The Red House Mystery and Other Novels. A. A. Milne
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Gerald. Naturally he's--(Nodding) Good-bye. [He goes out.]
GERALD (going back to BOB). Bob--
BOB. Why doesn't Pamela come? I want Pamela.
GERALD (speaking quickly). Look here, think what you like of me for the moment. But you must listen to what I've got to say. You can imagine it's somebody else speaking Pamela, if you like--Pamela would say just the same. You _must not_ go to prison and spend your time there brooding over the wrongs people have done to you, and the way the world has treated you, and all that sort of thing. You simply must make an effort--and--and--well, come out as good a man as you went in. I know it's easy for me to talk, but that doesn't make it any the less true. Oh, Bob, be a--be a Sportsman about it! You can take it out of me afterwards, if you like, but don't take it out of me now by--by not bucking up just because I suggest it.
BOB. I want Pamela. Why doesn't she come?
(PAMELA has come in while he is saying this.)
PAMELA. Here I am, Bob.
BOB (getting up). At last! I began to be afraid you were never coming.
PAMELA. You couldn't think that. I told you I was coming.
GERALD. Look here, Pamela, we've got to cheer old Bob up.
BOB (almost shouting). Good Lord! can't you see that I don't want _you_? I want Pamela alone.
PAMELA (putting her hand on GERALD'S shoulder). Gerald, dear, you mustn't be angry with Bob now. Let me be alone with him.
GERALD (with a shrug). All right. Poor old Bob! (He goes over to his brother and holds out his hand.) Good-bye, old boy, and--good luck.
BOB (coldly). Good-bye.
GERALD. Shake hands, Bob.
BOB. No. I've been nothing to you all your life. You could have saved me from this, and you wouldn't help me.
GERALD (angrily). Don't talk such rot!
PAMELA (coming between them). Gerald, dear, you'd better go. Bob won't always feel like this towards you, but just now--
GERALD (indignantly). Pamela, you don't believe this about me?
PAMELA. I can't think of you, dear, now; I can only think of Bob. [GERALD gives a shrug and goes out.]
BOB. Pamela.
PAMELA (coming to him). Yes, dear?
BOB. Come and sit near me. You're the only friend I've got in the world.
PAMELA. You know that isn't true.
(She sits down in the armchair and he sits on the floor at her feet.)
BOB. If it hadn't been for you, I should have shot myself long ago.
PAMELA. That would have been rather cowardly, wouldn't it?
BOB. I am a coward. There's something about the Law that makes people cowards. It's so--what's the word? It goes on. You can't stop it, you can't explain to it, you can't even speak to it.
PAMELA. But you can stand up to it. You needn't run away from it.
BOB. I think I would have broken my bail and run, if it hadn't been for you. But you would have thought less of me if I had. Besides, I shouldn't have seen you again.
PAMELA. Bob, you mustn't just do, or not do, things for _me_; you must do them because of yourself. You must be brave because it's you, and honourable because it's you, and cheerful because it's you. You mustn't just say, "I won't let Pamela down." You must say, "I won't let myself down." You must be proud of yourself.
BOB (bitterly). I've been taught to be proud of myself, haven't I? Proud of myself! What's the family creed? "I believe in Gerald. I believe in Gerald the Brother. I believe in Gerald the Son. I believe in Gerald the Nephew. I believe in Gerald the Friend, the Lover, Gerald the Holy Marvel." There may be brothers who don't mind that sort of thing, but not when you're born jealous as I was. Do you think father or mother cares a damn what happens to me? They're upset, of course, and they feel the disgrace for themselves, but the belovd Gerald is all right, and that's all that really matters.
PAMELA. Bob, dear, forget about Gerald now. Don't think about him; think about yourself.
BOB. I shan't think about myself or about Gerald when I'm in prison. I shall only think of you.
PAMELA. Will it help you to think of me?
BOB. You're the only person in the world I've got to think of. I found you first--and then Gerald took you from me. Just as he's always taken everything from me.
PAMELA. No, no. Not about Gerald again. Let's get away from Gerald.
BOB. You can't. He's a devil to get away from. (There is silence for a little.) When I was a small boy, I used to pray very hard on the last day of the holidays for a telegram to come saying that the school had been burnt down. ... It never had.
PAMELA. Oh, Bob!
BOB. I suppose I've got about ten minutes more. But nothing will happen.
PAMELA (in a hopeless effort to be hopeful). Perhaps after all you might--
BOB. Why can't the world end suddenly now? It wouldn't matter to anybody. They wouldn't know; they wouldn't have time to understand. (He looks up and sees her face of distress and says) All right, Pamela, you needn't worry. I'm going through with it all right.
PAMELA. You must keep thinking of the afterwards. Only of the afterwards. The day when you come back to us.
BOB. Will that be such a very great day? (PAMELA is silent.) Triumphant procession through the village. All the neighbours hurrying out to welcome the young squire home. Great rush in the City to offer him partnerships.
PAMELA (quietly). Do you want to go back to the City?
BOB. Good God, no!
PAMELA. Then why are you being sarcastic about it? Be honest with yourself, Bob. You made a mess of the City. Oh, I know you weren't suited to it, but men have had to do work they didn't like before now, and they haven't _all_ made a mess of it. You're getting your punishment now--much more than you deserve, and we're all sorry for you--but men have been punished unfairly before now and they have stood it. You'll have your chance when you come back; I'll stand by you for one, and you've plenty of other friends; but we can't help a man who won't help himself, you know.
Bon (sulkily). Thank you, Pamela.
PAMELA (shaking him). Bob, Bob, don't be such a baby. Oh, I want to laugh at you, and yet my heart just aches for you. You're just a little boy, Bob (with a sigh), on the last day of his holidays.
BOB (after a pause). Are you allowed to have letters in prison?
PAMELA. I expect so. Every now and then.
BOB. You will write to me?
PAMELA. Of course, dear; whenever I may.
BOB. I suppose some beast will read it. But you won't mind that, will you?
PAMELA. No, dear.
BOB. I'll write to you whenever they let me. That will be something to look forward to. Will you meet me when I come out?