She is flushed and graceful. Twenty-two, with a short upper lip, a straight nose, dark hair, and glowing eyes. She wears bright colours, and has a slow, musical voice, with a slight lisp.
ATHENE. Oh! How are you, mother dear? This is rather a surprise. Father always keeps his word, so I certainly didn't expect him. [She looks steadfastly at BUILDER, but does not approach].
BUILDER. [Controlling himself with an effort] Now, Athene, what's this?
ATHENE. What's what?
BUILDER. [The strop held out] Are you married to this—this—?
ATHENE. [Quietly] To all intents and purposes.
BUILDER. In law?
ATHENE. No.
BUILDER. My God! You—you—!
ATHENE. Father, don't call names, please.
BUILDER. Why aren't you married to him?
ATHENE. Do you want a lot of reasons, or the real one?
BUILDER. This is maddening! [Goes up stage].
ATHENE. Mother dear, will you go into the other room with Guy? [She points to the door Right].
BUILDER. Why?
ATHENE. Because I would rather she didn't hear the reason.
GUY. [To ATHENE, sotto voce] He's not safe.
ATHENE. Oh! yes; go on.
Guy follows MRS BUILDER, and after hesitation at the door they go out into the bedroom.
BUILDER. Now then!
ATHENE. Well, father, if you want to know the real reason, it's—you.
BUILDER. What on earth do you mean?
ATHENE. Guy wants to marry me. In fact, we—But I had such a stunner of marriage from watching you at home, that I—
BUILDER. Don't be impudent! My patience is at breaking-point, I warn you.
ATHENE. I'm perfectly serious, Father. I tell you, we meant to marry, but so far I haven't been able to bring myself to it. You never noticed how we children have watched you.
BUILDER. Me?
ATHENE. Yes. You and mother, and other things; all sorts of things—
BUILDER. [Taking out a handkerchief and wiping his brow] I really think you're mad.
ATHENE. I'm sure you must, dear.
BUILDER. Don't "dear" me! What have you noticed? D'you mean I'm not a good husband and father?
ATHENE. Look at mother. I suppose you can't, now; you're too used to her.
BUILDER. Of course I'm used to her. What else is marrying for?
ATHENE. That; and the production of such as me. And it isn't good enough, father. You shouldn't have set us such a perfect example.
BUILDER. You're talking the most arrant nonsense I ever heard. [He lifts his hands] I've a good mind to shake it out of you.
ATHENE. Shall I call Guy?
He drops his hands.
Confess that being a good husband and father has tried you terribly. It has us, you know.
BUILDER. [Taking refuge in sarcasm] When you've quite done being funny, perhaps you'll tell me why you've behaved like a common street flapper.
ATHENE. [Simply] I couldn't bear to think of Guy as a family man. That's all—absolutely. It's not his fault; he's been awfully anxious to be one.
BUILDER. You've disgraced us, then; that's what it comes to.
ATHENE. I don't want to be unkind, but you've brought it on yourself.
BUILDER. [Genuinely distracted] I can't even get a glimmer of what you mean. I've never been anything but firm. Impatient, perhaps. I'm not an angel; no ordinary healthy man is. I've never grudged you girls any comfort, or pleasure.
ATHENE. Except wills of our own.
BUILDER. What do you want with wills of your own till you're married?
ATHENE. You forget mother!
BUILDER. What about her?
ATHENE. She's very married. Has she a will of her own?
BUILDER. [Sullenly] She's learnt to know when I'm in the right.
ATHENE. I don't ever mean to learn to know when Guy's in the right.
Mother's forty-one, and twenty-three years of that she's been your wife.
It's a long time, father. Don't you ever look at her face?
BUILDER. [Troubled in a remote way] Rubbish!
ATHENE. I didn't want my face to get like that.
BUILDER. With such views about marriage, what business had you to go near a man? Come, now!
ATHENE. Because I fell in love.
BUILDER. Love leads to marriage—and to nothing else, but the streets.
What an example to your sister!
ATHENE. You don't know Maud any more than you knew me. She's got a will of her own too, I can tell you.
BUILDER. Now, look here, Athene. It's always been my way to face accomplished facts. What's done can't be undone; but it can be remedied. You must marry this young——at once, before it gets out. He's behaved like a ruffian: but, by your own confession, you've behaved worse. You've been bitten by this modern disease, this—this, utter lack of common decency. There's an eternal order in certain things, and marriage is one of them; in fact, it's the chief. Come, now. Give me a promise, and I'll try my utmost to forget the whole thing.
ATHENE. When we quarrelled, father, you said you didn't care what became of me.
BUILDER. I was angry.
ATHENE. So you are now.
BUILDER. Come, Athene, don't be childish! Promise me!
ATHENE. [With a little shudder] No! We were on the edge of it. But now
I've seen you again—Poor mother!
BUILDER. [Very angry] This is simply blasphemous. What do you mean by harping on your mother? If you think that—that—she doesn't—that she isn't—
ATHENE. Now, father!
BUILDER. I'm damned if I'll sit down under this injustice. Your mother is—is pretty irritating, I can tell you. She—she—Everything suppressed. And—and no—blood in her!
ATHENE. I knew it!
BUILDER. [Aware that he has confirmed some thought in her that he had no intention of confirming] What's that?
ATHENE. Don't you ever look at your own face, father? When you shave, for instance.
BUILDER. Of course I do.
ATHENE. It isn't satisfied, is it?
BUILDER. I don't know what on earth you mean.
ATHENE. You can't help it, but you'd be ever so much happier if you were a Mohammedan, and two or three, instead of one, had—had learned to know when you were in the right.
BUILDER. 'Pon my soul! This is outrageous!
ATHENE. Truth often is.
BUILDER. Will you be quiet?
ATHENE. I don't ever want to feel sorry for Guy in that way.
BUILDER. I think you're the most immodest—I'm ashamed that you're my daughter. If your another had ever carried on as you are now—
ATHENE. Would you have been firm with her?
BUILDER.