Holy lucre; a drama in four acts

Introduction

The public at present demands entertainment and instruction. Unfortunately no dramatic writer seems to have succeeded in supplying both demands. When a play is stupid it is labeled a problem play, and the public endures the tedium. Wrong construction is condoned because of the moral. But why is it not possible to have a problem in a play properly constructed and fitted to please? The author has that task in mind. The rules of dramatic composition have been rigidly followed, and the problem has been made striking, and, it is hoped, not tedious. The subject of this play is WORTH versus WEALTH.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Annette Palmerston, a young American. Earl of Tanguay, a young Englishman.

Reverend Houghton, an American clergyman. Mrs. Houghton, his wife.

Lady Mary Johnson, a sister of Tanguay. Mrs. Courtenay, who has great social influence. Lord Nevers, her friend.

Baby, her daughter, very innocent.

Johnny, young, hence foolish.

Mrs. Bampton. a climber.

Mr. Bampton, a necessary attachment, and given to soliloquy. Jeanette, Miss Palmerston's maid.

Monte, a valet.

Dumbell, a butler.

ACT I. Scene. — Hall at Clampton, afternoon tea

ACT H.

Scene. — Library, same evening.

ACT HI.

Scene. — ^Terrace, next morning.

ACT IV.

Scene. — Hall, shortly before luncheon.

SCENARIO.

The Marquis of San Lucar is an American clergyman who has inherited vast wealth from a long forgotten uncle in South America, made a marques by Dom Pedro. His wealth, something of a burden, gives him an opportunity to study human nature in his true character— that of a clergyman. He gets a cultivated young woman of great personal charm to rent a large place in England, and gather about her the leading society lights, and he and his wife appear in simple guise. The story hinges on the love of an impoverished Earl for the charming friend. The first act shows the mutual impression they make on each other, and owing to his pride and her lack of wealth the difficulty of their marrying. The second act reveals the machinations of a poor nobleman who, through a detective disguised as his valet, discloses the fact that the heiress is not rich, and raises the question of her character, by showing her bills are paid by the marquis. The third act develops the plot, and the confession of the clergyman leaves little room for doubt that the original idea was true. This gives the earl a chance to show his manliness, which he does. The fourth act straightens out the tangle, and relieves the earl of the suspicion she is not what she seems, and gives him an opportunity to retrieve his fortunes without marrying for money.

The climax in the first act is where the heroine is impressed with the instinctive nobleness of the earl's character.

The climax in the second act is where he defends her character in the face of evidence.

The climax of the third act is where he stands true to his love in spite of seemingly overwhelming evidence.

The climax of the fourth act is where she learns that he has stood true in spite of everything, and shows her devotion to his noble character.

HOLY LUCRE

ACT I.

Scene. — Hall at Clamp ton. Tea things arranged. Dumbell enters and looks around.

Dumbell. When Hi took service at Clampton Hi came well recommended, hand Hi thought it was ha juke Hi was to serve. (Bangs a chair on the floor. Jeanette enters from the other side.).

Jeanette. You 'ave a poor job eef I 'eer right, Meester Dumbell. Jukes, as you call them, are veery poor picking.

Dumbell. Hi haint thinkin'. Miss, that juke his hany kind of ha bird has you call hit

Jeanette. But they say ee was a bird, however. Ee used

to make the money fly an zen ee took to flying 'imself

Ha Ha. Zat ees vy we got zees place, don you see?

You Eenglis are so slow.

Dumbell. Hi haint slow. Miss. Hi can see things, hand things hare mighty queer with that poor minister hand is cheap wife. 'Ow hany respectable leddy can 'ave sich things around Hi don't see.

Jeanette. Oh! you don Meester Dumbell, veil, I vill tell you somezing. Ze leddy as you call her knows vat she es about, see? (Pulling down one eyelid and gazing at Dumbell mischieviously. He looks at her admiringly and tries to catch her when Monte enters.)

Dumbell. Ho, Mister Monte, she his that haggravating ! (Monte strokes his moustache and smiles.)

Monte. To you, perhaps ! I can't say I find her so.

Jeannette. You naughty boy! Just because I like boys. Don't you believe him, Meester Dumbell. We were just having a serious talk. Meester Dumbell says he only waits on jukes. Forsooth. I say money is money, don't you?

Monte. Rather! and jukes are very poor just now.

Dumbell. (Miffed at their chaff.) So are ministers and ministers' leddies.

