A Fool's Paradise - BestLightNovel.com
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BEA. Then you are determined to leave us?
KATE. (_leaves can up R.C., and comes down C._) I can't tell you how sorry I am, but I mustn't stop here for ever. Mildred learnt all that I can teach her long ago; and if I stay much longer, I shall be the pupil. Since Mr. Verinder's arrival I have had several lessons in the English language as it is spoken at Eton, and I flatter myself I shall soon be able to "cackle" as well as if I wore a remarkably short jacket and remarkably tight inexpressibles.
BEA. You under-rate your accomplishments. _I_ don't think there is _much_ that Mildred could teach you.
KATE. (_grimaces behind her back_) Don't make me blush, my dear.
BEA. You make _me_ blush sometimes.
KATE. Then you ought to be extremely obliged to me, for nothing becomes you better. (_grimaces as before_) Mrs. Selwyn, we are now quite old friends. I cannot leave Ravenhurst without some little memento of our companions.h.i.+p--There are no horrid men about to hear us--Before I go, tell me (_dropping down near BEATRICE into an att.i.tude of mock earnestness_) oh, tell me---- (_behind sofa R. of BEATRICE_)
BEA. Well?
KATE. The secret of your complexion.
BEA. (_smiling_) It's a very simple one--a.r.s.enic.
KATE. (_rises_) a.r.s.enic! But that's a poison.
BEA. Yes, if you take too much of it; but if you take a little, it----
KATE. It what!
BEA. Improves the complexion.
KATE. Does it? Where do you get it?
BEA. From the chemist's, of course.
KATE. But will they sell it you?
BEA. Yes, if you're candid and confide in them. My love, if you want to look better than Nature intended you----
KATE. As, of course, I do----
BEA. Confide in your chemist. Make some ridiculous excuse--say that the family cat is in convulsions--and they will sell you nothing. They know it's absurd. Say that you want to improve your complexion, and they will sell you anything; they know it's the truth.
KATE. My dear Mrs. Selwyn--for this information much thanks. (_moves towards door, R.U.E._)
BEA. Where are you going?
KATE. To the chemist's.
_Enter LORD NORMANTOWER, R.U.D._
NOR. May I come in? (_comes well on stage, R.C._)
KATE. (_up C._) It seems to me you've come. (_between NORMANTOWER and BEATRICE_)
NOR. Yes; when I want to do anything particularly, I do it first and ask permission afterwards. It prevents disappointment, and it's so very easy to apologise.
BEA. In this case no apology is needed.
NOR. (_starting_) Mrs. Selwyn! excuse me for not seeing you. (_crosses down to BEATRICE, standing R. of sofa. KATE turns up and resumes watering plants, R.C._) How is Philip to-day?
BEA. I'm sorry to say my husband is not at all well this morning.
NOR. Old Lund seems to be making him worse instead of better.
BEA. Sir Peter has now been here a week, and Philip has grown worse every day.
NOR. I'm sure _I_ oughtn't to find fault with Lund; he's polished off nearly all my relations for me; but I'm not certain that I quite believe in the old boy. There's too much M.D.F.S.A. about him. I never knew a fool who hadn't half the alphabet at the end of his name.
(_turns away a few steps_)
KATE. (_demurely_) At _which_ end my Lord Edward, Arthur, Henry, Earl of Normantower? (_coming down to R. of NORMANTOWER, R.C., can in hand. BEATRICE rises and goes to fire L., taking book with her_)
NOR. Now, that's too bad of you, Miss Derwent. It's not my fault that I've enough names to christen the family of a curate.
KATE. Let this be a lesson to you. Don't throw stones at a friend of mine! (_goes up to opening R.C._)
NOR. Mine was a very little stone; yours was half a brick. (_KATE continues watering the plants_)
PHIL. (_off, L._) Beatrice!
BEA. My husband! I must leave Miss Derwent to console you. She won't have many more opportunities. (_goes up L._)
PHIL. Beatrice!
BEA. Yes, dear! I'm coming! (_exit L.D._)
NOR. Not many more opportunities? What does she mean? (_standing puzzled C.--turning his head to KATE_)
KATE. (_in conservatory_) Mrs. Selwyn means that I am leaving Ravenhurst.
NOR. You're going away! (_goes up to KATE_)
KATE. This afternoon. (R.) } } _of opening, R.C._) NOR. For good? (L.) }
KATE. For Mrs. Selwyn's good.
NOR. You don't mean to say she's given you notice.
KATE. (_comes down R.C., as far as piano_) Mrs. Selwyn is too amiable to give anybody notice; but when she wants to get rid of them, in the most charming manner in the world, she makes them so exceedingly uncomfortable that they give notice themselves.
NOR. (_comes down L. of her_) But she can't possibly want to get rid of _you?_
KATE. Why not?
NOR. We're all in love with _you._