vf WIFE WIT7IO0U Tj 4f SMIL E THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO Paper cover, is. 6d.; cloth, 2S. 6d. each THE TIMES THE PROFLIGA TE THE CABINET MINIS TER THE HOBBY-HORSE LADY BOUNTIFUL THE MA GISTRA TE DANDY DICK S WEE T LA VENDER THE SCHOOLMISTRESS THE WEAKER SEX THIlE AMAZONS * THE SECOND MRS. TA4NQUERA Y THE NOTORIOUS MIRS. EBBSMITH THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT THE PRINCESS AND THE BUTTERFLY TRELA WNY OF THE " WELLS" t THE GA Y LORD QUEX IRIS LETTY A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE * This Play can be had in Library form, 4to, cloth With a Portrait, 5s. SA Limited Edition of this Play on Handmade Paper, with a New Portrait, ios. net THE PINERO BIRTHDAY BOOK SELECTED AND ARRANGED BY MYRA HAMILTON With a Portrait, cloth extra, price 2s. 6d. LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN a[ WIFE WITHOUT af S MILE A COMEDY IN DISGUISE In Three Acts By ARTHUR W. PLVERO LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN MCMV Copyright, Februaiy 190o All rights reserved Entered at Stationers' Hall Entered at the Library of Congress 11ashingtcnr, U.S. /1. TH8 R82(9ONS OF T7H6 PLAYr SEYMOUR RiPPINGILL. HAYNES WEBBMARSH. VIVIAN TilooD. JOHN PULLINGER. FOLEY. MRS. BIPPINGILL. MRS. WEBBMARSHI. MRS. LOVETTE. BATES. Scen~e-the Boat -house in the grounds of Mr. Rippingill's residence at Taplow. Time- a week-end in July. This play was produced in London at Wyndham's Theatre on Wednesday, October 12, 1904, and in New York at the Lyceum Theatre on Wednesday, December 21, 1904. All applications respecting amateur performances of this play must be made to Mr. Pinero's agents, SAMUEL FRENCH Limited, 26 Southampton Street, Strand, London, W.C. ADVERTISEMENT As it is quite uncertain at what point, if at any, the interest of this piece commences, the audience is respectfully requested to be seated at the rise of the curtain. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE THE FIRST ACT The scene is a room in a " boat-house " belonging to a villa at Taplow. On the left is a double-door. When this door is open a dwarf wall is seen,forming the embankment of the garden and running in a direct line away from the spectator into the distance. On the extreme left, parallel with this wall, is the opposite side of the river. The garden is represented as being some eighteen feet above the river level, and that part of the embankment-wall nearest to the audience is supposed to end in a flight of steps leading down to the actual boat-house and the river-bank. At the back of the room there is a deep bay-window with cushioned seats; and on the right is an archway admitting to a hall of moderate size, in which, opening from extensive grounds, is another door. The walls and ceiling of the room are of polished wood, the ceiling being supported by beams. A A 2 A WIFE TPITHOUT A SMILE cottage piano and a music-stool stand on the right of the bay-window. Also on the right are an armchair, a small table, and a settee; and, against the wall, a sideboard and a slmokiJng-table. S.ome dishes of fruit and the remains of the more substantial items of a morning meal are on the sideboard, and on the smoking-table are boxes of cigarettes and cigars, an array of pipes, a matchstand, and a jar of tobacco. On the left, laid for breakfast, is a large oval table at which a settee and three chairs supply seats for five persons; and further to the left, against the wall, is a writingtable. Other articles of furniture, of a light kind, occupy spaces not provided for in this description. A telephone is attached to the wall at the back, on the right. The window-seat is strewn with newspapers and magazines. Iead-gear in great variety hangs on a hat-stand in the hall. Just outside the hall-door a garden-ladder rests against a verandah which surrounds the house. Creepers cling to the verandah. The window and the hall-door are open and the sun is shining brilliantly. [NOTE:-" Right " and " Left," unless expressly stated to be the right or left of a personage in the play, are the spectators' right and left, not the actor's.] [Avis (MRS. RIPPINGILL), CHRISTABEL (MRS. WEBBMARSH), HAYNES WEBBMARSH, SEY A WIFE WITHOUT A SM[L 3 3 MOUR RIPPINGILL, and Mns. LOVETTE are seated at the table on the left, fnishing breakfhst. Avis is at the head (f the table, facing the spectator; CR111IsTABEL aOnd IIPPINGILL are on her right, WEBBMARtSII adl MRs. LOVETTE On her le/. /The ladies are in dainty saummer gowins, the men injflannels. FOLEY, a man-scrvant, is busying himself at the sideboard; presently, carring ca tray laden with breakfast-things, he withdraws, passing through the hall and disappearing into the garden. RIPPINGILL is at the end of ca fanny story and everybody is more or less amused except Avis, whose face wears an expression of settled melancholy. RIPPINGILL. [A volatile, yet precise, little gentleman of forty-four.] Ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! his. LOVETTE. [A handsome woman of uncertain age, bright and prepossessing.] Ha, ha, ha, ha! Nonsense! it couldn't have happened; it's impossible. RIPPINGTLL. Pardon me; many things are improbable, nothing is impossible. 4 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE CHRISTABEL. [A sparkling brunette, two or three years senior to Avis.] What did the man do? RIPPINGILL. Apologised profusely. What could he do? WEBBMARSH. [Five-and-thirty, tall, lean, curly-headed, moustached.] And she-the lady--? RIPPINGILL, Fled downstairs and jumped into a passing hansom. I won't answer another question. Ha, ha-ha--! [His laughter flickers out, extinguished by Avis's silence, and he exchanges glances with MRS. LOVETTE and shrugs Uis shoulders. WEBBMARSH. Congratulate you, Seymour. Quite up to highwater mark. CHRISTABEL. [To RIPPINGILL.] Your stock is inexhaustible; and you are such a wonderful mimic. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 5 MRs. LOVETTE. [To Avis.] You don't hear this to-day for the first time, that is evident, Mrs. Rippingill. Avis. [A pretty, child-like young woman of three-andtwenty, with an abundance of fair hair, turning doleful eyes upon MRS. LOVETTE.] Yes, I've not heard it before. MRS. LOVETTE. Really! RIPPINGILL. [Wiping his brow.] Phew! [To CHRISTABEL.] More strawberries f CHRISTABEL. No, thanks. RIPPINGILL. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Dora? I insist. MRS. LOVETTE. Three or four. They're delicious. RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] My own growing. [In a whisper, as he takes her plate.] Now! your tale of old Lady Whitstable and the pickled salmon! try it! 6 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE M RS. LuVETTE. [Also in a whisper.] I can't. She paralyses me. RIPPINGILL. For my sake, dear friend. It's irresistible. [Aloud, moving to the sideboard.] I am begging Mrs. Lovette to give us her story of a supper-party at old Lady Whitstable's. WEBBMARSH. Ah! capital. [RIPPINGILL, standing at the sideboard, watches Avis eagerly. He spoons strawberries on to MRS. LOVETTE'S plate, letting some of them fall to the floor. CIRISTABEL. Old Lady Whitstable-she is still alive, isn't she? MRS. LOVETTE. Alive! I was playing Bridge with her for an hour yesterday. She's only eighty-seven. WEBBMARSII. Only! MRS. LOVETTE. Oh, a widow may live to any age, when she's properly provided for. I intend to do so, frarkly, A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 7 CHRISTABEL. You hear that, Haynes? I hope you are insuring your life heavily. WVEBBMARSH, Not I. A literary gent is entitled to die without a farthing, CHRISTABEL, Heartless I WEBBMARSH. What about widowers, Mrs. Lovette? Mas. LOVETTE. They generally shorten tbeir livcs by remarrying. WEBBMARSH. Merci. I'll remember your warn'ing. CHRISTABEL. [Holding out her hand locingly.] Haynes, don't chaff. I can't bear it. WEBBMARLSH. [Pressing her hand.] Forgive me, Cliristabel. RIPPINGILL. [Ihpatiently.] Yes, yes, ycs-but Lady Whitstable's supper-party-- S A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RS. LOVETTE. Well, the incident arose out of a little supper at her house in Onslow Gardens RIPPINGILL. Ha, ha! ho, ho! This is exquisite. Listen, Avis. MRS. LOVETTE. The function took place in her bedroom; they can't move her, you knowAvis. [Rousing herself.] Talking of bedrooms, I've forgotten to ask if you were comfortable in yours last night, Mrs. Lovette. RIPPINGILL. [Dropping strawberries.] Tscht, tscht, tscht! MRs. LOVETTE. [Chilled.] Oh-oh, most comfortable. Avis. Some people loathe a strange bed. RIPPIN GILL. [Advancing, the plate of strawberries in his hand.] A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 9 Avis, Avis-Lady Whitstable and the pickled salmon. Now, consider for a moment, my pet-reflect. What a grotesque contrast! A fine, crusted specimen of our English aristocracy and-pickled fish! The mere contemplation of two images so violently opposed in itself makes for mirth. Doesn't it, dearest? Avis. [Meekly.] I suppose it does, Seymour. RIPPINGILL. Suppose! How obvious! [In MRS. LOVETTE'S ear, as he places the strawberries before her.] Go ahead. MRS. LOVETTE. Well, on this particular occasionRIPPINGILL. Ha, ha, ha! MRS. LOVETTE. [To RIPPINGILL.] Be quiet! [Resuming.] On thison this particular-on this-[Breaking down under Avis's pensive gaze.] Oh, gracious! RIPPINGILL. Hey? What's wrong? Io A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRs. LOVETTE. [Weakly.] I-I've been put off it. RIPPINGILL. No, no! WEBBMARSH and CHRISTABEL. Please [There is a knock at the door on the left. RIPPINGILL. [Raising his voice,] Who's there? MRS. LOVETTE, [To RIPPINGILL, as the others turn their heads towards the door.] Incurable! [The door opens and VIVIAN TROOD presents himself, his blazer on his arm, his shirtsleeves rolled back to his elbows. He is a good-looking, boyish young man of sixý and-wenty, lofty and supercilious in manner. TROOD. Morning. Am I in the way? RIPPINGILL. In the way! [Pointing to the breakfast-table,] We kept a vacant place for you on the chance--- A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE II TIOOD. [Putting on his jacket.] Sorry. [Shaking hands with Avis and CHRISTABEL.] Morning. [Nodding to WEBBMARSTI.] How d'ye do? WEBBMARSH. How are you? RIPPINGILL. [To MRS. LOVETTE, who is eating her strawberries.] Let me introduce my young friend Mr. Trood-Mrs. Lovette. MRS. LOVETTE. Delighted. RIPPINGILL. One of our rising artists. MRS. LOVETTE, But not an early rising artist, eh? RIPPINGILL. Ha, ha, ha! Good! You missed that, Avis, Avis. [Dully.] Missed what, Seymour? 12 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. H'm-never mind. [Going to the smoking-table.] Pipes! WEBBMARSIH. [To Avis.] May I--? Avis. Of course. WEBBMARSH. [Joining RIPPINGILL and filling his pipe from the tobacco-jar.] " Sublime tobacco! which from east to west, Cheers the tar's labour or the Turkman's rest." Byron. RIPPINGILL. " Whose spreading evil we-ah-we must learn to smother, Or stunt the school-boy and unsex his mother." Rippingill! Ha, ha, ha,! MRS. LOVETTE. The readiness of the creature! THE WEBBMARSHES. Admirable! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 13 TROOD. [Seating himself in the arm-chair.] I dropped in to inquire what the arrangements are for this morning -whether I may be allowed to share in them. RIPPINGILL, Your fate is in the hands of the ladies: I have to be busy with my head-gardener until lunch. [Ofering him a box of cigarettes.] Ismalun's? TROOD. [Producing his cigarette-case.] Thanks; I prefer my own. [To Avis.] I say, Mrs. Rippingill! I've done the deed. Avis. The deed? TROOD. Taken on my cottage at Cookharn for August. RIPPINGILL. [Advancing to the settee on the right.] Bravo! CHRISTABEL. The sweet little nest I was so envious over yesterday! 14 A WIFE WIITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. They've stuck you pretty considerably? TROOD. Frightful. RIPPINGILL. [Lighting his pipe.] Pish! you'll be inspired to paint a picture that will make your fortune. Corot, and that sort of caper, what? TRooD. Oh, I'm full of ideas. Avis. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Shall we move? MRS. LOVETTE. Certainly. [Avis and CHRISTABEL retire to the bay-window, where WEBBMARSH, emitting clouds of tobacco-smoke, is already ensconced. MRs. LOVETTE remains at the table for a few moments, brushing crumbs from her dress and otherwise putting herself in order. RIPPINGILL. Now, I've a notion for the composition of a land A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 15 scape. Ha, ha! the presumptuous amateur! It flashed across me after our recent discussion on Symbolism in ArtTaooo. [Rising.] Yes, but we won't keep the ladies hanging about. RIPPINGILL. You're right; another time-- [TROOD joins the group at the window. MRs. LOVETTE is leaving the table. RIPPINGILL. [Under his breath.] Dora? MRS. LOVETTE. Eh? RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] Sssh! [Drawing her towards the right.] I confess to being grievously disappointed at the failure of your inimitable description of Lady Whitstable and the pickled salmon. I had set my hopes upon it, in a great measure. MRS. LOVETTE. Failure! You can't say the beastly thing failed; it never made a start. 16 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. True. MRS. LOVETTE. I didn't catch the salmon, much less pickle it. RIPPINGILL. Perhaps later in the day MRS. LOVETTE. Not for worlds. She freezes my spine, that glum little wife of yours. RIPPINGILL. You see my letters have not overstated the case, Dora. It is a decided defect in her disposition? MRS. LOVETTE. Appalling. To-morrow is Sunday, too! I feel inclined to take the first train back to town. RIPPINGILL. In mercy, don't! You heard me tell young Trood, as an excuse for my remaining at home this morning, that I am engaged with Phillips, the gardener? MRS. LOVETTE. Yes. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 17 RIPPINGILL. [Chuckling.] Ha, ha! you're Phillips. [Seriously.] It will be such a relief to me, dear old friend, to unburden myself to you viva voce. MRs. LOVETTE. But what excuse can I make for shirking these girls? RIPPINGILL. Oh, I leave that to you. You were a girl once. MRS. LOVETTE. Seymour! RIPPINGILL. I beg your pardon. What I mean is that two young women of-er-much the same age are always ready to forego the privilege of the society of one who is a great deal-that is, a few yearsMRS. LOVETTE. You'd better stop; you're getting deeper and deeper. [FOLEY, the man-servant, and BATES, a parlourmaid, have entered from the garden, the former carrying a large, light, wooden box, corded and labelled. B 18 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE FOLEY. [Showing the box to RIPPINGILL.] A porter has brought this from the station, sir. It's marked " urgent." [RIPPINGILL, having glanced at the label, hurriedly takes the box from the man. RIPPINGILL. Thank you, Foley; thank you. [To Mus. LOVETTE.] Cover me; spread yourself out. [She places herself between him and the group at the window while he goes down upon his knees and secretes the box under the settee. FOLEY joins BATES, who has a tray in her hand, and assists her to clear the breakfasttable. MRS. LOVETTE. [To RIPPINGILL.] What on earth have you there? What are you concealing? RIPPINGILL, Toys. MRS. LOVETTF. Toys! RIPPINGILL, Of a purely diverting character. Ordered 'em from A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 19 Hamley's yesterday-gave the firm carte-blanche-this season's novelties. [Getting to his feet.] Are you familiar with the Dying Pig? MRS. LOVETTE. I've not that pleasure. RIPPINGILL. [Beaming.] It's irresistible. MRS. LOVETTE. They are to be a surprise for your wife? RIPPINGILL. [ With a nod of assent.] I shall distribute them about the room during her absence. [Wiping his brow again.] I want them to burst upon her. MRS. LOVETTE, [Dubiously.] You fancy they may cause those stony features of hers to relax? SIPPINGILIT. Ouf! I'm determined to leave no stone unturnednot even stony features. [Tickled at hisjoke.] Ha, hq, ha [The group at tFe window breaks up.] Qu;ck 20 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE [Passing her across to the settee.] Sit down. [Pointing to the box.] Put your feet in front of it. MRS. LOVETTE. It's so enormous. RIPPINGILL. [Thoughtlessly.] Yes, but your feet will hide it. MRS. LOVETTE. [Sitting.] Well, I'm sure! RIPPINGILL. I beg your pardon. What I meant was- [to Avis, who now approaches followed by the WEBBMARSHES.] My pet? Avis. Mr. and Mrs. Webbmarsh won't go on the river this morning, 'Seymour. Mr. Webbmarsh has some reviewing to do. [To WEBBMARSH.] I'll run upstairs and make sure that your table is in order. W EBBMARSH. Pray don't trouble [Avis disappears, entering the hall and turning sharp round to her right. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 21 MRS. LOVETTE. [Interested.] Reviewing? RIPPINGILL. [Slyly.] Reviewing? WEBBMARSH. Yes, I must plough through the second volume of the "Life of Disraeli" before dinner, somehow or other. RIPPINGILL. And-ah-ahem!-Mrs. Webbmarsh? WEBBMARSH. [Constrainedly.] Oh-ah-Christabel- I dictate notes to Christabel as I read. That's the process. RIPPINGILL. Ha, ha, ha! Oh, that's the process, is it? Ho, ho! MRS. LOVETTE. Now what is the man laughing at? 22 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. [To CHRISTABEL.] Shall I tell tales, Mrs. Christabel? CHRISTABEL. I don't care a rap. You're thinking of yesterdayRIPPINGILL. [To MIs. LOVETTE.] I've placed the room above this at Mr. Webbmarsh's disposal, Dora--for his reviewing. Ha, ha, ha! And yesterday, having occasion to speak a word to the reviewer, I-ho, ho!-no, it isn't fair of me-- CHRISTABEL. I'll supply the sequel. Mr. Rippingill found me sitting beside Haynes on the sofa, my head resting on his shoulder. RIPPINGILL. Volume One upon the floor-discreetly, face downward. The process of reviewing! MRS. LOVETTE. Mr. and Mrs. Webbmarsh may have been reviewing the events of their courtship. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 23 CHRISTABEL. Extremely nice of you, Mrs. Lovette. MRS. LOVETTE. I gather that, like our host and hostess, you are newly-married people. CHRISTABEL. [Slipping her arm through WEBBMARSH'S.] We've scarcely yet realised that we are married, have we, Haynes dear? WEBBMARSH. [Annoyed.] At any rate, my day is to be devoted to work, and my wife promises me her sympathetic assistance. [To CHRISTABEL, stify.] We will make a start, Christabel. CHRISTABELT Au'voir, till lunch! [WEBBMARSIH and CHRISTABEL withdraw, in the direction taken by Avis. IlPPINGILL whistles softly. MRS. LOVETTE. Too bad of you, Seymour! 