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

      CUTHBERTSON (reverently — feeling that he is in the presence of science). Indeed. How will you do that?

      PARAMORE. Oh, easily enough, by simply cutting the duct and seeing what will happen to the guinea pig. (Sylvia rises, horrified.) I shall require a knife specially made to get at it. The man who is waiting for me downstairs has brought me a few handles to try before fitting it and sending it to the laboratory. I am afraid it would not do to bring such weapons up here.

      SYLVIA. If you attempt such a thing, Dr. Paramore, I will complain to the committee. The majority of the committee are antivivisectionists. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. (She flounces out at the right hand door.)

      PARAMORE (with patient contempt). That’s the sort of thing we scientific men have to put up with nowadays, Mr. Cuthbertson. Ignorance, superstition, sentimentality: they are all one. A guinea pig’s convenience is set above the health and lives of the entire human race.

      CUTHBERTSON (vehemently). It’s not ignorance or superstition, Paramore: it’s sheer downright Ibsenism: that’s what it is. I’ve been wanting to sit comfortably at the fire the whole morning; but I’ve never had a chance with that girl there. I couldn’t go and plump myself down on a seat beside her: goodness knows what she’d think I wanted. That’s one of the delights of having women in the club: when they come in here they all want to sit at the fire and adore that bust. I sometimes feel that I should like to take the poker and fetch it a wipe across the nose — ugh!

      PARAMORE. I must say I prefer the elder Miss Craven to her sister.

      CUTHBERTSON (his eyes lighting up). Ah, Julia! I believe you. A splendid fine creature — every inch a woman. No Ibsenism about her!

      PARAMORE. I quite agree with you there, Mr. Cuthbertson. Er — by the way, do you think is Miss Craven attached to Charteris at all?

      CUTHBERTSON. What, that fellow! Not he. He hangs about after her; but he’s not man enough for her. A woman of that sort likes a strong, manly, deep-throated, broad-chested man.

      PARAMORE (anxiously). Hm, a sort of sporting character, you think?

      CUTHBERTSON. Oh, no, no. A scientific man, perhaps, like yourself. But you know what I mean — a MAN. (Strikes himself a sounding blow on the chest.)

      PARAMORE. Of course; but Charteris is a man.

      CUTHBERTSON. Pah! you don’t see what I mean. (The Page Boy returns with his salver.)

      PAGE BOY (calling monotonously as before). Mr. Cuthbertson, Mr. Cuthbertson, Mr. Cuth —

      CUTHBERTSON. Here, boy. (He takes a card from the salver.) Bring the gentleman up here. (The boy goes out.) It’s Craven. He’s coming to lunch with me and Charteris. You might join us if you’ve nothing better to do, when you’ve finished with the instrument man. If Julia turns up I’ll ask her too.

      PARAMORE (flushing with pleasure). I shall be very happy. Thank you. (He is going out at the right hand door when Craven enters.) Good morning, Colonel Craven.

      CRAVEN (at the door). Good morning — glad to see you. I’m looking for Cuthbertson.

      PARAMORE (smiling). There he is. (He goes out.)

      CUTHBERTSON (greeting Craven effusively). Delighted to see you. Now will you come to the smoking room, or will you sit down here and have a chat while we’re waiting for Charteris. If you like company, the smoking room is always full of women. Here we shall have it pretty well all to ourselves until about three o’clock.

      CRAVEN. I don’t like to see women smoking. I’ll make myself comfortable here. (Sits in an easy chair on the right.)

      CUTHBERTSON (taking a chair beside him, on his left). Neither do I. There’s not a room in this club where I can enjoy a pipe quietly without a woman coming in and beginning to roll a cigarette. It’s a disgusting habit in a woman: it’s not natural to her sex.

      CRAVEN (sighing). Ah, Jo, times have changed since we both courted Molly Ebden all those years ago. I took my defeat well, old chap, didn’t I?

      CUTHBERTSON (with earnest approval). You did, Dan. The thought of it has often helped me to behave well myself: it has, on my honour.

      CRAVEN. Yes, you always believe in hearth and home, Jo — in a true English wife and a happy wholesome fireside. How did Molly turn out?

      CUTHBERTSON (trying to be fair to Molly). Well, not bad. She might have been worse. You see I couldn’t stand her relations: all the men were roaring cads; and she couldn’t get on with my mother. And then she hated being in town; and of course I couldn’t live in the country on account of my work. But we hit it off as well as most people, until we separated.

      CRAVEN (taken aback). Separated! (He is irresistibly amused.) Oh, that was the end of the hearth and home, Jo, was it?

      CUTHBERTSON (warmly). It was not my fault, Dan. (Sentimentally.) Some day the world will know how I loved that woman. But she was incapable of valuing a true man’s affection. Do you know, she often said she wished she’d married you instead.

      CRAVEN (sobered by the suggestion). Dear me, dear me! Well, perhaps it was better as it was. You heard about my marriage, I suppose.

      CUTHBERTSON. Oh yes: we all heard of it.

      CRAVEN. Well, Jo, I may as well make a clean breast of it — everybody knew it. I married for money.

      CUTHBERTSON (encouragingly). And why not, Dan, why not? We can’t get on without it, you know.

      CRAVEN (with sincere feeling). I got to be very fond of her, Jo. I had a home until she died. Now everything’s changed. Julia’s always here. Sylvia’s of a different nature; but she’s always here too.

      CUTHBERTSON (sympathetically). I know. It’s the same with Grace. She’s always here.

      CRAVEN. And now they want me to be always here. They’re at me every day to join the club — to stop my grumbling, I suppose. That’s what I want to consult you about. Do you think I ought to join?

      CUTHBERTSON. Well, if you have no conscientious objection —

      CRAVEN (testily interrupting him). I object to the existence of the place on principle; but what’s the use of that? Here it is in spite of my objection, and I may as well have the benefit of any good that may be in it.

      CUTHBERTSON (soothing him). Of course: that’s the only reasonable view of the matter. Well, the fact is, it’s not so inconvenient as you might think. When you’re at home, you have the house more to yourself; and when you want to have your family about you, you can dine with them at the club.

      CRAVEN (not much attracted by this). True.

      CUTHBERTSON. Besides, if you don’t want to dine with them, you needn’t.

      CRAVEN (convinced). True, very true. But don’t they carry on here, rather?

      CUTHBERTSON. Oh, no, they don’t exactly carry on. Of course the usual tone of the club is low, because the women smoke and earn their own living and all that; but still there’s nothing actually to complain of. And it’s convenient, certainly. (Charteris comes in, looking round for them.)

      CRAVEN (rising). Do you know, I’ve a great mind to join, just to see what it’s like. Would you mind putting me up?

      CUTHBERTSON. Delighted, Dan, delighted. (He grasps Craven’s hand.)

      CHARTERIS (putting one hand on Craven’s shoulder and the other on Cuthbertson’s). Bless you, my children! (Cuthbertson, a little wounded in his dignity, moves away. The Colonel takes the jest in the utmost good humor.)

      CRAVEN (cordially). Hallo!

      CHARTERIS (to Craven). Hope I haven’t disturbed your chat by coming too soon.

      CRAVEN. Not at all. Welcome, dear boy. (Shakes his hand.)

      CHARTERIS. That’s right. I’m earlier than I intended. The fact is, I have something rather pressing to say to Cuthbertson.