Jeanette. You needn't be sneering at ministers' leddies. Miss Palmerston gives me two shillings every time I button up the leddy's dress, and she tells me to be very polite, and I am very polite when I get two shillings. So now, Meester Dumbell ! (Making him a courtesy with a significant glance.)

Monte. (With a quizzical air.) She seems very fond of her poor relation?

Jeanette. They aren't relations, just friends, and she says they are such nice people. I like butter on my bread and I like it thick. See? as the Americans says.

Monte. And these poor friends are the butter on your bread? They look pretty thin to me. (With a contemptuous air designed to draw her out. Dumbell listens intently.)

Jeanette. (With a toss of her head.) They are thick enough for me !

Monte. (With a sneer.) Two shillings don't seem very thick to me.

Jeanette. No, but two pounds do to me !

Dumbell. Two pounds ! Hi aven't seen two pounds from a soul since Hi 'ave been 'ere.

Jeanette. That's because you live with a juke. In America we would say juke rhymed with fluke.

Dumbell. Fluke ! (Shocked.) Fluke rhyming with 'is grace.

Monte. (Still curious.) And where do you get your two pounds from? I hope his reverence isn't forgetting his cloth.

Jeanette. (Indignantly.) Never in this world, Meester Monte. Never in this world ! I get all my money from my dear mistress. Every time she tells me to be nice to the poor friends she puts two pounds into my hand.

Monte. (Aside.) The deuce! His lordship will be interested. She's generous. Generosity isn't human. Americans are fools with their money.

Jeanette. Not too foolish for me. (Executes a pas de seul.)

Monte. Hush ! they are coming. (All go out. Enter Baby and Johnny.)

Baby. Oh ! Johnny, you are so naughty.

Johnny. T am?

Baby. Yes. you haven't been near me for ever so long. (Pouts.)

Johnny. Xow. sweetheart, don't fret. Why, I saw you at lunch.

Baby. At lunch I Why. that was ages ago.

Johnny. Only three hours.

Baby. But you haven't said a word to me since

since

Johnny. Forgotten. I bet I

Baby. No I haven't. Xo I haven't. Xot since I had that fatherly talk with old Mr. Bampton. So there!

Johnny. But I don't like your fatherly talks with old Bampton.

Baby. (Jlciously.) X'or do I like your filial devotions to Lady Mar}-.

Johnny. Lady Mary? Why. sweetheart, that's business.

Baby. I don't know what you mean.

Johnny. X'or I. (With a grin.) It doesn't mean any more than those philosophical pow-pows X'evers has with your m.amma.

Baby. Xow, Johnny, what do you mean? You mean something. ^I'ery impressiz-ely.) I am sure you mean something.

Johnny. I mean nothing much, but his highness doesn't believe in philosophical conversations. He says they are very bad for the morals.

Baby. Why. Johnny ! Morals ? I don't see how philosophy can hurt morals. But I am sure the prince never talks philosophy.

Johnny. So am I. What does he talk of to your mamma?

Baby. ^Opening her eyes wide.) Why, how do I know? He never talks to me at all. Just pats me on the shoulder and says, "now run along, little girl."

Johnny. And you run? (JVith a sneer.)

Baby. X'ow. Johnny, you are perfectly horrid. I don't understand you at all. Mamma would not like your manner.

Johnny. And the prince does not bother any more with you, I suppose?

Baby. Oh ! he kisses me sometimes Just in a fatherly

way.

Johnny. I don't think fatherly ways are nice. Baby. (Sharply.) No, nor I motherly ways. Johnny. Come now, Baby, be nice, our various mentors,

examples Ahem! and guides will be with us in a minute.

Baby. I say, Johnny, you are a very naughty boy.

Johnny. Of course, sweetheart, I have no encouragement to be otherwise.

Baby. Oh! Johnny, with Miss Palmerston and her meenister, as Jeanette calls him? Why, Johnny, you are not susceptible to a good example. I shall get the meenister to talk to you. He will do you a lot of good.

Johnny. You don't believe in the meenister?

Baby. He is awfully good looking, and Jeanette is awfully polite to him. And as for his poor unhappy wife

Johnny. (With interest.) Is she unhappy?

Baby. Why, Johnny, how can she be anything but unhappy with those clothes? I could not live a minute with them on.

Johnny. You sweet thing, kiss me!

Baby. I won't! Just think how I would look with them on.

Johnny. Better than nothing!

Baby. Why, Johnny, I will tell my mamma.

