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It is frightfully injurious. Of course I'm excited now, and you see me at my best, but the alternating fits of hopeless despondency are shocking to witness and to endure!
SALOME.
Oh!
TARVER.
It's all that d.a.m.ned India! Oh! what have I said! You will never forgive me.
SALOME.
Indeed, indeed I will!
TARVER.
Never. Oh, Miss Jedd, my forgetfulness has brought me--one of my--terrible attacks--of depression!
SALOME.
Major Tarver!
[_She leads him to a chair into which he sinks in a ghastly state.
DARBEY strolls in from the Library with SHEBA._
DARBEY.
[_To SHEBA._] Your remarks about the army are extremely complimentary.
On behalf of the army I thank you. We fellows are not a bad sort, take us all round.
SHEBA.
There's a grand future before you, isn't there?
DARBEY.
Well, I suppose there is if I go on as I'm going now.
TARVER.
[_To SALOME._] Thanks, the attack has pa.s.sed. Now about to-night; at what time is the house entirely quiet?
SALOME.
Poor dear Papa goes round with Blore at half-past nine--after that all is rest and peacefulness.
TARVER.
Then if we're here with the closed carriage at ten--!
[_They go together into the library._
DARBEY.
[_To SHEBA._] Some of us army men can slave too. Tarver's queer livah has thrown all the arrangements for the Fancy Ball on my shoulders.
[_SALOME and TARVER re-enter._] Look at him--that's when he's enjoying life!
TARVER.
[_Laughing convulsively._] Ha! ha! ha! ho! he! he! Good, eh, Miss Jedd?
SALOME.
But suppose dear Papa should hear us crunching down the gravel path!
TARVER.
Oh!
[_He sinks on to the settee with a vacant stare, his arms hanging helplessly._
DARBEY.
[_To SHEBA._] There--now his career is a burden to him!
SHEBA.
Oh!
SALOME.
Would you like a gla.s.s of water, Major Tarver?
TARVER.
[_Taking SALOME'S hand._] Thank you, dear Miss Jedd, with the least suggestion of cayenne pepper in it.
SHEBA.
[_Looking out at window._] Oh, Salome! Papa! Papa!
TARVER.
The Dean?
DARBEY.
The Dean!
