Part 19 (2/2)

SMITH. I shall be most happy if I can catch it, but I should be false to my friend if I went without delivering his last dying message.

TARVER. You can't deliver it to-night, for Celia is going out to a dinner party.

(CELIA _gives_ BOBBY _a swift, furious glance behind_ SMITH'S _back_.)

SMITH. (_Shocked_) To a dinner party?

TARVER. Why, yes, and on to a concert afterwards.

CELIA. (_With great dignity_) It's a cla.s.sical concert. (_Pause_.) By the local Philharmonic Society, and Admiral Grice, with whom we are all dining, is the most important person in the const.i.tuency.

SMITH. (_Sternly_) So you are all going out to enjoy yourselves.

TARVER. (_Crossing_ R. _and up stage_) Oh, _they_ are. Phyllis and I for once are going to stay at home and dine quietly.

SMITH. (_Turns toward_ TARVER _and stops him at door_) But is it wise for you, Mr. Tarver, to stay at home at this very critical time? I should have thought, knowing as much as I do about elections, that it was bad policy to offend so important a person as Admiral Grice.

TARVER. (_In doorway_) Oh, that's all right. Celia can twist him around her little finger. He simply wors.h.i.+ps----

(CELIA, _who has made a ball of the tissue paper on the table, throws it at_ BOBBY, _who exits hurriedly without_ SMITH'S _seeing this_.)

SMITH. (_Sternly. Going to her_) You never loved him.

CELIA. (_Indignantly. Moving_ R.) Oh!

SMITH. On the evening of the very day which brings you news of his decease, you are dressed to conquer and allure.

CELIA. (_More indignant_) Colonel Vavasour!

SMITH. You know as well as I do how at all times Smith disapproved of a decollete gown. Born and brought up in a rigid and unbending family, he never quite emanc.i.p.ated himself from the principles of Calvinism.

You know that? (_He waits for her to answer_.)

CELIA. (_Weakly. Sinks on stool at bottom of sofa_) Yes.

SMITH. (_Looks at her_) And it's not even black--! A dinner party with an amorous Admiral. After the dinner party, the wildest gaieties!

(_Goes_ L.)

CELIA. Do you call a cla.s.sical concert by the local Philharmonic Society ”the wildest gaiety”? You never heard one.

SMITH. (_Reproachfully. Coming back to_ CELIA) You know what a low opinion Smith had of all forms of music. Dangerously sensuous. How often have I heard him breathe those words when the regimental band struck up the tune of ”Auld Lang Syne.” (_She rises; goes_ R.) You never loved him. Give me back the watch and chain.

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