Johnny. You will?

Baby. I will. And she will tell the prince, he'll tell his grandmother, of course! (They both laugh.) But kiss me, I'm ready.

Johnny. I'm not, I am afraid of the meenister. So there!

Baby. I think you are just horrid. I like Miss Palmerston. She is really good. I'd like to be rich enough to have a chaplain always about me.

Johnny. If he were good looking, you mean !

Baby. Well. (Thoughtfully.) He would have to dress better.

Johnny. And not have a wife!

Baby. Why, Johnny, what horrid ideas you do have! I'll tell mamma and she will tell the prince and he

Johnny. I don't care a hang for the prince.

Baby. Oh ! Johnny.

Johnny. I don't care a hang for anybody but you.

Baby. Not Miss Palmerston and all her money? Johnny. Hang Miss Palmerston! Tanguay is going to have her. Lady Mary said so.

Baby. Did she? I thought I heard mamma say Lord Nevers was to have her.

Johnny. A big lot. What would your mamma do?

Baby. What do you mean, Johnny? Mamma doesn't have to have Lord Nevers.

Johnny. (Drily.) I thought she did.

Baby. Oh! no, he's just a friend. Just like the prince.

Johnny. It must be very nice to have friends.

Baby. It is, very. (Innocently.) You know Mr. Bampton is a great friend of mine.

Johnny. What? (Savagely.)

Baby. Why, Johnny, how you do burst out ! Please don't. Mamma wouldn't like it. Her nerves are very sensitive.

Johnny. Oh! are they?

Baby. (Simply.) Yes, they are.

Johnny. I think I will marry Miss Palmerston myself. I must have money !

Baby. (Indifferently.) And she is so rich.

Johnny. And you would not care?

Baby. Of course not; not if you always love me, Johnny.

Johnny. I always shall ; but I say, Tanguay has got the inside track.

Baby. Why so?

Johnny. Because he is so good. Why, do you know, he doesn't even say damn?

Baby. You don't say! How lonely he must feel at times.

Johnny. I don't know, he talks a lot with your meenister.

Baby. Oh! that is to stand well with the heiress.

Johnny. He's crafty.

Baby. (Nonchalantly.) J really wonder who will get her and the millions? Oh! Johnny dear, wouldn't it be nice if we just had the millions, then mamma would approve, and you could make faces at Lady Mary, and we could be so happy.

Johnny. (Teasing.) You forget all about old Bampton.

Baby. Now, Johnny dear, you are the only one I ever loved, and the only one I shall ever love. Never mind the

Bamptons and so forth and so forth. Just love me.

There now, give me a good kiss. (He does, as Lady Mary and Mrs. Bampton enter.)

Lady Mary. (Who hears a queer sound.) My dear, what was that?

Baby. Only a slap I gave Johnny. He is so forward. Don't you think, Mrs. Bampton, English young men are perfectly horrid? (Johnny steals a piece of cake and grins. Baby joins him in the corner.)

Lady Mary. As I was saying, Mrs. Bampton, society is simply at a standstill, unless you have money. Really, I suppose you never knew what poverty was?

Mrs. Bampton. (With a certain adoration.) Really, Lady Mary, how can you speak that way? You know you are rolling in wealth !

Lady Mary. Yes, I have a little. But just between you and me, I like you, Mrs. Bampton, you are so frank and openhearted, Johnson really is very close. With all his money, too! But as I was saying, now what was I saying? Oh ! I know, we were so poor. If you could know how I used to shiver at the castle. Oh ! it is all very well to live in a real old castle, as you Americans put it, but what is history, coats of arms and William the Conquerer got to do with keeping warm, and having enough to eat? I have had enough of aristocratic poverty ! A good square meal, as you Americans say, cooked by a French chef, of course, and a simple, storm-proof cottage, with some of your good American heating, is not at all bad.

Mrs. Bampton. Like Johnson Court, you mean, with three hundred and fifty rooms !

Lady Mary. Well. Johnson Court is like an hotel, but a first rate hotel is not at all bad.

Mrs. Bampton. I think Clampton pretty nice. I wish I had the money to own it. I do so envy Miss Palmerston.

Lady Mary. (With deep interest.) Where did she get her money?

Mrs. Bampton. I really don't know. She came to me with the very best letters. Really I was quite pleased that the people who wrote them even remembered me.

