A Woman of To-day.

Otago Witness, Issue 2401, 8 March 1900, Page 64

A Woman of To-day.

Maggie Elstree. Richard Elstree. Reggy Merton.

Scene : The Elstrees' drawing room at Kensington. Maggie (delighted as Reggie enters the room) : Reggy, yoix dear boy^ it's so late I had given you up. Richard^ gone to see '"A Woman of To-day." Reggy : I should have dropped in for the last act — for I love a firsl night — but for your urgent telegram. What's up, Maggie? Maggie: You won't bully me, will you? I'm in real distress.

Reggy: Tell me his name and his fighting weight Maggie : In wit and cunning he's far your superior, brother. R.^~gy : Ah ! He must bo a dramatist. Maggie : He wrote "A Woman of To-day." Reggy: Mai k Attrill? But I thought you were the best of friends?

Maggie: Yes, long age — before I was married.

Reggy : Be candid, Maggie. He took you down to suppar at the Prydhams the other night Maggie (interrupting) : That was no fauli of mine.

Reggy : And so far as T could jxidge you found more amusement in his specious ironies than an audience can ever discover across the footlights. Maggie : T was bound to be polite. Reggy : Yet, from your suggestion, and — excuse me, Maggie — and your recent tears, there's something askew between you. (Sitting down) : I'll take a seat, and smoke, and await developments.

Ma:g"e (after a pause, with startling abruptness) : Reggy, Mark Attrill has made me his heroine. lam hid "Woman of To-day." He told me so. Reggy : And you laughed. Il must ha^e flattered yo:i. Maggie : You would not have hid me weep? Reggy: Was there no other alternative? Or was it temper? Maggie : If you misunderstand me like this what can I expecc from Richard? Raggv (producing a rudimentary whistle) : Oh ! I'm in ignorance of what you can have to tell him, but I glean you have withheld bOmething. M g?'e : But, Resjay. surely you've read the kind of wornon this heroine is !

4 Rsggy: I lwe read all tha puffs, yes — (laughs) — but I didn't discover you in the heroine. Maggie: I am, -nevertheless. He said so — and gloated over 1 it. Reggy: He was fooling you. If his own puffs are substantially true, this '"Woman of To-day" is an utterly impossible woman. Maggie : I tell you, Reggy, it is so. He fancies he has a grievance against me. "You 'know lie was a voluntary slave to me — — Reeigy : I guess there was an explanation of his servitude.

Miggie: Until I discovered he was acting an iinlorgh able lie. He was a married man. Tleggy : By Jupiter ! Tins is news. I thought he proposed to you? Maggie : Neve: — In words. Thank "Heaven I had already penetrated the man when R' chard came upon the scene. Reggy: Then what makes you fear him? Maggie : His threat the other night that tha merest o"uld could discover me in the titlepart of Iris new plas\ He called it revenge. He has serred up an exaggerated version of our relationship in Act I. In Acts n and 111 he hss forecast my future. The heroine^ husband listens to' an exposition of his wife's past. He loathes her and leaves her. The heroine, thrown upon her own resources, reverts to the hero. Mark Attrill plays the hero. . . . Reggy, what will Richard do when he recognises me in this "Woman of To-day"?

Reg;ry (after a pause, reservedly) : Who knows? Richard — one couldn't think of him as Diek — io so ssntimentalh- precise. If he convinced himself that you had played with. his affection Maggie : But I haven't done so sinee — =— Resgy : Since he secured all rights in them, but— (R charJ's voice and footsteps are heard with-

Richard (without, contentiously) : Put out the lights? Confound you, no. Go to bed. Maggie (in a hu&hed, but terrified, whisper) : Oh, Reggy, you won't desert me? Eeggy (nervously) : He's in a devil of a temper, I should say. (Enter Richard. His lips arc pale and his eyes burn over brightly. His overcoat is flung open, and he i'orgets that lie still wears his hat. Maggie drops into a chair. Reggy looks intensely uncomfortable.) II chard (avoiding Maggie) : Reggy ! I didn't expect to find you here.

Eeagy (uneasily) : No ! If I'm in the way, of course

E..ch«rd (nnconvii. Insb"),: . Oh — don't hurry ! (Proceeds <.o Like off his coat.) lle-CG,-y (aside to Maggie) : Good-night, Magau'. Don't be alarmed. I'll drop in .5.u-]y in f.ise you want me. (To Richard): C4oo*d-niglit, Richard. (Retreats with alacrity.) Kichard (aflev a short silence, slowly appioachin<j his wife): Maggie, why would you not go tc the-theatre to-night? Was your headache 0 legitimate excuse? Maggie (avoidino- Richard's eyes) : No ! Richard : Theu -you -knew the Story .of ,tha

Maggie : I have read something of the plot in odd paragraphs, and — and Mark At*i'ill told me the resfc. Richard: When? "Maggie: At supper the other night at the Prydhonis. . . T Ilichard (with sudden compronension) : 1 understand. That account-; for your indisposition of the past week, for— -m truth— your avoidance 01 me. Maggie : Yes. . . Richard: I think that provides tne missing link to my train of though*. (B.e sits down, his hat still tilted back upon his head, where, with an habitual movement of his hand across his forehead, he had unwillingly ierked it. There is a painful silence before he retrains bis feet, and says passionately): Maggie, of what are you thinking'; Maggie (crossing the room and kneeling beside him) : That lam very miserable, Richard. Richard : Miserable ! What am I— do you fancy? Masrgie : Docs not penitence count? Richard: Penitence! Am I not penitent? Tell me I have never suffered. Maggie (bewildered): Richard, I fail to ■understand you. Richard: Is that intended to add to my suffering? Must I retail the incidents? Maggie : Really, Richard, I don't comprehend you. Richard: Very well, make me suffer, a bit more. Perhaps you're right. Know then that I am the villain of Mark AttrilFs play. Maggie: Richard, you cannot be. lam the miserable heroine of that wretched play. Richard: You! Rubbish! Maggie: But I am. Mark Attrill said so himself. Richard (speaking rapidly) : I've seen "the play, and you haven't. I've heard the lines, and you ha-ven't. And I've not yet forgotten how to remember. The heroine is a woman whose position the world misunderstands and scorns. I knew her long ago. I admired her. I would have married her. Fortunately, before I made the attempt, I learnt she was Mark Attrill's deserted wife. She is the heroine, and I—lI — I am the scoundrel who is made, incontinently, to work her destruction. (After a long pause) : Maggie, what are you thinking now? Maggie (very seriously) : That there is an extra bond of sympathy between us, Richard. This man has fooled us both. One day Mark Attrill kissed me; the next I learnt he had a wife. Then you atked me to marry jou ; for thai he nursed vengeance, and this play — so he a-sarred the other night — is his revenge. Richard (breaking into a laugh) : Revenge ! Oh, poor, weak-kneed revenge ! The play's a fraud, Maggie,. a dead failure. It won't run a week. — Sunday Sun.