Warren
the unfilial dispositions of her daughter, and reduces her to whimpering
dismay, the following little passage occurs:
Mrs. Warren: You're very rough with me, Vivie.
Vivie: Nonsense. What about bed? It's past ten.
Mrs. Warren (passionately): What's the use of my going to bed? Do
you think I could sleep?
Vivie: Why not? I shall.
Then the mother turns upon the daughter's stony self-righteousness, and
pours forth her sordid history in such a way as to throw a searchlight
on the conditions which make such histories possible; until, exhausted
by her outburst, she says, "Oh, dear! I do believe I am getting sleepy
after all," and Vivie replies, "I believe it is I who will not be able
to sleep now." Mr. Shaw, we see, is at pains to emphasize his peripety.
Some "great scenes" consist, not of one decisive turning of the tables,
but of a whole series of minor vicissitudes of fortune. Such a scene is
the third act of _The Gay Lord Quex_, a prolonged and thrilling duel, in
which Sophy Fullgarney passes by degrees from impertinent exultation to
abject surrender and then springs up again to a mood of reckless
defiance.
Pages:
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372