24 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. [Lowering his voice.] H'm! sad. Upon my soul, my imagination fails to conceive a more deplorable spectacle than that 'of a man incapable of enjoying a laugh against himself. MRS. LOVETTE. The difficulty lies in persuading the live lobster that the boiling process is dignified and entertaining. RIPPINGILL. But Webbmarsh! who used to have the keenest appreciation of fun! A couple of months ago he would have roared at my harmless banter. MRS. LOVETTE. Two months ago? RtIPPINGILL. When we were lobsters-bachelors. Now it's nothing but bill and coo, bill and coo, from morn till eve. [Moving over to the left as Avis re-enters and returns to MRS. LOVETTE.] Ha, ha, ha! His critique in the Bi-weekly should be a gem! [Wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.] The process of reviewing! [By this time the servants have cleared the table A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 25 and sideboard and have departed, carrying the rest of the breakfast-things on trays. TROOD, who has remained at the window reading a newspaper, now approaches Avis. TROOD. I hope Mrs. Lovette is coming with us, Mrs. Rippingill. Avis. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Mr. Trood proposes to take us up to Marlow, Mrs. Lovette. MRS. LOVETTE. Exceedingly kind of Mr. Trood, but I'd rather you all went your own ways and left me to potter about here alone. RIPPINGILL. [Hypocritically.] My dear Dora! MRS. LOVETTE. I'm a tired town-woman, recollect-stale as old shoes. Avis. "Oh, it shall be exactly as you wish, naturally. 26 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE TROOD. Dreadfully grieved. [lie goes out at the door on the left, leaving the door open. Avis. [To RIPPINGILL.] Seymour, you will-? RIPPINGILL. Can't, my pet; most important letter to write. Avis. Why, a little while ago it was the gardenerRIPPINGILL. [Hastily.] Yes, yes-I'm writing to the gardener. Avis. Writing to the gardener! RIPPINGILL. [Smiling fatuously.] It does sound singular-but it isi't. I can't stand the heat of the sun. That's the simple fact-I cannot stand the sun. Avis. But Phillips could,ee you up at the house, or here, A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 27 RIPPINGILL. [In dificulties.] My dear Avis, it may be an oldfashioned prejudice on my part; but, ever since I have been in a position to employ a gardener, it has been a settled conviction with me that-er-his appropriate place is in the garden. Avis. [Gloomily.] As you please. I have to give some orders to the cook; tell Mr. Trood he must wait five minutes for me. RIPPINGILL. I will, dearest. [8She takes a hat from the stand and goes. RIPPINGILL bustles away and calls to TROOD from over the dwarf wall. RIPPINGILL. Mrs. Rippingill has gone up to the house to attend to some domestic duties. She'll be with you shortly. TROOD. [From below.] All right. KIPPINGILL comes back into the room. MRs. LOVETTE, who has accompanied Avis to the hall-door, faces him, laughing. 28 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Eh? MRS. LOVETTE. Seymour, you're a beautiful story-teller; but, oh, what a contemptible hand at a fib! RIPPINGILL. Ha, ha, ha! [Gallantly.] I ought to be able to return the compliment, but I can't. MRS. LOVETTE. [Fanning herself with a fan which she carries.] Well, I never! RIPPINGILL. I beg your pardon. [Seating himself in a chair on the left and rubbing his head.] The truth is, Dora, I sometimes find my wife's baby face and round eyes a trifle discomposing. MRS. LOVETTE. [ Thoughtfully.] SeymourRIPPINGILL. [Catching her mood.] Dear friend? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 29 Mas. LOVETTE. Your first wife was possessed of no sense of humour, either, was she? RIPPINGILL. [After a pause.] Not in the faintest degree. MRS. LOVETTE. What an odd fatality! RIPPINGILL. [Staring before him.] It is-rummy. MRs. LOVETTE. That it should befall you, of all persons! RIPPINGILL. Precisely! I who managed to preserve, throughout twenty years of servitude in a Government office, what I claim may be fairly described as an almost abnormal perception of the ludicrous! MRs. LOVETTE. [Laying her fan upon his shoulder.] However, taking one thing with another, you haven't much to complain of. 30 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. [Jumping up.] Complain of! [Soberly.] Ahem! On the contrary, apart from my-ahem!-my-erMRS. LOVETTE. It was unfeeling of me to remind you of it. RIPPINGILL. [With a wave of the hand.] My unfortunate maiden matrimonial venture, I regard myself as the luckiest devil in existence. Why, only think! Just as I was becoming sick to death of the office; just as my remarkable sense of humour was perhaps beginning to show signs of wear and tearMRS. LOVETTE. [Looking out of the window.] You drop in for all this! RIPPINGILL. Delightful, hey? [ Walking away to the right.] This boat-house was my uncle Horace's last addition to the property. [Sitting on the settee.] Poor old Horace! [Taking his pipe from his pocket.] Bless me, how fond the old chap would have been of Avis! I o.wao totally destitute of humour also, A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 31 MRS. LOVETTE. [Turning from the window abruptly.] Seymour, what passes my comprehension is that the child's lamentable deficiency didn't dawn on you sooner. Not that it would have made any differenceRIPPINGILL. [Discovering that his pipe still contains some tobacco, and relighting it.] My dear Dora, our engagement followed a particularly superficial knowledge of each other's idiosyncrasies. MRS. LOVETTE. But during your engagement! RIPPINGILL. Experience teaches me that that period is often marked by a suspension of the faculty of observation. Added to which, it was as brief as our previous acquaintance. My wife's aunt-Avis's sole living relative, an aged lady with rheumatic tendenciesearnestly desired to see her niece happily settled ip life before she--- MRs. LOVETTBt [Sympathetically.] I understand, 32 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Before she went to Bath. MRS. LOVETTE. Oh! RIPPINGILL. [With a puzzled air.] The whole business was-I don't use the word in its vulgar significance-stunning. It seems to me, looking back on the affair, that the moment I had proposed, my tailor was measuring me for my wedding garments; and that immediately after that I was wearing 'em, in the presence of the Registrar. [Seeing TROOD saunter past the door on the left.] Ah! young Trood! MRS. LOVETTE. What about him? RIPPINGILL. I wonder if he could enlighten us. MRS. LOVETTE. Enlighten us-? RIPPINGILL. As to whether Avis has ever manifested the cheerfulness characteristic of youth, A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 33 MRs. LOVETTT. Why should he--? RIPPINGILL. He knew her before I did. [Rising.] He and some of his brother art-students were lodgers in the boarding-house where I first met her. MRS. LOVETTE. If it were done delicatelyRIPPINGILL. It might be instructive. [TROOD appears outside the window; RIPPINGILL goes to the window and hails him.] My dear fellow, I caution you-that creeper swarms with insects. [To MRS. LOVETTE, indicating that TROOD is about to join them.] You open the ball; I'll cut in. [TROOD enters.] MRS. LOVETTE. Mr. Trood, do come to my assistance. Mr. Rippingill and I are indulging in quite a hot argument. TROOD. Indeed? MRS. LOVETTE. He dares to maintain that the sense of humour is more acute in men than in women. RIPPINGILL. [Behind the table on the left.] I was instancing my c 34 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE charming wife-perfect-absolutely perfect, if I may say so, in all other respectsMRS. LOVETTE. Distinctly unfair! I should like to have the evidence of somebody who knew her before she was threatened with the responsibilities of marriage. RIPPINGILL. Should you? Ha, ha! I refer you to our young friend there. MRS. LOVETTE. [Sitting at the table on the left, RIPPINGILL at her elbow.] Ah! Now, Mr. Trood! TROOD. [Advancing.] I! my dear lady, don't ask me to settle the point. MRS. LOVETTE. I do, deliberately. You anid Mrs. Rippingill were acquainted before she met her husband. TROOD. I don't deny that. But in the days when Mrs. Rippingill and T-Miss Me;klejohn she was therMRs. LUVETTE. Yes? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 35 TROOD. In the days when Miss Meiklejohn and I were residing at Mrs. Culross's in Westbourne Terrace, I and my companions were struggling to find a fitting formula for the expression of our artistic ideals. MRS. LOVETTE. I see-which was no laughing matter. TROOD. We were hesitating-I trust I am not too technical -we were hesitating between Realism on the one hand and Impressionism on the other. [Seating himself in the arm-chair.] Men in that condition of mind need sympathy, not fun and frolic. MRS. LOVETTE. And that you got from Miss Meiklejohn? TROOD. [Assentingly.] We made that young lady the recipient of our confidences. Our custom was, I remember, to assemble upon the landing before dressing for dinner. MRs. LOVETTE. The landing? 36 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE TROOD. The second-floor landing. [Shutting his eyes.] I have only to close my eyes to recapture the effect of the evening light streaming through the coloured window. It was the curious play of that light upon the seated figure of Miss Meiklejohn which led to our giving her the name that afterwards clung to her at Mother Culross's. MRS. LOVETTE. The name-? TROOD Avis of the Shimmering Hair. MRS. LOVETTE. Shimmering--? RIPPINGILL. [Coming forward, his handkerchief to his mouth.] Shimmering--? TROOD. Hair. Its tone has become somewhat duller, if I may be permitted the remark, than it was in Westbourne Terrace. [Drearily.] But may not the same comment be applied generally to life! RIPPINGILL. [Unable to restrain his laughter.] Ha, ha, ha, ha! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 37 TROOD. [Coldly.] I beg your pardon? RIPPINGILL. Avis of the Shimmering Hair! The setting sun touched with his magic brush the luxuriant coil at the back of the shapely head, I suspect, hey? TROOD. Certainly. It was the consciousness of the supreme difficulty of seizing it-grasping it-- MRS. LOVETTE. The-er-? TROOD. The shimmer-the difficulty of transferring it to the canvas, that nearly drove us artists to despair. MRS. LOVETTE. And you and your friends-which school did you favour in the end? Impressionism or Realism? TROOD. Impressionism. But I think that some of us are gradually drifting towards Realism. 38 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. Ah! you are learning to draw a little, I suppose. TROOD. Yes-no-that is-- RIPPINGILL. [Hearing footsteps in the garden.] Behold! the lady of the Shimmering--! TROOD. [Rising hastily--to MRS. LOVETTE.] Excuse me. [Avis is seen to pass, first the window, then the open door on the left. RIPPINGILL. [To TROOD.] Lunch at half-past one, as usual. You'll join us? TROOD. Thanks; probably. [He goes out at the door on the left and disappears.] RIPPINGILL. [Following him.] You'll have a perfectly delightful morning. [Calling to Avis.] Oughtn't you to take a wrap, my pet? No? There, I won't worry you. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 39 [Returning and closing the door.] Ha, ha! Most attractive young fellow-Trood, but really I begin to doubt if his sense of humour is worth a twopenny ticket. Isn't it astounding! [Hurrying across to the right and withdrawing the box from under the settee.] Now! [Depositing the box upon the smaller table and cutting the cord with his pocket-knife.] Ho, ho! Avis of the Shimmering Hair! The first I've heard of. that. [Attempting to force the lid oj the box with his fingers.] Poor girl! Her association with those self-absorbed youths in Westbourne Terrace was enough to crush the spirit of a six-weeks-old kitten. MRs. LOVETTE. [Standing, watching him-pointing to a pair of champagne-nippers which she espies upon the sideboard.] Those champagne-nippers-? RIPPI;GILL. Excellent. [Applying the nippers to the box.] Dear friend, I own I am extremely sanguine as to the effect of these droll playthings. Heavens, I hope they include the Wriggling Snake! The-Wriggling-Snake-is irresistible. [The lid opens with ajerk.] Hah! a splendid assortment apparently. Hamley, I thank thee! Ha, ha, hLa! do look at these! [Handing some grotesque dolls to Mus. LOVErIE, after having divested them of their paper wrappers.] You'll assist me? 40 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. Where shall I put them? RIPPINGILL. On the top of the piano. [He comes upon an elongated air-ball, inflates it, and follows it as it flutters away from him.] The Flying Sausage! [They visit the box in turn and, laughing at each object as it is disclosed, move rapidly about the room, placing the toys upon the various articles of furniture.] MRS. LOVETTE. [Taking a doll from the box.] The Gollywog. Ha, ha! RIPPINGILL. [Taking out another doll.] Sunny Jim. Ha, ha, ha! MRS. LOVETTE. [Examining the presentment of an eminent politician.] Who's this? RIPPINGILL. [Diving into the box.] Yes! No. Yes! The Dying Pig! Eureka! [Discovering a small cardboard box and giving it to MRS. LOVETTE.] What have we here? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 41 [Rummaging again.] I can find no Snake. Gross neglect-culpable neglect. MRs. LOVETTE. [Opening the cardboard box and producing a small, heart-shaped board which has two wheels attached to its broadest part anda pieceof lead-pencil at its pointed end.] Planchette. RIPPINGILL. Planchette? There's nothing laughable in that. MRS. LOVETTE. [Evincing a certain familiarity with the apparatus.] Laughable, no! RIPPINGILL. Why do they send such trash and omit the Wriggling Serpent? Dora[She lays the Planchette upon the oval table and they continue arranging the toys until the room has the appearance of a toy-shop. In the end, MRS. LOVETTE sinks upon the window-seat breathlessly, while RIPPINGILL stands in the middle of the room surveying the result of their labours. MRS. LOVETTE and RIPPINGILL. Ah-h-h! 42 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. Superb! RIPPINGILL. [Pacing the apartment.] Dear friend, I repeat, I rest great hopes upon this display. [With conviction.] This is irresistible. [WEBBMARSH and CHRISTABEL appear in the hall. RIPPINGILL. Hallo! WEBBMARSH. [Taking a hat from the stand.] Hallo! RIPPINGILL. Knocked off work, you two? WEBBMARSIH. We are going for a short stroll. [Coming into the room.] The atmosphere has become rather oppressive upstairs. [Staring at the toys.] My dear Seymour! RIPPINGILL. [Winking at MRS. LOVETTE.] Ah, you are looking at my dolls. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 43 CHRISTABEL. [ Who also has taken a hat from the stand, joining her husband.] Oh! RIPPINGILL. [Blandly.] Nice lot, aren't they? This is my day for them. WEBBMARSH. Your day-? RIPPINGILL. Yes, I have them out and play with them once a month regularly. CHRISTABEL. Mr. Rippingill! RIPPINGILL. A boyish practice-can't shake it off. You'd scarcely credit how I yearned for them while I was on my honeymoon. CHRISTABEL. [Aghast.] Haynes! WEBBMARSH. [Nettled.] Hush! don't be apprehensive for our friend's sanity, Christabel. I imagine this to be 44 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE another of his irrepressible jocosities. [Ironically.] Ha, ha! Are you ready? CHRISTABEL. Ha, ha, ha! Quite. [With their heads in the air, they turn away and disappear into the garden. The sky becomes overcast and the light in the room diminishes. MRS. LOVETTE. [Rising.] You've put your foot in it again, Seymour. RIPPINGILL. [In renewed astonishment.] Whew! Webbmarsh! [Suddenly.] By Jove! MRS. LOVETTE. Eh? RIPPINGILL. The coast is clear! MRS. LOVETTE. Clear-for what? RIPPINGILL. Wait a minute! [He runs out at the hall-door and returns imme A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 45 diately carrying the gardener's ladder. This he proceeds to plant against one of the beams of the ceiling. MRS. LOVETTE. Seymour? RIPPINGILL. I couldn't have desired a more favourable opportunity. [HIle mounts the ladder nimbly and fumbles for something behind the beam. MRS. LOVETTE. [Standing at the foot of the ladder.] Explain, or I upset the ladder! RIPPINGILL. [Gleefully.] Spare me! spare me! MRS. LOVETTE. [Shaking the ladder.] I won't! [He descends a rung or two, holding the end of a thin cord which passes through the ceiling. RIPPINGILL. [Showing her the cord.] A piece of cord. 46 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE, So I perceive. RIPPINGILL. Dear friend, the other end of this is attached to the bottom of the sofa. MRS. LOVETTE. Sofa-? "RIPPINGILL. The sofa upon which the reviewer and his amanuensis sit and caress. It stands here-above my headMRS. LOVETTE. Well? RIPPINGILL. [Pointing to a doll.] A doll. [She hands him the doll, and he suspends it by the cord.] Dora, the episode of yesterday was no exceptional proceeding, I've observed 'em from the garden; Webbmarsh's eyes are seldom, if ever, upon his book. He squanders the flying hours-hours which he owes to the cause of literature-in spooning. I apologize for the expression-spooning. [Sliding down the ladder.] Ha, ha! [Contemplating the suspended doll.] You follow my theory? I evolved it in the middle of the night. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 47 Mas. LOVETTE. The doll should respond-? RIPPINGILL. [Nodding.] Even a kiss, the gentlest pressure of the hand, should produce a shiver. [Shouldering the ladder.] This must amuse Avis, hey? MRS. LOVETTE. Whoever is amused, it assuredly won't be Mr. and Mrs. Webbmarsh. RIPPINGILL. Of course not; they remain in complete ignorance. [Moving across to the right.] There's the cream of the joke. [Pausing in the archway.] Would you believe it, old friend-I was drilling that hole in the ceiling at a quarter past six this morning! [Replacing the ladder.] Ho, ho, ho! Irresistible! [Re-entering.] Dora, may I ask for your assistance in testing the contrivance? MRS. LOVETTE, [Walking away to the left.] What next! RIPPINGILL. I beg your pardon; you misunderstaiid me. [In the 48 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE archway.] You stay here and watch the doll while I, myself, go through the process of reviewing. MRS. LOVETTE. [At the bay window.] Seymour, this is dangerous; I'll have no hand in this. RIPPINGILL. [Injured.] Dora, oblige me-[The pattering of rain is heard.] Raining! MRS. LOVETTE. [Warningly.] The Webbmarshes! RIPPINGILL. [Leaving the archway.] Dash! [Calling to WEBBMARSH and CHRISTABEL, who are seen shaking their hats in the hall.] Back? WEBBMARSH. [Entering the room.] In the nick of time. CHRISTABEL. [Looking into the room and then disappearing.] Isn't it lucky we hadn't left the grounds? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 49 WEBBMARSH. [Glancing at the suspended doll as he turns down his coat-collar and brushes the raindrops from his sleeves.] What's that? RIPPINGILL. [Innocently.] That? Oh, that's a simple device for attracting the flies. WEBBMARSH. Thought it might be more of your tomfoolery. RIPPINGILL. My dear Haynes! WEBBMARSH. [Moving towards the right.] Well, I'll get to work again. [RIPPINGILL giggles incautiously. WEBBMARSH turns sharply and regards him with suspicion. There is a violent burst of rain, then the downpour gradually ceases and the sky clears.] Good for the grass. RIPPINGILL. [Controlling himself with difficulty.] Yes, I was lying awake during the night fretting about the grass. D 50 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE WEBBMARSIH. [Doubtfully.] Oh-! [lie withdraws. RIPPINGILL throws himself upon the settee on the right, convulsed with laughter. The door on the left opens and Avis hurries in. She is wearing TROOD'S jacket over her shoulders. Avis. [Breathlessly, closing the door.] Oh, dear me! what a storm! MRS. LOVETTE. Are you wet? Avis. Mr. Trood is; this is his blazer. RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] Where is he? Avis. Putting the boat away. I've persuaded him to ask Foley for a change of things. RIPPINGILL. Very prudent. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 51 [A.s RIPPINGILL takes the jacket from her, she discovers the toys. Avis. Why, what are these? RIPPINGILL. Those? Look at them, my pet; examine them. MRS. LOVETTE and RIPPINGILL. [Laughing encouragingly.] Ha, ha, ha! [She wanders round the room in a listless fashion. RIPPINGILL and lMRs. LOVETTE, stretching their heads forward, watch her intently. Avis [Apathetically.] Where do they come from? RIPPINGILL. [Laying the jacket upon the back of the arm-chair.] From town. Ho, ho! I wired for 'em yesterday. Mts. LOVETTE. [On the left.] Aren't they excruciatingly funny, Mrs. Rippingill? 52 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. [At the table on the right, inflating the Dying Pig.] Avis-phu-Avis-phu! The Dying Pig! Phu-! Avis. What do you propose to do with them all, Seymour? RIPPINGILL. [Blankly.] To do with them? Avis. The coachman's child had better have a few, I suppose? Then there's the cook's little lame nephewRIPPINGILL. My pet, nobody can feel more kindly disposed towards Mrs. Thompson's nuisance of a nephew than I; but, at the same time, I admit I am slightly disappointedAvis. Disappointed? RIPPINGILL. I had an idea that-ahem!-that perhaps you A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 53 Avis. I? Oh, dolls-toys of any sort-never had much attraction for me. RIPPINGILL. [Crestfallen.] Oh-ah--! Avis. The shower is over. [Picking up the jacket and moving towards the hall.] I'll carry Mr. Trood's jacket up to the house and order it to be dried. [She goes into the garden and disappears. MRS. LOVETTE and RIPPINGILL sit, the former at the oval table, he in the armchair. RIPPINGILL. [Sighing heavily.] Ah-h-h! MRs. LOVETTE., [In sympathy.] Ah-h-h! I am afraid my diagnosis is correct, Seymour. RIPPINGILL, [His head bowed.] Diagnosis? 54 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRs. LOVETTE. Jncurable. RIpPINGILL. [Groaning.] Oh MRS. LOVETTE. Incurable. RIPPINGILL. )pn't! don't! [They lapse into silence, he staring at the floor, she playing with the Planchette. The suspended doll becomes animated, breaking into a dance. They look at each other wonderingly. MuS. LOVETTE. [Listening.] Hark-! RIPPINGILL, [After consideration.] Bees. MRS. LOVETTE, [Discovering the cause of the sound.] Ah! The doll is dancipg, A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 55 RIPPINGILL, Oh! [Proudly, under his breath.] What a success, Dora! Wh't a triumph! MRS. LOVETTE. [Lost in admiration.] It is indeed ingenious, Seymour. [They twist their chairs round, to obtain a better view of the doll, and sit gazing up at it, absorbed. RIPPINGILL. [Bitterly.] The impostor! The arch impostor! And these are the men whose utterances influence public opinion! MRS. LOVETTE. [Quietly.] Of course, it may be that he, or she, is seated there alone. RIPPINGILL. Pshaw! MRS. LOVETTE. Qr fhht he is merely scratching his ear. [The dance increases in eergy, 56 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Look! MRS. LOVETTE. [Tenderly.] You are right; that can be nothing but intense, ardent affection. [ ie starts up, and makes for the garden, as if to fetch Avis. RIPPINGILL. Avis! Avis-! [Checking himself and slowly returning.] No; I realise it-even this wouldn't do it. [Eyeing the doll ruefully.] She didn't notice it was hanging there! [MRS. LOVETTE fingers the Planchette again. The doll's dance ceases.] An interval! The reviewer now salves his conscience with another paragraph or two. MRs. LOVETTE. [Impulsively.] Seymour! RIPPINGILL. Dear friend! MRs. LOVETTE. [Turning her chair to the table at which she is seated.] Give me a sheet of paper. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 57 RIPPINGILL. [Crossing to the writing-table on the left.] A sheet of paper? MRS. LOVETTE. I am going to consult the Planchette. RIPPINGILL. The Planchette / MRS. LOVETTE. The Planchette. If your wife's distressing malady is open to treatment, it's plain yours is at fault. [Taking a sheet of paper from him and adjusting the Planchette,] I am going to ask the Planchette to suggest a means of bringing a smile to Mrs. Rippingill's face. RIPPINGILL. My dear Dora, surely you are too sensible to believe in that mischievous rubbish? MRS. LOVETTE. Every woman is at heart a witch. Lay your hand on mine. RIPPINGILL. [Obeying her.] Oh, if you 5(S A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. Hush! [Closing her eyes.] Shut your eyes and let yourself go-abandon yourself. [After a while.] It moves! RIPPINGILL. You're wobbling it. MRS. LOVETTE. Involuntarily. RIPPINGILL. Pickles! MRs. LOVElTE. [Rising, hurt.] Seymour! RIPPINGILL. I beg your pardon; I withdraw the word, unreservedly. [She rasumes her seat and they lay their hands on the Planchette again, and qgaiv s4ut their eyes. MRS. LOVETTE. [In a whisper.] We are writing. RIPPINGILL. [Opening his eyes.] No! A WIFE WVITHOUT A SMILEi 59 MRtS. LoVETTh. [opening her eyes.i Ali, now you'%-e spoilt it!1 RIPPILNGILIJ. We have scribbled something. MRS. LOVETTE, [Their heads bending oce6r the piaper.] D-no, RIPPINGILIA. N-or is it U? MRS. LOVETTE. It's a U. P-U-what's that?IRiPPINGILL. Mus, LOVETTE. L. RIPPINOILL. Two L's. Mus. LOVETTE. P-U-double L. JiPPINGILL. Pull, 6o A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. What suggestion is wrapped up in Pull? RIPPINGILL. None. MRS. LOVETTE. Wait, wait; you're so hasty. Pull-? RIPPINGILL. [Walking away to the right.] Pull-pull-pullpull-? MRS. LOVETTE. Your wife has just returned from a pull on the river-? RIPPINGILL. That leads nowhere. MRS. LOVETTE. Pull-pull-pull-pull-? RIPPINGILL. [His face suddenly lighting up.] Dora! MRS. LOVETTE. Found it? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 61 RIPPINGILL. Pullinger! MRS. LOVETTE. What is a pullinger? RIPPINGILL. Pullinger is a person. My old friend Pillinger. Pull-the first syllable of his name! MRS. LOVETTE. [Rising.] Ah! And if you hadn't interrupted the PlanchetteRIPPINGILL. It is extraordinary. And still more extraordinary that I haven't thought of Jack before! [Going to the telephone and ringing violently.] If he's in town today, I'll have him down. [Speaking to the telephone.] Is that Foley?... Foley, put me on to Mr. Pullinger-Mr. John Pullinger, not his brother FrankMr. John Pullinger of Kensington Court... at once... thank you. MRS. LOVETTE. [Crossing to the right.] Who is this gentleman? 62 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. [Leaving the telephone.] He and his brother are the great biscuit people. You eat them with ices. MRS. LOVETTE. Yes, butRIPPINGILL. They're now a company-F. and J. Pullinger, Limited; John's the Chairman. MRa. LOVETTE. Yes, but why should a biscuit-baker---? IRIPPINGILL. My dear Dora, John Pullinger knows no more about biscuits than he does about anything else. MRS. LOVETTE. What! RIPPINGILL. No, no, no! I mean, there is nothing, positively nothing, that Pullinger doesn't know something about. Without exaggeration, he is the most intelligent man in London. Great heaven, the information that chap can give you upon the most varied subjects! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 63 MRs. LOVETTE. And has he-has he a strong sense of humour? RIPPINGILL. [Doubtfully.] H'm! N-n-no, I should hardly say he matches you, or me, in that depaitment. But in a man of such universal powers you can't reasonably expect a single quality to predominate. MRS. LOVETTE. He doesn't exactly sound like the miracle-worker we are seeking. RIPPINGILL. [A little testily.] Oh, he's not a buffoon, my dear Dora, if that's the article you're in search of. MRs. LOVETTE. [Walking away to the left.] Really, Seymour! RIPPINGILL. [Rubbing his head.] I beg your pardon---[The telephone bell rings; he runs to the instrument.] Hallo, hallo!... I want Mr. John Pullinger.... I'm Mr. Rippingill.... Oh, is that you, Jack?... How are you, my dear fellow?... That's right. And how is that sweet, cheery old lady, your mother?... 64 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE Eh-what-?... Bless me, I forgot!... Of course; how stupid of me!... Ah, well, she lived to a good, ripe age, didn't she? [MRs. LOVETTE laughs.] One moment, Dora. [Resuming.] I say, Jack! I need your advice upon a matter of considerable importance to me-vital importance. You're a marvel at helping a man in a difficulty.... Yes, you are, you wise old owl!... Are you engaged to-day for luncheon?.. No?... Then come down and make the acquaintance of my wife.... Eh?... Yes, I'm referring to my new wife. [MRS. LOVETTE again laughs.] Half a moment, Dora. [Resuming.] Eh?... Oh, that's jolly!... Half-past one; the trains are most convenient.... Oh, motor if you prefer it.... You've five motors?... Well, come in the five....Ha, ha, ha!... God bless you! [Leaning the telephone gaily.] My dear Dora, this has lifted quite a load from me. Jack! [MRS. LOVETTE has returned to the table on the left. He grasps her hand.] Was I discourteous? MRS. LOVETTE. [Sitting at the table.] Fiddle-de dee! RIPPINGILL. Ah, Dora, my head-this serious anxiety! But now -I have a presentiment-Pullinger! [The doll dances again.] Ah, ha! The reviewer! Whoop! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 65 MRS. LOVETTE AND RIPPINGILL. Ha, ha, ha, ha! [He skips away to the piano and strikes up a lively tune. MRS. LOVETTE, with closed eyes, resumes experimentalizing with the Planchette. RIPPINGILL. [As he plays.] John Pullinger! [TROOD-in his shirt-sleeves, and carrying the cushions of his boat-passes the window, on his way to the house. END OF THE FIRST ACT. E THE SECOND ACT The scene is the same as in the preceding act. There is a slight alteration in the arrangement of the furniture. The settee on the left now has its back to the oval table and faces the settee which is on the right. A single chair only remains at this table. Of the two other chairs, one stands before the writing-table; one in the centre of the room, by the piano. All the toys have been removed with the exception of the Planchette and the suspended doll. The ladder also has disappeared. The door on the left is closed, the hall-door open. [MRS. LOVETTE is lying, propped up by pillows, upon the settee on the left, deep in a novel. CHRISTABEL and WEBBMARSH are seen in the garden. Crossing from the left, they pass the window and enter the hall, where they hang their hats upon the stand. CHRISTABEL. [Looking into the room.] Glorious afternoon, isn't it? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 67 Perfect. MRS. LOVETTE. CHRISTABEL. Seems almost a sacrilege to immure when there is work to be done oneself. But MRS. LOVETTE. Yes, duty is duty. [WEBBMARSH and CHRISTABEL disappear and MRS. LOVETTE resumes her reading. After a while, RIPPINGILL enters the hall, coming from the right. RIPPINGILL. [Searching for MRS. LOVETTE.] [Approaching her.] Where's Avis? MRS. LOVETTE. On the river, with young Trood. RIPPINGILL. Good! And the Webbmarshes? MRS. LOVETTE. [Glancing upward.] Reviewing. There you are! 68 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Ha, ha! [Rubbing his hands.] This is our opportunity. I've got him here. MRS. LOVETTE. Mr. Pullinger? RIPPINGILL. He is waiting under the eucalyptus. Are you ready? MRS. LOVETTE. [Putting her feet to the ground, with no great eagerness.] Quite. RIPPINGILL. [Hesitatingly.] Er-you are impressed by him, Dora? MRS. LOVETTE. Forgive me for asking-he's not inclined to be a leetle-a leetle-? RIPPINGILL: A little? MRs. LOVETTE. Oh, I admit he has an enormous store of general knowledge. There's no disputing that. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 69 RIPPINGILL. And yet is a man of the utmost simplicity-massive, comprehensive simplicity. [MRs. LOVETTE yawns.] It always strikes me that a couple of hours of Pullinger do more for us than our ablest historians in demonstrating the qualities that have made England what she is. MRS. LOVETTE. Possibly. [Passing her hand across her brow.] I dare say it's the hot weather-- RIPPINGILL. I'll call him. [He goes to the hall-door and whistles. Presently he is joined by PULLINGER.] Mrs. Lovette is alone, Jack-prepared for our consultation. [PULLINGER enters the room. He is a seriouslooking, solidly-built man of fifty, with a moustache which he strokes raminatively at intervals and afine, square, lofty brow. He walks rather stifly, as from gout, with the aid of a cane. RIPPINGILL carefully closes the hall-door. PULLINGER. [Addressing MRs. LOVETTE.] Let me see, what was I telling you when we rose from the luncheon-table? Ah, yes-where to buy your tea. 70 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRs. LOVETTE. I've dealt at Ropers' for years: PULLINGER. Go to Cramp & Peeble-a tiny shop in Foubert's Place, an insignificant turning on the left-hand side of Regent Street as you face south. Put it down before you forget it. [To RIPPINGILL.] Rip, a pencil and some paper for Mrs. Lovette. RIPPINGILL. [Delightedly.] Yes, Jack. [He fetches several sheets of paper and a pencil from the writing-table, and gives them to MRS. LOVETTE. MRS. LOVETTE. I already lhave a pile of memoranda about one thing and another. PULLINGER. I found it under your chair after you'd left the dining-room. [He restores to her a number of scraps of paper which he produces from his coat-pocket. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 71 MRS. LOVETTE. They must have slipped off my lap. PULLINGER. Cramp & Peeble--- MRs. LOVETTE. [Scribbling impatiently.] Left-hand side of Regent Street-- PULLINGER. Ah, but Foubert's Place---- MRs. LOVETTE. Yes, yes, a magnificent turning-- PULLINGER. An insignificant turningMRS. LOVETTE. Ha, ha! [Mioistening the point of her pencil.] Of course. PULLINGER. I notice you moisten your pencil, Mrs. Lovette. 72 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. It's a habit- [defiantly repeating the action] a habit. PULLINGER. [Pleasantly.] A bad one, often contracted through the inferiority of the lead. RIPPINGILL. [On MRS. LOVETTE'S right, nudging her shoulder.] I'll be bound, Jack, that you could put us in the way of getting hold of a decent lead-pencil. MRS. LOVETTE. [Under her breath.] No, no! PULLINGER. I can-the best that's manufactured. RIPPINGILL. [Adrniringly.] I said so! PULLINGER. Bousfield-an obscure artists'-colourman in the Fulham Road. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 73 RIPPINGILL. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Isn't he wonderful! Upon my word, Jack-! PULLINGER. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Jot it down while you think of it. MRS. LOVETTE. [Taking another sheet of paper.] BousfieldPULLINGER. I can't recall the number. It's a few doors past the " Stag," where the omnibuses stop. RIPPINGILL. Where the 'buses stop! No detail is too trivial for him. MRS. LOVETTE. [Writing.] " Stag "-Finchley RoadPULLINGER. Fulham Road. [Moving away to the arm-chair.] Mention my name. MRS. LOVETTE. [Between her teeth.] I will. 74 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. [Sitting.] Well, I was about to tell you-it is a blend of China and India. MRS. LOVETTE. What is? PULLINGER. The tea. MRS. LOVETTE. [Distractedly.] But we've finished with the tea. PULLINGER. When you've noted the proportions. Two-thirds Darjeeling Orange Pekoe, one-third Paklum Kaisow. [MRs. LOVETTE'S papers become hopelessly deranged. Some fall to the ground, and these RIPPINGILI, scrambles for and returns to her.] Now you have a mixture. MRS. LOVETTE. You're right! PULLINGER. D-a-r-j-double e-1-i-n-g Orange Pekc e[There is a gentle movement on the part of the suspended doll. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 75 RIPPINGILL. [Advancing to PULLINGER.] Jack-Jack-! [Pointing to the doll.] There-there-! PULLINGER. [Glancing at the doll.] Oh, that's the impish trick you've been giving me an account of? [To MRs. LOVETTE.] P-a-k-l-u-m K-a-i-s-o-w. RIPPINGILL. Ha, ha, ha! PULLINGER. Rip, you are incorrigible! RIPPINGILL. It will break my heart to remove it. PULLINGER. By-the-bye, should either of you require any cheaply-dressed dolls for gifts at Christmas, I am acquainted with a thoroughly deserving person-the daughter of a deceased naval officerRIPPINGILL. Marvellous! 76 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Jot the address down. Miss Tickle-8, Appleton Terrace-Berkhamstead MRS. LOVETTE. But I thought we were to assemble here to discuss a remedy for poor Mrs. Rippingill's infirmity! RIPPINGILL. We were-we were; that is the motive for this gathering. Jack, my wife will be back to give us our Paklum KaisowPULLINGER. Yes, yes; thanks for the hint. [To MRS. LOVETTE, gravely.] Spell it precisely as you would do it. MRS. LOVETTE. As I would do what? PULLINGER. Tickle-Miss T-i-c-k-l-eRIPPINGILL. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Dora, I have furnished JackMr. Pullinger-at some length, I fear A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 77 PULLINGER. No, no. RIPPINGILL. With the salient features of the case. And he agrees with us-don't you, Jack?-that it is a remarkably puzzling business. PULLINGER, Remarkably-remarkably. [Stroking his moustache.] A young woman-- RIPPINGILL. Three-and-twenty. MRS. LOVETTE. Allowing for miscalculation, five-and-twentyPULLINGER. [Shaking his head.] No, I should say three-andtwenty on the outside. MRS. LOVETTE. Ah! PULLINGER. I mean, at the outside. 78 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. At any rate, young. MRS. LOVETTE. Married to a man still in his primeRIPPINGILL. [ With drooping lids.] Thank you, Dora. I am fortyfour. MRS. LOVETTE. Who is extremely well-to-do-oh, more-rich RIPPINGILL. In friends, at least. PULLINGER. She exchanging, I understand, the most modest surroundingsRIPPINGILL. Boarding-house in PaddingtonMRS. LOVETTE. Tomato soup, halibut, and muttonPULLINGER. For a condition which closely approaches luxury. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 79 MRS. LOVETTE. Exactly. PULLINGER. By-the-way, if you, Rip, or you, Mrs. Lovette, are ever asked to recommend a moderate-priced but excellent boarding establishment-- MRs. LOVETTE. [Under her breath.] My patience! PULLINGER. There is one in Keppel Street, Bloomsbury, at the corner of the mews on the right. RIPPINGILL. We mustn't lose time, Jack. PULLINGER. Going east-Madeira Mansion. RIPPINGILL. [Hastily, to MRS. LOVETTE.] Put it with it. PULLINGER. down-down And yet, reverting to your wife, in spite of her 80 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE altered position-enhanced status-liberal allowance -[to RIPPINGILL] I am assuming liberal allowanceRIPPIN GILL. [With dignity.] You may, confidently. MRS. LOVETTE. You ought to keep nothing from us, Seymourfrom Mr. Pullinger. RIPPINGILL. [Hurt.] I have no such desire. Do you accuse me of the attempt? PULLINGER. No, no. MRS. LOVETTE. I apologise sincerely. RIPPINGILL. Five hundred a year. PULLINGER. Ample. RIPPINGILL. Pro raid. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 81 MRS. LOVETTE. Generous to excess. Her trousseau amounted to little enough, I expect. Her trousseau-? [RIPPINGILL is silent.] There ought to be no reserve, Seymour. Her trousseau-? RIPPINGILL. Six. MRS. LOVETTE. Hah! And after all you have heaped upon her-! PULLINGER. Not a smile. RIPPINGILL. Never a smile. MRS, LOVETTE. Devil a sm-never a smile! Now, Mr. Pullinger! RIPPINGILL. Now, Jack! PULLINGER, [Stroking his moustache.] Well, the conclusion I arrive at-bearing in mind that Mrs. Rippingill is at an age when the animal spirits should be at their heightF 82 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Yes, Jack? PULLINGER. Is that, either the young lady was born without a sense of humour-[RIPPINGILL sits in the chair by the piano dejectedly]-in which contingency, Rip, you will have to make the best of your bargainMRs. LOVETTE. Ah, I was afraid, dear Seymour-! PULLINGER. Or that this is an uncommon instance of a sense of humour remaining dormant in defiance of nature, and notwithstanding the stimulating artifices which have been freely employed to arouse it. RIPPINGILL. In the latter event-? PULLINGER. Ordinary expedients having failed, it is clear that there is nothing for you but to take measures of a drastic description. RIPPINGILL. Drastic? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 83 PULLINGER I don't counsel them. I recollect that when, in '93, my brother and I turned our concern into a company MRS. LOVETTE. [To herself ] Oh, lord! RIPPINGILL. Yes, yes, Jack, but the measures-the measures--? PULLINGER. [Deliberately.] A violent upheaval of the stagnant forces. RIPPINGILL. A violent upheaval-? Mus. LOVETTE. Of the stagnant forces! PULLINGER. Brought about by the administering of a shocka severe shock. MRs, LOVETTE. Sounds pretty horrible. 84 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER, The object being to shift, so to speak, at one stroke the centre of gravity. MRS. LOVETTE. [Rising.] Oh, no, no, no; inhuman! RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] Oh, too cruel, Jack! PULLINGER. Desperate, I agree; and I repeat, I am far from urging the experiment. [Tapping his cane against the legs of the settee on the right.] Where did you find all this light stuff, Rip? RIPPINGILL. [Impatiently.] Oh, dash the light stuff! PULLINGER. There's a shop in Vienna, the finest in the world for this kind of thingMRs. LOVETTE. Oh! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 85 PULLINGER. Krntner Strasse. Number-number? MRS. LOVETTE. But what sort of a shock? PULLINGER. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Put it down before you forget it. Rothberger & SteinmetzMRS. LOVETTE. [Emphatically.] Mr. PullingerRIPPINGILL. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Oh, stick it down-stick it down! [Snatching up her notes, she seats herself at the oval table and makes a pretence of writing.] Jack, what sort of a shock? PULLINGER. Such a shock as would result from the news, abruptly communicated, of some heavy calamityRIPPINGILL. Trumped-up? 86 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. Obviously; so that the sensation of relief which ensued-- IIPPINGILL, [Incredulously.] Would do the job. Jackl! PULLINGER. Might do it; I don't vouch for it. the strict logic underlying the theory. deliverance; rain-sunshine Ah, my dear But I defend Misfortune RIPPINGILL. Floods of tears-shrieks of merriment. For example, if I were to get myself thrown out of my dogcart--? PULLINGER. Certainly, RIPPINGILL. Or your automobile--? PULLINGER, Yes. RIPPINGILL. [Seating himself on the settee on the left.] With you A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 87 as chauffeur, that could easily be managed, Jack. Ha, ha, ha! PULLINGER. Financial ruin might serve equally well. RIPPINGILL. [Picking up the book which MRS. LOVETTE has been reading.] Poor Avis! Restore her to auntie for a fortnight, eh? More sealing-wax soup, more woolly halibut, more sinewy mutton--- [MRS. LOVETTE, with closed eyes, has been manipulating the Planchette. Suddenly she utters an exclamation. MRS. LOVETTE. Oh! PULLINGER and RIPPINGILL. Eh! MRS. LOVETTE. The Planchette / RIPPINGILL. Oh, are you at that Planchette again, Dora? PULLINGER. [Rising and crossing to MRS. LOVETTE.] Planchette? 88 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. [Showing him what the Planchette has written.] I asked the Planchette to supply a key to a method of procuring the violent upheavalPULLINGER. [Stooping to read the writing.] D-i-v-- MRS. LOVETTE. "Divorce"! Isn't it queer-every letter--! RIPPINGILL. [Referring to the book.] Of course! You've been saturating yourself with this, Dora. [Quoting the title.] " Prince Kurasco's Divorce." [Throwing the book down irritably.] Mudie is continually annoying me in this way. MRS. LOVETTE. [To PULLINGER, putting her finger to her lip.] How inconsiderate of us! Hush! RIPPINGILL. [Overhearing her.] Inconsiderate! Ha, ha, ha! Yot you, dear old friends. [Rising and walking away to the smoking-table, where he fills his pipe.] Luckily, I'm not as thin-skinned as all that. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 89 PULLINGER. Thin-skinned! Why should you be, Rip? You weren't the party in error. [Stroking his moustache.] Divorce! Ha! strange, following upon our talk-- MRS. LOVETTE. Why? PULLINGER. I was reading, the other day, a report in one of the papers of a singular piece of negligence on the part of a man who, like Rip, had been under the painful necessity of divorcing his wife. RIPPINGILL. [Shortly.] Oh, ah? MRS. LOVETTE. [Rising and coming to PULLINGER as he sits upon the settee on the left.] Negligence? PULLINGER. II'm! what were the circumstances? Yes, yes; he had married again too. RIPPINGILL. [Sitting on the settee on the right, cramming tobacco into his pipe.] Ha, ha! very interesting. go A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. It was that which rendered his neglect the more disastrous. MRS. LOVETTE. Neglect? Neglect to do what? PULLINGER. To apply to the Court, according to the prescribed form, to have his Decree Nisi made absolute. The cause of the oversight slips my memory for the moment. MRS. LOVETTE. He should have done it six months after--? PULLINGER, Before re-marriage, at all events. MRS. LOVETTE. So his second marriage was a-a what-d'ye-call it? -a fizzle? PULLINGER. Void. Fortunately the Court, after a lot of cavilling, took a lenient view of the fellow's conduct. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 91 MRs. LOVETTE. But in the meantime he had to explain to Number Two-? PULLINGER. That she was not, in fact, his wife. Mns. LOVETTE. What a shock! PULLINGER. Shock-quite so. Now, there was a shock, if you please. MRs. LOVETTE. The poor woman's humiliation-suspense-! PULLINGER. Uncomfortable sojourn with her parents or guardiansMRS. LOVETTE. Months of tomato soup and halibut perhapsPULLINGER. Ending, we'll hope, in a hearty laugh at the mishap, 92 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. I see! Mr. Pullinger, you are wonderful! [Checking her enthusiasm.] Oh, but surely you don't propose that Seymour should invent such a tale? PULLINGER. No, no, no. It's merely curious-the Planchette putting the idea into one's head. [An inarticulate sound proceeds from RIPPINGILL, and his pipe falls to the floor. Turning to him, MRS. LOVETTE and PULLINGER are startled by the expression upon his face. MRS. LOVETTE. [Advancing to him.] Seymour! PULLINGER. Rip--? RIPPINGILL. J-JackMRS. LOVETTE. What's wrong? Are you ill? PULLINGER. [Joining MRS. LOVETTE.] You don't feel well, Rip? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 93 RIPPINGILL. D-Dora, this is an extraordinary development-- MRS. LOVETTE. Devel )pment? RIPPINGILL. M-m-most unlooked for-- PULLINGER. What is unlooked for? RIPPINGILL. My dear friends, I-I-I am embarrassed at having to inform you-my Decree Nisi has not been made absolute. PULLINGER and MRs. LOVETTE. Not! RIPPINGILL. No. [Rising unsteadily.] Barlow-old BarlowBarlow MRS. LOVETTE. Barlow? 94 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. My solicitor-you remember him, Jack?-Barlow died within a fortnight of the hearing of my case; [dazed] and then-[clasping his brow] excuse methen his managing clerk, also a solicitorPULLINGER. Yes, yes; Alfred Parker Gilmour-convicted of fraud RIPPINGILL. He misappropriated a spinster-lady at WimbledonMRS. LOVETTE. No, no. RIPPINGILL. I beg your pardon-converted her to his own usePULLINGER. Her money, you are trying to sayRIPPINGILL. Yes-and so the whole Barlow concern ceased to exist. Oh, my dear friends! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 95 MRS. LOVETTE. But haven't you been near another lawyer-? PULLINGER. What about your marriage settlement -your will----? RIPPINGILL, The aunt wished me to employ a man she knows at Bath. MRS. LOVETTE. Interfering old idiot! PULLINGER. Didn't he raise the point? RIPPINGILL; No. PULLINGER. This is rather a serious blunder, Rip. MRS. LOVETTE. Rather / PULLINGER. Do you mean to assure us solemnly that it utterly escaped you? 96 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. I pledge you my honour the matter has never crossed my mind till this moment. MRS. LOVETTE. As a specimen of gross carelessness-- RIPPINGILL. I can only suppose that from the day I met Avis-- MRS. LOVETTE, You lost what you are conceited enough to call your head. RIPPINGILL. Oh, if you hadn't been abroad, Jack--! MRS. LOVETTE. [Pacing the room.] Well, here's a nice to-do PULLINGER. [Following her example.] Dear, dear, dear B esj my soul and body! MRS. LOVETTE. What do you advise, Mr. Pullinger? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 97 PULLINGER. Merciful powers! This reminds me of a dispute I was once mixed up with, over a patent. MRS. LOVETTE. Oh, does it! PULLINGER. You have heard I've invented an automatic luggagelabel? MRS. LOVETTE. [Hysterically.] No! Ha, ha, ha! PULLINGER. It's too heavy at present-four rounds, seven ounces--- MRS. LOVETTE. Don't! I shall shriek aloud! PULLINGER. Yes, yes; we're wandering from the subject. [Sitting on the settee on the right.] Our poor friend! [To RIPPINGILL, who is seated in the bay-window, his back towards them, gazing at the prospect.] Rip, how long have we been chums? Rip-- G 98 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. [Anxiously.] Seymour--! [RIPPINGILL rises and comes forward, icily composed. RIPPINGILL. [Wiping his lips.] Ahem! My dear old Jack-my dear old Dora-[correcting himself] my dear DoraI don't know whether I am entitled to have a voice-- PULLINGER. Who is, if not yourself? RIPPINGILL. But if yes, I should be disposed strongly to deprecate anything approaching undue excitement. MRS. LOVETTE. [Behind the arm-chair.] It's all very wellRIPPINGILL. It may be that my lengthy service in a Government office, where hardly a year passed in which soma question did not arise demanding prompt and intelligent treatment-it may be, I say, that my official A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 99 training gives me a certain advantage over both of you in dealing with unexpected crises. PULLINGER. Considerable advantage. RIPPINGILL. [Encouraged.] I am in a difficulty-let us concede that-- PULLINGER. Grave difficulty. MRS. LOVETTE. Ghastly. RIPPINGILL. [Faltering.] Granting the ghastliness of the gravity of the difficulty-granting the gravity of the ghastliness-of the-- PULLINGER. [Helpfully.] Granting it, Rip--? RIPPINGILL. [Rallying.] Granting it, what then? Why, the difficulty has to be cracked, the nut dispelled-erfaced-- PULLINGER. We understand. Io0 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Meanwhile it is essential to preserve a stiff head, hold one's upper lip erect-er-- PULLINGER. All right. MRS. LOVETTE. The other way round. RIPPINGILL. And to take care that one's every act shall continue to be informed by a sense of humour. We must not forget that, disconcerting as this deplorable complication is to those immediately involved, to the callous onlooker it is not without elements of gaiety. [Sitting on the settee on the left.] It is in this spirit, therefore, with the support of my friends, that I propose to set about dispelling the-cracking thefacing the Gordian knot in which I find myself plunged. MRS. LOVETTE. [Advancing to RIPPINGILL.] Bravo, Seymour! You read us a lesson. I am sorry I allowed myself to be carried away. [RIPPINGILL takes he?- hand.] I was thinking of your wife A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 10I PULLINGER. [Stroking his moustache.] Or whatever she is for the time beingMRS. LOVETTE. Poor thing! We may summon our sense of humour to our aid; but she--- PULLINGER. [Suddenly.] Hah! MRS. LOVETTE. [Startled.] What now! PULLINGER. The shock! MRS. LOVETTE. Eh? PULLINGER. [Rising.] The shock! MRS. LOVETTE. Ah, yes! 102 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. My dear Rip, this misfortune-this temporary misfortune-may prove a blessing in disguise. Here we have, thrust upon us, the necessity of putting my theory to the test. RIPPINGILL. [A bstractedly.] Theory? MRs. LOVETTE. [Jogging his shoulder.] The violent upheaval-- RIPPINGILL. Of course-stagnant forces. Ha, ha! MRS. LOVETTE. [Walking away excitedly as PULLINGER comes to RIPPINGILL.] Oh, gracious! PULLINGER. [Standing over RIPPINGILL.] You follow the line of procedure? You break the distressing news to the young lady-her entire mental and moral organisation reels under it. Then comes a period of doubt and apprehension. This we will call, for future iden A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 103 tification, the Interregnum. [RIPPINGILL rises feebly.] So far, so good. [Buttor-holing RIPPINGILI.] You apply to the Court-the Court sympathises, if not with you, with her. That is the period of Revulsion. Again you go through the ceremony of marriage, and -unless I am woefully mistaken-she departs for her second honeymoon wreathed in smiles. That is the Climax. RIPPINGILL. [Biting his nails.] Ha, ha! Pretty rough time till then, Jack. PULLINGER. Well, well, but your sense of humourMRs. LOVETTE. [On the other side of PULLINGER.] You are resolved to take it all lightly, Seymour. RIPPINGILL. [Walking to and fro.] Haven't I said as much? [Snapping his fingers.] Lightly! [The doll dances.] Ah, dear old Haynes is upstairs, isn't he? Bring him down. [MRS. LOVETTE rins out, and footsteps are heard rapidly ascending and descending the stairs. 104 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL consults his watch anxiously.] Quite a happy accident-all my best friends round me. PULLINGER. [With gusto, hobbling about.] Nearing the teahour? RIPPINGILL. [Replacing his watch.] Yes. PULLINGER. [Tugging at his moustache.] Ah! ah! RIPPINGILL. [Snatching a flower from a vase and sticking it in his coat--scowling at PULLINGER as he does so.] You relish the situation, Jack. PULLINGER. Nothing, nothing since the inception of my luggagelabel has held me in so tight a grip. [MRS. LOVETTE returns out of breath, and joins PULLINGER on the left. She is followed by WEBBMARSH, who enters quickly, looking about him and sniffing. His hair is rufled, A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 105 and one of his locks is tied up with a coloured ribbon. WEBBMARSH. Eh-eh? I don't detect anything. MRS. LOVETTE. Detect? WEBBMARSH. Didn't you say there was a smell of burning? MRS. LOVETTE. [Shaking her head.] No. [CHRISTABEL hurries in and clings to WEBBMARSH'S arm. WEBBMARSH., [Patting her hand reassuringly.] It is all right, dearest; there's no cause for alarm. CHRISTABEL. Is it out? WEBBMARSH. We misunderstood Mrs. Lovette, Christabel Io6 A WIFE WITHOUT 4 SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. I apologized for approaching the seat of learningWEBBMARSH. Learning-burning-ah! The door was rattled with such violenceCHRISTABEL. [Faintly.] Oh! WEBBMARSH. [Passing her across to the settee on the left.] Recover yourself. [Mus. LOVETTE fetches a carafe of water and a tumbler from the sideboard.] The fact is, I happened to be in the thick of an intensely interesting chapterRIPPINGILL. [On the right with an attempt at airiness.] Entirely my fault, Haynes; the interruption proceeded from me. I-ah-I-I've something to tell you-- CHRISTABEL. [Pushing MRS. LOVETTE aside and jumping up.] Haynes--! [She removes the ribbon, which matches the A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 107 trimming of her dress, from WEBBMARSH'S hair. WEBBMARSH. Oh-ah-yes. [In explanation.] Sharp attack of headache-an excellent counter-irritant-- PULLINGER. [Hastening to him.] Do you wish to know of an infallible cure for a headache, Mr. Webbmarsh? WEBBMARSH. [Sententiously.] Is there a more efficacious one than the ministering hand and unremitting solicitude of a devoted wife? RIPPINGILL. [Absorbed in his own affairs.] Apropos of wives, dear old friend, would it surprise you to learn that you-ah-ha, ha!-that you have the advantage of me? WEBBMARSH. Advantage--? PULLINGER. Fold an ordinary pocket-handkerchief so that it Io8 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE forms a bandage not exceeding four inches in width-- WEBEMARSH. Thank you. RIPPINGILL. Yes, I-I-ah-ha, ha!-I'm not married, Haynes. WEBBMARSII. Not married? PULLINGER. Soak it with one gill of pure spirit of wine RIPPINGILL. When I say I am not married, I mean I am not married to the lady who for the last few weeks has honoured me by bearing my name. PULLINGER. [To MRs. LOVETTE.] Give me a scrap of paper. WEBBMARSH. [To RIPPINGILL.] Really? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 109 CHRISTABEL. [ Who is again upon the settee on the left.] Oh, Mr. Rippingill, you terrible man! How can you! RIPPINGILL. [Earnestly.] No, but really, really, Haynes, ICHRISTABEL and WEBBMARSH. [Laughing perfunctorily.] Ha, ha, ha! PULLINGER. [Handing WEBBMARSH a piece of paper.] Jot it down while you think of it. RIPPINGILL. HaynesWEBBMARSH. Ha, ha, ha! [To PULLINGER.] Jot what--? RIPPINGILL. Excuse me, JackPULLINGER. [To WEBBMARSH.] Fold an ordinary pocket-handkerchief no A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE WEBBMARSH. [Producing a "fountain " pen from his waistcoat pocket, irritably.] Oh, yes, yes, yesRIPPING ILL. Jack, may I have the benefit of my friend Webbmarsh's undivided attention for a minute or two? PULLINGER. Certainly, certainly. WEBBMARSH. [To RIPPINGILL.] I'm listening; [writing] "-spirit of wine-"; you go on with your little jokeRIPPINGILL. Joke! [With dignity.] My dear Haynes-- PULLINGER. [To WEBBMARSH.] What pen is that you carry? [RIPPINGILL sinks exhausted on to the settee on the right. WEBBMARSH. [Sitting in the arm-chair.] One of de la Hay's. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE III PULLINGER. [Producing his own pocket-pen.] This is the ne plus ultra-- RIPPINOILL. [To MRS. LOVETTE, appealingly.] Dra--! MRS. LOVETTE. [Coming forward-to CIIRISTABEL.] Mrs. Webbmarsh, the information Mr. Rippingill hlas been struggling to impart to your husband is perfectly accurate. CHRISTABEL. Mrs. Lovette! MRS. LOVETTE. Our generous host and hostess are not at present entitled to consider themselves married people. CHRISTABEL. Great heavens! Haynes! WEBBMARSH. Eh? 112 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE CHRISTABEL. [Rising, her eyes flashing.] Haynes, this is scarcely a fitting time for comparing pocket-pens! WEBBMARSH. Christabel-? CHRISTABEL. Don't you hear! It appears that Mr. Rippingill has spoken the truth. The lady we have been induced to accept as Mrs. Rippingill--! WEBBMARSH. What? [Turning to RIPPINGILL.] No, no, no; impossible. RIPPINGILL. [With a weak smile.] Many things are improbable, nothing is impossible-my favourite aphorism. [PULLINGER discreetly wanders away into the hall. WEnBBMARSH rises and confronts RIPPINGILL. WEBBMARSH. I shall feel obliged, Rippingill, in the first place, by your refraining from confounding an aphorism with an apophthegm; in the second A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 113 MRS. LOVETTE. My dear Mrs. Webbmarsh-my dear Mr. WebbmarshWEBBMARSH. In the secondMRS. LOVETTE. When you have been put in possession of all the circumstancesRIPPINGILL. You will see that they have a distinctly humorous side. WEBBMARSH and CHRISTABEL. Humorous! MRS. LOVETTE. Yes, yes. The poor dear man has omitted to have his Decree Nisi made absolute. WEBBMARSH. Omitted--! I S14 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Ha, ha, ha! Entirely slipped my memory, Haynes. Ha, ha! WEBBMARSH. [Joining CHRISTABEL.] My darling, I cannot adequately express my regret that this revelation, if it had to be made, has been made in your presence. CHRISTABEL. Well, but, Haynes-! WEBBMARSH. This, however, I do insist upon-that your ears shall be sullied by no unsavoury details; although, happily, you would be unable to grasp their full imporb. CHRISTABEL. [Advancing to RIPPINGILL, incredulously.] But, Mr. Rippingill, do you solemnly sit there and expect us to believe that you never remembered to get your Decree rounded off? RIPPINGILL. Yes, Mrs. Webbmarsh. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 115 CHRISTABEL. [Shrilly.] You didn't rush into Court almost before your six months were up! RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] No. CHRISTABEL. Oh! Why, that's the very first thing that would occur to me! MRS, LOVETTE. [Involuntarily.] Ha, ha, ha! WEBBMARSH. Ma'am! [Drawing CHRISTABEL away.] Christabel, your ingenuousness is open to misconstruction. [Facing RIPPINGILL.] I can tolerate much, Rippingill, in a wanton age, but not that you should have allowed my wife-this young wife of mine!-to be received into an establishment where, to employ no harsher term, the relations between host and hostess are of an irregular character. RIPPINGILL. [Losing his temper.] Look here, Webbmarsh--! II6 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. [Coming between them.] SeymourRIPPINGILL. You'll pardon me if, at this juncture, any question affecting your young wife becomes, to my mind, of minor importance. WEBBMARSH. Minor-! CHRISTABEL. Hush! We are under Mr. Rippingill's roof, Haynes. WEBBMARSH. No, this is not the main building; this is an outhouse. MRS. LOVETTE. Minor importance! [Referring to CHRISTABEL.] Of course, she is of minor importance for the moment. We all are, except the little woman who has to be slapped in the face directly with this awful intelligence. WEBBMARSH. Has to be-? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE I17 CHRISTABEL. Has to be! What, isn't she aware-? MRS. LOVETTE. No; or you wouldn't be here, or I-enjoying ourselves as we're doing. The stupid muddle has only just been discovered. WEBBMARSH. My dear madam, my dear Seymour, I have been labouring tinder a slight misconception. CHRISTABEL. Haynes, what a tragedy we are assisting at! WEBBMARSH. I confess, Christabel, that we ought to have been more prompt in assuming the ignorance of this illstarred lady. MRS. LOVETTE. Hah! WEBBMARSH. But my self-reproach is lightened by the reflection that my attitude was due to the ambiguity of our friend's utterances. 118 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Ambiguity? WEBBMARSII. [Taking out his watch.] Unfortunate ambiguity. RIPPINGILL. I will endeavour, then, to avoid ambiguity, Webbmarsh, in my method of informing you that, no matter how unsatisfactory your visit to Taplow will have been to you, it has been no less so to me. WEBBMARSH. [Looking at his watch.] If there is a decent train CHRISTABEL. No, no, Haynes; I will not forsake this girl in such an emergency. MRS. LOVETTE. I should think not, indeed. Seymour, no rupture. RIPPINGILL. [Ignoring MRS. LOVETTE and advancing to WEBBMARSH.] You were asked here-I frankly avow it--to be entertaining-funny-- A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE II9 WEBBMARSH. Funny! CHRISTABEL. Funny! my husband! RIPPINGILL. Funny. Oh, don't imagine that I have forgottenthat I shall ever forget-your story, with imitations, of the Bandy-legged Ballet. CHRISTABEL. The Bandy-legged Ballet! MRS. LOVETTE. Bandy-legged--? CHRISTABEL. [Elevating her eyebrows.] Haynes, what is this? WEBBMARSH. [Uneasily.] Dearest, an idle reminiscence of a suburban pantomimeCHRISTABEL. With imitations! 120 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Ha! How often have I seen you, in response to a general invitation, pirouetting round my jovial bachelor board! Omnia mutantur-! CHRISTABEL. [Flouncing to the window in a pet.] Oh! WEBBMARSH. [Following her.] Christabel-! [PULLINGER has returned and has seated himself at the piano. He now commences, in a heavy, laborious manner, to play a light tune. The instrument being " set " with its back to the spectator, the player is out of sight. RIPPINGILL. Who's that? [Discovering PULLINGER-tO MRS. LOVETTE] Stop him! [Dropping on to the settee on the left, holding his head.] Oh, stop him! [MRS. LOVETTE hurries to PULLINGER. WEBBMARSH and CHRISTABEL are indulging in a lively altercation. MRS. LOVETTE. Mr. Pullinger-Mr. Pullinger--- A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 121 PULLINGER. [Thumping at the keys.] Rip, you should treat yourself to one of those ingenious piano-players which are all the rage. RIPPINGILL [Groaning.] Should I? PULLINGER. I can give you an invaluable tip. The Simplicitas -incomparably the best and cheapest. MRS. LOVETTE. [Sitting in the chair by the piano.] Phew! CHRISTABEL. [In the distance, to WEBBMABSH.] You swore I knew your past! WEBBMARSH. You do, you do. PULLINGER. In oak, forty-two guineas. Jot it down while you think of it. 122 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. [To MuR. LOVETTE.] Jot it down-down with it M as. LOVETTEflies to the oval table and writes, as WEBBMARSH advances, with an injured air, dancing with bandy-legs before CiiRIsTABEL. CHRISTABEL. [Eyeing him sternly.] Ho, to be sure! PULLINGER. [Playing.] Hirschlers'-left-hand side of Maddox Street, going west-mention my name RIPPINGILL. [Rallying under the influence of WEBBMARSH'S dance.] Immense, dear old friend! [Clapping his hands.] Ha, ha, ha! Enormous! Brilliant! Avis enters, at the door on the left, accompanied by TROOD, who carries her cape and sunshade. The door renains open. MRs. LOVETTE. [Rising.] Seymour--! [She crosses over to PULLINGER and shakes him A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 123 by the shoulder. He stops playing and WEBBMARSH, seeing Avis, walks away to the right. RIPPINGILL. [Jumping up excitedly.] Go on, Ha.ynes! The twiddling movement! Haynes, twiddle! CHRISTABEL. [Haughtily.] Certainly not, Mr. Rippingill. Avis. [To everybody, sadly.] Ah, please don't let me interfere with your enjoyment. RIPPINGILL, [To Avis.] If you had been here only a second earlier, my pet! Irresistible! Avis. [Taking the pins from her hat-in dismal tones.] I think it so very kind of Mr. Webbmarsh to dance for us in this hot weather. [She retires to the bay-window and MRS. LOVETTE assists her to remove her hat. TROOD joins them. 124 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. [Coming to RIPPINGILL-in a low vcice.] Rip, shall I withdraw? RIPPINGILL. Withdraw? PULLINGER. While you-- RIPPINGILL. While I-what? PULLINGER. Administer the shock. RIPPINGILL. Dash it, you don't propose that I should blurt it all out now, with a long evening before us! PULLINGER. [Disappointed.] No? [Pulling his moustache.] When--? RIPPINGILL. [Miserably.] After dinner, perhaps, so that she may be borne straight off to her bed. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 125 PULLINGER. [Brightening.] Well, we must look forward to after dinner. RIPPINGILL. [Biting his nails again.] Look forward! PULLINGER. Come, come; your sense of humour-- RIPPINGILL. Ha, ha! yes, yes. Still, one can't help-- PULLINGER. I know. My dear Rip, console yourself with this -I feel precisely as you are feeling for at least a month before I address the shareholders at our annual general meetings. RIPPINGILL. Do you, Jack? PULLINGER. Sssh! [He seats himself upon the settee on the left as Avis advances. 126 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE WEBBMARSII. [Who has been in consultation with CIIRISTABELstanding behind the arm-chair, in a marked manner.] Rippingill, I dropped a rather costly turquoise-andenamel shirt-stud in my dressing-room last night. It belongs to a set given me by my mother. My wife and I are going up to the house to renew our search for it. RIPPINGILL. [Behind his hand, to WEBBMARSH.] No disclosure till this evening. Postpone your search till after dinner. Avis. [To CHRISTABEL.] But why not let the servants hunt for it? CHRISTABEL. [Rushing at Avis and embracing her.] Oh, you sweet, sweet thing! Avis. [Startled.] Mrs. Webbmarsh! CHRISTABEL. [To WEBBMARSH.J I can't help it, Haynes. [To A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 127 Avis, tearfully.] My darling, forgive my husband's little fiction. Haynes has no shirt-studs, dearest; he wears buttons-and, oh, I shall be in the grounds, close at hand, when you need me. Avis. When I need you! CHRISTABEL. [Kissing her violently.] Yes, yes, yes, I intend to share this terrible trouble with you. Ah, we are nearly of the same age, are we not? Avis. Trouble! MRS. LOVETTE. [Behind the oval table, to herself.] Meddler! [Throwing up his hands, RIPPINGILL sinks on to the settee on the right. CHRISTABEL. [Joining WEBBMARSH, with a sob.] Come, Haynes! WEBBMARSH. [To her, as they depart.] Your impulses are fine, Christabel, but you have stamped me as a liar. 128 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE [They go into the garden. PULLINGER rises, stroking his moustache eagerly. MRS. LOVETTE moves to Avis's side. Avis. [Looking from one to the other.] What is it? What is it? [Entreatingly.] Oh, what is it? RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] Er-Trood, my dear boy-- TRooD. [ Who has been watching the proceedings with concern, coming forward.] Eh-yes--? RIPPINGILL. I-ah-I've just received some news-er-my wife's aunt-- Avis. Auntie! RIPPINGILL. A lady advanced in years-- TROOD. Sorry. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 129 RIPPINGILL. No, no, nothing serious; but if you'd take two whiffs of a cigarette in the garden-- TROOD. With pleasure. RIPPINGILL. I dare say Webbmarsh will give us permission to have tea upstairs; join us there in five minutes. TROOD. I will. [He passes through the archway and disappears. Avis. Aunt Amy-she is unwell! RIPPINGILL. She isn't exactly unwell, my petAvis. Then she is-ah!RIPPINGILL. No, no, no; I fancy she is going to be unwell. Avis. Going to be! I 130 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Er-that is, upset. Avis. Upset at what? RIPPINGILL. At 'our returning to her protection for a while, Avis. Avis. I! Return to my aunt Amy! [Advancing to him.] Oh, why are you so mysterious? Why deceive me? Speak plainly! [PULLINGER, getting rid of his stick, takes the carafe of water and the tumbler from the oval table. RIPPINGILL. Er-er-[to MRs. LOVETTE] Dora--? MRS. LOVETTE. [To Avis.] My dear young lady, a most disagreeable discovery has been made in the course of this otherwise pleasant afternoon. Avis. Discovery? MRS. LOVETTE. You see, your husband's solicitor-your husband's A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 131 late solicitor-your late husband's solicitor-ahem!Mr. Rippingill's solicitor-- PULLINGER. [Jogging her elbow with the water-bottle.] Water. MRS. LOVETTE. Eh? PULLINGER. [ Warningly.] Have some water ready. MRS. LOVETTE. Don't fidget me. [To AVTS.] Seymour's solicitorMr. What's-his-name?-Mr. Thing-a-my RIPPINGILL. Barlow PULLINGER. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Ready with the water. Avis. He has absconded? RIPPINGILL. In a sense. MRS. LOVETTE. He died. He died, unluckily, before he-before 132 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. BeforePULLINGER. Before completing certain indispensable formalities in-in-in connection with a case [losing himself] in which he represented the united interests of the shareholders of this RIPPINGILL. Shareholders! MRS. LOVETTE. What on earth-! Avis. W Well! Well, well! MRs. LOVETTE. Now, my child, I am convinced you will be braveheroic Avis. Yes, yes, I will be strong; I will beMRS. LOVETTE. Recollecting that the calamity which engulfs you is not attributableAvis, [Panting.] Oh! oh! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 133 MRS. LOVETTE. Is not in any way due-- [PULLINGER has poured out some water. He now passes it to MRs. LOVETTE, who thoughtlessly takes a gulp. PULLINGER. [Regaining the glass.] No, no; it isn't for you. RIPPINGILL. I think, Dora-if you will suffer me to say so-I think that, in making this communication to Avis, you are selecting language which is gratuitously alarming. MRS. LOVETTE. [Hotly.] Am I! [Turning away and seating herself in the chair by the piano.] Select your own language. RIPPINGILL. [Hastening to her.] My dear friend! MRS. LOVETTE. Do it yourself! RIPPINGILL. After all these years of intimacy, surely, surel -- [Avis drops on to the settee on the right. 134 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER goes to her, deposits the waterbottle and glass on the small table, and seats himself in the arm-chair. PULLINGER. [Dragging his chair nearer Avis.] Listen! Can you hear me? Avis. [Faintly.] Yes. PULLINGER. The Decree Nisi pronounced in the case of Rippingill versus Rippingill, Bowen, Fletcher, Hedderwick, and RideoutAvis. Go on. PULLINGER. There were no more. That Decree Nisi has not, owing to a peculiar combination of circumstances, been made absolute. Avis. [Sitting upright.] What-what does that mean? PULLINGER. It is necessary to appeal to the Court to regularise your position. Meanwhile Avis. Meanwhile--? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 135 PULLINGER. You go back to your aunt Halibut-to your aunt Amy-- Avis. Why-why should I? PULLINGER, My dear young friend, you can't continue to-to-- to reside with a gentleman who is no longer-who has never been-your husband. Avis. Never-not-! [Rising unsteadily.] Oh! [RirPING1LL and MiR. LOVETTE have retreated to the baywindow to settle their differences. le now comes forward and Avis totters towards him.] Seymour! PULLINGER. [Again seizing the water-bottle and tumbler.] I've told her. Avis. [To RIPPINGILL.] You-you are not my husband! RIPPINGILL. Avis Avis. We-we are not married! 136 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. M-m-m-my pet, I shall place myself in the hands of an eminent firm of lawyers the very first thing on Monday morning. They will advise me how I stand. Personally, 1 have no doubt that the Court will receive our explanation with the utmost amiability-I hope, even with hilarity. Thank heaven, the English bench is rich in judges with a sense of humour. [She sways.] Dora--! [MRS. LOVETTE brings forward the chair which stands by the piano. Avis sinks into it. FOLEY and BATES appear in the archway carrying the tea, etc. RIPPINGILL. [To the servants.] Tea upstairs-tea upstairsMRS. LOVETTE and PULLINGER. [To the servants.] Upstairs. [The servants withdraw. CHRISTABEL and WEBBMARSIr are seen in the garden. They peer in at the window and then move away. PULLINGER offers Avis water; she drinks. Avis. But-but-but, Seymour, suppose the Court should -should refuse-? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 137 RIPPINGILL. Out of the question. They may censure me in a slight degree; they may strike Barlow off the rollsno, they can't do thatAvis. Or-suppose we-suppose we didn't make any application to the Court-- RIPPINGILL. Avis! Avis. [Her head drooping.] And-and that the mistake was allowed to remain uncorrected! RIPPINGILL. [Leaving her side indignantly.] Upon my word, my pet, I'd rather you called me a villain at once [There is a brief pause. Then she raises her head and a beautiful smile irradiates her face. Avis. [With a long-drawn sigh.] Ah-h-h-h! PULLINGER. [Looking closely into her face.] She smiles! MRS. LOVETTE. She smiles! 138 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILFE PULLINGER and MRS. LOVETTE. [To RIPPINGILL, who turns to them.] A smile! Avis. [Rising, holding her heart.] Oh! oh! [Laughing hysterically.] Ha, ha, ha, ha! How-how amusing--! PULLINGER and MRS. LOVETTE. [To each other.] Amusing! Avis. [Retreating to the right, wiping her eyes.] D-d-don't look at me; it has been such a shockPULLINGER. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] A shock! Ah, ha! MaS. LOVETTE. [To PULLINGER, waving the Planchette.] Brava, Planchette! Avis. Let us-let us have tea. [Going to RIPPINGILL and patting his cheeks.] You-you old darling! Ha, ha, ha! Tea, everybody! Ha, ha, ha, ha--! [She runs out into the hall and disappears. RIPPINGILL follows her as Jar as the arch A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 139 way and there remains, gazing after her with an air of dissatisfaction. MRS. LOVETTE. [Gratefully.] At last! PULLINGER. [Hopping with delight.] Ho, ho, ho! MRS. LOVETTE. [Slapping him on the back.] I repeat it-you are simply wonderful. [Shaking hands with RIPPINGILL, who rejoins them.] Seymour, I congratulate you. PULLINGER. [Fetching his stick, and waving it in the air.] Rip, congratulations! MRS. LOVETTE. [Throwing her arms round RIPPINGILL.] I can't help it; I'm so rejoiced. RIPPINGILL. [Freeing himself from her embrace, unresponsively.] Thank you, Dora. MRS. LOVETTE. [Pointing to PULLINGER, who is now pacing the room at the back.] Don't thank me; thank him. 140 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPING1LL. [Walking away to the left.] Oh-ah-yes. PULLINGER. [Comning forward.] No, no, he has nothing to thank me for. The illegality of the dear old chap's second union would have come to light, sooner or later, without my aid. MRS. LOVETTE. Still, the unerring accuracy of your theory! PULLINGER. [,Stroking his moustache, modestly.] My dear lady, you would spoil a saint, RIPPINGILL. [Facing PULLINGER, coldly.] I am sorry to appear hypercritical; but, for the life of me, I fail to see where the unerring accuracy comes in. PULLINGER. [Astonished.] Eh? MRS. LOVETTE. Seymour! RIPPINGILL. I don't recall that Pullinger's theory provided for A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 141 my wife-for Avis's laughing at the disaster itself. I understood-I may be more than usually obtuse-I understood distinctly that the smile was to be reserved for a subsequent occasion. MRS. LOVETTE. [Reproachfully.] Oh, Seymour! PULLINGER. Perhaps this is a little grudging. RIPPINGILL. There has been no Interregnum, you know. PULLINGER. [Startled.] Eh? RIPPINGILL. I put it to you-has there? PULLINGER. I-ah-I must concede-- RIPPINGILL. Ah! Nor has the Revulsion occurred in the manner so confidently predicted. MRS. LOVETTE. [Shaken.] That's'true. 142 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. What has happened is, that it has been all Climax. MRS. LOVETTE. [Nodding gravely.] Yes, yes, now one reflects-it all seemed to come in a lump, didn't it? [Eyeing PULLINGER uneasily.] Ahem! PULLINGER. [Thoughtfully stroking the floor with the tip of his cane-in a low voice.] Rip, where do you get your carpets? RIPPINGILL. [In an outburst.] Dash my carpets! MRs. LOVETTE. [Shocked.] Oh! RIPPINGILL. I tell you I am not altogether satisfied with Avis's behaviour. I-[The suspended doll dances vigorously. He shakes his fist at it.] Gurrrh! Confound that egregious reviewer and his gushing bride! A lot they care for my misfortunes! [CHIRISTABEL and WEBBMARSH have entered quietly at the door on the left. IHaving his back to the door, RIPPINGILL is unaware of their presence. PULLINGER and MRS. LOVETTE make faces at him, and PULLINGER taps him with his stick.] A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 143 By Jove, I'll have an A B C laid on her dressingtable-! [To PULLINGER and MRS. LOVETTE.] Whatwhat--? WEBBMARSH. Rippingill! RIPPINGILL. [Turning.] 1-I beg your pardon-- [The servants-FOLEY and BATES-appear in the hall. FOLEY. [Standing in the archway.] Tea is waiting, sir. RIPPINGILL. [To FOLEY.] Who-who is in the upper room? FOLEY. Mrs. Rippingill, sir-and Mr. Trood. [The servants depart. RIPPINGILL. [After a pause.] TROOD!! [He makes for the staircase. MRS. LOVETTE and PULLINGER follow him, leaving WEBBMARSH and CHRISTABEL watching the capers of the dancing doll in wonderment. END OF THE SECOND ACT. THE THIRD ACT The scene remains the same, and the disposition of the furniture is exactly as at the beginning of the preceding act. A bed-pillow, a couple of blankets, and a suit of pyjamas on the settee on the right give evidence that the settee has been slept upon. Some articles of clothing-apparently cast aside overnight-a dressing-gown, and a couple of bathtowels litter the room. Lying upon the settee on the left, neatly folded, are a coat and waistcoat; and upon the small table are a mirror, a case of razors, a strop, a hot-water jug, a shaving-pot, a set of hair-brushes, and other toilet requisites. The Planchette has gone, but the doll still hangs from the ceiling. The door on the left is open, the hall-door closed. Outside, on the embankment-wall, a man's bathingdress is drying in the morning sun. [FOLEY is valeting RIPPINGILL, who stands, haggard and aged, in the middle of the A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 145 room. The man takes the waistcoat and coat from the settee on the left and puts RIPPINGILL into them. There is a knock at the hall-door, and FOLEY goes to the door and opens it. BATES, the parlour-maid, enters, carrying RIPPINGILL'S breakfast, the principal item of which is a solitary egg. BATES. [To RIPPINGILL, who has seated himself upon the settee on the left.] Your breakfast, sir. RIPPINGILL. [Feebly.] Thank you, Bates. FOLEY. [To BATES, after she has set the tray upon the oval table.] Give me a hand, Olga. [The servants, eyeing RIPPINGILL inquisitively, collect the things scattered about the room. FOLEY, finding himself overburdened, attempts to add the suit of pyjamas to BATES'S lighter load. BATES. You forget yourself, Mr. Foley. [They withdraw. Upon opening the hall-door, K 146 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE they enco unter WEBBMARSH and CHRISTABEL. The WEBBMAIRSHES enter as the servants depart. THE WEBBMARSHES. [To RIPPINGILL, sternly.] Good morning. RIPPINGILL Good morning. WEBBMARSH. May we ask how you have slept? CHRISTABEL. We hope, fairly. RIPPINGILL. Slept! [Looking up at the doll.] That doll has been dancing, almost without a pause, the whole night through. CHRISTABEL. [Piously.] Retribution! RIPPINGILL. I dozed at intervals, but only to dream of her-and young Trood. I-I could declare it's jumping now! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 147 WEBBMARSII. No, no, no! it's quite motionless. [Pointing to the breakfast-tray.] I advise you to eat your egg. CHRISTABEL. [Advancing.] Why don't you cut the disgraceful thing down, Mr. Rippingill, in a gentlemanlike spirit? RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] Because, madam, I am accused by your husband and yourself of having committed a gross breach of taste in hanging it there. CHRISTABEL. Can there be two opinions on the subject? WEBBMARSH. [Sitting on the settee on the right.] You would defend your outrageous prank, Rippingill? RIPPINGILL. With my last breath. The act was more appropriate, perhaps, to a sportive lad than to one whose barque is tossing heavily in the rolling forties; but I am incapable of transgressing the rules of good breeding. [CHRISTABEL offers him a knife from the breakfasttray.] No, that would be tantamount to confessing to 148 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE a modicum of justice in the charge. Let other hands remove it. [Sitting in the arm-chair.] How is myhow is Avis? CHRISTABEL. Radiant. RIPPINGILL. Her face retains that dreadful smile? CHRISTABEL. Dreadful? WEBBMARSH. I make no pretence to originality of thought or expression when I remark that a womnan's smiles are nature's jewels. [CHRISTABEL shows her teeth at WEBBMARSH winningly. RIPPINGILL. Avis his a rich collection of gems, then. [Miserably.] Are any steps decided upon, do you know? CHRISTABEL. [To WEBBMARSH,] Haynes, will you speak first? WEBBMARSH. [Clearing his throat.] Ahem! Certainly. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 149 CHRISTABEL. [Coming to RIPPINGILL.] In the meantime your egg is getting cold. RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] Dash my egg! CHRISTABEL. [Wincing.] Ssss! WEBBMARSH. [Rising.] Rippingill, my wife is unaccustomed to outbreaks of this kind. RIPPINGILL. I beg your pardon. [Seating himself at the oval table and pouring out his tea.] Well? WEBBMARSH. [Advancing to RIPPINGILL.] The matter was thoroughly threshed out over the dinner-table last night. CHRISTABEL. And again this morning, at breakfast. WEBBMARSH. Christabel-[She sits on the settee on the right.] A letter-to the framing of which I have lent the assist 150 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE ance of a practised pen-will accompany the communication you have already addressed to Miss Philpott. Pending the arrival of that lady from Bath, it is proposed that your existing domestic arrangements be strictly adhered to. RIPPINGILL. Existing arrangements-? WEBBMARSH. You continue to enjoy the sole and exclusive occupancy of this boat-houseCHRISTABEL. While she remains at the villa. WEBBMARSH. My darlingCHRISTABEL. Forgive me, dear. WEBBMARSH. While she remains, unmolested, in the more commodious building. CHRISTABEL. In my charge. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 151 WEBBMARSH. Under the chaperonage of my wife. You assent? RIPPINGILL. [Rising, tea-cup and saucer in hand.] Oh, if propriety demands such a course-- WEBBMARSH. If! CHRISTABEL. [Wincing again.] Ssss! RIPPINGILL. [Meekly, after sipping his tea.] This place grows excessively chilly at dawn. I presume I may be allowed an extra blanket? WEBBMARSH. I think we may take so much upon ourselves, Christabel? CHRISTABEL. I feel sure she would desire it. RIPPINGILL. [Falteringly.] I-I should like to be satisfied upon one point. Is-is Avis still obdurate-? 152 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE WEBBMARSH. Obdurate? RIPPINGILL. On the question of our ultimate remarriage? WEBBMARSH. [To CHRISTABEL.] Christabel-- [WEBBMARSH makes way for CHRISTABEL, who advances to RIPPINGILL. She produces her pocket-handkerchief--a ring is knotted to one of its corners. CHRISTABEL. Mr. Rippingill, I have received instructions from my dear friend, Miss Meiklejohn, to restore you this. RIPPINGILL. Meiklejohn! Avis's maiden name! CHRISTABEL. [Putting the ring into his hand.] With Miss Meiklejohn's regards and best wishes for your future. RIPPINGILL. Her-her wedding ring-- [His cup shakes so violently in its saucer that A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 153 it is in danger of falling. She takes both cup and saucer from him, and replaces them on the breakfast-tray. CHRISTABEL. [As she does so.] Permit me. [MRS. LOVETTE peeps in at the hall door, sees RIPPINGILL, and enters hastily. MRS. LOVETTE. [Out of breath.] Seymour-- RIPPINGILL. Dora? MRS. LOVETTE, [Shaking hands with him sympathetically.] What sort of night have you passed? I am almost afraid to inquire. RIPPINGILL. Horrible. MRS. LOVETTE. Ah, you are in no fit state to receive a fresh shock. RIPPINGILL. Fresh--! 154 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE CHRISTABEL. Something has happened! RIPPINGILL. [Apprehensively.] Avis--? MRS. LOVETTE. She wishes to see you, Seymour; she has an important announcement to make. RIPPINGILL. Announcement? THE WEBBMARSHES. Announcement? MRS. LOVETTE. She-she is engaged to be married to Mr. Trood. [RIPPINGILL sinks on to the settee on the right. CHRISTABEL. [Rapturously.] Haynes! WEBBMARSH. [To CHRISTABEL.] My darling, this romance grows hourly. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 155 MRS. LOVETTE. [Sitting in the arm-chair.] I left them at the breakfast-table for barely a moment, and when I returned it was all over. CHRISTABEL. [Sitting on the settee on the left.] What a delightful young fellow! WEBBMARSH. [To CHRISTABEL.] I don't think I have told you, Christabel, that he has read my Ifluence of the Russian Novelists and other Essays. CHRISTABEL. I am not surprised. MRS. LOVETTE. [Tartly.] Well, you can't get off with that for a wedding present, at any rate. RIPPINGILL. [Dully, staring at the floor, and slowly rubbing his knees.] Nobody mentioned that Trood had been breakfasting up at the house. WEBBMARSIH. He arrived during breakfast. 156 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE CHRISTABEL. We had our work cut out to persuade him to peel a peach. WEBBMARSH, He has a rare independence of character -young Trood. RIPPINGILL, The viper! The snake in the grass! The doublefacedCHRISTABEL. Oh! cruelly unjust! WEBBMARSH. I fancy, Rippingill, that if you could be induced to eat your egg you would form a more equitable estimate of Mr. Trood's conduct. CHRISTABEL. And of your conduct also, Mr. Rippingill. MRS. LOVETTE. [Rising and re-seating herself beside RIPPINGILL.] It appears, Seymour, that this young man and woman have unconsciously been in love with one another for over a year. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE " i57 WEBBMARSH. [Sitting in the arm chair.] Each unsuspicious of the other's feelings; each equally oblivious to his ownof her own-his and her own-their own-[Producing a note-book and turning its pages.] I wrote a brief description last night of their curious mutuality of sentiment, the phraseology of which is slightly less involved. CHRISTABEL. Yes, and their hearts' secret would have remained unspoken, unguessed, but for the sudden disclosure of yesterday. [Rising ecstatically.] That it was which released the torrent; and the pent-up waters, bursting down in their mad career every barrier of conventionality and circumspection, drew these young people together in a headlong, eager, lingering embrace. Oh, it's fine! it's purple! WEBBMARSH. [Taking out his pocket-pen.] Christabel, will you favour me by repeating your eloquent tirade? [She stands over him while he writes, dictating sentence after sentence. Mas. LOVETTE. [To RIPPINGILL.] Ah, dear Seymour, one recalls now with painful distinctness Mr. Trood's account of the life at the boarding-house in Westbourne Terrace. 158 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. [Gradually recovering his ideas.] Mother Culross'sMRS. LOVETTE. The second-floor landing RIPPINGILL. Every evening before dinner. MRS. LOVETTE. The light entering at the coloured windowRIPPINGILL. Avis of the Shimmering Hair! MRS. LOVETTE. Yes, the luxuriant coil at the back-- RIPPINGILL. [Laughing strangely.] Ha, ha, ha! [He rises and paces the room, a vindictive gleam in his eye.] MRS. LOVETTE. [Following him.] Ah, thank heaven, your sense of humour is beginning to reassert itself. [Encouragingly.] Ha, ha, ha! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 159 RIPPINGILL. [On the left.] Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! WEBBMARSH. [Annoyed.] Tut, tut! [To escape interrupting, he transfers himself to the settee on the right. CHRISTABEL joins him and, with impassioned gestures, continues dictating.. RIPPINGILL. [Facing MRS. LOVETTE.] Dora, I understand you to say that Avis is anxious to meet me? MRS. LOVETTE. Yes-yes. RIPPINGILL. I am prepared to receive her here. MRS. LOVETTE. I'll tell her. RIPPINGILL. Or I will wait upon her, by appointment, at the house. [Grimly facetious.] Ha, ha! Is she At Home this afternoon? 16o A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. [Laying her hands upon his shoulders.] Ha, ha! Bless the man, he is in the old. happy vein again! [S'he runs out into the garden and disappears. WEBBMARSII. [Glancing at the retreating figure.] A terribly distracting person. [To RIPPINGILL.] Rippingill-- RIPPINGILL. [Muttering.] Avis of the Shimmering Hair! Avis of the Shimmering-[to WEBBMARSII] Eh? WEBBMARSH. [Rising, tapping his note-book.] I want you, when you have a minute or two to spare, to enable me to fill in a few lacunce in these notes of mine. RIPPINGILL. N(tes? WEBBMARSII. Notes concerning your unfortunate association with the charming young lady to whom I have been privileged to be of some small service. RIPPINGILL. And, pray, with what object--? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 161 WEBBMARSH. [Raising a hand.] Sssh, sssh, sssh! don't be hasty, Rippingill. The details, necessary as they are for my purpose, will be obscured by artistic treatment. It is possible that your connection with the finished product will escape recognition outside a limited circle. RIPPINGILL. The finished product! CHRISTABEL. [Seated upon the settee on the right, opening her eyes widely.] Haynes! WEBBMARSH. [Turning to her with a smile.] No wonder you complained of my restlessness last night, dearest. [Earnestly.] Christabel, it has long been my ambition to add to the store of the world's creative literature. CHRISTABEL. [Rising; her hands clasped in admiration.] Oh! RIPPINGILL. What! CHRISTABEL. [To WEBBMARSH.] You are inspired by the startling events which have taken place here? L 162 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE WEBBMARSH. I am.' [RIPPINGILL walks away wrathfully. WEBBMARSH seats himself upon the settee on the left.] I am convinced that the history of Rippingill's unprosperous conjugal adventures furnishes a motive so unique, so powerful, so prolific, that the intelligent public cannot fail to leap to it. RIPPINGILL. [Returning.] Webbmarsh, this is an indelicate intrusion on my private affairs. WEBBMARSH. You have ceased to have any private affairs, Rippingill. You have become simply a human document. RIPPINGILL, [On the right.] Human document--! CHIRISTABEL. [To WEBBMARSH, standing over him.] You are right. Yes, what a novel it will make! RIPPINGILL. Mrs. Webbmarsh-- WEBBMARSH. [Constrainedly.] A novel? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 163 CHRISTABEL. [Closing her eyes.] I picture the design on the binding! RIPPINGILL. Do you! WEBBMARSH. Ahem! As a matter of fact, my present inclinations tend rather towards the drama. CHRISTABEL. [Dubiously.] The drama? RIPPINGILL. [Hotly.] The drama! WEBBMARSH. [To CHRISTABEL.] Surely you will not deny, Christabel, that the drama stands desperately in need of rehabilitation? CHRISTABEL. Deny it! Nobody ever denies that. But-- RIPPINGILL. Now, look here, Webbmarsh! [Sitting in the armchair.] Whether or not the drama needs rehabilitating, I strongly protest against its being rehabilitated at my expense. 164 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE WEBBMARSH. Ho w typically English! [Rising and moving towards RIPPINGILL.] Here, then, we have a theme glowing with igneous vitality. RIPPINGILL. I go further-- WEBBMARSH. Supplied, too, by a section of middle-class society normally shallow and soulless! RIPPINGILL. [With increasing indignation.] Shallow and soulless CHRISTABEL. [Sitting upon the settee on the left.] I have no wish to discourage you, Haynes. My only misgiving-- WEBBMARSH. I fathom your thoughts, Christabel. Oh, but this is not a task for one of those fellows who have the tricks of their trade at their finger-tips. [Walking about between CHRISTABEL and RIPPINGILL.] This is for a writer, impetuous, ignorant, who can hurl, as it were, chunks of raw, bleeding humanity upon the boards. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 165 RIPPINGILL. Webbmarsh, I may be-I am-decidedly raw-- CHRISTABEL. [Catching WEBBMARSH'S enthusiasm.] Ah, what a denouement for your play! What an end! WEBBMARSH. [Pausing.] I doubt if it should have an end, dearest. It should, as I conceive it, belong to that order of dramatic production which is ail beginning-and middle. [With fervour.] But no end-no end! RIPPINGILL. [Sneeringly.] Hah! endless! WEBBMARSH. Endless? [Peevishly.] No, no; the custom of late dining and early supping restricts you to the hours of nine till eleven. CHRISTABEL, [Seeing Avis.] Ah--! Avis enters from the garden, bright-eyed and rosy, and as gay as a lark. She is followed by TROOD,who carries a brown-paper parcel. RIPPINGILL moves over to the left as CHRISTABEL rushes at the young couple effusively. 