The Profligate 8
PRISCILLA.
I’m sure you’re quite good-looking enough for London, Miss.
LESLIE.
I’m not thinking about London.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
[_Addressing HUGH._] That’s an odd picture for a lawyer’s musty office.
HUGH MURRAY.
Ay--imagine what would become of a plain matter-of-fact lawyer, sitting
here scribbling day after day, if he could never get that vision out of
his eyes.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
Rather bad for his clients, eh?
HUGH MURRAY.
Yes, and bad for the lawyer.
LESLIE.
I hope the Registrar’s office is very dark, Mr. Murray. I particularly
dislike my face to-day.
PRISCILLA.
[_Whispering to HUGH._] Ain’t she sweet and pretty, sir?
HUGH MURRAY.
Yes.
PRISCILLA.
A lucky gentleman Mr. Renshaw, sir.
HUGH MURRAY.
Ay.
LESLIE.
I heard that. Indeed Mr. Renshaw is not lucky at all.
HUGH MURRAY.
I think so. Why not?
LESLIE.
Because I am not worthy of him. You’re his friend, Mr. Murray, and you
know how generous and true he is. I can tell you, my London Mother,
that every night and morning since I have been engaged, I have prayed
nothing but this, over and over again--“Make me good enough--good
enough for Dunstan Renshaw!” [_HUGH moves away._] [_Looking at herself
in the mirror._] I wish now I had added “make me a little prettier.”
[_EPHGRAVES appears at the door._]
EPHGRAVES.
The carriage is here, sir.
LESLIE and PRISCILLA.
Oh!
HUGH MURRAY.
Tell Mr. Cheal.
[_LESLIE is a little flurried, and PRISCILLA at once busies herself
about LESLIE’S costume._]
EPHGRAVES.
A young lady is in my room waiting to see you, Mr. Murray. She brings a
card of Mr. Wilfrid’s with your name on it in his writing.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
Oh, I am so glad she has called! Mr. Murray, I’ve found your firm a new
client.
HUGH MURRAY.
Indeed--thank you--thank you. In a few moments, Mr. Ephgraves.
[_EPHGRAVES goes into the inner office._]
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
It’s quite a romance, isn’t it, Leslie?
LESLIE.
Oh, don’t speak to me, please, dear.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
When Leslie and I arrived at Paddington Station last night, a solitary
young lady got out of the next compartment. Les, wasn’t she gentle and
pretty?
LESLIE.
Yes--yes. There’s a button off my glove.
[_PRISCILLA hastily produces needle and thread and commences
stitching the glove._]
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
The poor little thing seemed quite lost in the crowd and bustle and at
last, pushed about by the porters and passengers, she sat herself down
to cry. We asked if we could help her. Do you remember how pretty she
looked then, Les?
LESLIE.
I can’t remember anything till I have been married a little while. Do
be quick, Priscilla.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
Well, what do you think the poor little lady wanted? She wanted to find
the cleverest man in London, some one to advise her on an awfully
important matter. Leslie said _I_ was clever, didn’t you, Les?
LESLIE.
Yes, but I _thought_ of Mr. Renshaw.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
But, said I, “I know what you really need--a lawyer,” and I gave her my
card to present to Mr. Hugh Murray, of Cheal and Murray, Furnival’s Inn.
HUGH MURRAY.
Thank you--thank you.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
[_To himself._] I wish I could find her here when we come back. [_CHEAL
bustles into the room._]
MR. CHEAL.
Now then, my dear, are you ready?
LESLIE.
Ready! You had better say farewell to Miss Leslie Brudenell, Mr.
Murray; you will never see her again.
HUGH MURRAY.
Good-bye.
LESLIE.
Come to my wedding.
HUGH MURRAY.
I--I am busy.
[_He turns away and sits at his desk._]
LESLIE.
[_To herself._] I wonder whether the world will be of the same colour
when I am married? Mr. Murray seems changing already.
MR. CHEAL.
My dear!
[_CHEAL offers his arm to LESLIE, who, as she takes it, looks
appealingly at HUGH, but he will not notice her._]
LESLIE.
Mr. Murray! Mr. Murray!
[_She leaves the room on CHEAL’S arm, attended by PRISCILLA._]
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
I say, we shan’t be long getting married. I wish you could detain the young lady till I return.
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