Part 5 out of 5
existence which always seems to me such a striking proof that we
have immortal souls.
OCTAVIUS. Do you believe that is true?
ANN. Tavy, if it is to become true you must lose me as well as
OCTAVIUS. Oh! [he hastily sits down at the little table and
covers his face with his hands].
ANN. [with conviction] Tavy: I wouldn't for worlds destroy your
illusions. I can neither take you nor let you go. I can see
exactly what will suit you. You must be a sentimental old
bachelor for my sake.
OCTAVIUS. [desperately] Ann: I'll kill myself.
ANN. Oh no you won't: that wouldn't be kind. You won't have a bad
time. You will be very nice to women; and you will go a good deal
to the opera. A broken heart is a very pleasant complaint for a
man in London if he has a comfortable income.
OCTAVIUS. [considerably cooled, but believing that he is only
recovering his self-control] I know you mean to be kind, Ann.
Jack has persuaded you that cynicism is a good tonic for me. [He
rises with quiet dignity].
ANN. [studying him slyly] You see, I'm disillusionizing you
already. That's what I dread.
OCTAVIUS. You do not dread disillusionizing Jack.
ANN. [her face lighting up with mischievous ecstasy--whispering] I
can't: he has no illusions about me. I shall surprise Jack the
other way. Getting over an unfavorable impression is ever so much
easier than living up to an ideal. Oh, I shall enrapture Jack
OCTAVIUS. [resuming the calm phase of despair, and beginning to
enjoy his broken heart and delicate attitude without knowing it]
I don't doubt that. You will enrapture him always. And he--the
fool!--thinks you would make him wretched.
ANN. Yes: that's the difficulty, so far.
OCTAVIUS. [heroically] Shall I tell him that you love?
ANN. [quickly] Oh no: he'd run away again.
OCTAVIUS. [shocked] Ann: would you marry an unwilling man?
ANN. What a queer creature you are, Tavy! There's no such thing
as a willing man when you really go for him. [She laughs
naughtily]. I'm shocking you, I suppose. But you know you are
really getting a sort of satisfaction already in being out of
OCTAVIUS [startled] Satisfaction! [Reproachfully] You say that to
ANN. Well, if it were really agony, would you ask for more of it?
OCTAVIUS. Have I asked for more of it?
ANN. You have offered to tell Jack that I love him. That's
self-sacrifice, I suppose; but there must be some satisfaction in
it. Perhaps it's because you're a poet. You are like the bird
that presses its breast against the sharp thorn to make itself
OCTAVIUS. It's quite simple. I love you; and I want you to be
happy. You don't love me; so I can't make you happy myself; but I
can help another man to do it.
ANN. Yes: it seems quite simple. But I doubt if we ever know why
we do things. The only really simple thing is to go straight for
what you want and grab it. I suppose I don't love you, Tavy; but
sometimes I feel as if I should like to make a man of you
somehow. You are very foolish about women.
OCTAVIUS. [almost coldly] I am content to be what I am in that
ANN. Then you must keep away from them, and only dream about
them. I wouldn't marry you for worlds, Tavy.
OCTAVIUS. I have no hope, Ann: I accept my ill luck. But I don't
think you quite know how much it hurts.
ANN. You are so softhearted! It's queer that you should be so
different from Violet. Violet's as hard as nails.
OCTAVIUS. Oh no. I am sure Violet is thoroughly womanly at heart.
ANN. [with some impatience] Why do you say that? Is it unwomanly
to be thoughtful and businesslike and sensible? Do you want
Violet to be an idiot--or something worse, like me?
OCTAVIUS. Something worse--like you! What do you mean, Ann?
ANN. Oh well, I don't mean that, of course. But I have a great
respect for Violet. She gets her own way always.
OCTAVIUS. [sighing] So do you.
ANN. Yes; but somehow she gets it without coaxing--without having
to make people sentimental about her.
OCTAVIUS. [with brotherly callousness] Nobody could get very
sentimental about Violet, I think, pretty as she is.
ANN. Oh yes they could, if she made them.
OCTAVIUS. But surely no really nice woman would deliberately
practise on men's instincts in that way.
ANN. [throwing up her hands] Oh Tavy, Tavy, Ricky Ticky Tavy,
heaven help the woman who marries you!
OCTAVIUS. [his passion reviving at the name] Oh why, why, why do
you say that? Don't torment me. I don't understand.
ANN. Suppose she were to tell fibs, and lay snares for men?
