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To please me.

      MRS. ommaney (INDIFFERENTLY). Oh, very well.

      MARGARET. You see, auntie, no one can resist a bride.

      MRS OMMANEY. A bride! Are you a bride? (WITH FIRST SHOW OF INTEREST.)

      MARGARET. I am to be married — here — in a few minutes.

      MRS OMMANEY. Here?

      MARGARET. Yes. But you are English, are you not? So you had been married in a church.

      MRS OMMANEY (SUSPICIOUSLY). You are prying!

      LADY JANET. Of course we are.

      MARGARET. No, no!

      LADY JANET. Well, I am. That’s where the fun of being an old woman comes in. Why have you come to this part of the world, Mrs. Ommaney?

      MARGARET (IN DESPAIR). Oh! (IN COAXING VOICE) Auntie, you have just time to go and take off your bonnet., (LADY JANET affects indignation but MARGARET gets rid of her.)

      MRS OMMANEY (IN MENTAL DISTRESS). I wasn’t strange in my manner — I wasn’t — I wasn’t!

      MARGARET. No, of course not, Mrs. Ommaney, and do forgive me. Indeed I did not mean to pry.

      MRS OMMANEY (WITHOUT MUCH INTEREST). I believe you — you have a good face — I wish you luck. But I don’t care who knows why I am here — (BITTERLY) — I came for a fool’s reason — because I had been here before — an eternity ago.

      MARGARET. Alone?

      MRS OMMANEY (SHARPLY). No — not alone. I had been happy here once and so I wanted to see the place again. The footpath by the cliffs, the boats in the bay, the cows munching on their way home down green lanes, the little arbour in the wood —

      MARGARET. I know — they call it the Lover’s Seat.

      MRS OMMANEY. We called it that, too. It seemed so beautiful then!

      MARGARET. And now?

      MRS OMMANEY. Now the path by the cliff is but a muddy cattle track, and I turned shuddering from the boats and the green lanes and I went to the Lover’s Seat and spat on it.

      MARGARET. Ah, I begin to see. He was with you the first time, but when you came back —

      MRS OMMANEY. I came back alone. Yes, that’s it. Oh, it’s a common enough story. Turn me out now, revile me.

      MARGARET. Revile you! My dear, my dear, I am so sorry for you.

      MRS OMMANEY (SURPRISED). You mean it? You sweet girl. I thought you would —

      MARGARET. Upbraid you for speaking so bitterly of your loss? No — no!

      mrs ommaney (SUDDENLY). But do you understand?

      MARGARET. Indeed I do. It flashed upon me when you said those words, ‘I came back alone.’ Your husband is dead now. Mrs. Ommaney, I believe it was your wedding trip. Was it? It was! And I have been speaking of my happiness to you. Can you ever forgive me?

      MRS OMMANEY (GRIMLY). I forgive you!

      (MR FAIRBAIRN’S VOICE IS HEARD SHOUTING FROM GARDEN.)

      MR FAIRBAIRN (OUTSIDE). Come along — we must be there to receive the guests.

      MRS OMMANEY. Time I was off. Good luck! (EXIT WEARILY.)

      MARGARET. Oh, don’t go!

      (ENTER mr fairbairn AND PAUL FROM VERANDAH.)

      MR FAIRBAIRN (AFFECTIONATELY). Whom were you speaking to, Margaret?

      MARGARET. A poor lady with such a sad history, father. She is a widow.

      MR FAIRBAIRN (WHOSE OPTIMISM IS ENTIRELY SINCERE). Dear, dear! But perhaps it was all for the best. Always look on the bright side, Margaret.

      PAUL. Is she coming to the wedding?

      MARGARET. Oh, no — (SUDDENLY) Paul, shall I ask her?

      PAUL. By all means, if you want to.

      MARGARET. How good of you! I shall. (EXIT.)

      MR FAIRBAIRN. Ah me, to think that I am losing my dear daughter.

      PAUL. I should like to think, Mr. Fairbairn, that you could find a bright side even to that, but I fear it is impossible.

      MR FAIRBAIRN (REFLECTING). Difficult, but not impossible. I shall smoke in the drawingroom now. And the minister has promised to drop in of an evening. We play draughts together.

      (CHUCKLING) He gets so angry when I beat him! I usually beat him!

      (Enter ARMITAGE excitedly.)

      ARMITAGE. Digby, have you got the ring?

      PAUL. Yes. (Feels pockets.) It’s gone! (Is rushing off wildly.)

      ARMITAGE (laughing). I’ve got it! (Gives it to PAUL.)

      (ENTER MEIKLE IMPORTANTLY.)

      MEIKLE. Are you all ready, sir? They are coming.

      ARMITAGE. One moment, Meikle.

      (Exit MEIKLE.)

      Young man, your hour has come. You are about to be turned off. (OFFERING HAND) Friend of my youth, farewell!

      (PAUL is wildly putting on gloves.)

      PAUL. Stop it, Armitage!

      (BLANCHE ENTERS WITH FLOWERS IN BASKET.)

      BLANCHE. Buttonholes for you, pretty gentlemen. Oh, Mr. Digby, how you are shaking.

      MR FAIRBAIRN. Be calm. Take it easy. Think of something else.

      PAUL. I’ve split my glove!

      MR FAIRBAIRN. Don’t look at it and you will forget it’s split.

      MEIKLE (AT DOOR). The Honourable Mrs. Teviot and the Misses Teviot.

      (MRS. TEVIOT and the MISSES TEVIOT enter and shake hands, moving towards centre with PAUL and ARMITAGE while MR. FAIRBAIRN remains near door, BLANCHE goes about giving buttonholes to guests, PAUL has got rid of his nervousness.)

      ARMITAGE. How do you think my man is looking, Mrs. Teviot?

      MRS TEVIOT (LOOKING AT PAUL). I think you deserve great credit, Captain Armitage. I don’t see a grey hair in his head.

      MEIKLE. Provost Crosbie and Mrs. Crosbie — Colonel and Lady Farquhar — Mr. Alexander Riach.

      (THESE GUESTS ENTER, SHAKE HANDS, ETC. fairbairn REMAINS AT DOOR GREETING GUESTS.)

      PROVOST (TO PAUL). Great admirer of your paintings, sir; have not seen them yet. But they will come some day to the Pans.

      PAUL. Very good of you to say so.

      PROVOST. Oh yes, they will. Everything good finds its way to the Pans.

      MEIKLE. Bailie Blair — the Shirrah and Miss Bella Innes —

      Sir Henry and Lady Dunn.

      (A slight pause after each announcement, during which guests exchange greetings, look at presents, etc. The BAILIE is an inquisitive little man who thinks artists deeply interesting but not quite respectable.)

      BAILIE. Proud to shake hands with you, Mr. Digby.

      (He is about to do it but is pushed aside by the SHIRRAH, who shakes hands. He tries it again and SIR HENRY pushes him aside. He then succeeds.’)

      MEIKLE. Mr and Mrs. Menzies — the Misses Cranston — the Fiscal.

      (These enter.)

      BAILIE (WHO HAS BEEN GAZING AT PAUL AS AT THE OUTSIDE OF a CIRCUS). I am far from wishing to seem inquisitive, sir, but may I ask you what your income is?

      ARMITAGE. Do you think my man looks fit, Miss Innes?

      MISS INNES. Ah, one can never tell.

      PROVOST.

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