Complete Plays of John Galsworthy - BestLightNovel.com
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CALWAY. [Swiftly.] You, sir, with your "devil take the hindmost,"
have never even seen him.
[SIR THOMAS HOXTON, throwing back a gesture of disgust, steps out into the night, and falls heavily PROFESSOR CALWAY, hastening to his rescue, falls more heavily still.]
[TIMSON, momentarily roused from slumber on the doorstep, sits up.]
HOXTON. [Struggling to his knees.] d.a.m.nation!
CALWAY. [Sitting.] How simultaneous!
[WELLWYN and FERRAND approach hastily.]
FERRAND. [Pointing to TIMSON.] Monsieur, it was true, it seems.
They had lost sight of the individual.
[A Policeman has appeared under the street lamp. He picks up HOXTON'S hat.]
CONSTABLE. Anything wrong, sir?
HOXTON. [Recovering his feet.] Wrong? Great Scott! Constable!
Why do you let things lie about in the street like this? Look here, Wellyn!
[They all scrutinize TIMSON.]
WELLWYN. It's only the old fellow whose reform you were discussing.
HOXTON. How did he come here?
CONSTABLE. Drunk, sir. [Ascertaining TIMSON to be in the street.]
Just off the premises, by good luck. Come along, father.
TIMSON. [a.s.sisted to his feet-drowsily.] Cert'nly, by no means; take my arm.
[They move from the doorway. HOXTON and CALWAY re-enter, and go towards the fire.]
ANN. [Entering from the house.] What's happened?
CALWAY. Might we have a brush?
HOXTON. [Testily.] Let it dry!
[He moves to the fire and stands before it. PROFESSOR CALWAY following stands a little behind him. ANN returning begins to brush the PROFESSOR's sleeve.]
WELLWYN. [Turning from the door, where he has stood looking after the receding TIMSON.] Poor old Timson!
FERRAND. [Softly.] Must be philosopher, Monsieur! They will but run him in a little.
[From the model's room MRS. MEGAN has come out, shepherded by CANON BERTLEY.]
BERTLEY. Let's see, your Christian name is----.
MRS. MEGAN. Guinevere.
BERTLEY. Oh! Ah! Ah! Ann, take Gui--take our little friend into the study a minute: I am going to put her into service. We shall make a new woman of her, yet.
ANN. [Handing CANON BERTLEY the brush, and turning to MRS. MEGAN.]
Come on!
[She leads into the house, and MRS. MEGAN follows Stolidly.]
BERTLEY. [Brus.h.i.+ng CALWAY'S back.] Have you fallen?
CALWAY. Yes.
BERTLEY. Dear me! How was that?
HOXTON. That old ruffian drunk on the doorstep. Hope they'll give him a sharp dose! These rag-tags!
[He looks round, and his angry eyes light by chance on FERRAND.]
FERRAND. [With his eyes on HOXTON--softly.] Monsieur, something tells me it is time I took the road again.
WELLWYN. [Fumbling out a sovereign.] Take this, then!
FERRAND. [Refusing the coin.] Non, Monsieur. To abuse 'ospitality is not in my character.
BERTLEY. We must not despair of anyone.
HOXTON. Who talked of despairing? Treat him, as I say, and you'll see!
CALWAY. The interest of the State----
HOXTON. The interest of the individual citizen sir----
BERTLEY. Come! A little of both, a little of both!
[They resume their brus.h.i.+ng.]
FERRAND. You are now debarra.s.sed of us three, Monsieur. I leave you instead--these sirs. [He points.] 'Au revoir, Monsieur'!
[Motioning towards the fire.] 'Appy New Year!
[He slips quietly out. WELLWYN, turning, contemplates the three reformers. They are all now brus.h.i.+ng away, scratching each other's backs, and gravely hissing. As he approaches them, they speak with a certain unanimity.]
HOXTON. My theory----!
CALWAY. My theory----!
BERTLEY. My theory----!