OCTAVIUS. Do you think I could marry such a woman--I, who have
known and loved you?
ANN. Hm! Well, at all events, she wouldn't let you if she were
wise. So that's settled. And now I can't talk any more. Say you
forgive me, and that the subject is closed.
OCTAVIUS. I have nothing to forgive; and the subject is closed.
And if the wound is open, at least you shall never see it bleed.
ANN. Poetic to the last, Tavy. Goodbye, dear. [She pats his
check; has an impulse to kiss him and then another impulse of
distaste which prevents her; finally runs away through the garden
and into the villa].
Octavius again takes refuge at the table, bowing his head on his
arms and sobbing softly. Mrs Whitefield, who has been pottering
round the Granada shops, and has a net full of little parcels in
her hand, comes in through the gate and sees him.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [running to him and lifting his head] What's the
matter, Tavy? Are you ill?
OCTAVIUS. No, nothing, nothing.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [still holding his head, anxiously] But you're
crying. Is it about Violet's marriage?
OCTAVIUS. No, no. Who told you about Violet?
MRS WHITEFIELD. [restoring the head to its owner] I met Roebuck
and that awful old Irishman. Are you sure you're not ill? What's
OCTAVIUS. [affectionately] It's nothing--only a man's broken
heart. Doesn't that sound ridiculous?
MRS WHITEFIELD. But what is it all about? Has Ann been doing
anything to you?
OCTAVIUS. It's not Ann's fault. And don't think for a moment that
I blame you.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [startled] For what?
OCTAVIUS. [pressing her hand consolingly] For nothing. I said I
didn't blame you.
MRS WHITEFIELD. But I haven't done anything. What's the matter?
OCTAVIUS. [smiling sadly] Can't you guess? I daresay you are
right to prefer Jack to me as a husband for Ann; but I love Ann;
and it hurts rather. [He rises and moves away from her towards the
middle of the lawn].
MRS WHITEFIELD. [following him hastily] Does Ann say that I want
her to marry Jack?
OCTAVIUS. Yes: she has told me.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [thoughtfully] Then I'm very sorry for you, Tavy.
It's only her way of saying SHE wants to marry Jack. Little she
cares what I say or what I want!
OCTAVIUS. But she would not say it unless she believed it. Surely
you don't suspect Ann of--of DECEIT!!
MRS WHITEFIELD. Well, never mind, Tavy. I don't know which is
best for a young man: to know too little, like you, or too much,
TANNER. Well, I've disposed of old Malone. I've introduced him to
Mendoza, Limited; and left the two brigands together to talk it
out. Hullo, Tavy! anything wrong?
OCTAVIUS. I must go wash my face, I see. [To Mrs Whitefield] Tell
him what you wish. [To Tanner] You may take it from me, Jack,
that Ann approves of it.
TANNER. [puzzled by his manner] Approves of what?
OCTAVIUS. Of what Mrs Whitefield wishes. [He goes his way with
sad dignity to the villa].
TANNER. [to Mrs Whitefield] This is very mysterious. What is it
you wish? It shall be done, whatever it is.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [with snivelling gratitude] Thank you, Jack. [She
sits down. Tanner brings the other chair from the table and sits
close to her with his elbows on his knees, giving her his whole
attention]. I don't know why it is that other people's children
are so nice to me, and that my own have so little consideration
for me. It's no wonder I don't seem able to care for Ann and
Rhoda as I do for you and Tavy and Violet. It's a very queer
world. It used to be so straightforward and simple; and now
nobody seems to think and feel as they ought. Nothing has been
right since that speech that Professor Tyndall made at Belfast.
TANNER. Yes: life is more complicated than we used to think. But
what am I to do for you?
MRS WHITEFIELD. That's just what I want to tell you. Of course
you'll marry Ann whether I like it myself or not--
TANNER. [starting] It seems to me that I shall presently be
married to Ann whether I like it myself or not.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [peacefully] Oh, very likely you will: you know
what she is when she has set her mind on anything. But don't put
it on me: that's all I ask. Tavy has just let out that she's been
saying that I am making her marry you; and the poor boy is
breaking his heart about it; for he is in love with her himself,
though what he sees in her so wonderful, goodness knows: I don't.
It's no use telling Tavy that Ann puts things into people's heads
by telling them that I want them when the thought of them never
crossed my mind. It only sets Tavy against me. But you know
better than that. So if you marry her, don't put the blame on me.
