Plays By John Galsworthy
Chapter 38 : MRS. GWYN. [Cuttingly.] I have not asked you to.JOY. [With a blind movement of her hand

MRS. GWYN. [Cuttingly.] I have not asked you to.

JOY. [With a blind movement of her hand.] Oh, Mother!

[MRS. GWYN half turns away.]

Mother--won't you? Let's tell Uncle Tom and go away from him?

MRS. GWYN. If you were not, a child, Joy, you wouldn't say such things.

JOY. [Eagerly.] I'm not a child, I'm--I'm a woman. I am.

MRS. GWYN. No! You--are--not a woman, Joy.

[She sees joy throw up her arms as though warding off a blow, and turning finds that LEVER is standing in the opening of the wall.]

LEVER. [Looking from face to face.] What's the matter? [There is no answer.] What is it, Joy?

JOY. [Pa.s.sionately.] I heard you, I don't care who knows. I'd listen again.

LEVER. [Impa.s.sively.] Ah! and what did I say that was so very dreadful?

JOY. You're a--a--you 're a--coward!

MRS. GWYN. [With a sort of groan.] Joy!

LEVER. [Stepping up to JOY, and standing with his hands behind him-- in a low voice.] Now hit me in the face--hit me--hit me as hard as you can. Go on, Joy, it'll do you good.

[Joy raises her clenched hand, but drops it, and hides her face.]

Why don't you? I'm not pretending!

[Joy makes no sign.]

Come, joy; you'll make yourself ill, and that won't help, will it?

[But joy still makes no sign.]

[With determination.] What's the matter? now come--tell me!

JOY. [In a stifled, sullen voice.] Will you leave my mother alone?

MRS. GWYN. Oh! my dear Joy, don't be silly!

JOY. [Wincing; then with sudden pa.s.sion.] I defy you--I defy you!

[She rushes from their sight.]

MRS. GWYN. [With a movement of distress.] Oh!

LEVER. [Turning to MRS. GWYN with a protecting gesture.] Never mind, dear! It'll be--it'll be all right!

[But the expression of his face is not the expression of his words.]

The curtain falls.

ACT III

It is evening; a full yellow moon is s.h.i.+ning through the branches of the hollow tree. The Chinese lanterns are alight.

There is dancing in the house; the music sounds now loud, now soft. MISS BEECH is sitting on the rustic seat in a black bunchy evening dress, whose inconspicuous opening is inlaid with white. She slowly fans herself.

d.i.c.k comes from the house in evening dress. He does not see Miss BEECH.

d.i.c.k. Curse! [A short silence.] Curse!

MISS BEECH. Poor young man!

d.i.c.k. [With a start.] Well, Peachey, I can't help it [He fumbles off his gloves.]

MISS BEECH. Did you ever know any one that could?

d.i.c.k. [Earnestly.] It's such awfully hard lines on Joy. I can't get her out of my head, lying there with that beastly headache while everybody's jigging round.

MISS BEECH. Oh! you don't mind about yourself--n.o.ble young man!

d.i.c.k. I should be a brute if I did n't mind more for her.

MISS BEECH. So you think it's a headache, do you?

d.i.c.k. Did n't you hear what Mrs. Gwyn said at dinner about the sun?

[With inspiration.] I say, Peachey, could n't you--could n't you just go up and give her a message from me, and find out if there 's anything she wants, and say how brutal it is that she 's seedy; it would be most awfully decent of you. And tell her the dancing's no good without her. Do, Peachey, now do! Ah! and look here!

[He dives into the hollow of the tree, and brings from out of it a pail of water in which are placed two bottles of champagne, and some yellow irises--he takes the irises.]

You might give her these. I got them specially for her, and I have n't had a chance.

MISS BEECH. [Lifting a bottle.] What 's this?

d.i.c.k. Fizz. The Colonel brought it from the George. It 's for supper; he put it in here because of--[Smiling faintly]--Mrs. Hope, I think. Peachey, do take her those irises.

MISS. BEECH. D' you think they'll do her any good?

d.i.c.k. [Crestfallen.] I thought she'd like--I don't want to worry her--you might try.