PER
SOME BLACK-COATED GENTLEMEN
A STUDENT
A GIRL

A MOB

ACT I. The dining-room of More's town house, evening.

ACT II. The same, morning.

ACT III. SCENE I. An alley at the back of a suburban theatre.
SCENE II. Katherine's bedroom.

ACT IV. The dining-room of More's house, late afternoon.

AFTERMATH. The corner of a square, at dawn.

Between ACTS I and II some days elapse.
Between ACTS II and III three months.
Between ACT III SCENE I and ACT III SCENE II no time.
Between ACTS III and IV a few hours.
Between ACTS IV and AFTERMATH an indefinite period.

ACT I

It is half-past nine of a July evening. In a dining-room
lighted by sconces, and apparelled in wall-paper, carpet, and
curtains of deep vivid blue, the large French windows between
two columns are open on to a wide terrace, beyond which are seen
trees in darkness, and distant shapes of lighted houses. On one
side is a bay window, over which curtains are partly drawn.
Opposite to this window is a door leading into the hall. At an
oval rosewood table, set with silver, flowers, fruit, and wine,
six people are seated after dinner. Back to the bay window is
STEPHEN MORE, the host, a man of forty, with a fine-cut face, a
rather charming smile, and the eyes of an idealist; to his
right, SIR, JOHN JULIAN, an old soldier, with thin brown
features, and grey moustaches; to SIR JOHN's right, his brother,
the DEAN OF STOUR, a tall, dark, ascetic-looking Churchman: to
his right KATHERINE is leaning forward, her elbows on the table,
and her chin on her hands, staring across at her husband; to her
right sits EDWARD MENDIP, a pale man of forty-five, very bald,
with a fine forehead, and on his clear-cut lips a smile that
shows his teeth; between him and MORE is HELEN JULIAN, a pretty
dark-haired young woman, absorbed in thoughts of her own. The
voices are tuned to the pitch of heated discussion, as the
curtain rises.

THE DEAN. I disagree with you, Stephen; absolutely, entirely
disagree.

MORE. I can't help it.

MENDIP. Remember a certain war, Stephen! Were your chivalrous
notions any good, then? And, what was winked at in an obscure young
Member is anathema for an Under Secretary of State. You can't
afford----

MORE. To follow my conscience? That's new, Mendip.

MENDIP. Idealis