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Granville-Barker, Harley, 1877-1946

"Waste A Tragedy, In Four Acts"

..
He's tired with a good day's work.
WEDGECROFT. Yes ... I'll be getting away.
FRANCES _never heeds this flash of a further meaning between the two
men._
FRANCES. And I meant to have gone to see her to-day. Was the end very
sudden? Did her husband arrive in time?
WEDGECROFT. Yes.
FRANCES. They didn't get on ... he'll be frightfully upset.
TREBELL _resists a hideous temptation to laugh._
WEDGECROFT. Good night, Trebell.
TREBELL. Good night, Gilbert. Many thanks.
_There is enough of a caress in_ TREBELL'S _tone to turn_ FRANCES
_towards their friend, a little remorseful for treating him so
casually, now as always._
FRANCES. He's always thanking you. You're always doing things for him.
WEDGECROFT. Good night. [_Seeing the tears in her eyes._] Oh, don't grieve.
FRANCES. One shouldn't be sorry when people die, I know. But she liked me
more than I liked her ... [_This time_ TREBELL _does laugh, silently._] ...
so I somehow feel in her debt and unable to pay now.
TREBELL. [_An edge on his voice._] Yes ... people keep on dying at all
sorts of ages, in all sorts of ways. But we seem never to get used to it ...
narrow-minded as we are.
WEDGECROFT. Don't you talk nonsense.
TREBELL. [_One note sharper yet._] One should occasionally test one's sanity
by doing so. If we lived in the logical world we like to believe in, I could
also prove that black was white.


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