An Unconditional Surrender

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 353, 12 February 1903, Page 8

An Unconditional Surrender

f By WEUXSLBT PAJJI. I

L_ I QJCEINE— A dimly-lit conservatory atij tached to the house of Mrs. James Stanley. In the eenter is a group of palms and fenn, hiding a doorway in. the middle of the back of the stage. The time is 11:30 p. m. during a dance. Characters—James Manley; Capt. 'Arthur Norman, of the King'* Own Yeomanry, lately returned from the front; Muriel WiltonArthur Norman (walks on L. as the seurtain rises. He appears to be looking for some one, but. aa a matter ot fact, he has come there for a smoke and -wishes to make quite sure that be Is alone before sitting down. He takes out his cigarette case, and is about to open it when James Manley .walks on quickly from the back. He stops suddenly on seeing Arthur Gorman. Then— Manlsy—My dear Norman, where have you been to? I've been looking for you everyhere, and—""Norman—And in the suppeisrooca ? Did you go there? Manley—Well—no. I thought supper wasn't in your Una—l mean your ilness was— Norman—Oh—er—bother the.illness. •I'm all right—and I never lost my appetite; either. It's only you- peopisr who live in London that can't eat. But what have you for? To bring me a ci^ r (holding out his hand). Thanks - r er it's awfully thoughtful of you, old man. Coma—out with H. j Manley—My dejar Norman, you didn't come here to amoke cigars, and you know it. (With: mock gravity.) This Is a serious meAter, sir. Out of the goodness of,hfti- heart my wife invites you for a (dance, and yon spend your time smokjfng! Don't fou know you're the Hon of the evening—the returned hero—tjj% enT y 0 f tht men and the prided an th, t girif, the peopls's idol, Norman (who is obviously pleased by the compliment but pretends not to be) —Shut up, old man. shut up. Vm getting sick of that sort of things—l am, really. My wrist stiH aches from that hand-shaking business as we came up from the station—absurd rot. Why on earth should a couple of million people—absolute strangers—want to shake hands with me? 1 Manley—l don't know—perhaps some of 'em wanted to shake hands with another fellow, but. not being able to get near enoupprh to him. thought you'd do instead. Hut we're wasting valuable time. Come and dance. Norman —Me dance? Thanks, but you know I don't dance; not in my line. Manley—Why not? Soldiers do dance sometimes, yon know. Norman—-But you'U exeuse mi, won't you? Manley—Well, if you won't dancs. come and see and b«> s*en. Come and show yourself. What's thp good of my wife having a lipn of the evening if the lion goes and hid« s himself in (looking around the place)—er—in the jungle? " -""Come out. Mr. Lion, in the open, and we'll soon do for yon. Norman—There—that's it that's what you brought me here for—in order that I mizbt be induced to propose to some uretty gir! whose enthusiasm for &o>d'cr3 —er —is—er— \,:.r, ley—Don't you make any mistake, my dear Norman. The girls are rot all so iMitbusiastic over yon bronzed ht-rurs as you think. Norman —You say that because yoti'rf not a bronzed hero—you're only married. Time wiii prov« whether you sre a i.ero or a martyr. Manley—Skittles! Norman —It's a fact. Manley—Well, you're not a proper sort of. hero or you wouldn't talk like that. Your true hero thinks all womesi perfect. TTi» accept* their adulation with becoming modesty, and in due course marries the beet of them. Norman —Well. 1 do not think all women are perfect, and thtir adulation is an annoyance. I haven't met a woman since I've been back who hasn't fallen in love with me. Yos may say that's conceit —" Manley—l do. •' "'[".. Norman—But it's true. Manley—Not a bit of it. All the women aren't in love wtth you soldiers. £'>a-.e of them are perhaps taken in v ;th the novelty of the thing, and think that- a soldier is the p<.rfrcttype of man— but I shouldn't say they're in love. Norman—l te!i you. my dear Manley, that \ f I hadn't checked them in time fi\f women would have proposed to me —at different fcinu-.s —last week. Manley- Weil, supposing you have a change. I*ll introduce you to a nice litrte woman—well. she'v o* y a eir! — Tvho will :k.:. only not be in Jove with yo>», but v:'-", no: have th Tail ;rsf iu~.vr.lies „; echoulintrherself toloveyon. Ex{rtcri!lr?ry, isn't it. You haven't invt M.ir'Hl Wilston, have you?—a i rirmi of my wife's. Ni rmar.- -Y°s, I know her- : -n;ce yirl —nr Tv- cirl: but somehow —there-'a 60t:w:!ut> t,,fst"~'rv »!aagliisgi- Everyone Mu •"•-•' >h. : ?y> :.:Ui b? :■ ■■ ■:-'_ <-: <-l %hj . tbu:'. .-.". _...= -. ':;— Seemed tome rai.it;-r.itie P" i r . - -,A iritte too SChoo!-_t : r'T'iJ; '■ : she's interesting —-.cry inte:; 1 - '..•-. and ther»I looking o;T iefi i Ami Uirre s": •■«•'! • j I •■;'.! 'ook in Ti-tj : amr ili- •:■>. v"-:i s.se's fjii- : - fix -i?.;n>d :: - :•• • ; ::' r.lf- young ma.'l ilh t. I ::ir i' ••::}-:i;r,, n ,- r % T vou. X. -n.::»i X..--, r—do..': -ths-oU. Mi •} i!;i: you said sp- -nas was n,frc-sting. Norman, this is a hzd s:;m. You should never l>e afraid of ii;r»*?ing the c-tremy in ths open, you

