The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition. Джеймс Барри

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      COSENS. But I suppose you have been cautious with your fish lest the first glimpse of the hook should frighten him.

      LUCY. That must be the reason.

      COSENS. Is it?

      LUCY. Who am I that I should contradict you?

      (Enter effie.)

      EFFIE. The Professor wants you, Miss White.

      (effie goes.)

      LUCY. Very well. (Going.)

      COSENS. What are you going to do now?

      LUCY. Such a clever man does not need to be told that.

      COSENS. The game is up, Miss White.

      LUCY. Is it?

      COSENS. Isn’t it?

      LUCY. You know best.

      COSENS. I don’t understand you. But either you leave the Professor’s service or I tell him what you have been up to. Which is it to be?

      LUCY. 99.

      (She goes, COSENS stamps about not sure what to do, starts to go and changes mind. Enter PROFESSOR with a Gladstone bag.)

      COSENS. What are you doing, Tom?

      PROFESSOR. Packing. (Puts bag on table, and begins to pack all sorts of things in it.) There’s a train to Tullochmains at 11.35 and I have just time to catch it. Effie will follow with my things tomorrow.

      COSENS. Good! Very good! Capital!

      (EFFIE runs in with PROFESSOR’S coat, takes off his dressing-gown, and puts coat on him.)

      PROFESSOR. Not that I believe it is love, but you have agitated me, and I know that under the circumstances Agnes’s advice to me would be the same as when I was in Paris.

      COSENS. When was that?

      PROFESSOR. Years ago.

      (Enter LUCY with some papers.)

      Miss Lucy, I cannot find my folio H.

      (She gets it from drawer and packs it in bag.)

      COSENS. What about Paris?

      PROFESSOR. I’d gone out for a walk and forgotten what hotel I was stopping at. Agnes wasn’t with me, but I knew that she knew my address, so I telegraphed to her to telegraph back to me at once where I was staying.

      COSENS. And did she?

      PROFESSOR. No, she telegraphed me to do best thing. Best thing—’ Come home at once.’ (The PROFESSOR goes, EFFIE follows with bag. LUCY at table is busy arranging papers.)

      COSENS (triumphantly). So, Miss White, fate has been too strong for you.

      LUCY. A woman soon goes to the wall, doesn’t she?

      COSENS. What will you do now?

      LUCY. Does it matter?

      COSENS. Not to me. But I feel rather sorry for you. To lose your place just when everything seemed to be going nicely. Yes, I’m sorry for you.

      LUCY. Please, no flowers — by request.

      COSENS. I like your pluck. And as I leave now, Miss White, I bear you no malice. Indeed, if I can help you to another situation —

      (She brings out her handkerchief and dabs her eyes. He stares professor hurries on with a telegraph form.)

      PROFESSOR. Effie — isn’t Effie here? I want to send a telegram to Agnes. (Writing it out.) Put on your hat, Miss Lucy, we have just time to catch the train.

      (LUCY puts on hat at mirror.)

      COSENS. What, is she going with you?

      PROFESSOR. Of course, I always take my secretary with me.

      (COSENS is staggered. LUCY looks quaintly at him.)

      COSENS (firmly). Tom, I have something to tell you.

      PROFESSOR. One moment, Dick. I must have this sent off. Effie!

      (He goes. LUCY goes to table, and puts papers together.)

      COSENS (going). Very clever of you, Miss White, but as you will have it, I shall tell him now who the woman is.

      LUCY. Ah!

      (She takes the wastepaper basket to table, lays it on chair, takes out two pieces of paper, lays them on table, and puts them together.)

      COSENS (anxiously). What is that?

      LUCY. Your prescription for the Professor.

      COSENS. Give it to me!

      LUCY. Oh no!

      COSENS. What are you going to do with it?

      LUCY. I oughtn’t to keep it to myself, ought I? I think of sending it to the British Medical Journal.

      COSENS. Eh?

      LUCY. With a note from me, saying that it is the eminent Dr. Cosens’ cure for love. You will be a specialist after to-day, Doctor.

      COSENS (very much embarrassed). You — you — if I don’t tell him who the woman is, will you give me that prescription?

      (LUCY nods.)

      Come, then.

      (LUCY refuses to give it him yet.)

      PROFESSOR (returning). Didn’t you say you had something to tell me, Dick?

      COSENS. No, Tom, I don’t think so.

      (He holds out hand for the prescription. LUCY gives it him, and he looks at it.)

      COSENS (aside). Quinine.

      PROFESSOR. Try a run north to see us, Dick.

      COSENS. I should like to, Tom, but — (Shaking hands.)

      LUCY (mockingly). Do, Doctor.

      COSENS (meekly). Thank you, Miss White.

      (Enter EFFIE.)

      EFFIE. The cab is at the door, sir. (She has his hat and stick.)

      PROFESSOR. Mind, Dick, I don’t believe in your diagnosis, I don’t believe a word of it, for there is no woman, and how could any one love vacuum? — quite absurd, quite absurd — but in case — just in case, there is no harm in taking precaution, and if there is such a woman —

      EFFIE (from door). You’ll need all your time, sir.

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