Lady Mary. I am greatly surprised to hear you speak that way. There can be no one in America who would seem to be doing you a favor, in your present position with us, by introducing a lady. To be sure Miss Palmerston is very brilliant, and very beautiful, and is certainly very rich, very rich indeed. Otherwise she could never have taken Clampton for a long lease. Why, they say the upkeep is something awful. It is no wonder the dear duke quite went to pieces, even if he did take to aviation.

Mrs. Bam p ton. The letters did not speak of her wealth.

Indeed the people who are her friends in New York do

not at all care for money.

Lady Mary. How very odd, how very odd !

Mrs. Bampton. It does seem odd in this day, I must

confess. Still, in America there is so much money, and money

grows so

Lady Mary. (Enthusiastically.) And money grows so

Mrs. Bampton. Yes, it grows, and grows

Lady Mary. (Making a motion with her hands.) It grows

and grows

Mrs. Bampton. That ofttimes a large fortune is quite overlooked.

Lady Mary. How careless! (Enter Houghton.) Oh! see him ! I cannot understand why he is here.

Mrs. Bampton. Quite natural. Our American girls are very religious, and very devoted to their friends. Lady Mary. (Puscled.) When they have no money? Mrs. Bampton. Oh ! yes, indeed ! But Miss Palmerston is really very simple and straightforward.

Lady Mary. Indeed ! She seems to me rather sarcastic and cutting.

Mrs. Bampton. Oh ! you must not mind that. I really think she is quite eprise with your brother.

Lady Mary. Do you? I hope so! I don't know what he will do if she isn't. I have tried to marry him off a dozen times, but he says the girl is too fat, or too lean, or he hates vulgar wealth, or some other wretched thing. Just as though one should think of such things when one is marrying! Where would I be if I had such old-fashioned notions? Well, I will tell you this, if he does not marry her I shall just let him go. I have done enough for my family !

Mrs. Bampton. I fancy Lord Nevers would be heart broken.

Lady Mary. He couldn't be heartbroken so long as that Courtenay woman lasts. It is perfectly disgraceful how they act. And the prince, too, he must be blind.

Mrs. Bampton. (Confidingly.) I never understood quite about the prince.

Lady Mary. Well, you needn't. If you want to get on the less you understand some things the better. Only that Courtenay woman will never get the prize for Nevers so long as I live and breathe. (Clinches her hands as she rises to greet Miss Palmerston, who enters.) We are so glad you were not late. Where have you been?

Miss Palmerston. Just roaming around with Mr. Houghton. He wanted to see the place. It is really so beautiful.

Lady Mary. Very grand, very grand indeed. He was one of our greatest dukes. So sad, so sad ! Now, what was I saying ?

Miss Palmerston. Something about the place.

Lady Mary. Oh ! yes, so grand. It would be so nice if you owned it, I am sure the duke would sell it.

Miss Palmerston. (Embarrassed.) Indeed there is some talk of its being bought, I believe.

Lady Mary. To be sure! Holy Lucre is after it, I hear. How nice if he gets it! But you have it on a long lease?

Miss Palmerston. (Still embarrassed.) In a way, in case it is not sold.

Lady Mary. Oh I indeed. Now, what was I saying? (Houghton comes up.) You must have enjoyed your walk? It must be very nice for you to see such a place?

Houghton. (Looking at Annette with significance.) Very nice indeed, very nice indeed !

Lady Mary. (Raising her lorgnette and staring.) Now what was I going to say?

Houghton. (Turning away, and aside.) Heaven only knows !

Miss Palmerston. You were going to say it is a very fine place. It was so nice of the duke to happen to lose his money at this time.

Lady Mary. Exactly. Now where is Tanguay? He is never around when one wants him.

Annette. Alas! it is always so in life. Why should I be an old maid when there are so many nice men in the world ?

Lady Mary. (Eagerly and at once reverting to her favorite topic.) To be sure. And Tanguay is so foolish! I assure you in some things he quite lacks brains.

Annette. (Teasing.) Oh! does he? It is fortunate he is not here just now. He would never do.

Lady Mary. (Who is very literal.) Please don't say that, Miss Palmerston. All nice men lack brains. Now, what was I going to say? All nice men never know how to take care of themselves.

Annette. And that is why we women have such a great responsibility, is it not?

Lady Mary. (Who is dense.) To be sure. If I had not looked after Mr. Johnson, why, now what was I going to say? Why, someone else would. I quite dread to think of it, and the castle was so cold. I quite shiver when I think of it.

Annette. That is why I introduced a heating plant here. I have always heard that English aristocracy was so cold.

