Man and Superman and Three Other Plays by George Bernard Shaw Page B

fountain pen and a paper knife among its pendants .]
    PRAED Very kind of you indeed, Miss Warren. [ She shuts the gate with a vigorous slam: he passes in to the middle of the garden, exercising his fingers, which are slightly numbed by her greeting .] Has your mother arrived?
    VIVIE [ quickly, evidently scenting aggression ] Is she coming?
    PRAED [ surprised ] Didn’t you expect us?
    VIVIE No.
    PRAED Now, goodness me, I hope I’ve not mistaken the day. That would be just like me, you know. Your mother arranged that she was to come down from London and that I was to come over from Horsham to be introduced to you.
    VIVIE [ not at all pleased ] Did she? H‘m! My mother has rather a trick of taking me by surprise—to see how I behave myself when she’s away, I suppose. I fancy I shall take my mother very much by surprise one of these days, if she makes arrangements that concern me without consulting me beforehand. She hasn’t come.
    PRAED [ embarrassed ] I’m really very sorry.
    VIVIE [ throwing off her displeasure ] It’s not your fault, Mr. Praed, is it? And I’m very glad you’ve come, believe me. You are the only one of my mother’s friends I have asked her to bring to see me.
    PRAED [ relieved and delighted ] Oh, now this is really very good of you, Miss Warren!
    VIVIE Will you come indoors; or would you rather sit out here whilst we talk?
    PRAED It will be nicer out here, don’t you think?
    VIVIE Then I’ll go and get you a chair. [ She goes to the porch for a garden chair. ]
    PRAED [ following her ] Oh, pray, pray! Allow me. [ He lays hands on the chair .]
    VIVIE [ letting him take it ] Take care of your fingers: they’re rather dodgy things, those chairs. [ She goes across to the chair with the books on it; pitches them into the hammock; and brings the chair forward with one swing. ]
    PRAED [ who has just unfolded his chair ] Oh, now d o h let me take that hard chair! I like hard chairs.
    VIVIE So do I. [ She sits down. ] Sit down, Mr. Praed. [ This invitation is given with genial peremptoriness, his anxiety to please her clearly striking her as a sign of weakness of character on his part .]
    PRAED By the way, though, hadn’t we better go to the station to meet your mother?
    VIVIE [ coolly ] Why? She knows the way. [ PRAED hesitates, and then sits down in the garden chair, rather disconcerted. ] Do you know, you are just like what I expected. I hope you are disposed to be friends with me?
    PRAED [ again beaming ] Thank you, my dear Miss Warren; thank you. Dear me! I’m so glad your mother hasn’t spoilt you! VIVIE How?
    PRAED Well, in making you too conventional. You know, my dear Miss Warren, I am a born anarchist. I hate authority. It spoils the relations between parent and child—even between mother and daughter. Now I was always afraid that your mother would strain her authority to make you very conventional. It’s such a relief to find that she hasn’t.
    VIVIE Oh! have I been behaving unconventionally?
    PRAED Oh, no: oh, dear no. At least not conventionally unconventionally, you understand. [ She nods. He goes on, with a cordial outburst. ] But it was so charming of you to say that you were disposed to be friends with me! You modern young ladies are splendid—perfectly splendid!
    VIVIE [ dubiously ] Eh? [ watching him with dawning disappointment as to the quality of his brains and character. ]
    PRAED When I was your age, young men and women were afraid of each other: there was no good fellowship—nothing real—only gallantry copied out of novels, and as vulgar and affected as it could be. Maidenly reserve!—gentlemanly chivalry!—always saying no when you meant yes!—simple purgatory for shy and sincere souls!
    VIVIE Yes, I imagine there must have been a frightful waste of time—especially women’s time.
    PRAED Oh, waste of life, waste of everything. But things are improving. Do you know, I have been in a