Well, that's why I'm telling you. The other night I said to her, 'Natalie, your tongue can't speak English, but your eyes can speak every language there is in the world.' [Billy and Margaret rise from the bench and return to the ball room by the upper walk.^

RosE. That was rather neatly put, Percy.

Percy. [Flattered.] Wasn't it? The reporters wanted to write it up for the papers, but I called them off. Natalie doesn't like notoriety. She's not such a bad one, Rose, when you get to know her. Of course, she likes a bird and a bottle after the show and she gets a bit lively at times, but she doesn't lose her self-control. She's a thoroughbred. She's not like that Margaret Thurber we passed just now. At the Decker dance last week that girl just stowed away champagne till she fell off her chair. Now Natalie would know better than that ; she's —

Rose. See here, I don't want to hear any more about that vulgar chorus girl —

Percy. Oh! you're just jealous — like the rest of them. Maybe Natalie wouldn't get a fit if she saw me out here in the dark with you. I believe she'd scratch your eyes out. She's a spunky little filly — she's a real thoroughbred. You've got to treat her right. [As they pass off right to the garden. Jack Norgate and Gertrude P ASTON stroll along the rear terrace froTU the left and come down by the central steps.]

Gertrude. There's Rose Lowell with that silly Percy Middleton. I don't see how she can tolerate the fellow.

Jack. That's no enigma. He's worth three or four millions, whereas the Lowells are not rich.

Gertrude. It's cruel of you, dear, to say that. Rose isn't the sort of girl to marry for money.

Jack. Why, Gertie, she must marry for money, whether it's cruel or not to say so. I'm sorry there's nothing more promising than Percy on her matrimonial horizon. Shall we sit down a while? [They take seats on the bench at the right.~\

Gertrude. He's a disgusting creature, Jack. I wish the Dorrs wouldn't invite him to their affairs.

Jack. Have you heard of his escapade with Mrs, Vansant ?

Gertrude. Ah! that impudent Vansant woman! What has she been doing to Percy?

Jack. They gave her charge of a booth at the charity bazaar and when trade grew slack she announced that she would auction off a dozen kisses among the men. Just then Percy came along and bid fifty dollars for the entire dozen. That silenced the rest and she had to accept Percy's bid. He promptly paid the money, took one kiss, and notified her that he reserved the rest for future delivery.

Gertrude. What did Mrs. Vansant say to that?

Jack. Oh! she was game! She told Percy that she was ready whenever he was. I presume he will collect those kisses one at a time whenever he can make himself sufficiently conspicuous in doing it.

Gertrude. How disgusting ! Buying and selling kisses !

Jack. You're right, dearest! Kisses were not meant to be sold. [He looks around towards the ball room to make sure that they are alone, then kisses her passionately. Meanwhile Percy and Rose have re-entered from the right just in time for the tender scene. It is too late to retreat, so they tiptoe awkwardly and hurriedly across the back of the terrace to the ball room.^

Gertrude. [Freeing herself.'] How imprudent, Jack. Somebody might have seen us.

Jack. Now don't scold me, Gertie. I made sure that we were alone; besides, I don't often get a chance —

Gertrude. [Curtly.'] Won't you take me back to the ball room? [They rise and walk towards the left.'\

Jack. You're not angry, I hope? We were talking of kisses, dear, and I simply couldn't help it.

Gertrude. We were talking of Percy Middleton's buying the kisses of that odious grass-widow.

Jack. I'll admit that I did wTong, and I'm very, very sorry. Does that satisfy you? [After a pause.~\ Now let's kiss and make up.

Gertrude. [Smiling.] Another kiss! Jack, you're incorrigible. [She kisses him tenderly.] You dear boy! Will it always be like this?

Jack. [Taking her in his arms.] Always — forever — and so on for eternity. We shall be all in all to each other and the rest of the world will be as nothing to us. Just you and I — we two alone —

Gertrude. Dear Jack ! I am so happy ! [ They enter the ball room. From the rear Harold Westbrook and Eleanor Richmond come slowly down the central steps; her demeanor is serious, his is somewhat depressed. They seat themselves on the bench at the left side.]

Eleanor. How soon do you leave?

