Part 27

ANNYS. I can understand your refusing, but why do you object to my—

GEOFFREY. Because I do not choose for my wife’s name to be linked with a movement that I regard as criminal. I forbid it.

(It was the moment that was bound to come. The man’s instincts, training, have involuntarily asserted themselves. Shall the woman yield? If so, then down goes the whole movement—her claim to freedom of judgment, of action, in all things. All watch the struggle with breathless interest.)

ANNYS. (She speaks very slowly, very quietly, but with a new note in her voice.) I am sorry, but I have given much thought to this matter, and—I do not agree with you.

MRS. PEEKIN. You will help us?

ANNYS. I will do what I can.

PEEKIN. (He takes from his pocket a folded paper.) It is always so much more satisfactory when these things are in writing. Candidates, with the best intentions in the world, are apt to forget. (He has spread the paper on a corner of the table. He has in his hand his fountain-pen.)

ANNYS. (With a smile.) I am not likely to forget, but if you wish it—(She approaches the table.)

GEOFFREY. (He interposes. His voice is very low, almost a whisper.) My wife will not sign.

ANNYS. (She also speaks low, but there is no yielding in her voice.) I am not only your wife. I have a duty also to others.

GEOFFREY. It is for you to choose. (He leaves the way open to her.)

(The silence can almost be felt. She moves to the table, takes up the paper. It contains but a few lines of writing. Having read it, she holds out her hand for the pen. PEEKIN puts it in her hand. With a firm hand she signs, folds the paper, and returns it to him. She remains standing by the table. With the removal of the tension there comes a rustle, a breaking of the silence.)

MISS RICKETTS. (She seizes ANNYS’S hand, hanging listlessly by her side, and, stooping, kisses it.)

MISS BORLASSE. That is all, isn’t it?

PEEKIN. We thank you, Mrs. Chilvers. Good afternoon.

ANNYS. (The natural reaction is asserting itself. She pulls herself together sufficiently to murmur her answer.) Good afternoon.

MRS. PEEKIN. (The DEPUTATION is moving away; she takes from her waist a small bunch of flowers, and, turning, places them in ANNYS’S hand.)

ANNYS. (She smiles, remains standing silent, the flowers in her hand.)

(“Good afternoons” are exchanged with some of the others. Finally:)

PEEKIN. Good afternoon, Mr. Chilvers.

GEOFFREY. (Who has moved away.) Good afternoon.

(The DEPUTATION joins SIGSBY by the door. He leads them out.)

ELIZABETH. (To PHOEBE.) Are you going my way?

PHOEBE. (She glances round at ANNYS.) Yes, I’ll come with you.

ST. HERBERT. I will put you into a bus, if you will let me. We don’t sport many cabs in East Poplar. (He is helping ELIZABETH with her cloak.)

ELIZABETH. Thank you.

LAMB. I’ve got to go up West. (To GEOFFREY.) Will you be at the House this evening?

GEOFFREY. (He is standing by the desk pretending to look at some papers.) I shall look in about ten o’clock.