MRS. MILER. In the bathroom chest o' drawers, where 'e keeps 'is odds and ends. I was lookin' for 'is garters.
CLARE. Give it to me!
MRS. MILER. He took it once before. He must get his sleep.
CLARE. Give it to me!
MRS. MILER resigns it, CLARE takes the cork out, smells, then tastes it from her finger. MRS. MILER, twisting her apron in her hands, speaks.
MILS. MILER. I've 'ad it on my mind a long time to speak to yer.
Your comin' 'ere's not done 'im a bit o' good.
CLARE. Don't!
MRS. MILER. I don't want to, but what with the worry o' this 'ere divorce suit, an' you bein' a lady an' 'im havin' to be so careful of yer, and tryin' to save, not smokin' all day like 'e used, an' not gettin' 'is two bottles of claret regular; an' losin' his sleep, an' takin' that stuff for it; and now this 'ere last business. I've seen 'im sometimes holdin' 'is 'ead as if it was comin' off. [Seeing CLARE wince, she goes on with a sort of compassion in her Chinese face] I can see yer fond of him; an' I've nothin' against yer you don't trouble me a bit; but I've been with 'im eight years--we're used to each other, and I can't bear to see 'im not 'imself, really I can't.
She gives a sadden sniff. Then her emotion passes, leaving her as Chinese as ever.
CLARE. This last business--what do you mean by that?
MRS. MILER. If 'e a'n't told yer, I don't know that I've any call to.
CLARE. Please.
MRS. MILER. [Her hands twisting very fast] Well, it's to do with this 'ere "Watchfire." One of the men that sees to the writin' of it 'e's an old friend of Mr. Malise, 'e come 'ere this mornin' when you was out. I was doin' my work in there [She points to the room on the right] an' the door open, so I 'earl 'em. Now you've 'ung them curtains, you can't 'elp it.
CLARE. Yes?
MRS. MILER. It's about your divorce case. This 'ere " Watchfire," ye see, belongs to some fellers that won't 'ave their men gettin' into the papers. So this 'ere friend of Mr. Malise--very nice 'e spoke about it: "If it comes into Court," 'e says, "you'll 'ave to go," 'e says. "These beggars, these dogs, these dogs," 'e says, "they'll 'oof you out," 'e says. An' I could tell by the sound of his voice, 'e meant it--proper upset 'e was. So that's that!
CLARE. It's inhuman!
MRS. MILER. That's what I thinks; but it don't 'elp, do it?
"'Tain't the circulation," 'e says, "it's the principle," 'e says; and then 'e starts in swearin' horrible. 'E's a very nice man. And Mr. Malise, 'e says: "Well, that about does for me!" 'e says.
CLARE. Thank you, Mrs. Miler--I'm glad to know.
MRS. MILER. Yes; I don't know as I ought to 'ave told you.
[Desperately uncomfortable] You see, I don't take notice of Mr. MALISE, but I know 'im very well. 'E's a good 'arted gentleman, very funny, that'll do things to help others, and what's more, keep on doin' 'em, when they hurt 'im; very obstinate 'e is. Now, when you first come 'ere, three months ago, I says to meself: "He'll enjoy this 'ere for a bit, but she's too much of a lady for 'im." What 'e wants about 'im permanent is a woman that thinks an' talks about all them things he talks about. And sometimes I fancy 'e don't want nothin' permanent about 'im at all.
CLARE. Don't!
MRS. MILER. [With another sudden sniff] Gawd knows I don't want to upset ye. You're situated very hard; an' women's got no business to 'urt one another--that's what I thinks.
CLARE. Will you go out and do something for me? [MRS. MILER nods]
CLARE takes up the sheaf of papers and from the leather box a note and an emerald pendant] Take this with the note to that address--it's quite close. He'll give you thirty pounds for it.
Please pay these bills and bring me back the receipts, and what's over.
MRS. MILER. [Taking the pendant and note] It's a pretty thing.
CLARE. Yes. It was my mother's.
MRS. MILER. It's a pity to part with it; ain't you got another?
CLARE. Nothing more, Mrs. Miler, not even a wedding ring.
MRS. MILER. [Without expression] You make my 'eart ache sometimes.
She wraps pendant and note into her handkerchief and goes out to the door.
MRS. MILER. [From the door] There's a lady and gentleman out here.
Mrs. Fuller--wants you, not Mr. Malise.
CLARE. Mrs. Fullarton? [MRS. MILER nods] Ask them to come in.
MRS. MILER opens the door wide, says "Come in," and goes. MRS.
FULLARTON is accompanied not by FULLARTON, but by the lawyer, TWISDON. They come in.
MRS. FULLARTON. Clare! My dear! How are you after all this time?
CLARE. [Her eyes fixed on TWISDEN] Yes?
MRS. FULLARTON. [Disconcerted by the strange greeting] I brought Mr. Twisden to tell you something. May I stay?
CLARE. Yes. [She points to the chair at the same table: MRS.
FULLARTON sits down] Now!
[TWISDEN comes forward]
TWISDEN. As you're not defending this case, Mrs. Dedmond, there is nobody but yourself for me to apply to.
CLARE. Please tell me quickly, what you've come for.
TWISDEN. [Bowing slightly] I am instructed by Mr. Dedmond to say that if you will leave your present companion and undertake not to see him again, he will withdraw the suit and settle three hundred a year on you. [At CLARE's movement of abhorrence] Don't misunderstand me, please--it is not--it could hardly be, a request that you should go back. Mr. Dedmond is not prepared to receive you again. The proposal--forgive my saying so--remarkably Quixotic--is made to save the scandal to his family and your own. It binds you to nothing but the abandonment of your present companion, with certain conditions of the same nature as to the future. In other words, it assures you a position--so long as you live quietly by yourself.
CLARE. I see. Will you please thank Mr. Dedmond, and say that I refuse?
MRS. FULLARTON. Clare, Clare! For God's sake don't be desperate.
[CLARE, deathly still, just looks at her]
TWISDEN. Mrs. Dedmond, I am bound to put the position to you in its naked brutality. You know there's a claim for damages?
CLARE. I have just learnt it.
TWISDEN. You realize what the result of this suit must be: You will be left dependent on an undischarged bankrupt. To put it another way, you'll be a stone round the neck of a drowning man.
CLARE. You are cowards.
