ACT I
did, positively took my breath away. I understand it now, of course, as you do—but you can imagine how I felt, knowing nothing of his mental condition, when he announced, perfectly calmly and easily, that he was in love with a girl called Margaret Allington . . . (Kitty blenches) the daughter of an innkeeper down at Bray. Well, I have no words to express my amazement. I remonstrated with him, naturally, expressed my horror at the notion, and I asked him, among other things, how long this had been going on. And then he answered, “Why, ever since I went down to stay with Uncle Ambrose at Dorney, after I’d got my B.Sc.” Fifteen years, Kitty! Naturally, my thoughts went out to you. . . . I spoke of the disgracefulness of the whole affair, asked him how he could reconcile it with his duty to you. My dear Kitty, my heart bleeds for you; it was obvious that he had no idea of whom I was speaking. I had to inform him of the details of his marriage to you, Kitty Ellis, at St. George’s, Hanover Square, in April 1906. It was not until I mentioned that date that I realised. . . . All the blood seemed to leave his face, and he asked me, in a trembling voice, what year this was. When I said 1916, he fell back in a fainting condition. They hurried me away most unceremoniously. . . . I must say they seemed very unreasonably annoyed . . . but later they allowed me to see
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