d
rising with quite an effusion of chivalrous sentiment] My dear Viv:
why didn't you say so before? I am ever so sorry for persecuting you. I
understand, of course.

VIVIE [puzzled] Understand what?

FRANK. Oh, I'm not a fool in the ordinary sense: only in the Scriptural
sense of doing all the things the wise man declared to be folly, after
trying them himself on the most extensive scale. I see I am no longer
Vivvums's little boy. Don't be alarmed: I shall never call you Vivvums
again--at least unless you get tired of your new little boy, whoever he
may be.

VIVIE. My new little boy!

FRANK [with conviction] Must be a new little boy. Always happens that
way. No other way, in fact.

VIVIE. None that you know of, fortunately for you.

[Someone knocks at the door.]

FRANK. My curse upon yon caller, whoe'er he be!

VIVIE. It's Praed. He's going to Italy and wants to say goodbye. I asked
him to call this afternoon. Go and let him in.

FRANK. We can continue our conversation after his departure for Italy.
I'll stay him out. [He goes to the door and opens it]. How are you,
Praddy? Delighted to see you. Come in.

[Praed, dressed for travelling, comes in, in high spirits.]

PRAED. How do you do, Miss Warren? [She presses his hand cordially,
though a certain sentimentality in his high spirits jars upon her]. I
start in an hour from Holborn Viaduct. I wish I could persuade you to
try Italy.

VIVIE. What for?

PRAED. Why, to saturate yourself with beauty and romance, of course.

[Vivie, with a shudder, turns her chair to the table, as if the work
waiting for her there were a support to her. Praed sits opposite to her.
Frank places a chair near Vivie, and drops lazily and carelessly into
it, talking at her over his shoulder.]

FRANK. No use, Praddy. Viv is a little Philistine. She is indifferent to
_my_ romance, and insensible to _my_ beauty.

VIVIE. Mr Praed: once for all, there is no beauty and no romance in life
for me. Life is what it is; and I am prepared to take it as it is.

PRAED [enthusiastically] You will not say that if you come with me to
Verona and on to Venice. You will cry with delight at living in such a
beautiful world.

FRANK. This is most eloquent, Praddy. Keep it up.

PRAED. Oh, I assure you _I_ have cried--I shall cry again, I hope--at
fifty! At your age, Miss Warren, you would not need to go so far as
Verona. Your spirits would absolutely fly up at the mere sight of
Ostend. You would b