Lady Mary. Awfully! when we are at home! (Mrs. Bampton comes up.)

Mrs. Bampton. Oh! Miss Palmerston, is it true that you have begun negotiations for the purchase of Clampton?

Annette. Not exactly! I did enquire the price. I ordered some improvements, it is true, but then they are not very expensive.

Lady Mary. But you put in bath rooms and heating, and I don't know what else.

Annette. (Somewhat embarrassed.) I believe they were ordered. The place would be quite uninhabitable without something done.

Lady Mary. But the expense! though, if money grows and grows, as they say it does in your blessed country, the expense is nothing.

Annette. (Incautiously, and with a look at Houghton.) That depends who pays the bills.

Lady Mary and Mrs. Bampton. (Together.) Oh, indeed. (Lady Mary puts up her glass, and Mrs. Bampton looks pussled.)

Houghton. It is fortunate it has been all arranged. Miss Palmerston is a very clever business woman. All Americans seem to possess the ability.

Lady Mary. (Staring through her glass.) I suppose it is only women who have the gift. Men do not always seem so fortunate.

Houghton. (Meekly.) Some men have other, and let us hope, higher thoughts.

Lady Mary. Indeed, that does very well for the cloth, Mr. Houghton, but other people must live. For the clergy, as their minds are set on spiritual things, it does not much matter if they live or not. Now does it, Mrs. Bampton? (Turning away.)

Annette. You have a specimen of the real English aristocrat !

Houghton. Don't say that! Now. Tanguay does not strike me at all as being that way. I think he is a fine fellow.

Annette. He is her brother. They say certain traits run .in certain families. The worst thing about him is his sister.

Houghton. But do you know, I have often noticed the same families have members of exactly opposite types. I shall continue to believe in him until I have certain proof that he is not what I think him.

Annette. (Clasping her hands.) I do wish you were right !

Houghton. My dear Annette, you surprise me! I did not think you had such an interest in him.

Annette. (Hastily.) I did not say I had. But I like him, and yet how can I think him anything but a mere fortune hunter?

Houghton. Well, you have yourself to blame, or rather me! I think it is great fun, so will you. You are no longer a silly school girl.

Annette. Thank you, I am not sure I was ever one!

Houghton. We all have our veal-like days. You are quite safe. I would not have exposed you to temptation had I thought that you would have yielded. I am quite sure I can trust you.

Annette. Are you quite sure? Perhaps, old friend, you are right, but I should say never trust a woman's heart.

Houghton. Te te ta te ta. It would be too funny

if I started a romance. I have always been dying to have one myself, and now to be right in the midst of something exciting really rouses my ambition. I admit we have enough villains.

Annette. That is all very well for you, but I am getting sorry that I ever undertook this.

Houghton. I don't see why you should be, you certainly have the chance of your life to study human nature.

Annette. I don't think I like human nature, it gets to be fearfully tiresome.

Houghton. It is only for a short time. I am having a fine time. I was never snubbed so in my life. (The tea is brought in by footmen, and Dumbell superintends gravely. The guests group themselves according to fancy. Annette at the table.)

Annette. Pray, make yourself useful. (To Houghton.) (He hands a cup of tea to Lady Mary, she puts up her glass and surveys him.)

Lady Mary. Ah! how well you fulfill your calling! It is to serve, is it not? Delicious tea we have here, Mrs. Bampton. Do you have as good in America?

Mrs. Bampton. I really have forgotten ! but we always have sweet cream, and not skimmed milk.

Lady Mary. Oh ! yes, how nice, how very nice 1 Well, I do think sweet cream is better than sour milk. I do assure you, Mrs. Bampton, at Tanguay Castle one was glad to get even sour milk. It is so dreadful to be poor, so very dreadful! Now what was I going to say?

Houghton. I presume. Lady Mary, you were going to say it must be nice for a poor minister to have sweet cream instead of sour milk!

Lady Mary. Quite so, quite so. (Enter Mrs. Courtenay, very much dressed and painted.) There comes that Courtenay woman ! What unlimited brass ! And all because of the prince.

Mrs. Bampton. (Pleadingly.) Do explain the prince. Lady Mary. (Raising her glass.) Really, Mrs. Bampton, you might as well ask me to explain the reason of the universe. I suppose it is just a question of self-preservation. At any rate she looks well preserved. Now doesn't she? (Much pleased with her little joke.) Annette. You are just in time!

