Part 26

(A moment. The DEPUTATION murmur approval.)

GEOFFREY. I see. But is there no difference between the two doors? I am not an accomplice.

PEEKIN. An accomplice! Is the ignorant servant-girl—first lured into the public-house, cajoled, tricked, deceived by false promises—the half-starved shop-girl in the hands of the practised libertine—is she an accomplice?

MRS. PEEKIN. (A dowdily-dressed, untidy woman, but the face is sweet and tender.) Ah, Mr. Chilvers, if you could only hear the stories that I have heard from dying lips.

GEOFFREY. Very pitiful, my dear lady. And, alas, only too old. But there are others. It would not be fair to blame always the man.

ANNYS. (Unnoticed, drawn by the subject, she has risen and come down.) Perhaps not. But the punishment always falls on the woman. Is that quite fair?

GEOFFREY. (He is irritated at ANNYS’S incursion into the discussion.) My dear Annys, that is Nature’s law, not man’s. All man can do is to mitigate it.

PEEKIN. That is all we ask. The suffering, the shame, must always be the woman’s. Surely that is sufficient.

GEOFFREY. What do you propose?

MISS BORLASSE. (In her deep, fierce tones.) That all children born out of wedlock should be a charge upon the rates.

MISS RICKETTS. (A slight, fair, middle-aged woman, with a nervous hesitating manner.) Of course, only if the mother wishes it.

GEOFFREY. (The proposal staggers him. But the next moment it inspires him with mingled anger and amusement.) My dear, good people, have you stopped for one moment to consider what the result of your proposal would be?

PEEKIN. For one thing, Mr. Chilvers, the adding to the populace of healthy children in place of the stunted and diseased abortions that is all that these poor women, out of their scanty earnings, can afford to present to the State.

GEOFFREY. Humph! That incidentally it would undermine the whole institution of marriage, let loose the flood-gates that at present hold immorality in check, doesn’t appear to trouble you. That the law must be altered to press less heavily upon the woman—that the man must be made an equal sharer in the penalty—all that goes without saying. The remedy you propose would be a thousand times worse than the disease.

ANNYS. And meanwhile? Until you have devised this scheme (there is a note of contempt in her voice) under which escape for the man will be impossible?

GEOFFREY. The evil must continue. As other evils have to until the true remedy is found.

PEEKIN. (He has hurriedly consulted with the others. All have risen—he turns to GEOFFREY.) You will not support our demand?

GEOFFREY. Support it! Do you mean that you cannot yourselves see that you are holding out an indemnity to every profligate, male and female, throughout the land—that you would be handicapping, in the struggle for existence, every honest man and woman desirous of bringing up their children in honour and in love? Your suggestion is monstrous!

PEEKIN. (The little man is not without his dignity.) We apologise, Mr. Chilvers, for having taken up your time.

GEOFFREY. I am sorry the matter was one offering so little chance of agreement.

PEEKIN. We will make only one slight further trespass on your kindness. Mrs. Chilvers, if one may judge, would seem to be more in sympathy with our views. Might we—it would be a saving of time and shoe leather (he smiles)—might we take this opportunity of laying our case before her?

GEOFFREY. It would be useless.

(A short silence. ANNYS, with ELIZABETH and PHOEBE a little behind her, stands right. LAMB, SIGSBY, and ST. HERBERT are behind GEOFFREY centre. The DEPUTATION is left.)

HOPPER. Do we gather that in this election you speak for both candidates?

GEOFFREY. In matters of common decency, yes. My wife does not associate herself with movements for the encouragement of vice.

(There is another moment’s silence.)

ANNYS. But, Geoffrey, dear—we should not be encouraging the evil. We should still seek to find the man, to punish him. The woman would still suffer—

GEOFFREY. My dear Annys, this is neither the time nor place for you and me to argue out the matter. I must ask you to trust to my judgment.