[TOM looks at her, gives her a small sardonic bow, goes past her to a chair which is set so he is facing half away from her. He sits in it in a pose which he has clearly been occupying previously for ANNA looks at him, equally sardonic. Since the chair is hard and upright, not designed for comfort, he is almost lying in a straight line from his crossed ankles to his chin, which is upturned because he is looking with weary patience at the ceiling. His fingertips are held lightly together.]
[ANNA, having registered the fact that his pose is designed to annoy, goes back to the window and stands looking down.]
ANNA: That man is still down there. Do you know, he comes every night and just stands there, hour after hour after hour. And its so cold.
TOM: Yes, it is Anna, I was under the impression that my attraction for you, such as it is, of course, was that Im rather more reliable, more responsible? than the usual run of your friends?
ANNA: Do you realize that man hasnt so much as moved a muscle since he arrived at six? There he stands, gazing up at that window. And the top half of that house is a brothel. He must have seen one of the girls in the street and fallen in love. Imagine it, Ive been living here all these years and I never knew that house was a brothel. There are four Lesbians living together, and that poor saps in love with one of them. Well, isnt it frightening?
TOM: When you walked into my flat that evening if I may remind you of it you said you were in search of a nice solid shoulder to weep on. You said you couldnt stand another minute of living like this. Well?
ANNA: I asked the policeman at the corner. Why yes, miss, he said, all fatherly and protective, theyve been there for years and years. But dont you worry your pretty little head about a thing, we have our eyes on them all the time.
TOM: I suppose what all this amounts to is that your fascinating American is around again.
ANNA: I told you, no. I havent seen Dave for weeks. Perhaps I should go down and tell that poor moonstruck idiot look, you poor sap, all youve got to do is to go upstairs with fifty shillings in your hand and your goddess is yours?
TOM: And while youre about it, you could take him off for a nice cup of tea, listen to his troubles and tell him yours.
ANNA: Yes I could. Why not?
TOM: Youre going to go on like this I suppose until the next time. Dave or some similarly fascinating character plays you up and you decide that good old Tom will do for a month or so?
ANNA: Tom, its nine-fifteen. Youre expected at the Jeffries
at nine-thirty.
TOM: I did accept for you too.
ANNA: Yes you did, and you didnt even ask me first.
TOM: I see.
ANNA: No, you dont see. Tom, until two weeks ago you said you couldnt stand either of the Jeffries, you said, quote, they were boring, phoney and stupid. But now hes going to be your boss its different?
TOM: No, theyre still boring, phoney and stupid, but he is going to be my boss.
ANNA: You said if you took Jeffries job, youd be in the rat-race, stuck in the rut, and bound hand and foot to the grindstone.
TOM: I finally took that job because we were going to be married so I thought.
ANNA: But now were not going to be married youll turn down the job? [as he does not reply] I thought not. So dont use me to justify yourself.
TOM: You really do rub things in, Anna. All right then. For a number of years Ive been seeing myself as a sort of a rolling stone, a fascinating free-lance, a man of infinite possibilities. It turns out that Im just another good middle-class citizen after all Im comfort-loving, conventionally unconventional, Im not even the Don Juan I thought I was. It turns out that Im everything I dislike most. I owe this salutary discovery to you, Anna. Thank you very much.
ANNA: Oh, not at all.
TOM [he now gets up from the chair, and faces her, attacking hard]: Oh my God, you stupid little romantic. Yes, thats what you are, and a prig into the bargain. Very pleased with yourself because you wont soil your hands. Writing a little review here, a little article there, an odd poem or two, a reflection on the aspect of a sidelight on the back-wash of some bloody movement or other reading tuppenny-halfpenny novels for publishers Mr Bloody Blacks new book is or is not an advance on his last. Well, Anna, is it really worth it?
ANNA: Yes it is. Im free to live as I like. You wont be, ever again.
TOM: And worrying all the time how youre going to find the money for what your kid wants. Do you think hes going to thank you for living like this?
ANNA: Thats right. Always stick the knife in, as hard as you can, into a persons weakest spot.
TOM: An art you are not exactly a stranger to? You live here, hand to mouth, never knowing whats going to happen next, surrounding yourself with bums and neurotics and failures. As far as youre concerned anyone who has succeeded at anything at all is corrupt. [She says nothing.] Nothing to say, Anna? Thats not like you.
ANNA: I was thinking, not for the first time, unfortunately, how sad it is that the exquisite understanding and intimacy of the bed doesnt last into the cold light of day.