Harold. In a few days. The ranch is a large one and I'm needed out there. I had no Intention of asking you so soon, Eleanor — I'm afraid fortune has been against me, but It was my last chance to see you alone — I had to speak !

Eleanor. [With sympathy.] I am heartily sorry it cannot be otherwise, but our decisions in the real crises of life seem often not to rest with ourselves.

Harold. Have you no hope to offer me ? No chance that some day you may be willing to join me in the West, to work out our destinies together in the great world beyond the plains?

Eleanor. No, I feel sure it can never be — but I hope we shall remain good friends. I want to hear from you, Harold, and I shall pray for your happiness in your new home. I shall always remember that you have paid me the sincerest tribute that a true man can offer a woman. You have put a consecrated seal upon our friendship. No matter what our lot may be in the days to come, we must never forget this night.

Harold. Heaven knows, I shall never forget it. There is consolation in the thought that you are not going entirely out of my life. Your kindness has brought a soothing calm over my great grief. I have no right to ask if there is another to whom you have given your heart, but Heaven has indeed blessed that man.

Eleanor. Heaven has blessed every man and every woman who has known true love. If our human frailty is such that we can never comprehend the full measure of that blessing, we should at least be thankful for whatever glimpse of the divine vision is granted us.

Harold. You know best, Eleanor — your soul speaks with a clearer insight than mine. I shall abide by your decision — and I shall worship you till the end.

Eleanor. Don't say that, Harold — you will meet some one else —

Harold. [Softly, but with conviction.'] No, there will never be any one else. [They sit in silence for a few moments. The music stops. Harold takes her hand and 2 kisses it reverently. They rise and walk silently into the ball room. BiLLY Fanshawe, Jack Norgate and Sidney Hastings stroll in leisurely at the centre from the terrace behind the ball roofn.l

Jack. [Looking after them.] Harold Westbrook has been very attentive to Miss Richmond all evening.

Billy. He's wasting his time in that campaign. I'll back Bobbie Dorr for any amount to win her against the field. [Sidney looks after the retreating figures and says nothing.] What do you think of it, Sid?

Sidney. Miss Richmond is altogether too fine a girl for Bobbie Dorr — that's my thought. [He offers a cigarette to Jack, who accepts, then to Billy.] Smoke, Billy?

Billy. No thanks! I came out for some fresh air. Besides, smoking spoils my appetite. I'm going to make another raid on the collation pretty soon. It's excellent stuff. I've had a couple of lobster cutlets, some sweet breads and two of the nicest soft crabs I ever ate. The Dorrs certainly know how to do things.

Sidney. [Bitterly.] Who wouldn't know how to do things with the income of forty-odd millions at one's disposal ?

Billy. Forty-odd millions ! [Whistles.] Forty-odd! Why, I'd be satisfied with the odd! [Explaining.] It might be seven or nine, you know. [In a lower voice.] I say, is that correct? Is it as much as that?

Jack. I don't believe that old man Dorr gathered so much out of his Nevada mines. Of course, he piled up a lot of money, but —

Sidney. I grant you, there were no forty millions in his silver mines, but you are evidently not aware of his other interests that paid him enormously though his name was never associated with them. You may remember that no inventory was filed by the executors — but Simpson, who was chief counsel for the estate, told me a few things.

Billy. [Curiously.] What did he say, Sid?

Sidney. He mentioned substantial shareholdings in the Kimberley diamond fields, in the Swiss lace and embroidery industries, in breakfast foods, railroads, waterpower companies, automobile factories, tobacco, oil, sugar. [Savagely.] I declare that when Simpson got through with his catalogue of Dorr's interests I felt convinced that there was hardly a human creature in civilization who didn't pay tribute in some form to that old octopus.

Jack. [Looking reflectively at his cigarette.] And even the tobacco we are smoking! Rather lucky we know the Dorrs, eh? We can get back some of our tribute when we gather here as their guests.

Billy. Bobbie Dorr and his aunt are certainly making the income on the forty-odd millions circulate with startling vivacity. I'm willing to help them. Won't you boys come in and get another bite of something to eat ?

Jack. No, thanks.

Sidney. We'll finish our cigarettes first.

