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SIR H. I have done. (_goes up and turns his back to them, deeply moved; pause_)
TOM. And have we lost six years of this short life?
ALMA. (_crosses to TOM_) Not lost! if we have learnt to trust appearance less, and one another more.
TOM. Is it you, Alma? Time and grief have made us almost strangers.
ALMA. But time and happiness shall make us friends.
_Re-enter SUSAN, L.C. TOM crosses to R._
SUSAN. Dr. and Mrs. Dozey.
_Enter DR. and MRS. DOZEY, L.C. Exit SUSAN, L.C._
DR. (_down L._) Being on a visit to the Metropolis, and happening to be in the neighbourhood---- (_shakes hands_)
ALMA. Very glad to see you, doctor. How is Mrs. Dozey?
MRS. D. I owe you an apology, my dear.
ALMA. You owe me an apology! What for?
MRS. D. The months and months I thought you were a widow; when all the time you were a respectable married woman. (_embraces ALMA, and sits in armchair, L. of table_)
TOM. Ah! the knights again.
DR. (_crosses to TOM_) Herein we see the folly of rash judgment, and the frailty of our flesh. The subject naturally subdivides itself----
ALMA. My husband.
TOM. How d'you do? (_takes DR. DOZEY aside_)
MRS. D. You're reconciled?
ALMA. At last.
MRS. D. Oh, how I shall enjoy a sermon after this!
_Re-enter SUSAN, L.C._
SUSAN. Mr. d.i.c.k, Mr. Chetwynd.
d.i.c.k. Come along, Chetwynd. (_down R.C. of ALMA. NED crosses to SIR HUMPHREY. SUSAN exits, L.C._) Morning everybody. Important business.
(_puts hat on sofa_)
SIR H. Business? Then I'm afraid we're in the way. (_NED crosses L._)
ALMA. Not in the least. Don't move. If anybody's in the way it's Mr.
d.i.c.k. To what am I indebted for this intrusion?
d.i.c.k. Just been upstairs looking for Miss Carlton, and I'm told you've been getting at her. What are you up to now? What business have you with my leading lady?
ALMA. Miss Carlton's indisposed, and can't attend rehearsal.
d.i.c.k. Teaching her some of your own tricks already. Where's the doctor's certificate?
ALMA. She's seriously ill, and won't be able to appear at all.
d.i.c.k. Not appear! not appear! This is your doing, to throw me over at the eleventh hour! Someone shall pay for this!
ALMA. Yes; you shall pay for it yourself.
d.i.c.k. (_desperate_) Not appear! Who's to play the part?
ALMA. The woman it was written for! Who else?
d.i.c.k. You'll play it after all? You'll come back to me? You're not half a bad sort, when all's said and done!
ALMA. Yes, I've decided to come back to you.
d.i.c.k. (_overjoyed_) At the old figure?
ALMA. No--(_d.i.c.k'S face falls_)--at ten pounds a week advance.
d.i.c.k. (_dismayed_) Ten! You said five last night.
ALMA. But I say ten this morning.
NED. Better accept.
ALMA. It'll be fifteen to-morrow.
NED. Give it her, d.i.c.k.
ALMA. Or I won't play the part. (_DR. DOZEY comes down, R._)
d.i.c.k. Gad, I should like to give it her! This is a conspiracy. No, hang me if I give you ten pounds a week rise. Go to the---- (_crosses to R.; meets DR. DOZEY_)
DR. Hem!
d.i.c.k. (_looking at DR. DOZEY_) To the Antipodes. (_to ALMA_) You've been there once, and you can go again.
DR. Diana, I was too precipitate.
d.i.c.k. I'll find some other woman. You shan't play the part.
NED. Then you _shan't_ play my piece.
