PROFESSOR (fiercely). Then who is the woman?
COSENS. Why should I know? I only recognise the symptoms. I am not acquainted with your lady friends.
PROFESSOR. Lady friends? (Growing pale) Dick, it can’t be the little Dowager, can it? I haven’t been paying attentions to her without knowing it, have I?
COSENS. Search your heart, Tom!
PROFESSOR. Dick, when we were sitting there, she and I — I think she was talking about love to me!
COSENS. Are you sure, Tom, that you didn’t talk about it to her?
PROFESSOR. Dick! (He rings bell.)
COSENS. Poor old man!
PROFESSOR. Brain addled! Might do anything.
(Enter EFFIE.)
Effie, have you noticed me paying particular attention to any lady lately?
EFFIE. Losh preserve us.
PROFESSOR. To the Dowager, for instance? Have you?
EFFIE. No, sir.
PROFESSOR. On your oath?
EFFIE. On my oath, sir.
PROFESSOR. Do you hear that, Dick? Effie would know. It’s all right — right as rain. (To effie) Send Miss White here.
(Exit EFFIE.)
COSENS. Why do you want Miss White?
PROFESSOR. To ask her the same question.
COSENS. Good heavens!
PROFESSOR. Why are you so surprised? If such a thing has been going on with any other lady than the Dowager she must have noticed it. She has been with me constantly.
(LUCY enters, followed by EFFIE.) I don’t need you any more, Effie.
(EFFIE goes reluctantly.)
Miss White, since you have been in this house, have I spoken a dozen sentences to any lady besides yourself?
LUCY. Not so far as I know.
PROFESSOR. That won’t do. On your oath.
LUCY. On my oath.
PROFESSOR. There, Dick, that settles it. Confess that you were merely trying to frighten me.
COSENS (almost whispering). I was doing nothing of the kind. I was telling you the truth.
PROFESSOR. Snap my fingers! (Snaps them at COSENS.)
Snap my fingers!
(PROFESSOR glares at him and goes.)
COSENS. So, Miss White.
LUCY. Please don’t fold your arms in that way. It frightens me. I’ll do anything you like. Shall I say 99?
COSENS. I have found you out! You know what I mean! I wonder you have not managed to lure him to a proposal.
LUCY. Thank you.
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.