Jack Straw: A Farce in Three Acts

SCENE: The lounge and winter garden of the Grand Babylon Hotel. There are palms and flowers in profusion, and numbers of little tables, surrounded each by two or three chairs. Several people are seated, drinking coffee and liqueurs. At the back a flight of steps leads to the restaurant, separated from the winter garden by a leaded glass partition and swinging doors. In the restaurant a band is playing.

Two or three waiters in uniform are standing about or serving customers.

AMBROSE HOLLAND and LADY WANLEY come out from the restaurant. He is a well-dressed, elegant man of five and thirty. She is a handsome widow of uncertain age.

LADY WANLEY.

[_Pausing at the foot of the steps._] Where shall we sit?

HOLLAND.

Let us choose a retired corner where we can gossip in peace.

LADY WANLEY.

Nonsense! I didn’t come to the Grand Babylon in order to blush unseen. I caught sight of a number of people during luncheon, who I’m quite determined shall catch sight of me now.

HOLLAND.

I was sufficiently gallant to have eyes for you only.

LADY WANLEY.

[_Pointing to a table._] Shall we sit there?

HOLLAND.

D’you mind sitting on the other side? The waiter’s rather a pal of mine.

LADY WANLEY.

[_Sitting down._] What queer friends you have.

HOLLAND.

Waiter.

A WAITER.

[_Coming forward._] Your waiter will be here in one minute, sir.

HOLLAND.

[_To_ LADY WANLEY.] You see, I’ve knocked about in so many places that I have friends in every city in the world and every rank in life.

LADY WANLEY.

I suppose you saw the Parker-Jennings? They were sitting three tables from us.

HOLLAND.

I did.

LADY WANLEY.

Do you know that she cut me dead when I came in?

HOLLAND.

I’ve long told you that Mrs. Parker-Jennings is growing exclusive.

LADY WANLEY.

But, my dear Ambrose, that she should have the impudence to cut me....

HOLLAND.

[_Smiling._] I respect her for it.

LADY WANLEY.

I’m much obliged to you.

HOLLAND.

I don’t think it does much credit to her heart, but it certainly does to her understanding. She has discovered that a title nowadays is not nearly such a good passport to the world of fashion as she thought it was. She knows you’re as poor as a church mouse, and she’s realised that in Society the poor are quite rightly hated and despised by all who know them.

LADY WANLEY.