FullReads

VIVIEN.
Thanks, darling. That’s just what I think in my calmer moments.
But mostly I’m so crazy about him that I’m almost humble. Can you imagine it?

GUENEVERE.
Well, what’s the matter, then? Doesn’t he reciprocate?
You don’t look like the victim of a hopeless passion.

VIVIEN.
Oh, he’s in love with me all right.
But he doesn’t want to be.
He says being in love interferes with his work.

GUENEVERE.
What nonsense!

VIVIEN.
Oh, I don’t know about that! I think being in love with
me would interfere with a man’s work. I should hope so!

GUENEVERE.
( primly )

I don’t interfere with Arthur’s work.

VIVIEN.
Arthur’s a professor of philosophy. Besides, Arthur had written a book and settled down before he fell in love with you. I’m dealing with a man who has his work still to do. He thinks if he had about three years of peace and quiet and hard work, he’d put something big across. He put it up to me as a fellow-artist. I know just how he feels. I suppose I am very distracting!

GUENEVERE.
Well, why don’t you give him his three years?

VIVIEN.
Gwen! What do you think I am? An altruist? A benefactor of humanity? Well, I’m not, I’m a woman. Three years? I’ve given him three hours, and threatened to marry a man back at home if he doesn’t make up his mind before then.

GUENEVERE.
Heavens, Vivien, you are a savage! Well, did it work?

VIVIEN.
I don’t know. The three hours aren’t up yet. I’m going around to get my answer now. I must say the prospect isn’t encouraging. He started to pack up to go to Boston. He says he won’t be bullied.

GUENEVERE.
But Vivien!

VIVIEN.
Oh, don’t condole with me yet, Gwen dear. It’s twelve hours
before that morning train, and I’m not through with him yet.

GUENEVERE.
( curiously )

What are you going to do?

VIVIEN.
Nothing crude, Gwen dear. Oh, there’s lots of things I can do. Cry, for instance. He’s never seen a woman cry. Maybe you think I can’t cry?

GUENEVERE.
It’s hard to imagine you crying.

VIVIEN.
I never wanted anything badly enough to cry for it before. But I could cry my heart out for him. I’ve absolutely no pride left. Well– I’m going to have him, that’s all.

( She throws her cigarette into the grate, and starts to go.)

GUENEVERE.
And what about his work? Suppose it’s true–

VIVIEN.
Suppose it is. Then his work will have to get along the best way it can. ( She turns at the door.) Do I look like a loser?–or a winner!

GUENEVERE.
I’ll bet on you, Vivien.

VIVIEN.
Thanks, darling. And bye-bye.

GUENEVERE.
( stopping her )

But Vivien–! I’ve been racking my brain to think who–?
Do tell me!

VIVIEN.
( in the doorway, defiantly )

Well, if you must know–it’s Lancelot Jones.

GUENEVERE.
( springing up, amazed, incredulous and horrified )

Oh, no, Vivien! Not Lancelot!

VIVIEN.
Absolutely yes.

GUENEVERE.
But–but he’s married already!