The Philanderer Part 8

(A chase now begins between Julia and Charteris, all the more exciting to them because the huntress and her prey must alike conceal the real object of their movements from the others. Charteris first makes for the right hand door. Julia immediately moves back to it, barring his path. He doubles back round the bookstand, setting it whirling as he makes for the left door, Julia crossing in pursuit of him. He is about to escape when he is cut off by the return of Cuthbertson. He turns back and sees Julia close upon him. There being nothing else for it, he bolts up into the recess to the left of the fireplace.)

CUTHBERTSON. Good morning, Miss Craven. (They shake hands.) Won't you join us at lunch? Paramore's coming too.

JULIA. Thanks: I shall be very pleased. (She goes up with affected purposelessness towards the recess. Charteris, almost trapped in it, crosses to the right hand recess by way of the fender, knocking down the fire irons with a crash as he does so.)

CRAVEN (who has crossed to the whirling bookcase and stopped it). What the d.i.c.kens are you doing there, Charteris?

CHARTERIS. Nothing. It's such a confounded room to get about in.

JULIA (maliciously). Yes, isn't it. (She is moving back to guard the right hand door, when Cuthbertson appears at it.)

CUTHBERTSON. May I take you down? (He offers her his arm.)

JULIA. No, really: you know it's against the rules of the club to coddle women in any way. Whoever is nearest to the door goes first.

CUTHBERTSON. Oh well, if you insist. Come, gentlemen: let us go to lunch in the Ibsen fas.h.i.+on--the uns.e.xed fas.h.i.+on. (He goes out on the left followed by Paramore, laughing. Craven goes last. He turns at the door to see whether Julia is coming, and stops when he sees she is not.)

CRAVEN. Come, Julia.

JULIA (with patronising affection). Yes, Daddy, dear, presently.

(Charteris is meanwhile stealing to the right hand door.) Don't wait for me: I'll come in a moment. (The Colonel hesitates.) It's all right, Daddy.

CRAVEN (very gravely). Don't be long, my dear. (He goes out.)

CHARTERIS. I'm off. (Makes a dash for the right hand door.)

JULIA (darting at him and seizing his wrist). Aren't you coming?

CHARTERIS. No. Unhand me Julia. (He tries to get away: she holds him.) If you don't let me go, I'll scream for help.

JULIA (reproachfully). Leonard! (He breaks away from her.) Oh, how can you be so rough with me, dear. Did you get my letter?

CHARTERIS. Burnt it--(she turns away, struck to the heart, and buries her face in her hands)--along with hers.

JULIA (quickly turning again). Hers! Has she written to you?

CHARTERIS. Yes, to break off with me on your account.

JULIA (her eyes gleaming). Ah!

CHARTERIS. You are pleased. Wretch! Now you have lost the last sc.r.a.p of my regard. (He turns to go, but is stopped by the return of Sylvia.

Julia turns away and stands pretending to read a paper which she picks up from the table.)

SYLVIA (offhandedly). Hallo, Charteris: how are you getting on? (She takes his arm familiarly and walks down the room with him.) Have you seen Grace Tranfield this morning? (Julia drops the paper and comes a step nearer to listen.) You generally know where she is to be found.

CHARTERIS. I shall never know any more, Sylvia. She's quarrelled with me.

SYLVIA. Sylvia! How often am I to tell you that I am not Sylvia at the club?

CHARTERIS. I forgot. I beg your pardon, Craven, old chap (slaps her on the shoulder).

SYLVIA. That's better--a little overdone, but better.

JULIA. Don't be a fool, Silly.

SYLVIA. Remember, Julia, if you please, that here we are members of the club, not sisters. I don't take liberties with you here on family grounds: don't you take any with me. (She goes to the settee and resumes her former place.)

CHARTERIS. Quite right, Craven. Down with the tyranny of the elder sister!

JULIA. You ought to know better than to encourage a child to make herself ridiculous, Leonard, even at my expense.

CHARTERIS (seating himself on the edge of the table). Your lunch will be cold, Julia. (Julia is about to retort furiously when she is checked by the reappearance of Cuthbertson at the left hand door.)

CUTHBERTSON. What has become of you, Miss Craven? Your father is getting quite uneasy. We're all waiting for you.

JULIA. So I have just been reminded, thank you. (She goes out angrily past him, Sylvia looking round to see.)

CUTHBERTSON (looking first after her, then at Charteris). More neurasthenia. (He follows her.)

SYLVIA (jumping up on her knees on the settee and speaking over the back of it). What's up, Charteris? Julia been making love to you?

CHARTERIS (speaking to her over his shoulder). No. Blowing me up for making love to Grace.

SYLVIA. Serve you right. You are an awful devil for philandering.

CHARTERIS (calmly). Do you consider it good club form to talk that way to a man who might nearly be your father?

SYLVIA (knowingly). Oh, I know you, my lad.

CHARTERIS. Then you know that I never pay any special attention to any woman.

SYLVIA (thoughtfully). Do you know, Leonard, I really believe you. I don't think you care a bit more for one woman than for another.

CHARTERIS. You mean I don't care a bit less for one woman than another.

SYLVIA. That makes it worse. But what I mean is that you never bother about their being only women: you talk to them just as you do to me or any other fellow. That's the secret of your success. You can't think how sick they get of being treated with the respect due to their s.e.x.

CHARTERIS. Ah, if Julia only had your wisdom, Craven! (He gets off the table with a sigh and perches himself reflectively on the stepladder.)

SYLVIA. She can't take things easy, can she, old man? But don't you be afraid of breaking her heart: she gets over her little tragedies. We found that out at home when our great sorrow came.

CHARTERIS. What was that?

SYLVIA. I mean when we learned that poor papa had Paramore's disease.

But it was too late to inoculate papa. All they could do was to prolong his life for two years more by putting him on a strict diet.

Poor old boy! they cut off his liquor; and he's not allowed to eat meat.

CHARTERIS. Your father appears to me to be uncommonly well.