or?

_Mrs. R._ Do you remember what day this is, by any chance?

_Jack._ Haven't an idea. Isn't there a calendar on your
writing-table?--that ought to tell you, if you want to know.

_Mrs. R._ Thank you, _I_ don't require a calendar. To-day is the
twenty-third--the day you and I were married. [_Sighs._

_Jack._ 'Pon my word I believe you're right. The twenty-third--so it
is! [_He becomes silent._

_Mrs. R._ (_to herself, as the "Wedding March" continues jubilantly_).
He _is_ ashamed of himself. I _knew_ he would be--only he doesn't
quite know how to tell me so; he will presently.... I wish I could
see his face.... If he is only sorry enough, I _think_ I shall
forgive him. JACK! (_Softly._) JACK dear! (_A prolonged snore from the
arm-chair. She goes to him and touches his arm._) You had better go
down-stairs and have your cigar, hadn't you? It may keep you awake!
(_Bitterly._)

_Jack_ (_opening his eyes_). Eh?--oh! Well, if you're sure you don't
mind being alone, I rather think I will.

_Mrs. R._ I should infinitely _prefer_ being alone--I am so used to
it.

[_Exit JACK, as the "Wedding March" comes to a triumphant conclusion._

THIRD ANNIVERSARY--1895.

_SAME SCENE. TIME, 11:30 P.M. MRS. MANDOLINE DISCOVERED WITH HER
DAUGHTER._

_Mrs. M._ Nearly twelve, and JACK not in yet--on this of all days,
too! VIOLA, you will be weak, _culpably_ weak, if you don't speak to
him, very seriously, when he _does_ come in.

_Mrs. R._ (_ruefully_). I _can't_, Mother. We're not on speaking terms
just now, you know.

_Mrs. M._ Then I _shall_. Fortunately, _I_ am on speaking terms with
him--as he will find out! (_A ring._) There he is, at last! Go, my
poor darling, leave me to bring him to a sense of his disgraceful
conduct. (_Mrs. R. retires by the back drawing-room._) How shall
I begin? Ah, poor JOHN'S phonograph! How lucky _I_ remembered it!
(_Selecting a cylinder._) There, if _anything_ can pierce his hard
heart, _that_ will!

[_Winds up machine, which breaks into a merry marriage peal as JACK
enters in evening dress._

_Jack_ (_sullenly_). Now just look here, VIOLA--(_recognising Mrs.
M._) Hullo, the Mum!

_Mrs. M._ (_raising her voice above the clamour_). Mum no longer, Sir.
Do you hear those bells?

_Jack_. _Do I hear those bells?_ Am I deaf? The whole Parish can hear
them, I should think!

_Mrs. M._ I don't care if they do. I want to touch your conscience, if
I can, and I still hope--bad as you are--that wh