60 Plays: The George Bernard Shaw Edition (Illustrated). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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      CRAVEN (shouting, utterly scandalized). Julia!! (Julia releases Charteris, but stands her ground disdainfully as they come forward, Craven on her left, Paramore on her right.)

      PARAMORE. What’s the matter?

      CHARTERIS. Nothing, nothing. You’ll soon get used to this, Paramore.

      CRAVEN. Now really, Julia, this is a very extraordinary way to behave. It’s not fair to Paramore.

      JULIA (coldly). If Dr. Paramore objects he can break off our engagement. (To Paramore) Pray don’t hesitate.

      PARAMORE (looking doubtfully and anxiously at her). Do you wish me to break it off?

      CHARTERIS (alarmed). Nonsense! don’t act so hastily. It was my fault. I annoyed Miss Craven — insulted her. Hang it all, don’t go and spoil everything like this.

      CRAVEN. This is most infernally perplexing. I can’t believe that you insulted Julia, Charteris. I’ve no doubt you annoyed her — you’d annoy anybody; upon my soul you would — but insult! — now what do you mean by that?

      PARAMORE (very earnestly). Miss Craven; delicacy and sincerity I ask you to be frank with me. What are the relations between you and Charteris?

      JULIA. Ask him. (She goes to the fireplace, her back on them.)

      CHARTERIS. Certainly: I’ll confess. I’m in love with Miss Craven — always have been; and I’ve persecuted her with my addresses ever since I knew her. It’s been no use: she utterly despises me. A moment ago the spectacle of a rival’s happiness stung me to make a nasty, sneering speech; and she — well, she just shook me a little, as you saw.

      PARAMORE (chivalrously). I shall never forget that you helped me to win her, Charteris. (Julia quickly, a spasm of fury in her face.)

      CHARTERIS. Sh! For Heaven’s sake don’t mention it.

      CRAVEN. This is a very different story to the one you told Cuthbertson and myself this morning. You’ll excuse my saying that it sounds much more like the the truth. Come: you were humbugging us, weren’t you?

      CHARTERIS. Ask Julia. (Paramore and Craven turn to Julia. Charteris remains doggedly looking straight before him.)

      JULIA. It’s quite true. He has been in love with me; he has persecuted me; and I utterly despise him.

      GRAVEN. Don’t rub it in, Julia: it’s not kind. No man is quite himself when he’s crossed in love. (To Charteris.) Now listen to me, Charteris. When I was a young fellow, Cuthbertson and I fell in love with the same woman. She preferred Cuthbertson. I was taken aback: I won’t deny it. But I knew my duty; and I did it. I gave her up and wished Cuthbertson joy. He told me this morning, when we met after many years, that he has respected and liked me ever since for it. And I believe him and feel the better for it. (Impressively.) Now, Charteris, Paramore and you stand to-day where Cuthbertson and I stood on a certain July evening thirty-five years ago. How are you going to take it?

      JULIA (indignantly). How is he going to take it, indeed! Really, papa, this is too much. If Mrs. Cuthbertson wouldn’t have you, it may have been very noble of you to make a virtue of giving her up, just as you made a virtue of being a teetotaller when Percy cut off your wine. But he shan’t be virtuous over me. I have refused him; and if he doesn’t like it he can — he can —

      CHARTERIS. I can lump it. Precisely. Craven: you can depend on me. I’ll lump it. (He moves off nonchalantly, and leans against the bookcase with his hands in his pockets.)

      CRAVEN (hurt). Julia: you don’t treat me respectfully. I don’t wish to complain; but that was not a becoming speech.

      JULIA (bursting into tears and throwing herself into the large chair). Is there anyone in the world who has any feeling for me — who does not think me utterly vile? (Craven and Paramore hurry to her in the greatest consternation.)

      CRAVEN (remorsefully). My pet: I didn’t for a moment mean —

      JULIA. Must I stand to be bargained for by two men — passed from one to the other like a slave in the market, and not say a word in my own defence?

      CRAVEN. But, my love —

      JULIA. Oh, go away, all of you. Leave me. I — oh — (She gives way to a passion of tears.)

      PARAMORE (reproachfully to Craven). You’ve wounded her cruelly, Colonel Craven — cruelly.

      CRAVEN. But I didn’t mean to: I said nothing. Charteris: was I harsh?

      CHARTERIS. You forget the revolt of the daughters, Craven. And you certainly wouldn’t have gone on like that to any grown up woman who was not your daughter.

      CRAVEN. Do you mean to say that I am expected to treat my daughter the same as I would any other girl?

      PARAMORE. I should say certainly, Colonel Craven.

      CRAVEN. Well, dash me if I will. There!

      PARAMORE. If you take that tone, I have nothing more to say. (He crosses the room with offended dignity and posts himself with his back to the bookcase beside Charteris.)

      JULIA (with a sob). Daddy.

      CRAVEN (turning solicitously to her). Yes, my love.

      JULIA (looking up at him tearfully and kissing his hand). Don’t mind them. You didn’t mean it, Daddy, did you?

      CRAVEN. No, no, my precious. Come: don’t cry.

      PARAMORE (to Charteris, looking at Julia with delight). How beautiful she is!

      CHARTERIS (throwing up his hands). Oh, Lord help you, Paramore! (He leaves the bookcase and sits at the end of the couch farthest from the fire. Meanwhile Sylvia arrives.)

      SYLVIA (contemplating Julia). Crying again! Well, you are a womanly one!

      CRAVEN. Don’t worry your sister, Sylvia. You know she can’t bear it.

      SYLVIA. I speak for her good, Dad. All the world can’t be expected to know that she’s the family baby.

      JULIA. You will get your ears boxed presently, Silly.

      CRAVEN. Now, now, now, my dear children, really now! Come, Julia: put up your handkerchief before Mrs. Tranfield sees you. She’s coming along with Jo.

      JULIA (rising). That woman again!

      SYLVIA. Another row! Go it, Julia!

      CRAVEN. Hold your tongue, Sylvia. (He turns commandingly to Julia.) Now look here, Julia.

      CHARTERIS. Hallo! A revolt of the fathers!

      CRAVEN. Silence, Charteris. (To Julia, unanswerably.) The test of a man or woman’s breeding is how they behave in a quarrel. Anybody can behave well when things are going smoothly. Now you said to-day, at that iniquitous club, that you were not a womanly woman. Very well: I don’t mind. But if you are not going to behave like a lady when Mrs. Tranfield comes into this room, you’ve got to behave like a gentleman; or fond as I am of you, I’ll cut you dead exactly as I would if you were my son.

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