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engaged.
CROCKSTEAD. Ah!
ALINE. To a fat and wealthy widow--
CROCKSTEAD. The old story.
ALINE. Who was touring through India, and had been made love to by every unmarried officer in the regiment. She chose him.
CROCKSTEAD. India? [_He moves towards her._]
ALINE. Yes.
CROCKSTEAD. I have an idea that I shall like your friend. [_He takes her hand in his._]
ALINE. I shall be careful to tell her all that you said to me--at the beginning--
CROCKSTEAD. It is quite possible that my remarks may not apply after all.
ALINE. But I believe myself from what I know of you both that--if she marries you--it will not be--altogether--for your money.
CROCKSTEAD. Listen--they're playing "God Save the King." Will you be my wife, Aline?
ALINE. Yes--Harry.
[_He takes her in his arms and kisses her._
CURTAIN
A DUOLOGUE
JOSEPH MATTHEWS MARY (HIS WIFE)
TIME--The present SCENE--Their home in the West End _Produced at the Aldwych Theatre on March 24, 1908_
SCENE: _An underground room, bare of any furniture except two or three broken chairs, a tattered mattress on the stone floor and an old trunk. On a packing-chest are a few pots and pans and a kettle. A few sacks are spread over the floor, close to the empty grate; the walls are discoloured, with plentiful signs of damp oozing through. Close to the door, at back, is a window, looking on to the area; two of the panes are broken and stuffed with paper._
_On the mattress a child is sleeping, covered with a tattered old mantle;_ MARY _is bending over her, crooning a song. The woman is still quite young, and must have been very pretty; but her cheeks are hollow and there are great circles round her eyes; her face is very pale and bloodless. Her dress is painfully worn and shabby, but displays pathetic attempts at neatness. The only light in the room comes from the stre