166 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE CHRISTABEL. [Kissing Avis.] Oh, you naughty-waughty duckiest of ducklings! To go and get engaged behind your Christy-wisty's back! Avis, [Lightly.] Ha, ha, ha! CHRISTABEL. [Giving TROOD her hand warmly.] Monster! I ought to hate you! WEBBMARSH. [Shaking hands with Avis.] Miss Meiklejohn, I hope that future joys are to atone amply for the sorrows of the past. [Shaking hands with TROOD.] Mr. Trood, may one fortunate man shake hands with another? Avis. [Approaching RIPPINGILL.] Er-Seymour-- RIPPINGILL. [Facing her, with forced composure.] Avis? Avis. Mrs. Lovette has explained? Vivian- [Bringing TROOD forward and presenting him to RIPPINGILL.] My fiance. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE x67 RIPPINGILL. [Scowling at TRooD.] Nice morning. TRooD. [Scowling at RIPPINGILL.] Very. [Advancing to RIPPINGILL, haughtily.] I am indebted to you for the loan, made through your servant yesterday, of certain articles of clothing. Avis. [To RIPPINGILL.] After the shower, you remember. TROOD. [Handing RIPPINGILL the brown-paper parcel.] In the altered circumstances, my spirit of independence obliges me to return them without delay. CHRISTABEL. [With WEBBMARSH at the door on the left.] Noble! WEBBMARSH. Quite, quite. RIPPINGILL. [After laying the parcel aside upon the oval table-to TROOD.] You-ah-you keep the shoes? TROOD. Shoes? 168 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. My shoes. [Pointing to Avis.] You are standing in them. TROOD. [Walking away.] Ho! a joke! Avis. [Sitting upon the settee on the right.] Ha, ha! CHRISTABEL. [To WEBBMARSH.] Exceedingly ill-timed. WEBBMARSH. Atrocious! [The WEBBMARSHES withdraw reluctantly. Avis. [To RIPPINGILL.] You may crack as many of your little jokes now as you choose, Seymour; I don't care. I consider it so proper of you not to rave and go on unreasonably: But, oh-I'll be absolutely candid with you-the tortures I have endured these last two months! RIPPINGILL. [Approaching her.] Tortures! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 169 Avis. [Looking up at the ceiling.] What did you use, to bore that hole in the ceiling? RIPPINGILL. A gimlet. Avis. You goose, you could have done it with one of your funny stories. RIPPINGILL. [Blankly.] With one of my-! Avis. Ha, ha, ha! RIPPINGILL. Do drop that maddening smile! You-you-you mean to convey that you have been bored, Avis? Avis. To death. [He sinks into the arm-chair.] Whew! [Closing her eyes.] How often have I wished myself back in that dear, mouldy old Westbourne Terrace! RIPPINGILL. You were dull enough there, in all conscience, you ungrateful woman. 170 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE TROOD. [Advancing-warningly. ] RippingillAvis. In a way, I was; in the way that a girl may be dull without tumbling to it. But since-when I found out what aunt Amy had done in saddling me on to a-to a gentleman with a sense of humour--! RIPPINGILL. Aunt Amy! Did she-! Avis. Why, of course she did it. RIPPINGILL. [His eyes bolting.] By Jove, so she did! Avis. What do you think! [Rising and joining TROOD on the left.] Vivian has been fearfully depressed, too. Oh, we've both had a terrible experience! RIPPINGILL. And for how long has this inexcusable reciprocity of feeling been existing between you? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 171 Avis. We can't be positive. We suppose it began to grow imperceptibly at the very earliest stage of our acquaintance. TROOD. [Approaching RIPPINGILL.] On turning the matter over in my mind while shaving this morning, I came to the conclusion that the origin of my attachment to this lady is clearly traceable to our habit of meeting upon the stairs at Mother Culross's. RIPPINGILL. Ah, before dinner. TROOD, And occasionally later. Avis. [Sitting on the settee on the left.] There was plenty of gas-light on the second-floor landing. RIPPINGILL. [Mialiciously.] That also, I assume, cast a flickering gleam upon the seated figure of Miss Meiklejohn? TROOD. Exactly. RIPPINGILL, Ha, ha! Avis of the Shimmering Hair! 172 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE STROOD. [Gazing, mournfully, at Avis's head.] Its tone was wonderful in those far-off days. RIPPINGILL. [Rising, a strange expression in his face.] Well, my dear sir, I assure you, you need have no apprehension of permanent deterioration. TROOD. Permanent-! RIPPINGILL. The new tail is several shades more golden than the one she is wearing this morning. TROOD. The new-! Avis. Seymour! RIPPINGILL. The tail which came home from Marcel's last-week. Avis. [Rising.] Oh! RIPPINGILL. [To TROOD.] You must ask her to grace the dinnertable with it to-night. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 173 TRooD. Avis! [She is guiltily silent.] Avis! [ITo RIPPINGILL.] Coward! [Walking away to the right.] Poltroon! Avis. [To RIPPINGILL.] You spiteful little toad! RIPPINGILL. [Unnaturally calm.] You have impelled me to this. Avis. Wasp! Caterpillar! RIPPINGILL. The good that was in me has been stifled; there is no enormity I could not commit. Avis. [Going to TRooD.] Vivian[FOLEY appears, entering from the garden. FOLEY. [To RIPPINGILL.] I beg your pardon, sir-Mr Pullinger. RIPPINGILL. Where? FOLEY. Driving his motor-car up and down the road, sir. 174 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. Up and down-! FOLEY. [At the oval table.] Yes, sir-over obstacles. RIPPINGILL. Obstacles! FOLEY. I've been laying down some nails and bottles for him, sir. [Taking up the breakfast-tray.] He wants you to come outside and see some ingstrordinary unpuncturable tyres he's running with. RIPPINGILL. Gurrrh! [Furiously.] Tell Mr. Pullinger I'll see his tyres--! [A startlingly loud double report is heard. Avis clings to TEooD, and FOLEY lets the tray fall upon the table. FOLEY. [After a pause, quietly.] Bust! RIPPINGILL. [With the utmost satisfaction.] Ah--! [ With head erect, and hands under his coat-tails, A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 175 he walks slowly out into the garden and disappears on the right. FOLEY. [Taking up the tray again.] Phillips lent me some nice little nasty French tacks, ma'am. Avis. [Sitting in the arm-chair, sulkily.] FoleyFOLEY. [Halting, with the tray, in the archway.] Ma'am? Avis. The landau at half-past ten, to go to Cookham church. FOLEY. Cert'nly, ma'am. [FOLEY withdraws. TROOD, with a heavy brow, walks across to the left and sits on the settee, Avis. [After a short silence.] Vivian-- TRooD. Oh, it's of no consequence. Another illusion shattered; that's all. 176 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE Avis. The sneak! Those who dwell in glass houses-! I've seen his dentist's bill. TROOD. It's a lack of frankness on a girl's part that hurts a man. You know how the fellows at Culross's admired you [passing his hand over the back of his head] on account of-on account ofAvis. [Shrugging her shoulders.] I've forgotten. TROOD. Why, you sat to me and young Claude Harker for that alone. Avis. Very probably. TROOD. [Bitterly.] You needn't have sat at all; you might just as well have sent it round to the studio. Avis. [Whimpering.] Oh! oh! oh! [TRooD rises and approaches her. She transfers herself angrily to the settee on the right.] No, thanks. I'm not to be bullied one minute and fondled the next. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 177 TROOD. Oh, as you please. [Sitting in the arm-chair, staring at the carpet.] At any rate, this explanation will have cleared the air. Avis. [Sarcastically.] The Shimmering 'air! TROOD. [Regarding her with mingled surprise and reproach.] Hah! "As the husband is, the wife is; thou art mated-or were recently-with a clown And the grossness of his nature-evidently-has had weight to drag thee down." Avis. [Softening-in a low voice.] Rats! TROOD. Avis Avis. [Penitently.] Look here! I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll make a present of it all to my maid-Rhodes. Her hair is nearly the colour of mine. And then, when we are married, if ever you have to paint a head that shimmers, there she will be-- TROOD. [Startled.] My dear girl! M 178 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE Avis. Eh? TROOD. A maid-when we're married--! Avis. [Her jaw falling.] Oh, no, I-I suppose not. TROOD. You-er-you had no maid in Westbourne Terrace. Avis. No, anybody that came along used to lace me up in Westbourne Terrace. TROOD. [Rising and reseating himself by her side.] Dearest, why should we not endeavour to lead that blissful, dreamful, memorable time over again? Avis. [Pouting.] Oh, I dare say I could manage to go back to the old, rotten, hugger-mugger style of existence, if I tried. TROOD. Really, if that's your view--! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 179 Avis. Sssh! don't get wild. [Nestling up to him.] I realise, Vivian, that in the early days of our married life ours must be quite a humble menagerie. TROOD. [Correcting her.] MIenage. Avis. [Her head upon his shoulder.] Menage, do you call it? [Sighing.] Still-ah!-Rhodes is only a thirtypounder-- TROOD. Only a thirty-pounder! [Starting up.] Avis, are you aware-have you the faintest notion-of the condition of Art in this country? Avis. [With a nod.] It's a bit off. TROOD. Precisely. Of course, there is always the chance of my disposing of one of my pictures under the terms of the Chantrey Bequest. But till then 1 1 In places such as Northern Nigeria and the Leeward Islands, and in any country where an allusion to the Chantrey Bequest might prove mystifying, this speech should be omitted nd the words between brackets spoken in its stead. I8o A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE (Trood. Precisely. As to my ultimately achieving fame and fortune, I have, happily, no misgivings-- none whatever. But till then--) Avis. [Making a wryface.] Till then-economy. TROOD. The strictest economy. Avis. [Dryly.] Yes. Ha, ha! My stars, I've been there. [WEBBMARSH and CHRISTABEL re-enter at the door on the left, breathlessly, as if they have been running. WEBBMARSH. Where is he? Avis. [Rising.] He? CHRISTABEL. Mr. Rippingill. WEBBMARSH. We heard the report of a firearm, Avis. No, that was a tyre of Mr. Pullinger's motor-car. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 181 CHRISTABEL. A tyre-? WEBBMARSH. A tyre merely! CHRISTABEL. We feared the unhappy man had expiated his faults by a bullet. WEBBMARSH. [Sitting in the chair by the piano.] It seems we need not have hurried, Christabel. Avis. [Going to CHRISTABEL-in a whisper.] What do you think? Seymour has given my back-hair away. CHRISTABEL. Never! Avis. Gospel. CHRISTABEL. Brute! [Securing her own hair.] Is nothing sacred! WEBBMARSH. [Rising, and coming to Avis, thoughtfully.] In one of Ibsen's plays there is the sound of a pistol-shot. 182 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE Avis. But there has been no pistol-shot. WEBBMARSH. No, no; I thoroughly understand. [PULLINGER enters, from the garden, followed by MRS. LOVETTE and RiPPINGILL. PULLINGER is wearing an elaborate motorcostume. PULLINGER. [Advancing to Avis, hotly.] Good morning, madam. [To WEBBMARSH.] Good morning, Mr. Webster. [To CHRISTABEL.] Good morning. WEBBMARLSH. [To CHRISTABEL, joining her behind the oval-tableannoyed.] Webster! CHRISTABEL. [To WEBBMARSHI.] Illiterate fellow! PULLINGER. [Frowning at TROOD, who is behind the smaller table.] Pish! TROOD. Sir! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 183 PULLINGER. [To Avis.] My good lady, you will excuse me for saying that I am indignant-profoundly indignantat the treatment which is being meted out to my old friend Rippingill. Avis. Indeed? PULLINGER. I pronounce it- [to RIPPINGILL] I have administered the same rebuke, Rip, on many occasions in dealing with our shareholders-[to Avis] I pronounce it to be neither more nor less than abominable. Avis. [To PULLINGER.] M'yes, you are at the head of a large-an exceedingly large-business, aren't you? PULLINGER. I am. Avis. [Sweetly.] As a rule, do you find any very great difficulty in minding it? WEBBMARSH. Ha, ha! CHRISTABEL. What a refreshing sense of humour! 184 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. [Advancing-weakly.] Ha, ha, ha! I am bound to admit, Jack-he, he, he!-I beg your pardon[PULLINGER, stroking his moustache, turns away and joins MRS. LOVETTE in the baywindow. Avis. [Vivaciously.] Ha, ha, ha! [Calling to MRS. LOVETTE.] Mrs. Lovette, some of us are going to Cookham church. The carriage is ordered for half-past ten. Mis. LOVETTE. [Sternly.] No, thank you, Mrs. Meiklejohn. Avis. [Counting.] Mr. Trood-Mis. Webblr.aish-me. There's room for another. [To WEBBMARSH.] You won't-? WEBBMARSH. Why not? I have never regarded church-going as incompatible with the Higher Bohemianism. Avis. How jolly! Shall we get ready? [The WEBBMARSHES move to the hall-door. Avis finds herself face to face with RIPPINGILL.] Oh! [Distantly.] I am short of silver. Have you any? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. [Surprised.] Silver? Avis. For my thanks-offering. [After a little consideration he selects a small coin from a handful of money and puts it into her extended palm. She views the coin with scorn.] You haven't such a thing as a microscope about you, have you? RIPPINGILL. [Sadly.] A week ago it would have been, at least, half a crown. Avis. Stingy! [To those at the window.] Tra, la, la! [She joins the WEBBMARSHES, and TROOD, and they all take their departure. MRS. LOVETTE. [Advancing.] Ha! This is her real nature come to the surface. Under the skin the creature is simply a pert, brazen hussy. PULLINGER. [Also leaving the window, having divested himself of his motor-costume.] No doubt of it. Like thousands of investors before him, Rippingill was misled by the prospectus. 186 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. Prospectus? PULLINGER. By a pretty, pearly complexion. MRS. LOVETTE. And a thin veneer of boarding-house gentility. PULLINGER. [Hobbling about the room.] I repeat, I am boiling with indignation. MRS. LOVETTE. [Going to RIPPINGILL, w0ho is sitting on the settee on the right and is staring into vacancy with watery eyes.] Still, it might be worse. You are rid of her, Seymour. PULLINGER. That painting puppy-Trood! MRS. LOVETTE. [Seating herself beside RIPPINGILL.] You must force yourself to look upon it in that light. PULLINGER. These Websters-Weblings-! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE "187 MRS. LOVETTE. [Putting an arm round RIPPINGILL'S shoulder.] And you must forget how your poor nose has been rubbed, metaphorically, in the gravel. PULLINGER. To think that such people encumber the earth, walk, talk, sleep, eat the firm's biscuits-! MRS. LOVETTE. [To RIPPINGILL.] Come, come! Why, when I left you, to go back to the house, you were laughing heartily. RIPPINGILL. Oh, Dora, I have laughed heartily for the last time. MRS. LOVETTE. Don't! don't, Seymour! [He snivels.] That's right; there's nothing like a good cry. [PULLINGER'S attention is arrested by the attitude of the pair towards each other, and he stands watching them with intense interest. RIPPINGILL. [Searching his pockets for a handkerchief.] Ah, if fifteen years ago, when I first knew you, Dora-sixteen, isn't it-? 188 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. [Producing her pocket-handkerchief.] There or thereabouts. RIPPINGILL. If I had then been wiser, less d-d-diffidentMRS. LOVETTE. [Dabbing her eyes.] Hasn't Foley put a handkerchief in your pocket? RIPPINGILL. [Helplessly.] No, the neglectful beast! MRS. LOVETTE. [Giving him her handkerchief.] Dear, dear old friend PULLINGER, [Suddenly.] Great heavens! MRS. LOVETTE and RIPPINGILL. Eh? PULLINGER. [Advancing.] Rip, what a glorious opportunity! RIPPINGILL. Opportunity--? A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 18q PULLINGER. Of revenging yourself! RIPPINGILL. Revenging--! PULLINGER, Say rather, retaliating in kind. If would but lend her co-operation--! MRS. LOVETTE. I-I don't-- Mrs. Lovette PULLINGER. And enable you to reconstruct your -your household-- company-er MRS. LOVETTE. [Rising and walking away.] You must really be more explicit. PULLINGER. [To RIPPINGILL.] If you could show 'em all that you can transfer your allegiance as promptly as that vulgar young woman has done-- RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] Jack! Igo A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. [Pointing to MRs. LOVETTE.] Placing this amiable lady in a position of wifely authority in your establishment-- RIPPINGILL. Jack-oh, Jack--! MRS. LOVETTE. [On the left.] An absurd suggestion! PULLINGER. [To her.] Absurd! Putting other considerations aside, I contend that a friendship of fifty years' standing-- MRS. LOVETTE. [Sharply.] Fifteen. PULLINGER. Fifteen-could have no culmination more felicitous. RIPPINGILL. [Hoarsely.] Revenge! MRS. LOVETTE. [Seating herself upon the settee on the left.] Mr. Pullinger-- A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE IgI RIPPINGILL. Revenge PULLINGER. Rip--! RIPPINGILL. [Crossing rapidly but unsteadily to MRS. LOVETTE and standing before her.] DoraMRS. LOVETTE. I won't hear of it. RIPPINGILL. Listen. I cannot bring you, I do not profess to bring you, the love of a callow, inexperienced youth. On the contrary, I am a man who has passed through the furnace. MRS. LOVETTE. [Contracting her brows.] Two furnaces. RIPPINGILL. Two, if you will. But I do offer you the devotion of one whose deep well of affection, however frequently the-the-the PULLINGER. [Helpfully.] Bucket 192 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE RIPPINGILL. No, no. MRS. LOVETTE. [To PULLINGER.] Pray be silent. RIPPINGILL. However frequently it has been drawn upon, is far from dry. DoraMRS. LOVETTE. [Breathing heavily.] This-this is as a blow to a defenceless woman. RIPPINGILL. Speak, Dora. MRS. LOVETTE. To say that I am dumfoundered would be to give too faint an idea of the emotions that crowd upon me. RIPPINGILL. Speak. MRS. LOVETTE. [Irritably.] I am speaking. What else am I doing? [Shielding her face with her hand.] Gentlemen, that you should both be present-both be witnessesRIPPINGILL. [Walking away readily.] I will leave you. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 193 MRS. LOVETTE. [Rising.] No, no; not you. [RIPPINGILL passes quickly through the hall and vanishes into the garden. PULLINGER. [Moving towards the hall.] Rip- [To MRS. LOVETTE.] He's gone. MRS. LOVETTE. [Much ruffled.] I was about to tell him that I must have time, time to weigh everything carefullyPULLINGER. [Returning to her-earnestly,] Madam, at our age we have no time to spare. MRS. LOVETTE. [ Walking away to the window.] Speak for yourself, Mr. Pullinger. PULLINGER. I do. Last night, for instance, lying awake feverishly, disturbed by thoughts of Rippingill's embarrassments, the notion occurred to me of constructing an air-pillow which should maintain a cool equable temperature. N 194 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. [Peering out of the window in search of RIPPINGILL.] A highly original idea. PULLINGER. The Pullinger Pillow, a Boon for the Sleepless! And do you imagine, my good lady, that I intend to take time over it? MRs. LOVETTE. [Leaving the window.] You will excuse mePULLINGER No, even while I have been talking to you and Rip, that marvellous double consciousness peculiar to the human brain has been at full pressure. MRS. LOVETTE. [Caustically.] Oh, has it! PULLINGER. [Drumming with his fingers upon his forehead.] There's no avoiding it, Mrs. Lovette. The design includes a small engine, driven by gas or electric power, at the bedside. MRS. LOVETTE. [Sinking into the arm-chair.] Lord 'a mercy! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 195 [RIPPINGILL reappears suddenly, entering at the door on the left.] Seymour! RIPPINGILL. [Confronting MRS. LOVETTE-in hollow tones.] Dora Lovette, I do not offer you-you can never hope to get from me-the love of an unfledged boy. MRS. LOVETTE. [Rising with emotion.] Seymour, if love of that sort were to grow at my feet I would not stoop to pluck it. RIPPINGILL. What am I to understand? MRS. LOVETTE. [Going to him and leaning upon his arm] Ah-! [They sit together upon the settee on the left, he with a troubled air.] Who could have anticipated this? RIPPINGILL. No, we must make the best of it. MRS. LOVETTE. The best of it! RIPPINGILL. I mean, we must strive to make each other happy, Dora 196 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. Ah, indeed! PULLINGER. [Absorbed, looking at them absently.] There is only one drawback that I can foresee. MRS. LOVETTE. Drawback? PULLINGER. Vibration. MRS. LOVETTE. Vibration! PULLINGER. Perhaps occasional oscillation. RIPPINGILL. [Rising, anxiously.] Oh, Jack, why? PULLINGER. Which would be fatal to the chances of repose. RIPPINGILL. [Plucking at PULLINGER'S sleeve.] Jack, you alarm meMRS. LOVETTE. Ab, your invention, Mr.Pullinger! [Constrainedly.] Ha, ha! Mr. Pullinger's invention! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE i97 PULLINGER. Yes, Rip; a priceless, inestimable gift to mankind. RIPPINGILL. [Relieved.] Oh, your luggage-label, Jack! [Faintly.] Ha, ha! PULLINGER. No, no-[Rousing himself.] But I haven't wished you joy. Bless you-[advancing to MRS. LOVETTE] bless you! Apropos-the most ravishing spot in creation for a honeymoon. It's in Wales-[to her] jot it down before it escapes me-- MRS. LOVETTE. [Rising and reseating herself at the writing-tablemodestly.] You bold man, you! PULLINGER. No trains, no post, no papers-nothing. RIPPINGILL. [Discotentedly.] No papers? PULLINGER. [To MRS. LOVETTE.] Two L'sMRS. LOVETTE. [Writing.] Two L's 198 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. Two L's-two n's-two y's-two w's -one i-t-h. [A hand on RIPPINGILL'S shoulder.] And now you proceed to fire your first bomb-shell. RIPPINGILL. [Biting his nails.] At once? PULLINGER. [Tugging at his moustache.] Send a message to your stables. Your carriage is not at the disposal of Mrs.Miss-your late wife and her supporters. RIPPINGILL. [Nervously.] Not? PULLINGER. You require it this morning, to take a lady for a drive. RIPPINGILL. Mrs. Lovette? PULLINGER, Mrs. Lovette. Your coachman reports to the house -and the bomb bursts. MRs. LOVETTE. [Rising.] I think I should prefer a more ceremonious method A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 199 PULLINGER. Have they observed ceremony? [To RIPPINGILL.] Where's your bell? [Discovering the telephone.] The telephone-better-- [MRs. LOVETTE retires to the bay-window as PULLINGER hobbles to the telephone and rings at it vigorously. RIPPINGILL. [Fortifying himself.] Revenge-revenge-revenge PULLINGER. [After listening at the telephone.] Come along, Rip! RIPPINGILL. Eh? PULLINGER. Sharp! RIPPINGILL. [Going to the telephone and speaking to it.] I want Foley... Foley... What?... Oh-! [Leaving the telephone in a hurry.] Avis! PULLINGER. Go back! RIPPINGILL. It's Avis! 200 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. [Leading him to the instrument.] Go back! RIPPINGILL. Avis is at the other end! [At the telephone again, mildly.] Oh, is that you, my pet? MRS. LOVETTE. [Coming for0ward.] No, no PULLINGER. [By the piano.] MRS. LOVETTE. Not your pet! RIPPINGILL. [Over the top of the piano.] What's the matter? PULLINGER. You are calling her your pet. MRS. LOVETTE. [Taking PULLINGER'S place.] I'm your pet. RIPPINGILL. I beg your pardon. The force of habitPULLINGER, Go back! RIPPINGILL. [Returning to the telephone.] Are you there. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 2CI Touching the carriage... I say, touching my carriage. No, my carriage... Oh, I am perfectly well aware you haven't left yet... PULLINGER. Impudence! MRS. LOVETTE. Unblushing effrontery! RIPPINGILL. At any rate, you can't have it this morning... Am I not intelligible?.. You cannot have it this morning... [Rapidly.] You can't have it, you can't have it, you can't have it, you sha'n't have it...! PULLINGER. [Walking away to the right and sitting on the settee.] Excellent! RIPPINGILL. The reason?... By all means. Don't you shout at me.:. MRS. LOVETTE. [Sitting in the chair by the piano.] Minx! RIPPINGILL. I am going to give a lady a drive... Yes, I am 202 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE... Oh, yes, I am... We'll see... Yes, we will see... Certainly, if you desire to know... Mrs. Lovette... [Very clearly.] Mrs. Stanley Lovette S.. Oh!... [Recoiling.] What language...! [He drops into the arm-chair with a groan.] MRS. LOVETTE. What language? [RIPPINGILL is silent, closing his eyes.] A secret between us already, Seymour! What language? RIPPINGILL. She has described me as a beauty. MRS. LOVETTE. [Shuddering.] Vile woman! PULLINGER [Rubbing his hands together.] However, it's done. MRS, LOVETTE. [Gloomily.] What will happen next, Mr. Pullinger? PULLINGER. Easily answered. Foley or the coachman will come down for orders. [To RIPPINGILL.] You give him your orders, and a note to Miss-Miss-- A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 203 MRS. LOVETTE. Meiklejohn-- PULLINGER. Informing her of your engagement to Mrs. Lovette. Immediate result-an exhibition of abject humility. MRS. LOVETTE and RIPPINGILL. [Nodding their heads in satisfaction.] Abject humility. PULLINGER. [Rising.] Shall I draft the note? RIPPINGILL. Thank you, Jack. [PULLINGER goes to the writing-table, where he sits and prepares to write. MRS. LOVETTE joins him and stands looking over his shoulder.] PULLINGER. First or third person? MRS. LOVETTE. [Decidedly.] Third. RIPPINGILL. [Rising.] Third. 204 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE MRS. LOVETTE. I wish there was a fourth. [Pulling himself together, RIPPINGILL takes the chair which is standing by the piano and plants it firmly in the middle of the room. Then he seats himself astride it, defiantly. PULLIN ER. [ Writing.] " Mr. Seymour Rippingill-- " RIPPINGILL. [Dictating.] " Mr. James Seymour Rippingill begs leave to present his compliments to Miss Avis Meiklejohn-to Miss Avis Emily Meiklejohn "-no, she is Miss Meiklejohn simply-- Avis, CHRISTABEL, TROOD, and WEBBMARSH enter from the garden. They are all dressed for church, and are carrying prayer-books. Avis. [Hearing the mention of her name and advaneing.] I'm here. [PULLINGER jumps up and MRS. LOVETTE utters a cry. RIPPINGILL. [Getting off his chair hurriedly.] Avis! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE Avis. What are you up to? RIPPINGILL. MadamAvis. [Formidably.] What are you up to? 205 - RIPPINGILL. Miss Meiklejohn-- Avis. Out with it! Out with it! RIPPINGILL. bringing MRs. [After a pause, My fiancee. LOVETTE forward. Avis. Your--! Haynes! CHR1STABEL. WEBBMARSH. Christabel I RIPPINGILL. This lady will honour me by becoming my wife directly any legal impediment which may exist is removed 206 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE Avis. [Confronting MRs. LOVETTE.] Well, this is a nice little game of tennis, upon my word! MRS. LOVETTE. Don't presume to address me. [To RIPPINGILL, who is by her side.] Seymour CHRISTABEL. Absolutely scandalous I WEBBMARSH. [Producing his note-book, and sitting on the settee on the right-to CHRISTABEL.] Hush! One of the scenes a faire. Avis. [Tearing off her gloves-to MRS. LOVETTE.] You worm yourself into my house on a visit-- MRs. LOVETTE. Your house! Avis. Until I'm fetched by my aunt Amy-certainly. I wonder if any of the spoons and forks are missing! MRS. LOVETTE. [To RIPPINGILL.] Come away. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 207 [MRS. LOVETTE is leading RIPPINGILL towards the hall when Avis catches hold of him and forces him into the chair in the centre of the room. He sits there, facing the window, a passive figure, while the ladies thoughtlessly emphasise their remarks by rapping upon his head. Avis. No! Not before I've had my say! MRS. LOVETTE. Unless you moderate your toneAvis. Here's a pretty turn -about! Yesterday morning, at breakfast, you were all for the advantages of remaining a widow. MRS. LOVETTE. Yesterday my heart had not been melted-- Avis. Oh, it's a case of hearts and darts, is it! MRS. LOVETTE. Hold your tongue! 208 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE Avis. I sha'n't! MRS. LOVETTE. Yesterday my bosom had not been wrung by the sufferings of this unfortunate man. Avis. Ho, ho! He'll soon forget his misfortunes in your tender care, won't he? MRS. LOVETTE. He will. Avis. M'yes. You made short work of though, didn't you? MRS. LOVETTE. Oh! Avis. How's that! MRS. LOVETTE. poor old Lovette If I had a pair of soiled gloves on, I'd slap your face. Avis. What! MRS. LOVETTE. Seymour--! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 209 [Seizing RIPPINGILL, she drags him into the hall and they disappear. Avis. [Flushed and exhausted.] Ah, ah, ah! CHRISTABEL. [Folding her in an embrace.] Sweetest, be calm-be calm! Why upset your dear self over what is, after all, a mere trifle? Avis. [Releasing herself impatiently.] Trifle! CHRISTABEL. It can be nothing more. Ah, my Avis wouldn't act like the naughty doggie in the manger! WEBBMARSH. [Interposing himself between CHRISTABEL and Avis, note-book and pen in hand.] Miss Meiklejohn, there was an observation of yours to Mrs. LovetteAvis. [Sitting on the settee on the lejt, panting.] Oh, don't bother me! o 210 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE WEBBMARSH. Christabel!! [ n. CHRISTABEL. Haynes! TROOD. [Who has been looking on in astonishment-advancing.] I cannot help agreeing with Mrs. Webbmarsh, Avis. Avis. Can't you! TROOD. I utterly fail to see how Mr. Rippingill's domestic concernsAvis. His domestic concerns! [.Hitting the palm of her hand with herfist forcibly.] My stars, I don't intend to stand by quietly while that woman steals my husband from under my very nose! TROOD and the WEBBMARSHES, Your husband! [The suspended doll dances. Avis. [Pointing to the doll.] Ah--! [With a yell, she pushes aside those who surround her and rushes through the hall. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE trT TRooD. [Looking at the others.] This behaviour on Avis's part-most unaccountable. WEBB1AARSH. [Closing his note-book.] It is at this point, Christabel, that fiction will disassociate itself entirely from fact. TROOD. Hark! THE WEBBMARSHES. What's that? [TROOD and the WEBBMAR-SHES move to the archway and there listen intently. The doll becomes still. PULLINGER is seen in the bay-windowo, stupefJed by the events u-hich are taking place, struggling into hisimotorcostume. WEBBMARSH. [To CHRISTABEL.] Sssh, sssh, sssh I Your skirt is rustling. CHRTISTABEL. [Clinging to WEBBMARSH.] Haynes! -WEBBMAltSfI. To whom does the shrill voice belong? 212 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE CHRISTABEL. To Avis. TROOD. I can hear nobody but Avis. CHRISTABEL. [Stifling a shriek.] Ah-h-h! TROOD. There goes a chair, WEBBMARSH. Or was it a falling body? CHRISTABEL. Somebody's coming! TRooD. Mrs. Lovette! [MRs. LOVETTE, breaking through the group, totters across the room and drops upon the settee on the left. TROOD and the WEBBMARSHES gather round her, MRS. LOVETTE. [Hysterically.] Oh! oh! oh! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 213 TROOD and the WEBBMARSHES, Mrs. Lovette! MRS. LOVETTE. Let me recover my breath, and then I'll get out of this wild-beast show. The low baggage! The fiend in human form! The she-devil! [PULLINGER appears before MRS. LOVETTE fully accoutred even to the wearing of a hideous mask. PULLINGER. MadamMuR. LOVETTE. [With a screech.] Ah-! [Recognising him and leaping to her feet.] You! PULLINGER. [Sadly.] I regret to gather from your tone that my face has ceased to be agreeable to you. Mus. LOVETTE. It has. Considerate of you to hide it. PULLINGER. [Removing his cap and mask apologetically.] Oh! [With deep remorse.] Mrs. Lovette, I freely acknow 214 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE ledge that my calculations have not, perhaps, been fulfilled to the letter. MRs. LOVETTE. [Furiously.] They never are; they weren't yesterday; they never will be. [Following him to the right as he retreats before her.] You-you-you are a methodical, ingenious, consummate muddler! PULLINGER. Dear lady--! MRS. LOVETTE. [Tearfully.] Yes, you can j-j-jot that down before you forget it. CHRISTABEL. [Looking towards the hall.] Avis--! [Avis enters with RIPPINGILL, her arm through his. They stand in the middle of the room silently, she with an air of complacency, he with a shifting eye. TROOD. Avis! PULLINGER. Rip! A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 215 MRs. LOVETTE. Mr. Rippingill! Avis. Ahem! [Presenting RIPPINGILL formally.] My fiance. [There is an exclamation from TROOD, PULLINGER, and the WEBBMARSHES. Assisted by PULLINGER, MRS. LOVETTE sinks on to the settee on the right. TROOD. [To Avis.] False, deceitful girl! Avis. [Tossing her head.] Not at all, Vivian. Only I can't bring myself to resign my big house, and the servants, and my position generally-to that lady especially. TROOD. Ho! Well, it may be that Art will be the richer. [Going to the door on the left.] For the future she will be my sole goddess. Avis. [Sitting with RIPPINGILL on the settee on the left.] Very sensible of you, dear boy. 216 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE TROOD. [Haughtily.] Rippingill, I take the liberty of borrowing a boat. [To the others.] Good day. [He departs. MRS. LOVETTE rises. MRS. LOVETTE. [To the RIPPINGILLS, witheringly.] I suppose I may have the shandrydan to carry me to the station? I shall enjoy sitting on the platform for a couple of hours. Avis. [With dignity.] My carriage is at your service. [As MRS. LOVETTE turns away, RIPPINGILL rises. Avis gently detains him by holding his coat-tail. RIPPINGILL. Dora--! MRS. LOVETTE. Don't dare--! RIPPINGILL. [PitiJully.] Your-your sense of humour--! MRS. LOVETTB. [Relenting slightly.] Seymour A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 217 RIPPINGILL. [Gratefully.] Eh? MRS. LOVETTE. It's my firm conviction we've never had any. [Moving towards the hall.] That is why we have made such fools of ourselves. [Avis tugs at RIPPINGILL'S coat-tail and he resumes his seat. PULLINGER. [Following MRS. LOVETTE.] My automobile-if my mecanioien has succeeded in repairing the tyres-I entreat you to go in it-- MRS. LOVETTE. [Wheeling round fiercely.] No, you go in it. Go to the place you recommended to me for my honeymoon,! PULLINGER. [Confused-holding his head.] Recommended-? MRS. LOVETTE. The place with two L's! [To the WEBBMARSHES.] Good morning. [She sweeps through the hall and disappears into the garden. 218 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE PULLINGER. [Addressing Avis, humbly.] Miss Meiklejohn, I am not sanguine enough to hope that, after the events of to-day, my visits here will continue to be acceptable. Avis. [Rising.] Extremely kind of you to mention it [Walking away to the right.] Your influence hasn't been a very wholesome one for him, has it? PULLINGER. [Wringing RIPPINGILL'S hand-in a choking voice.] Rip-Rip, old friend, I have invented a pillowRIPPINGILL. [Feebly.] A pillow, Jack? PULLINGER. The Pullinger Pillow, a Boon for the Sleepless. [Glancing at Avis.] You shall have the first that leaves the factory. [To Avis.] Good morning. [To the WEBBMARSHES.] Good morning. [lie departs as the WEBBMARSHES, who have been in close consultation together, come forward. A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 219 CHRISTABEL. [To Avis, awkwardly.] Avis, dear, Haynes and I have just been talking your affairs over seriously. Of course, I can't help feeling somewhat disappointed. Avis. [Sitting upon the settee on the right, swinging her foot.] Sorry, I'm sure. CHRISTABEL. You see, I place our friendship, young as it is, upon such a high pedestal. However, I am willing to believe that what you have done has been at the dictation of a generous and forgiving nature. [To WEBBMARSH.] That being so--? WEBBMARSII. That being so, we do not propose to withdraw our protection [with playful gallantry] from the fair Miss Meiklejohn. Avis. Thanks awfully; but Mrs. Hopkins, the coachman's wife, is a comfortable, motherly woman. THE WEBBMARSHES. [Puzzled.] Mrs. Hopkins? 220 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE Avis. She can take on the chaperoning till auntie turns up. And she won't spread herself quite so much. WEBBMARSH. [After a moment's pause, to CHRISTABEL.] My darling, I think we will avail ourselves of the accommodation afforded by Mr. Pullinger's automobile. CHRISTABEL. [In a flurry.] Quick, Haynes, or he'll start without us! [They make for the garden. WEBBMARSH. [To CHRISTABEL suddenly.] Wait. [Returning and standing before RIPPINGILL.] Rippingill, throughout the many years we have known each other, you have invariably, both in conversation and in composition, split your infinitives. RIPPINGILL. [Looking up, in complete bewilderment.] What has that to do with it? WEBBMARSH. Nothing-except that the practice is offensive to A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 221 the cultured mind. I have stood the strain till now. Good day. [He rejoins CHRISTABEL and they depart. Avis. Whew! Well, I'm still hostess; [rising] I'd better be in the porch to see 'em off the premises. [Going.] You may eat your lunch with me if you like, Seymour-[turning] with me and Mrs. Hopkins. [Stamping her foot.] Oh, for heaven's sake, do wake up! A girl doesn't want a man perpetually playing the giddy goat all over the shop; but a husband without a smile- -! [She leaves him. lie rises painfully and, mounting a chair, proceeds to cut down the hanging doll with his pocket-knife. THE END. JUN 2 1 1916 Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON &' Co. London 6& Edinburgh