Billy. Pity you fellows smoke so much — it spoils your appetite. Well, I'm off for another lobster cutlet and a sweetbread or two — [He goes toward left.] and I shall certainly have another of those delicious soft crabs. [Exit left.]

Sidney. I envy a man who can enjoy material existence as Billy does. Why, he's a personified stomach. I believe he'd sell his soul for a salad !

Jack. [Laughing.] Not much! Billy would make a better deal than that. He would demand at least a well-selected dinner with appropriate wines — then he might feel satisfied that he had made a real bargain.

Sidney. He's a sterling good fellow just the same — I'm glad to number him among my friends. I need a cheerful spirit like Billy about me occasionally — I am apt to grow bitter when I let my thoughts dwell on such men as Bobbie Dorr.

Jack. I don't see why you should feel that way about Bobbie. Of course, he's a child of fortune. With his good looks, his wealth, and his fair allotment of brains he is bound to play a conspicuous part in our social life.

Sidney. You know, Jack, I'm fond of growling at times and just now I'm not above criticizing a man who is virtually my host. There's something I don't like about Bobbie Dorr. I don't envy him his great wealth nor his social triumphs, but that insufferable air of presumption I cannot tolerate. What was his grandfather when he started for the West half a century ago?

Jack. Nobody in particular, I suppose.

Sidney. Josiah Dorr was a strong, keen-witted Yankee with no capital except his good health and his persistent optimism. He knocked about for a good many years before he made that lucky strike in Nevada.

Jack. And then he married and lived unhappily ever after.

Sidney. Not at all ! Dorr married while he was still poor and with his usual luck chose a wife who was just the right sort for him — a woman of no pretensions, but of sound common sense ; and their married life was happy enough until the children grew up.

Jack. Bobbie's father and his aunt Martha?

Sidney. Exactly. The lamented Josiah, Jr., and [Pointing toward the ball roomJ] our charming hostess. Simpson told me that young Josiah was for many years a thorn m the flesh of his parents. He seemed to progress from one escapade to another till he crowned his list of indiscretions by marrying a third-rate actress whose pretty face was her only recommendation for public attention.

Jack. I didn't know that Bobbie's mother was an actress.

Sidney. Neither did the public, though she tried hard enough to make them think so. Of course, she gave up the stage when she became Mrs. Josiah, Jr. She probably expected to try her histrionic talent in melting the heart of the stern parent — but old Dorr didn't give her a chance. He never laid eyes on her!

Jack. Not even after Bobbie was born? That frequently makes a difference !

Sidney. Old Dorr saw nothing of Bobbie till both Josiah, Jr. and his actress-wife were dead. Then Aunt Martha took charge of Bobbie and the boy grew up under her care. After that nothing was too good for the hope of the family. They took him to Lausanne for his education, gave him a thoroughly cosmopolitan training, topped off with a few semesters at Heidelberg. He speaks four languages — but I don't believe he has been accused of enriching the world's store of thought in any of them. Behold to-night the finished product, capering in yonder ball room! When he reaches his twenty-fifth birthday a few weeks hence he will be the happy possessor of some forty millions.

Jack. A fellow has little excuse for being anything but the most decent sort of chap under such conditions. Fate has been unusually kind to Bobbie Dorr.

Sidney. He's no silly offspring of superabundant wealth — Bobbie's a capital fellow in many respects, but I can't quite overlook his patronizing air, his superb confidence in the power of his riches. That sort of thing is pardonable in a man who has created the wealth, who has wrested it from the unyielding earth by the sweat of his brow or has won it by the exercise of his superior wit, but it takes little genius to inherit another man's money.

Jack. Here he comes, Sid ; we're in for a quick change of subject. [Louder.^ In my opinion, these gardens are among the most attractive at Lenox. There's that fine row of Lombardy poplars — [Robert Dorr enters from the ball room. His evening attire is beyond criticism save for the fact that he wears large gold studs in his shirt, a heavy gold fob and several conspicuously large rings. ^

Dorr. Would anybody believe it? A room full of charming girls, and you two solemn philosophers out here in the dark discussing the Lombardy poplars. Can you find nothing better to talk about?