TANNER. [emphatically] I haven't the slightest intention of
MRS WHITEFIELD. [slyly] She'd suit you better than Tavy. She'd
meet her match in you, Jack. I'd like to see her meet her match.
TANNER. No man is a match for a woman, except with a poker and a
pair of hobnailed boots. Not always even then. Anyhow, I can't
take the poker to her. I should be a mere slave.
MRS WHITEFIELD. No: she's afraid of you. At all events, you would
tell her the truth about herself. She wouldn't be able to slip
out of it as she does with me.
TANNER. Everybody would call me a brute if I told Ann the truth
about herself in terms of her own moral code. To begin with, Ann
says things that are not strictly true.
MRS WHITEFIELD. I'm glad somebody sees she is not an angel.
TANNER. In short--to put it as a husband would put it when
exasperated to the point of speaking out--she is a liar. And
since she has plunged Tavy head over ears in love with her
without any intention of marrying him, she is a coquette,
according to the standard definition of a coquette as a woman who
rouses passions she has no intention of gratifying. And as she
has now reduced you to the point of being willing to sacrifice me
at the altar for the mere satisfaction of getting me to call her
a liar to her face, I may conclude that she is a bully as well.
She can't bully men as she bullies women; so she habitually and
unscrupulously uses her personal fascination to make men give her
whatever she wants. That makes her almost something for which I
know no polite name.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [in mild expostulation] Well, you can't expect
TANNER. I don't. But what annoys me is that Ann does. I know
perfectly well that all this about her being a liar and a bully
and a coquette and so forth is a trumped-up moral indictment
which might be brought against anybody. We all lie; we all bully
as much as we dare; we all bid for admiration without the least
intention of earning it; we all get as much rent as we can out of
our powers of fascination. If Ann would admit this I shouldn't
quarrel with her. But she won't. If she has children she'll take
advantage of their telling lies to amuse herself by whacking
them. If another woman makes eyes at me, she'll refuse to know a
coquette. She will do just what she likes herself whilst
insisting on everybody else doing what the conventional code
prescribes. In short, I can stand everything except her
confounded hypocrisy. That's what beats me.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [carried away by the relief of hearing her own
opinion so eloquently expressed] Oh, she is a hypocrite. She is:
she is. Isn't she?
TANNER. Then why do you want to marry me to her?
MRS WHITEFIELD. [querulously] There now! put it on me, of course.
I never thought of it until Tavy told me she said I did. But, you
know, I'm very fond of Tavy: he's a sort of son to me; and I
don't want him to be trampled on and made wretched.
TANNER. Whereas I don't matter, I suppose.
MRS WHITEFIELD. Oh, you are different, somehow: you are able to
take care of yourself. You'd serve her out. And anyhow, she must
TANNER. Aha! there speaks the life instinct. You detest her; but
you feel that you must get her married.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [rising, shocked] Do you mean that I detest my
own daughter! Surely you don't believe me to be so wicked and
unnatural as that, merely because I see her faults.
TANNER. [cynically] You love her, then?
MRS WHITEFIELD. Why, of course I do. What queer things you say,
Jack! We can't help loving our own blood relations.
TANNER. Well, perhaps it saves unpleasantness to say so. But for
my part, I suspect that the tables of consanguinity have a
natural basis in a natural repugnance [he rises].
MRS WHITEFIELD. You shouldn't say things like that, Jack. I hope
you won't tell Ann that I have been speaking to you. I only
wanted to set myself right with you and Tavy. I couldn't sit
mumchance and have everything put on me.
TANNER. [politely] Quite so.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [dissatisfied] And now I've only made matters
worse. Tavy's angry with me because I don't worship Ann. And when
it's been put into my head that Ann ought to marry you, what can
I say except that it would serve her right?
TANNER. Thank you.
MRS WHITEFIELD. Now don't be silly and twist what I say into
something I don't mean. I ought to have fair play--
Ann comes from the villa, followed presently by Violet, who is
dressed for driving.
ANN. [coming to her mother's right hand with threatening suavity]
Well, mamma darling, you seem to be having a delightful chat with
Jack. We can hear you all over the place.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [appalled] Have you overheard--
TANNER. Never fear: Ann is only--well, we were discussing that
habit of hers just now. She hasn't heard a word.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [stoutly] I don't care whether she has or not: I
have a right to say what I please.
