Part 55 (1/2)

[She goes to it.

MRS. KNOWLE (in a different voice). Ah! . . . Well, Mr. Coote?

BOBBY (turning back to her with a start). Oh--er--yes?

MRS. KNOWLE. No, I think I must call you Bobby. I may call you Bobby, mayn't I?

BOBBY. Oh, please do, Mrs. Knowle.

MRS. KNOWLE (archly). Not Mrs. Knowle! Can't you think of a better name?

BOBBY (wondering if he ought to call her MARY). Er--I'm--I'm afraid I don't quite--

MRS. KNOWLE. Mother.

BOBBY. Oh, but I say--

MRS. KNOWLE (giving him her hand). And now come and sit on the sofa with me, and tell me all about it.

(They go to the sofa together.)

BOBBY. But I say, Mrs. Knowle--

MRS. KNOWLE (shaking a finger playfully at him). Not Mrs. Knowle, Bobby.

BOBBY. But I say, you mustn't think--I mean Sandy and I--we aren't--

MRS. KNOWLE. You don't mean to tell me, Mr. Coote, that she has refused you again.

BOBBY. Yes. I say, I'd much rather not talk about it.

MRS. KNOWLE. Well, it just shows you that what I said the other day was true. Girls don't know their own minds.

BOBBY (ruefully). I think Sandy knows hers--about me, anyhow.

MRS. KNOWLE. Mr. Coote, you are forgetting what the poet said--Shakespeare, or was it the other man?--”Faint heart never won fair lady.” If Mr. Knowle had had a faint heart, he would never have won me. Seven times I refused him, and seven times he came again--like Jacob. The eighth time he drew out a revolver, and threatened to shoot himself. I was shaking like an aspen leaf. Suddenly I realised that I loved him. ”Henry,” I said, ”I am yours.” He took me in his arms--putting down the revolver first, of course. I have never regretted my surrender, Mr. Coote. (With a sigh) Ah, me! We women are strange creatures.

BOBBY. I don't believe Sandy would mind if I did shoot myself.

MRS. KNOWLE. Oh, don't say that, Mr. Coote. She is very warm-hearted.

I'm sure it would upset her a good deal. Oh no, you are taking too gloomy a view of the situation, I am sure of it.

BOBBY. Well, I shan't shoot myself, but I shan't propose to her again.

I know when I'm not wanted.

MRS. KNOWLE. But we do want you, Mr. Coote. Both my husband and I--

BOBBY. I say, I'd much rather not talk about it, if you don't mind. I practically promised her that I wouldn't say anything to you this time.

MRS. KNOWLE. What, not say anything to her only mother? But how should I know if I were to call you ”Bobby,” or not?