presses his hand, takes a revolver out of her muff, shoots herself and falls.]
Gerardo. Helen! [He totters and collapses in an armchair.]
Bell Boy [rushing in]. My God! Mr. Gerardo! [Gerardo remains motionless; the Bell Boy rushes toward Helen.]
Gerardo [jumping up, running to the door and colliding with the manager of the hotel]. Send for the police! I must be arrested! If I went away now I should be a brute, and if I stay I break my contract. I still have [looking at his watch] one minute and ten seconds.
Manager. Fred, run and get a policeman.
Bell Boy. All right, sir.
Manager. Be quick about it. [To Gerardo.] Don't take it too hard, sir. Those things happen once in a while.
Gerardo [kneeling before Helen's body and taking her hand]. Helen!... She still lives—she still lives! If I am arrested I am not wilfully breaking my contract.... And my trunks? Is the carriage at the door?
Manager. It has been waiting twenty minutes, Mr. Gerardo. [He opens the door for the porter, who takes down one of the trunks.]
Gerardo [bending over her]. Helen! [To himself.] Well, after all.... [To Muller.] Have you called a doctor?
Manager. Yes, we had the doctor called at once. He will be here at any minute.
Gerardo [holding her under the arms]. Helen! Don't you know me any more? Helen! The doctor will be here right away, Helen. This is your Oscar.
Bell Boy [appearing in the door at the center]. Can't find any policeman, sir.
Gerardo [letting Helen's body drop back]. Well, if I can't get arrested, that settles it. I must catch that train and sing in Brussels to-morrow night. [He takes up his score and runs out through the center door, bumping against several chairs.]
[Curtain.]
A GOOD WOMAN
A Farce
By Arnold Bennett
James Brett [a Clerk in the War Office, 33]. Gerald O'Mara [a Civil Engineer, 24]. Rosamund Fife [a Spinster and a Lecturer on Cookery, 28].
Reprinted from "Polite Farces," published by George H. Doran Company, by special arrangement with Mr. Arnold Bennett.
A GOOD WOMAN
A Farce
By Arnold Bennett
[Scene: Rosamund's Flat; the drawing-room. The apartment is plainly furnished. There is a screen in the corner of the room furthest from the door. It is 9 A. M. Rosamund is seated alone at a table. She wears a neat travelling-dress, with a plain straw hat. Her gloves lie on a chair. A small portable desk full of papers is open before her. She gazes straight in front of her, smiling vaguely. With a start she recovers from her daydreams, and rushing to the looking-glass, inspects her features therein. Then she looks at her watch.]
Rosamund. Three hours yet! I'm a fool [with decision. She sits down again, and idly picks up a paper out of the desk. The door opens, unceremoniously but quietly, and James enters. The two stare at each other, James wearing a conciliatory smile].
Rosamund. You appalling creature!
James. I couldn't help it, I simply couldn't help it.
Rosamund. Do you know this is the very height and summit of indelicacy?
James. I was obliged to come.
Rosamund. If I had any relations—
James. Which you haven't.
Rosamund. I say if I had any relations—
James. I say which you haven't.
Rosamund. Never mind, it is a safe rule for unattached women always to behave as if they had relations, especially female relations whether they have any or not. My remark is, that if I had any relations they would be absolutely scandalized by this atrocious conduct of yours.
James. What have I done?
Rosamund. Can you ask? Here are you, and here am I. We are to be married to-day at twelve o'clock. The ceremony has not taken place, and yet you are found on my premises. You must surely be aware that on the day of the wedding the parties—yes, the "parties," that is the word—should on no account see each other till they see each other in church.
James. But since we are to be married at a registry office, does the rule apply?
Rosamund. Undoubtedly.
James. Then I must apologize. My excuse is that I am not up in these minute details of circumspection; you see I have been married so seldom.
Rosamund. Evidently. [A pause, during which James at last ventures to approach the middle of the room.] Now you must go back home, and we'll pretend we haven't seen each other.
James. Never, Rosamund! That would be acting a lie. And I couldn't dream of getting married with a lie on my lips. It would be so unusual. No; we have sinned, or rather I have sinned, on this occasion. I will continue to sin—openly, brazenly. Come here, my dove. A bird in the hand is worth two under a bushel. [He assumes an attitude of entreaty, and, leaving her chair, Rosamund goes towards him. They exchange an ardent kiss.]
Rosamund [quietly submissive]. I'm awfully busy, you know, Jim.
James. I will assist you in your little duties, dearest, and then I will accompany you to the sacred ed—to the registry office. Now, what were you doing? [She sits down, and he puts a chair for himself close beside her.]
Rosamund. You are singularly unlike yourself this morning, dearest.
James. Nervous tension, my angel. I should have deemed it impossible that an employé of the War Office could experience the marvelous and exquisite sensations now agitating my heart. But tell me, what are you doing with these papers?
Rosamund. Well, I was just going to look through them and see if they contained anything of a remarkable or valuable nature. You see, I hadn't anything to occupy myself with.
James. Was 'oo bored, waiting for the timey-pimey to come?
Rosamund [hands caressing].
