Plays: Lady Frederick, The Explorer, A Man of Honor - LightNovelsOnl.com
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And even if she does marry that other man she'll love you still. There's no room for me between you. I can go away like a discharged servant....
Oh, G.o.d! oh, G.o.d! what have I done to deserve it?
BASIL.
[_Touched by her utter misery._] I'm very sorry to make you so unhappy.
JENNY.
Oh, don't pity me. D'you think I want your pity now?
BASIL.
You had better come away, Jenny.
JENNY.
No. You've told me you don't want me any more. I shall go my own way.
BASIL.
[_Looks at her for a moment, hesitating; then shrugs his shoulders._]
Then good-bye.
[_He goes out, and_ JENNY, _looking after him, pa.s.ses her hand wearily over her forehead_.
JENNY.
[_With a sigh._] He's so glad to go.... [_She gives a little sob._]
They've got no room for me.
[_She takes up from the floor the photograph on which she stamped, and looks at it; then sinks down, burying her face in her hands, and bursts into a pa.s.sion of tears._
END OF THE THIRD ACT.
THE FOURTH ACT.
THE NEXT MORNING.
[_The scene is the same as in the Second Act, the drawing-room at Basil's house in Putney._ BASIL _is sitting at the table, with his head in his hands. He looks tired and worn; his face is very white, and there are great black lines under his eyes. His hair is dishevelled. On the table lies a revolver._
[_A knock at the door._
BASIL.
[_Without looking up._] Come in.
[f.a.n.n.y _enters_.]
f.a.n.n.y.
[_Subdued and pale._] I came to see if you wanted anything, sir.
BASIL.
[_Looking up at her slowly, his voice is dull and hoa.r.s.e._] No.
f.a.n.n.y.
Shall I open the windows, Sir? It's a beautiful morning.
BASIL.
No, I'm cold. Make up the fire.
f.a.n.n.y.
Wouldn't you like a cup of tea? You ought to 'ave something after not going to bed all night.
BASIL.
I don't want anything.... Don't worry, there's a good woman.
[f.a.n.n.y _puts coals on the fire, while BASIL listlessly watches her_.
BASIL.
How long is it since you sent the telegrams?
f.a.n.n.y.
I took them the moment the office was opened.
BASIL.
What's the time?
f.a.n.n.y.
Well, sir, it must be 'alf-past nine by now.
BASIL.
Good Heavens, how slowly the hours go. I thought the night would never end.... Oh, G.o.d, what shall I do?