Mrs. Courtenay. My dear, I can never miss my cup of tea. Any meal but this. Really I dread the thought of hearty food. (Houghton passes her a cup of tea. She stares at him and takes it without speaking.) I do wonder where the men are, dear Miss Palmerston?

Houghton. (With mischief.) You adhere to the saying men, women and priests.

Mrs. Courtenay. (Contemptuously.) Certainly, why not? Houghton. (With a smile.) You evidently care very little about your soul.

Mrs. Courtenay. My soul ! Indeed I am not sure I have one. A soul is an unknown possibility. I prefer something thoroughly well understood.

Houghton. (Meekly.) Money?

Mrs. Courtenay. Yes, if you choose to put it in that vulgar way. I do trust, Miss Palmerston, you are not going to compel us to listen to sermons.

Annette. (Much amused.) Oh! no. none of us like medicine. The more we need it the more we dread it, is it not so?

Mrs. Courtenay. Humph ! Perhaps you are right, I always notice I can listen to a sermon much more contentedly when my bills have all been paid. I suppose that is why you have a chaplain. No amount of preaching could disturb you. Annette. Are debts the only sins you encounter? Mrs. Courtenay. Just about all, so far as I can think. Annette. Then I should think you might be happy. (Tanguay enters.) Mrs. Courtenay was saying she had no sins but debts.

Tanguay. Can't say if I am so fortunate! Happily I have no debts. They are a great mistake. They must worry a fellow a lot. As for sins, I have my share. A fellow would be deucedly uninteresting without them.

Annette. Is that your only claim to interest?

Tanguay. Pretty nearly, any chap can have those. It is for that reason I don't count for much.

Mrs. Courtenay. How you ever get on without debts passes my comprehension.

Tanguay. I repress myself.

Mrs. Courtenay.^ But that is such a nuisance.

Tanguay. Oh ! I don't know, one can be happy without a lot of expenses.

Mrs. Courtenay. Yes, but one must have the bare necessities of life. . /rj- J

Tanguay. (Looking her over.) To be sure! (He and Annette exchange glances.)

Mrs. Courtenay. Come now, Tanguay, you are posmg.

Tanguay. No, I am not!

Mrs Courtenay. Well, you are not much like your sister.

Tanguay. Bless her heart, I am so glad I am not. Mary must have money. It is like air to her.

Annette. (Aside.) I wonder if he is posing? He certainly does not look it.

Tanguay. I say, Mrs. Courtenay, you must not judge all of us fellows by Nevers. Some of us can take a slow pace.

Mrs. Courtenay. (Viciously.) I don't. Just why you speak of him now I don't see. (Moving about.)

Tanguay. (With a smile.) Nor I.

Annette. You don't like Lord Nevers?

Tanguay. No, do you? (With interest.)

Annette. Oh! I? How can I tell? He is very polite, he seems quite the thing. I understand he is accepted everywhere. Mrs. Bampton said it would be quite right to ask him if I asked Mrs. Courtenay. I did not quite understand what she meant.

Tanguay. (Looking at Annette with attention, then away.) You did not? Don't seek to understand our ways. Money

does not seem to have spoiled you and don't let it!

Monev has been the curse of England. The lack of it is the curse to-day. The English aristocracy has been educated to a plane of living which it is becoming more and more difficult to maintain. It is misery, misery, I assure you !

Annette. So far as I can see it appears an agreeable misery.

Tanguay. To you, yes. You see the glitter, the smiles, the cordiality, the bloom, but you do not see the tinsel, the bitterness, the hatred, selfishness that is so deftly hidden. You do not see a beautiful flower doctored, manipulated, poisoned to present a base and meritricious appearance. (They both glance at Mrs. Courtenay.) But I will say no more. At least I wish you to believe us, that is — some of us — are well bred.

Annette. I do not quite understand you,

Tanguay. It is not well bred for me to criticise your guests to their hostess.

Annette. (Aside.) Is this man posing, I wonder? (To Tanguay.) Please do take some more tea.

Tanguay. Thank you, I will, you make it just right. May I ask if it is acquired skill or personality?

Annette. Which would you prefer it to be?

Tanguay. Hesitating, then suddenly.) Personality.

Annette. You prefer something I cannot help rather than something that shows ability.

Tanguay. (Desperately.) Yes, in you.

Annette. In me? (Stammering.) I don't quite understand.

Tanguay. (Confused.) Don't try.

Annette. But I am a woman, I am curious.