VIOLET. [arriving on the lawn and coming between Mrs Whitefield
and Tanner] I've come to say goodbye. I'm off for my honeymoon.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [crying] Oh don't say that, Violet. And no
wedding, no breakfast, no clothes, nor anything.
VIOLET. [petting her] It won't be for long.
MRS WHITEFIELD. Don't let him take you to America. Promise me
that you won't.
VIOLET. [very decidedly] I should think not, indeed. Don't cry,
dear: I'm only going to the hotel.
MRS WHITEFIELD. But going in that dress, with your luggage, makes
one realize--[she chokes, and then breaks out again] How I wish
you were my daughter, Violet!
VIOLET. [soothing her] There, there: so I am. Ann will be
MRS WHITEFIELD. Ann doesn't care a bit for me.
ANN. Fie, mother! Come, now: you mustn't cry any more: you know
Violet doesn't like it [Mrs Whitefzeld dries her eyes, and
VIOLET. Goodbye, Jack.
TANNER. Goodbye, Violet.
VIOLET. The sooner you get married too, the better. You will be
much less misunderstood.
TANNER. [restively] I quite expect to get married in the course
of the afternoon. You all seem to have set your minds on it.
VIOLET. You might do worse. [To Mrs Whitefield: putting her arm
round her] Let me take you to the hotel with me: the drive will
do you good. Come in and get a wrap. [She takes her towards the
MRS WHITEFIELD. [as they go up through the garden] I don't know
what I shall do when you are gone, with no one but Ann in the
house; and she always occupied with the men! It's not to be
expected that your husband will care to be bothered with an old
woman like me. Oh, you needn't tell me: politeness is all very
well; but I know what people think--[She talks herself and Violet
out of sight and hearing].
Ann, musing on Violet's opportune advice, approaches Tanner;
examines him humorously for a moment from toe to top; and finally
delivers her opinion.
ANN. Violet is quite right. You ought to get married.
TANNER. [explosively] Ann: I will not marry you. Do you hear? I
won't, won't, won't, won't, WON'T marry you.
ANN. [placidly] Well, nobody axd you, sir she said, sir she said,
sir she said. So that's settled.
TANNER. Yes, nobody has asked me; but everybody treats the thing
as settled. It's in the air. When we meet, the others go away on
absurd pretexts to leave us alone together. Ramsden no longer
scowls at me: his eye beams, as if he were already giving you
away to me in church. Tavy refers me to your mother and gives me
his blessing. Straker openly treats you as his future employer:
it was he who first told me of it.
ANN. Was that why you ran away?
TANNER. Yes, only to be stopped by a lovesick brigand and run
down like a truant schoolboy.
ANN. Well, if you don't want to be married, you needn't be [she
turns away from him and sits down, much at her ease].
TANNER. [following her] Does any man want to be hanged? Yet men
let themselves be hanged without a struggle for life, though they
could at least give the chaplain a black eye. We do the world's
will, not our own. I have a frightful feeling that I shall let
myself be married because it is the world's will that you should
have a husband.
ANN. I daresay I shall, someday.
TANNER. But why me--me of all men? Marriage is to me apostasy,
profanation of the sanctuary of my soul, violation of my manhood,
sale of my birthright, shameful surrender, ignominious
capitulation, acceptance of defeat. I shall decay like a thing
that has served its purpose and is done with; I shall change from
a man with a future to a man with a past; I shall see in the
greasy eyes of all the other husbands their relief at the arrival
of a new prisoner to share their ignominy. The young men will
scorn me as one who has sold out: to the young women I, who have
always been an enigma and a possibility, shall be merely somebody
else's property--and damaged goods at that: a secondhand man at
ANN. Well, your wife can put on a cap and make herself ugly to
keep you in countenance, like my grandmother.
TANNER. So that she may make her triumph more insolent by
publicly throwing away the bait the moment the trap snaps on the
ANN. After all, though, what difference would it make? Beauty is
all very well at first sight; but who ever looks at it when it
has been in the house three days? I thought our pictures very
lovely when papa bought them; but I haven't looked at them for
years. You never bother about my looks: you are too well used to
me. I might be the umbrella stand.
TANNER. You lie, you vampire: you lie.
ANN. Flatterer. Why are you trying to fascinate me, Jack, if you
don't want to marry me?
TANNER. The Life Force. I am in the grip of the Life Force.
ANN. I don't understand in the least: it sounds like the Life
TANNER. Why don't you marry Tavy? He is willing. Can you not be
satisfied unless your prey struggles?