Sidney. I'm sure we're both booked for every dance on the list. It's a breath of fresh air we're after now.

Dorr. Meanwhile the ladies are commenting upon your ungallant disappearance; but you cannot elude them long. Billy Fanshawe is bringing out a small party to view the lower gardens. Perhaps such a trip would appeal to you?

Jack. It's a lark! I wonder how they ever got Billy away from the lobster cutlets and the soft crabs. [Enter Billy left, followed by Mrs. Keene, Marian, Gertrude, Margaret and Rose.]

Billy. [Officiously, from the top step.] All in line for a personally-conducted tour around the celebrated Dorr gardens. The small and select party will be carefully chaperoned by Mrs. Keene and will be under the immediate direction of Mr. William Fanshawe, the well-known cicerone, who will explain all points of interest.

Jack. Bully, old man! You're as impressive as the prospectus of a Cook's tour.

Mrs. Keene. Come on, girls. [They descend to the terrace.] Why, Mr. Norgate and Mr. Hastings ! I have been wondering what had become of you.

Sidney. We just stepped out to admire the garden and we now crave permission to join your small and select party.

Marian. I think they're horrid in coming out here to smoke and then to pretend they were admiring the garden. I move that we refuse them permission to join our party. All in favor say ' aye.'

The Girls. [In chorus.] Aye!

Marian. It is carried. Mr. Hastings and Mr. Norgate are not permitted to join us.

Sidney. Pardon me. Miss Winthrop, you are not parliamentary. You put your own motion — you even forgot to wait till some one seconded it.

Marian. What was the use? I knew they were all in favor of it.

SiDNEY. You ought to be In Congress — they need girls like you. But seriously, do you mean to say we may not join you?

Gertrude. Yes, and It serves you right, too !

Billy. Hold on! I want to amend that resolution. If you girls don't mind, I should like to have Jack Norgate along. He knows the names of the trees and shrubs better than I do.

Margaret. What! better than the well-known cicerone?

Billy. I regret to say he does. In fact, I might make a mess of It without him.

Marian. Shall we relent, Mrs. Keene?

Mrs. Keene. I suppose so, though you are adding to my responsibilities as chaperone. [Billy mounts the marble railing and detaches one of the Japanese lanterns^]

Rose. But only Mr. Norgate — not Mr. Hastings. He has been too sarcastic.

Sidney. Ladles, I am overwhelmed with the sense of my shortcomings. I spare you the need of further deliberation by admitting that I am unworthy of your company.

Gertrude. How pathetic! I believe he's glad we don't want him!

Margaret. Mr. Dorr, won't you join us?

Dorr. Thank you — I think I shall try to entertain Mr. Hastings during your absence.

Marian. He ought to be left by himself.

Dorr. I should hate to leave him In such bad company. I want to try moral suasion on him.

Billy. I hope he survives. [Holds up the lantern.'\ Ladies, are you ready?

Mrs. Keene. We shall surely need more light. It must be very dark at the foot of the garden.

Billy. One's enough. Besides, if we had more, you might get confused and follow some other lantern instead of mine.

Dorr. Don't forget to show the ladies the sun-dial.

Rose. Oh! a sun-dial! Isn't that romantic!

Sidney. Especially at this time of night.

Dorr. It's a quaint old dial that was brought over from Italy many years ago.

Billy. [Whispers to Dorr.] By the way, Bobbie, what does that Italian motto on the sun-dial mean? I always forget it.

Dorr. ' Time will reveal all things.'

Billy. Thanks. That helps me over one difficulty at least. Come on, ladies. We're now under way ! [He heads the procession off rights followed by Mrs. Keene and the girls. The latter speak almost simultaneously as they leave. ^

Marian. Au revoirl I hope you'll enjoy that moral suasion, Mr. Hastings!

Rose. Don't spare him, Mr. Dorr!

Gertrude. I hope you will profit by it, Mr. Hastings !

Margaret. You are too self-sacrificing, Mr. Dorr! [They go off.]

Sidney. [Laughing.] In such charming creatures as these rests most of our happiness in life. I suppose I ought to be in a penitent mood — they will all be ready to forgive me when I dance with them later on. [He offers Dorr a cigarette.] Smoke, Dorr?

