Three Plays by Granville-Barker Part 17

ANN. Outside things. Why couldn't I run away from this garden and over the hills? . . I suppose there's something on the other side of the hills.

SARAH. You'd find yourself there . . and circ.u.mstances.

ANN. So I'm trapped as well as that Lord John.

SARAH. What's the injury?

ANN. I'm taken by surprise and I know I'm ignorant and I think I'm learning things backwards.

GEORGE. You must cheer up and say: John's not a bad sort.

SARAH. A man of his age is a young man.

ANN. I wish you wouldn't recommend him to me.

SARAH. Let's think of Brighton. What about your gowns?

ANN. I've nothing to wear.

SARAH. We'll talk to Papa.

GEORGE. The war-purse is always a long one.

SARAH. George . . be one of us for a minute.

GEORGE. But I want to look on too, and laugh.

SARAH. [_Caustically._] Yes . . that's your privilege . . except occasionally. [_Then to her sister._] I wish you all the happiness of courtship days.

GEORGE. Arcadian expression!

ANN. I believe it means being kissed . . often.

SARAH. Have you not a touch of romance in you, little girl?

ANN. Am I not like Mr. Dan Tatton? He kisses dairy-maids and servants and all the farmer's daughters . . I beg your pardon, George.

GEORGE. [_Nettled._] I'll say to you, Ann, that--in all essentials--one woman is as good as another.

SARAH. That is not so in the polite world.

GEORGE. When you consider it no one lives in the polite world.

ANN. Do they come outside for air sooner or later?

SARAH. [_Briskly._] Three best dresses you must have and something very gay if you're to go near the Pavilion.

ANN. You're coming to Brighton, Sally?

SARAH. No.

ANN. Why not?

SARAH. I don't wish to meet my husband.

GEORGE. That man was his lawyer.

ANN. The political difference, Sally?

SARAH. Just that. [_Then with a deft turn of the subject._] I don't say that yours is a pretty face, but I should think you would have charm.

GEORGE. For fashion's sake cultivate sweetness.

SARAH. You dance as well as they know how in Reading.

ANN. Yes . . I can twiddle my feet.

SARAH. Do you like dancing?

ANN. I'd sooner walk.

GEORGE. What . . and get somewhere!

ANN. Here's George laughing.

SARAH. He's out of it.

ANN. Are you happy, George?

GEORGE. Alas . . Dolly's disgraceful ignorance of etiquette d.a.m.ns us both from the beautiful drawing-room.

SARAH. That laugh is forced. But how can you. . . look on?

_There is a slight pause in their talk. Then . . ._

ANN. He'll bully me with love.

SARAH. Your husband will give you just what you ask for.

ANN. I hate myself too. I want to take people mentally.

GEORGE. You want a new world . . you new woman.

ANN. And I'm a good bit frightened of myself.

SARAH. We have our places to fill in this. My dear child, leave futile questions alone.

GEORGE. Neither have I any good advice to give you.