Part 9 (1/2)

MR. BARLOW. If you would be so kind. (Exit OLIVER.) Can't you find a sweet that you would like, my dear? Won't you take a little cherry brandy?

(Enter BUTLER.)

ANABEL. Thank you.

WILLIAM. You will go up, sir?

MR. BARLOW. Yes, William.

WILLIAM. You are tired to-night, sir.

MR. BARLOW. It has come over me just now.

WILLIAM. I wish you went up before you became so over-tired, sir. Would you like nurse?

MR. BARLOW. No, I'll go with you, William. Good night, my dear.

ANABEL. Good night, Mr. Barlow. I am so sorry if you are over-tired.

(Exit BUTLER and MR. BARLOW. ANABEL takes a drink and goes to the fire.)

(Enter GERALD.)

GERALD. Father gone up?

ANABEL. Yes.

GERALD. I thought I heard him. Has he been talking too much?--Poor father, he will take things to heart.

ANABEL. Tragic, really.

GERALD. Yes, I suppose it is. But one can get beyond tragedy--beyond the state of feeling tragical, I mean. Father himself is tragical. One feels he is mistaken--and yet he wouldn't be any different, and be himself, I suppose. He's sort of crucified on an idea of the working people. It's rather horrible when he's one's father.--However, apart from tragedy, how do you like being here, in this house?

ANABEL. I like the house. It's rather too comfortable.

GERALD. Yes. But how do you like being here?

ANABEL. How do you like my being in your home?

GERALD. Oh, I think you're very decorative.

ANABEL. More decorative than comfortable?

GERALD. Perhaps. But perhaps you give the necessary finish to the establishment.

ANABEL. Like the correct window-curtains?

GERALD. Yes, something like that. I say, why did you come, Anabel? Why did you come slap-bang into the middle of us?--It's not expostulation--I want to know.