Madame likes it frappe, but not too cold--yes?
[He is away again to his service-table.]
YOUNG MAN. [Burying his face in the carnations] I say--these are
jolly, aren't they? They do you pretty well here.
CLARE. Do they?
YOUNG MAN. You've never been here? [CLARE shakes her head] By Jove!
I thought I didn't know your face. [CLARE looks full at him. Again
something moves in the YOUNG MAN, and he stammers] I mean--not----
CLARE. It doesn't matter.
YOUNG MAN. [Respectfully] Of course, if I--if you were waiting for
anybody, or anything--I----
[He half rises]
CLARE. It's all right, thank you.
The YOUNG MAN sits down again, uncomfortable, nonplussed. There
is silence, broken by the inaudible words of the languid lord,
and the distant merriment of the supper-party. ARNAUD brings
the plovers' eggs.
YOUNG MAN. The wine, quick.
ARNAUD. At once, Sare.
YOUNG MAN. [Abruptly] Don't you ever go racing, then?
CLARE. No.
[ARNAUD pours out champagne]
YOUNG MAN. I remember awfully well my first day. It was pretty
thick--lost every blessed bob, and my watch and chain, playin' three
cards on the way home.
CLARE. Everything has a beginning, hasn't it?
[She drinks. The YOUNG MAN stares at her]
YOUNG MAN. [Floundering in these waters deeper than he had bargained
for] I say--about things having beginnings--did you mean anything?
[CLARE nods]
YOUNG MAN.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81