Green Stockings Part 24

CELIA. Sugar?

SMITH. Thanks, yes.

MARTIN. (_Has taken up_ CELIA'S _plate and finger-bowl in right hand and now takes_ SMITH'S _plate and finger-bow_.) Old brandy, sir?

SMITH. Old brandy! By George, yes! (_Lights cigarette_.)

(MARTIN _goes up to small serving table_ R. _of door and puts plates and finger-bowls on tray and gets brandy tray which he brings down to table and pours out one gla.s.s, leaving brandy on table. He takes the napkins, goes up, puts them on tray with other things and exits with tray_ R.I.)

CELIA. (_While_ MARTIN _is serving_) I asked Martin to serve coffee here, because I thought it would be cosier, you know. (_Having poured_ SMITH'S _coffee, she pa.s.ses cup to him_.)

SMITH. (_Taking cup slowly from her_) Much--much cosier; though, for both of us to-night--(CELIA _fills her cup_)--our one idea of cosiness must be the grave.

(CELIA _drops pot on tray_.)

CELIA. (_Leans forward, takes cigarette from coffee tray and lights it_) The grave! Then, tell me of it, won't you? Where does it lie?

SMITH. (_Openly perplexed, sees_ CELIA _smoking and attempts to use this as a means of extricating himself. Pretending to be shocked_) Oh!

the grave! oh----

CELIA. What's the matter? (_Puffs her cigarette_.)

SMITH. (_Shrugging his shoulders_) Oh, nothing, nothing.

CELIA. Do you object to women smoking?

SMITH. I? Not at all. It's companionable, but Smith--(CELIA _chokes on cigarette_)--would Smith have liked to see you smoking a cigarette?

CELIA. (_Annoyed, pauses_) Perhaps not--to-night.

SMITH. Not to-night and not any night. (CELIA _viciously presses cigarette down on ashtray and puts it out. Reprovingly_) We both know how strongly he disapproved of the modern lat.i.tude of women's manners.

(_She turns away_.) You know I'd fancy the man who could make you care for him would be quite different from Smith. You haven't his little shut-in way of looking at life. You have such a splendid imagination.

CELIA. (_Nervously_) Yes, and I'm beginning to think I need one.

SMITH. Did you really love each other?

CELIA. (_Takes up her coffee cup_) I can't answer for Colonel Smith--who was a man you know. But for myself, I can truthfully say that I have thought of him every day for eight months. Thought of him---- Yes! And _written_ to him too.

SMITH. (_Startled_) Written to him! By Jove, then! Where _are those_ letters? You can't let things like that go astray. Letters from _you_--knocking loose about a camp! (_He is upset and disturbed_.)

CELIA. (_Smiling to herself_) Why should you imagine--my letters never reached him?

SMITH. (_Smiling reminiscently_) Because I was with him--when he got the first one.

CELIA. (_Very agitated. Puts her cup sharply on saucer_) You--you--you don't mean to say a Colonel Smith ever received---- Oh--no gentleman _could_ have _shown_ my letter.

SMITH. (_Sincerely_) _Shown_ it? Oh, Miss Faraday, you can't know what that letter of _yours_ meant to----

CELIA. (_Turning on him quickly_) I beg your pardon.

SMITH. I mean _did meant_--I mean _did mean_--to good old Smith.

(_Leaning forward with a smile. Moves his chair below table a little closer to hers_.) I say, I've an idea. Let's forget Smith for five minutes and talk of something else.

CELIA. (_Forgetting herself_) Oh, yes! Do let's.

SMITH. What shall we talk about?

CELIA. (_Very engagingly_) You. You have hardly said a word yet about yourself--and--naturally I am interested. (_Speaks with a smile. Face on_ L. _hand_.)

(SMITH _edges toward her, delighted_ R. _elbow on table, face on hand_.)

SMITH. I was born--guess when?

CELIA. Thirty years ago.

SMITH. (_Holding out box_) Have a cigarette?

CELIA. No, thank you. I'd rather not. Do you think Smith would have liked me to smoke?

SMITH. Ah, you see, we can't get away from him. He dominates us.

Living or dead, his imperious nature will not be neglected. He sits at the table here between you and me. (_Designates a spot between them on table_.) To satisfy him, we've got to talk about him.

CELIA. What is there to say?

SMITH. What is there to say! And you've told me nothing about the Smith you knew.

CELIA. (_Surprised_) The Smith I knew? (_Recovering herself_) Oh, yes, of course.

SMITH. Yes--you see I know him only as the soldier--the man of action--the fighting man--but you----

CELIA. But there is nothing to tell.

SMITH. (_Strongly_) You mean there is nothing you wish to tell.

CELIA. (_Defiantly_) Certainly not. What is it you wish to know?

SMITH. Let us compare our pictures--mental, of course--of the man.

(_With solicitude_.)

CELIA. Oh, no--not at all. Not at all.

SMITH. Then you describe Smith as you saw him, and I'll tell you if I agree with you.