ANN. [turning to him as if to let him into a secret] Tavy will
never marry. Haven't you noticed that that sort of man never
TANNER. What! a man who idolizes women who sees nothing in
nature but romantic scenery for love duets! Tavy, the chivalrous,
the faithful, the tenderhearted and true! Tavy never marry! Why,
he was born to be swept up by the first pair of blue eyes he
meets in the street.
ANN. Yes, I know. All the same, Jack, men like that always live
in comfortable bachelor lodgings with broken hearts, and are
adored by their landladies, and never get married. Men like you
always get married.
TANNER. [Smiting his brow] How frightfully, horribly true! It has
been staring me in the face all my life; and I never saw it
ANN. Oh, it's the same with women. The poetic temperament's a
very nice temperament, very amiable, very harmless and poetic, I
daresay; but it's an old maid's temperament.
TANNER. Barren. The Life Force passes it by.
ANN. If that's what you mean by the Life Force, yes.
TANNER. You don't care for Tavy?
ANN. [looking round carefully to make sure that Tavy is not
within earshot] No.
TANNER. And you do care for me?
ANN. [rising quietly and shaking her finger at him] Now Jack!
TANNER. Infamous, abandoned woman! Devil!
ANN. Boa-constrictor! Elephant!
ANN. [Softly] I must be, for my future husband's sake.
TANNER. For mine! [Correcting himself savagely] I mean for his.
ANN.[ignoring the correction] Yes, for yours. You had better
marry what you call a hypocrite, Jack. Women who are not
hypocrites go about in rational dress and are insulted and get
into all sorts of hot water. And then their husbands get dragged
in too, and live in continual dread of fresh complications.
Wouldn't you prefer a wife you could depend on?
TANNER. No, a thousand times no: hot water is the revolutionist's
element. You clean men as you clean milkpails, by scalding them.
ANN. Cold water has its uses too. It's healthy.
TANNER. [despairingly] Oh, you are witty: at the supreme moment
the Life Force endows you with every quality. Well, I too can be
a hypocrite. Your father's will appointed me your guardian, not
your suitor. I shall be faithful to my trust.
ANN. [in low siren tones] He asked me who would I have as my
guardian before he made that will. I chose you!
TANNER. The will is yours then! The trap was laid from the
ANN. [concentrating all her magic] From the beginning from our
childhood--for both of us--by the Life Force.
TANNER. I will not marry you. I will not marry you.
ANN. Oh; you will, you will.
TANNER. I tell you, no, no, no.
ANN. I tell you, yes, yes, yes.
ANN. [coaxing--imploring--almost exhausted] Yes. Before it is too
late for repentance. Yes.
TANNER. [struck by the echo from the past] When did all this
happen to me before? Are we two dreaming?
ANN. [suddenly losing her courage, with an anguish that she does
not conceal] No. We are awake; and you have said no: that is all.
TANNER. [brutally] Well?
ANN. Well, I made a mistake: you do not love me.
TANNER. [seizing her in his arms] It is false: I love you. The
Life Force enchants me: I have the whole world in my arms when I
clasp you. But I am fighting for my freedom, for my honor, for
myself, one and indivisible.
ANN. Your happiness will be worth them all.
TANNER. You would sell freedom and honor and self for happiness?
ANN. It will not be all happiness for me. Perhaps death.
TANNER. [groaning] Oh, that clutch holds and hurts. What have you
grasped in me? Is there a father's heart as well as a mother's?
ANN. Take care, Jack: if anyone comes while we are like this, you
will have to marry me.
TANNER. If we two stood now on the edge of a precipice, I would
hold you tight and jump.
ANN. [panting, failing more and more under the strain] Jack: let
me go. I have dared so frightfully--it is lasting longer than I
thought. Let me go: I can't bear it.
TANNER. Nor I. Let it kill us.
ANN. Yes: I don't care. I am at the end of my forces. I don't
care. I think I am going to faint.
At this moment Violet and Octavius come from the villa with Mrs
Whitefield, who is wrapped up for driving. Simultaneously Malone
and Ramsden, followed by Mendoza and Straker, come in through the
little gate in the paling. Tanner shamefacedly releases Ann, who
raises her hand giddily to her forehead.
MALONE. Take care. Something's the matter with the lady.
RAMSDEN. What does this mean?
VIOLET. [running between Ann and Tanner] Are you ill?
ANN. [reeling, with a supreme effort] I have promised to marry
Jack. [She swoons. Violet kneels by her and chafes her band.