kaesr. I'll guarantee that Muriel won't fall in love with you. so don'f alarm yourself; ia fact, you'll find her a splendid sure for that pride of yours, Norman—the pride that make* you think all women are head over ears ia— Wait half a—(runs off L). Norman —No —dont go. 111 come aad dance. I'll—ok haag, he's bringing her back. (Eater Manley, with Muriel Wilton. She is a pretty little woman, with a charming girlish manner.) Manley (to Muriel)—l think you're net Capt. Norman before. Muriel? Norman, (awkwardly)— Miss Wilton has had the pleas—l mean I have had ♦a* plsewure er the pleasure—(They bow. smiling). Manlsy (to Muriei)~Do you think yon can amuse a wounded warrior, Muriel, until I come back to take him off your hands. He doesn't dance because he's- wounded—that's what he says^ —bat it's only an excuse for laxiness. Muriel^—l am stue Capt. Norman couldn't be lazy. A man. who has done. —'(Manley and Norman exchange meaning glances)—ex—who has done —a six-mile walk by himself this afternoon doesn't, deserve to be called lazy. (Manley goes out, Norman looks rather gloomy.) Manley—l Tetire—eonquered. (Exit L. Muriel and Norman ait down.) Norman—l didn't see you during my walk this afternoon. Miss Wilton. Muriel—No! Well, you Bee. I was learning to rids a bicycle. Of course I ought to have learnt years ago—whenitwas fashionable—but I wouldn't begin then. Norman—Just because you didn't want to do the conventional thing, sh? Muriel—l don't know. I am afraid I never stopped to think about it, I haven't thought about anything except the bicycle since I had it. I cant —it takes up all my time— Norman—But how was it you didn't overtake me ibis afternoon if you were riding? Muriel—Exeuse me. 1 didnt aay I wee riding. I said I was learning to ride. That's quits different, and makes you very tired. Norman—l'm sorry you didnt catch me up. I might have helped you. Muriel—Thanks. I did nearly cateh you up once, and I rang my bell hard—so hard, in fact, that I had to get off my maehine to do it pi*perly; but you didnt look round. Tou were deep in thought— Norman—Yes, I was. You know in Splogerton, where I M>e, there was such a crash when our fellows cams home that they eouldn't march, and they asked me to devise some scheme for keeping the women—the people—hack when the nextsontingentarrires. I was thinking oat a plan this afternoon. Muriel—Are the women sueh a tetv rible nuisance, then? Norman—Well er yea er so impulsive, you know. Break up the tasks. All that sort of thing. Muriel—Poor women! I'm glad Tm not like that.

Norman—lt isn* right, you know. MuriiJ-4Jo. I ami understand abet a man who hat t received a Mas from a woman without asking for it, might—er—mistake the impulaa of tha moment for—er—something alas. That would ba a pity. Woman—Don't you think it uiually ie—er—something alaa when aoMtera are concerned? Muriel—Most deeidedry not. Solvere mustn't run away with that idea. Women are grateful and enthusiastic, and rathar hysterical. That's all. They are certainly not in lore w&h the soldiers they rare over. Norman—Tou don't think set Muriel—Sure of K. Norman (getting a triie nearer Muriel, and speaking in a lower tone)— la it possible, Mia Wilton, that the enthusiasm we have based an smash about ia not real? Muriel—Hot all of it. I've no doubt soma of it ia. If you have a brother—or—e—husband, you naturally feel glad to see him back safe and sound; but then I haven't a brother —or a hueband—in the army—l mean I haven't a brother—and, of course, you know -jr(th*ir eyes meet, and she bluahes furiously). Norman—Tee, it must be nice to have some one looking out for you—when you eome back—some one who really cares—some one— Muriel—But I thought yon had a stater, Capt. Norman? Iforman —Oh, but sisters doat count —they look out for some one Bias's brothers, I suppose. Muriel—That's not fair en Hi sisters. Norman—Oh, but they do. Muriel—Well, the next time there's a war, and you go out, 111 look on* for you whan you eome bask. Norman—Tou will? That's food s3 you to say that. Muriel—la it? ItonwfMtrraiMfla, I thought that— Norman—Yes? Muriel—l—er—hardly know—l mean that (looking on the ground) I was told there wars others who—er—looked out for yoa this wee. and I thought p'raps— Norman—Fan going to ask you to do something. You've told me you're not in love with soldiers. I want you—--38 fey and be in love with one of them **9Xf4s fls ever so aanak—to Sova—ss&Sl joi». <*• ***** %■* mam )#*r #»* '«'.**** •**■# £ - ftvr-iiTfr +. Mesial fta m Jwr whiaya>> <1 rilW that hseeeea Mr. Menky told ma yen thought every woman was in love with, yon. (looking up and epaasing aesaV Yf.) Ha was all m may, ejsjemn fittl Ifou don't west—awgome *4ob **■-- lean MwrieM Msriei-rm so gkei. . ... Worsaao—But why dM yeaj §2B fyj yen weren't in lewawith aoldleral Muriel (wssk S3 —isls) Till ■ill Q slowly).—v.'