THE COLLECTED PLAYS OF W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM. Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

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THE COLLECTED PLAYS OF W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM - Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

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class of people here.

      Basil.

      I'll just go and change. [Looking at his watch. There's a train at 4.15.

      John.

      All right, hurry up.

      [Basil goes out of the room. Jenny at once springs to her feet and goes towards John. She is distracted and hardly knows what she says.

      Jenny.

      Can I trust you?

      John.

      What d'you mean?

      [She stares into his eyes, doubting, trying to see whether he will be willing to help her.

      Jenny.

      You used to be a good sort. You never looked down on me because I was a barmaid. Tell me I can trust you, John. There's no one I can speak to, and I feel if I don't speak I shall go off my head.

      John.

      What is the matter?

      Jenny.

      Will you tell me the truth if I ask you something?

      John.

      Of course.

      Jenny.

      On your oath?

      John.

      On my oath.

      Jenny.

      [After a momentary pause.] Is there anything between Basil and Mrs. Murray?

      John.

      [Aghast.] No. Certainly not.

      Jenny.

      How d'you know? Are you sure? You wouldn't tell me, if there was. You're all against me because I'm not a lady.... Oh, I'm so unhappy.

      [She tries to restrain her tears, she is half-hysterical. John stares at her, surprised, at a loss for words.

      Jenny.

      If you only knew what a life we lead! He calls it a dog's life, and he's right.

      John.

      I thought you got on so well.

      Jenny.

      Oh, before you we've always kept up appearances. He's ashamed to let you know he regrets he ever married me. He wants to separate.

      John.

      What!

      Jenny.

      [Impatiently.] Oh, don't look so surprised. You're not an utter fool, are you? He proposed it to-day before you came in. We'd been having one of our rows.

      John.

      But what on earth is it all about?

      Jenny.

      God knows!

      John.

      It's nonsense. It can only be a little passing quarrel. You must expect to have those.

      Jenny.

      No, it isn't. No, it isn't. He doesn't love me. He's in love with your sister-in-law.

      John.

      It's impossible.

      Jenny.

      He's always there. He was there twice last week and twice the week before.

      John.

      How d'you know?

      Jenny.

      I've followed him.

      John.

      You followed him in the street, Jenny?

      Jenny.

      [Defiantly.] Yes. If I'm not ladylike enough for him, I needn't play the lady there. You're shocked now, I suppose?

      John.

      I wouldn't presume to judge you, Jenny.

      Jenny.

      And I've read his letters, too—because I wanted to know what he was doing. I steamed one open, and he saw it, and he never said a word.

      John.

      Good heavens, why did you do it?

      Jenny.

      Because I can't live unless I know the truth. I thought it was Mrs. Murray's handwriting.

      John.

      Was it from her?

      Jenny.

      No. It was a receipt from the coal merchant. I could see how he despised me when he looked at the envelope—I didn't stick it down again very well. And I saw him smile when he found it was only a receipt.

      John.

      Upon my word, I don't think you've got much cause to be jealous.

      Jenny.

      Oh, you don't know. Last Tuesday he was dining there, and you should have seen the state he was in. He was so restless he couldn't sit still. He looked at his watch every minute. His eyes simply glittered with excitement, and I could almost hear his heart beating.

      John.

      It can't be true.

      Jenny.

      He never loved me. He married me because he thought it was his duty. And then when the baby died—he thought I'd entrapped him.

      John.

      He didn't say so.

      Jenny.

      No. He never says anything—but I saw it in his eyes. [Passionately clasping her hands.] Oh, you don't know what our life is. For days he doesn't say a word except to answer my questions. And the silence simply drives me mad. I shouldn't mind if he blackguarded me. I'd rather he hit me than simply look and look. I can see he's keeping himself in. He's said more to-day than he's ever said before. I knew it was getting towards the end.

      John.

      [With a helpless gesture.] I'm very sorry.

      Jenny.

      Oh, don't

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