FullReads

HYPATIA. I can imagine all sorts of men I could fall in love with; but I never seem to meet them. The real ones are too small, like Bunny, or too silly, like Jerry. Of course one can get into a state about any man: fall in love with him if you like to call it that. But who would risk marrying a man for love? I shouldnt. I remember three girls at school who agreed that the one man you should never marry was the man you were in love with, because it would make a perfect slave of you. Theres a sort of instinct against it, I think, thats just as strong as the other instinct. One of them, to my certain knowledge, refused a man she was in love with, and married another who was in love with her; and it turned out very well.

MRS TARLETON. Does all that mean that youre not in love with Bunny?

HYPATIA. Oh, how could anybody be in love with Bunny? I like him to kiss me just as I like a baby to kiss me. I’m fond of him; and he never bores me; and I see that hes very clever; but I’m not what you call gone about him, if thats what you mean.

MRS TARLETON. Then why need you marry him?

HYPATIA. What better can I do? I must marry somebody, I suppose. Ive realized that since I was twenty-three. I always used to take it as a matter of course that I should be married before I was twenty.

BENTLEY’S VOICE.[in the garden] Youve got to keep yourself fresh: to look at these things with an open mind.

JOHN TARLETON’S VOICE. Quite right, quite right: I always say so.

MRS TARLETON. Theres your father, and Bunny with him.

BENTLEY. Keep young. Keep your eye on me. Thats the tip for you.

[Bentley and Mr Tarleton (an immense and genial veteran of trade) come into view and enter the pavilion.]

JOHN TARLETON.You think youre young, do you? You think I’m old? [energetically shaking off his motoring coat and hanging it up with his cap].

BENTLEY. [helping him with the coat] Of course youre old. Look at your face and look at mine. What you call your youth is nothing but your levity. Why do we get on so well together? Because I’m a young cub and youre an old josser. [He throws a cushion at Hypatia’s feet and sits down on it with his back against her knees].

TARLETON.Old! Thats all you know about it, my lad. How do, Patsy! [Hypatia kisses him]. How is my Chickabiddy? [He kisses Mrs Tarleton’s hand and poses expansively in the middle of the picture]. Look at me! Look at these wrinkles, these gray hairs, this repulsive mask that you call old age! What is it? [Vehemently] I ask you, what is it?

BENTLEY. Jolly nice and venerable, old man. Dont be discouraged.

TARLETON.Nice? Not a bit of it. Venerable? Venerable be blowed! Read your Darwin, my boy. Read your Weismann. [He goes to the sideboard for a drink of lemonade].

MRS TARLETON. For shame, John! Tell him to read his Bible.

TARLETON.[manipulating the syphon] Whats the use of telling children to read the Bible when you know they wont. I was kept away from the Bible for forty years by being told to read it when I was young. Then I picked it up one evening in a hotel in Sunderland when I had left all my papers in the train; and I found it wasnt half bad. [He drinks, and puts down the glass with a smack of enjoyment]. Better than most halfpenny papers, anyhow, if only you could make people believe it. [He sits down by the writing-table, near his wife]. But if you want to understand old age scientifically, read Darwin and Weismann. Of course if you want to understand it romantically, read about Solomon.