Tanner runs round to her other hand, and tries to lift her bead.
Octavius goes to Violet's assistance, but does not know what to
do. Mrs Whitefield hurries back into the villa. Octavius, Malone
and Ramsden run to Ann and crowd round her, stooping to assist.
Straker coolly comes to Ann's feet, and Mendoza to her head, both
upright and self-possessed].
STRAKER. Now then, ladies and gentlemen: she don't want a crowd
round her: she wants air--all the air she can git. If you please,
gents-- [Malone and Ramsden allow him to drive them gently past
Ann and up the lawn towards the garden, where Octavius, who has
already become conscious of his uselessness, joins them. Straker,
following them up, pauses for a moment to instruct Tanner]. Don't
lift er ed, Mr Tanner: let it go flat so's the blood can run back
MENDOZA. He is right, Mr Tanner. Trust to the air of the Sierra.
[He withdraws delicately to the garden steps].
TANNER. [rising] I yield to your superior knowledge of physiology,
Henry. [He withdraws to the corner of the lawn; and Octavius
immediately hurries down to him].
TAVY. [aside to Tanner, grasping his hand] Jack: be very happy.
TANNER. [aside to Tavy] I never asked her. It is a trap for me.
[He goes up the lawn towards the garden. Octavius remains
MENDOZA. [intercepting Mrs Whitefield, who comes from the villa
with a glass of brandy] What is this, madam [he takes it from
MRS WHITEFIELD. A little brandy.
MENDOZA. The worst thing you could give her. Allow me. [He
swallows it]. Trust to the air of the Sierra, madam.
For a moment the men all forget Ann and stare at Mendoza.
ANN. [in Violet's ear, clutching her round the neck] Violet,
did Jack say anything when I fainted?
ANN. Ah! [with a sigh of intense relief she relapses].
MRS WHITEFIELD. Oh, she's fainted again.
They are about to rush back to her; but Mendoza stops them with a
ANN. [supinej No I haven't. I'm quite happy.
TANNER. [suddenly walking determinedly to her, and snatching her
hand from Violet to feel her pulse] Why, her pulse is positively
bounding. Come, getup. What nonsense! Up with you. [He gets her
ANN. Yes: I feel strong enough now. But you very nearly killed
me, Jack, for all that.
MALONE. A rough wooer, eh? They're the best sort, Miss
Whitefield. I congratulate Mr Tanner; and I hope to meet you and
him as frequent guests at the Abbey.
ANN. Thank you. [She goes past Malone to Octavius] Ricky Ticky
Tavy: congratulate me. [Aside to him] I want to make you cry for
the last time.
TAVY. [steadfastly] No more tears. I am happy in your happiness.
And I believe in you in spite of everything.
RAMSDEN. [coming between Malone and Tanner] You are a happy man,
Jack Tanner. I envy you.
MENDOZA. [advancing between Violet and Tanner] Sir: there are two
tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart's desire. The
other is to get it. Mine and yours, sir.
TANNER. Mr Mendoza: I have no heart's desires. Ramsden: it is
very easy for you to call me a happy man: you are only a
spectator. I am one of the principals; and I know better. Ann:
stop tempting Tavy, and come back to me.
ANN. [complying] You are absurd, Jack. [She takes his proffered
TANNER. [continuing] I solemnly say that I am not a happy man.
Ann looks happy; but she is only triumphant, successful,
victorious. That is not happiness, but the price for which the
strong sell their happiness. What we have both done this
afternoon is to renounce tranquillity, above all renounce the
romantic possibilities of an unknown future, for the cares of a
household and a family. I beg that no man may seize the occasion
to get half drunk and utter imbecile speeches and coarse
pleasantries at my expense. We propose to furnish our own house
according to our own taste; and I hereby give notice that the
seven or eight travelling clocks, the four or five dressing
cases, the salad bowls, the carvers and fish slices, the copy of
Tennyson in extra morocco, and all the other articles you are
preparing to heap upon us, will be instantly sold, and the
proceeds devoted to circulating free copies of the
Revolutionist's Handbook. The wedding will take place three days
after our return to England, by special license, at the office of
the district superintendent registrar, in the presence of my
solicitor and his clerk, who, like his clients, will be in
ordinary walking dress.
VIOLET. [with intense conviction] You are a brute, Jack.
ANN. (looking at him with fond pride and caressing his arm] Never
mind her, dear. Go on talking.