Dorr. [Takes cigarette.] Thanks. [After a pause.]

Do you know, Hastings, the women seem to be more or less afraid of you? I've noticed it many times.

Sidney. The sex has evidently little respect for my cynical philosophy. It's a pleasure to toss a choice morsel of flippancy at them and watch them gasp.

Dorr. [Reflectively.'] They're a life-long study for the keenest man. How splendidly they play their parts! Every woman's an actress at heart. [Pointing to the garden.] There is a group of apparently ingenuous, simplehearted young creatures alive to the pleasure of the moment and intent upon enjoying existence — yet I'll wager that in each feminine mind there are deep-laid schemes beyond your detection or mine.

Sidney. We men are at a disadvantage because we have no adequate weapon to match theirs — and the laws of common courtesy render us helpless before their cleverly concealed advances. To make matters worse, each fair antagonist plans her campaign in her own individual manner — woe to the presumptuous man who tries to generalize their methods. No two of them will act precisely alike in effecting their ends.

Dorr. They're all alike in one thing, Hastings.

Sidney. What's that?

Dorr. Their respect for wealth! They may be as individual as you please; but exhibit your pile of gold — the talisman that puts the luxurious gowns upon their backs and the gleaming jewels about their persons — and you'll find them all ready to purr like a lot of kittens over a bowl of warm milk!

Sidney. See here. Dorr, I thought I was a bit of a cynic myself, but I never quite believed that. You don't mean to say that a woman cannot rise above a cringing

regard for mere material wealth?

Dorr. I mean just that; no woman — and no man

either, for that matter. It was long before our time that

a famous statesman declared that every man had his price

— and I don't believe he had any intention of ignoring

woman when he said it.

Sidney. [Seriously.] Well, if you really feel that way

about it, I must insist that you are far more In need of

moral suasion than I am. We two are very different,

Dorr, in one respect.

Dorr. Yes ?

Sidney. If you will pardon my saying so, I flash an

occasional cynicism upon the ladies that puts them on their guard and marks me as a person to be treated with caution. You retain their good opinion by an outward show of courtesy and deference, yet in your heart you entertain sentiments that make it impossible for you to respect a single human creature.

Dorr. We're quite different in another respect, Hastings. You light upon a thing of this sort and brood over it until it spoils your good nature. I take it for granted that we are all corruptible and that none can stand the absolute tests of integrity, but I don't worry about it. This is a good enough world if one has the power to command its good things. When it comes to testing the power of its talisman [He draws a few gold coins from his pocket and jingles them.] I must affirm that those who have tried Its virtues are, after all, the best judges of its merits. [Sidney tosses away his cigarette with a gesture of disgust.] What's the matter?

SiDNEY. The tobacco was beginning to taste bad; I have smoked enough, anyhow. [He rises and gazes clown into the garden. DoRR hesitates for a moment, then crosses to him.^

Dorr. Evidently you find my views very shocking. Somehow I expected you to agree with me.

Sidney. I presume I am like most of my kind — when I find a man more cynical than myself I conclude that it is time to reform my philosophy of life. [After a pause.] Bobbie Dorr, when you say that you believe all men and women bow to the power of wealth, do you make no reservations — no exceptions ?

Dorr. I make no exceptions — not even myself! If I were a poor man, I should be as corruptible as the rest. There are no exceptions !

Sidney. [Slowly.] Not even such a girl as — Eleanor Richmond ?

Dorr. [Annoyed.] Why should you mention Miss Richmond in this connection?

Sidney. Pardon me — because I believe that you care more about her than you do about most girls. I know you admire her; I don't hesitate to say that I regard her as the embodiment of all that is lovable in woman. I wondered whether you were willing to class her with the rest of your mercenary herd — that is all.

Dorr. [With constraint.] Miss Richmond has always enjoyed all the luxuries that wealth can supply. Where gold has nothing to offer it cannot be expected to corrupt. I should prefer to discuss this question in the abstract without considering its bearing upon Miss Richmond, or upon any one else, for that matter. [Shrieks are heard from the garden. Sidney crosses to the right.]